#home movers and Buy to Let

[best4finance]

Mortgage Brokers

Website: https://www.best4financemortgages.co.uk

Address: Poplars Farm Barn, Chapel Lane, Scarrington, Nottingham, Nottinghamshire, NG13 9BX

Phone Number: 01156717222 07877 802011

Contact Email ID: debbie@best4financemortgages.co.uk

Business Hours: Monday - Saturday : 09:00 AM - 05:00 PM Sunday : Closed

[anothertimdrakestan]

living with the batboys headcanons!

req: begging on my hands and knees for what it's like moving into an apartment w/ the batboys/yj boys. like just gimme all the domestic fluff you can think of and all the things they'd be annoying abt yk

jason:

- he would be sooo annoying just wanting to sleep on the floor and leave everything behind

- "all we need is each other! let's forget the world babe!" to which you'd remind him "jace you literally have no clothes here and i'm not letting you spoon me on the wooden floor, i need a bed!!"

- begrudgingly, your strong man would move the boxes and happily hang any high-up decorations

- under your supervision, the apartment would become beautiful

- jace would put little locks on the windows so he could crawl in at any time of night, and his red hood gear would probably be strewn around until you put it back in the closet

- friends would come over and say "love what you've done with the place" to you, and give jason a thumbs up for trying

- he'd also bolt the bed to the wall so it doesn't shake when you- you know. yeah. it's jason todd after all.

tim:

- mr. gadget definitely has a techy house, the type where you can turn the lights on with your phone and set the AC from bed

- he's be sure to get a penthouse with a view and a grass balcony. he knew how you'd always wanted a pet and somewhere breathtaking to read, while gotham isn't the most beautiful, an ocean view would do!

- he never wants to stress you out, so he'd take it upon himself to schedule movers and place furniture in the ideal style

- he'd happily push the giant IKEA cart around if it meant he got to watch you skip through the store happily pointing at the things that would make your apartment a home

- champagne and a small get together once everything was finished, he'd be unable to look at you without a little tear in his eye, he never though the universe would grace him with your warmth, he'd buy you a million more houses if it meant you'd be calling his arms your home

- after long vigilante nights he gets a little too excited guessing where you'll be in the home, watching tv on the couch, curled up in bed, trying another internet recipe- he still gets butterflies when he opens the door and smells you in the air, and his heart skips a beat when you give him the first smile of the day in the morning

- though everything was moved in efficiently, you two still take trips to art galleries and farmers markets, looking for local treasures to bring home

- when you're at a wayne ent. gala tim waits excitedly for you to say "ready to go home?" because finally, home means being together

dick:

- richard asked you way too soon to move in

- you accepted because you needed your goofball around as much as possible

- with a rented u-haul and a dream you carried your stuff together. left airpod in his ear right in yours. showtunes, rap, and pop blasting at all times

- once the apartment was passable, you both slumped into chairs with bowls of cereal

- dick was excited to invite his family over to see the new place and you couldn't help but agree

- the family had a move-in party where everyone helps unpack the final pieces

- now looking at the mantle makes you think of roy, the animal-centric artwork of damian, new computer set up had to be tim, and the beautiful silk sheets and candles in the bedroom had to be dick himself. jason did leave a half drunk bottle of brandy though which was as warm a welcome gift as you expected

- for you and dick, it was home because the people you loved were there. it was rare to get time alone, but that's how you both preferred it, wrapped in the presence of the people you care about

- they say home is where the heart is, and your heart has never been more full than it was curled up in bed with dick, watching the batboys rip each other apart- hey everyone has their own definition of peace!

damian

- damian, when he's paying attention and not thinking about one of his many pets, is scarily good at reading your mind

- the minute you started thinking "this commute is awfully long" and "wouldn't it just be better if we were in the same home?" he was signing the lease to your new dream home

- full of natural light for both of your art work and ample room for the few pets that would move with you, it was perfect

- except the "art of surprise" excited dami so much he forget to ask if you were ok with moving

- you came home to an empty room and though you were robbed

- technically you were? but ii was worth it when damian unveiled his master plan

- with a little tweaking and a few target trips, everything was perfect, and like the gentleman he was, he there would always be a driver parked outside to take you wherever you wished to go

- dami couldn't contain his excitement that you both got to create daily schedules that revolved each other, dog walks in the morning, gossiping over lunch, and exploring the city together at night. even when you went out alone, he would insist he couldn't sleep until you were at home in his arms

- though you would protest, secretly you were the same way. nighttime routines just weren't the same without those green eyes staring lovingly at your every move

[fic-girlie]

Some assembly required

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: You and Joel just moved into your new home and spent the day building furniture—though even with his contractor skills, it wasn’t easy. After laughter, teasing, and teamwork, you fall into bed together, trading soft banter and kisses as the house slowly starts to feel like yours. Warnings: fluff, unspecified age gap (Joel is in his mid 40's), no outbreak Joel

The truck bed is packed to the brim, and Joel’s already rolled his sleeves up before you’ve even made it to the front door. There’s a kind of buzz in the air, the kind that comes with new beginnings and the smell of fresh paint. The front lawn is still more dirt than grass, the porch is waiting on a second coat, and there’s a dent in the mailbox from when the movers clipped it—but none of that matters. Because it’s yours. Yours and Joel’s.

You watch him hoist one of the bigger flat-packs out with a grunt, muscle shifting under his shirt as he carries it up the walkway. His hair’s a little messy, sun catching on the few silver strands near his temple. You follow behind him, arms full of pillows and bags of tools.

“This one says ‘minimal tools required.’” You nudge him as he sets the box down inside the entryway.

Joel straightens, resting his hands on his hips. “Yeah? So does a bear trap.”

You laugh, bumping your shoulder against his. “You’re the one who said we didn’t need to buy the showroom stuff.”

“And I stand by that. Overpriced junk. We’ll put it all together ourselves.” He looks down at the box again, squinting. “Eventually.”

You take a long look around the open space—the bare living room, the faint smell of sawdust and newness. The windows are wide, sun slanting in, dust floating lazily through the beams of golden light. It doesn’t feel like home yet. Not quite. But Joel’s here, and the thought of making this space together, piece by piece, feels better than anything you’ve ever imagined.

You sit cross-legged on the floor beside the first box and rip open the cardboard, spreading out the pieces while Joel grabs the manual with all the suspicion of a man who’s been burned by flat-pack lies before.

“Well, there’s twenty-eight parts,” you announce.

Joel tilts his head. “I see thirty-two.”

You look again. “Oh no.”

“Oh yeah.” He drops to the floor beside you, knees cracking as he lands with a sigh. “Told you. Sorcery. These people count washers as individual parts. You ever heard of somethin’ so stupid?”

You smile as you sort screws into piles on the floor. Joel scoots closer, brushing your knee with his. He picks up one of the boards, turning it over in his calloused hands, brows knitting.

“Hey, babe?” he says slowly.

You glance up.

“This board’s labeled A… but the diagram shows A as longer. This is, like, B. Maybe C.”

You blink. “Did they mislabel it?”

Joel frowns at the board as though it’s insulted his entire lineage. “Or this is their idea of a cruel joke.”

You stifle a giggle and pluck the manual from his hand. “Okay. Maybe we just… match it by shape?”

“Shape?” Joel echoes, like you just suggested witchcraft.

“Sure. This one’s got the rounded edge. That matches the bottom shelf.”

Joel narrows his eyes, then tilts the board. “Huh. Look at that.”

“I know things,” you say proudly.

He gives a low hum, one that almost sounds impressed. “Mmm. You also thought we could get this all done before lunch.”

“It’s three pieces of furniture, Joel.”

“Yeah. And each one’s gonna come with forty mystery screws and a riddle from hell.”

You lean your weight into him, shoulder against his bicep, and he lets out a soft sigh—one of those breathy, half-laugh sounds that only comes when he’s genuinely relaxed. It makes your chest warm.

He starts piecing together the frame while you read out the next steps. “Step three,” you say. “Attach piece D to the underside of panel A using bolts 4A and washers 6C.”

Joel groans and lays his head back dramatically. “The hell does that even mean?”

You hand him a bolt. “It means we’re in this together, partner.”

He takes it, but not before kissing the side of your head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You’re lucky I know how to read.”

It becomes a rhythm—sorting, reading, Joel swearing under his breath, and the two of you dissolving into laughter every time something doesn’t line up the way it should. You work through the early afternoon, Joel on the floor in front of the half-finished coffee table, you perched beside him cross-legged, one foot resting gently against his thigh. There’s an intimacy to it, this process—an easy, comfortable domesticity you hadn’t even realized you craved until now.

He huffs when one of the legs doesn’t tighten all the way, leaning back on his palms and eyeing it like he could will it into place. “Goddamn thing’s crooked.”

“Maybe you’re crooked.”

“Maybe this table’s made for people who hate joy.”

You grin, reaching over to ruffle his hair, and he lets you—just like that. A big gruff contractor, who’s used to hauling bricks and framing beams, sitting on the floor surrounded by tiny screws and letting you mess up his hair.

It’s not just a new house. It’s the beginning of a life built slowly, like these shelves and coffee tables—one screw at a time.

And when you finally get the first piece assembled, Joel throws his hands in the air like you just won the lottery.

“We did it!” you declare triumphantly.

“Damn right we did. Didn’t even break anything.” He leans over, brushing a kiss to your temple, then your cheek. “You’re a good teammate.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, eyes warm as you look up at him.

Joel shifts so he’s kneeling in front of you, hands coming to rest on your thighs, his voice going soft. “Yeah. Real good.”

He kisses you then—slow and steady, mouth warm and a little rough, like he’s pouring all of that quiet pride and affection into the space between your lips. His hands slide up, thumbs brushing along your waist as he deepens it just a little, exhaling through his nose.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours. “Let’s take a break before we build that bookshelf. I need to… y’know. Emotionally recover.”

You laugh against his chest. “From the trauma?”

“From the disrespect.” He gestures at the table like it’s personally offended him. “That was war.”

“You won, soldier.”

He smirks, tugging you into his lap until you're straddling him right there on the floor, boxes scattered around you. “Yeah. And my reward’s sittin’ right here.”

You roll your eyes, but your hands are already smoothing down his back, fingers brushing the hem of his shirt. “We’re never buying pre-assembled furniture again, are we?”

“Nope,” Joel says, mouth already pressed against your neck. “From now on, it’s just wood, nails, and me.”

You hum, curling your fingers into his shirt. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Damn right it doesn’t.”

——

It’s late by the time you both crawl into bed.

The bedroom is still half-finished—no curtains yet, a single lamp on the floor casting a golden, sleepy glow against bare walls. The mattress is set up, at least, and the sheets are clean, freshly washed with a scent like lavender and sunshine. You’d wrestled with one more piece of furniture after dinner, a nightstand that nearly drove Joel to drink, and when it finally clicked together with a triumphant snap, he declared the day officially over.

Now, you’re both stretched out under the sheets, your legs tangled together lazily, Joel on his back with one arm behind his head, the other resting across your stomach like he’s claiming territory. You trace slow circles on the back of his hand, feeling the warmth of him, the quiet peace that only comes at the end of a long, shared day.

“You know,” you murmur, voice low and drowsy, “for a contractor, you sure cursed a lot trying to build that bookshelf.”

Joel snorts. “It wasn’t a real bookshelf. That thing was an insult to wood.”

“You stripped a screw.”

“I did not strip the screw,” he says, mock-offended.

You glance at him with a grin. “Joel, I heard you say—and I quote—‘why the hell won’t this damn screw catch, it’s defective, I’m gonna throw it out the window.’”

He rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his palm, eyes narrowing just slightly as he smirks. “And yet… it got built, didn’t it? Thanks to my expert skill set.”

You raise a brow. “You mean my reading comprehension skills?”

“Your what?” he teases, pretending he didn’t hear you.

“You were holding the instructions upside down at one point.”

“Listen, I just—” He leans in, his voice lowering into that playful, honey-warm drawl. “I had a long day. Got distracted by this pretty girl sittin’ cross-legged on the floor, talkin’ about dowels and washers like she’s speakin’ a foreign language. You expect me to focus with that goin’ on?”

You giggle, turning toward him, your nose brushing his. “So now it’s my fault?”

“Always,” he whispers, nuzzling you gently, his scruff brushing soft along your cheek.

You let out a content sigh as his hand moves across your waist beneath the sheets, warm and slow. Not urgent, just… grounding. Like he wants to memorize every inch of you again now that the chaos of the day is behind you.

You nudge his ribs with your knee. “You know, I’m kind of impressed. You didn’t even throw anything.”

“Didn’t have the energy,” he mumbles, kissing your shoulder. “But tomorrow? That dresser’s gonna test my damn patience.”

“You want me to read the instructions again?”

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes soft and amused in the low light. “Sweetheart, I want you to read everything to me from now on. Menus. Assembly guides. Hell, read me the back of the cereal box. I’ll just nod and agree.”

You hum thoughtfully. “That could be dangerous.”

“I’m willin’ to risk it,” he says, and leans in to kiss you—slow and warm, like the last stretch of daylight before everything fades into dusk.

When he pulls back, his voice goes softer. “You did good today, darlin'.”

“So did you.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then settles behind you as you roll to your side, spooning up behind you with one heavy arm slung around your waist. You can feel the weight of him, the solid warmth and comfort of a man who’s tired but content, who’s found something quiet and sacred in this new home, in you.

There’s a long pause. His breath evens out. Yours does too.

Then, in a lazy, teasing murmur: “Still sayin’ that bookshelf was cursed, though.”

You reach back and swat at his hip, and he laughs against the back of your neck, lips brushing soft along your skin as he pulls you tighter.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“Night, darlin'.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Mrs. R Part Five

Previous Part | Masterlist

Notes: Not beta-read. Last part for real this time, y'all. Thanks for your patience!

Warnings: Fluff; smut: oral sex, unsafe sex; excessive use of the word 'fuck'

Summary: Choosing the hardware for the coat hooks in the front hall…Fighting over what color to paint the kitchen…Spending hours deciding which light fixtures to install in the hall, the bathroom, the living room…

A thousand little thoughts went into making this your home. Are you really about to leave it? 

“Hey, uh, miss? Where are these going?” 

If you had a nickel for every time you’d been asked that question, you would be able to buy yourself a damn mansion. You scrub a weary hand over your eyes, sliding it down over your cheek as the annoyance builds. How much money would it cost you to tell them that you changed your mind, to just find an empty spot on the floor and open the damn boxes, you’ll sort this all out later—

“Everything lined up by the door goes on the truck today. If you need an extra hint, look for the boxes with the word ‘storage’ written on the top.” 

The easy authority in Robby’s voice shouldn’t make you relax as quickly as it does, and you can’t stop the amused huff that puffs out of your mouth.

You turn to see the movers starting to take the boxes lined up by the door, giving Robby nervous nods. 

You turn back to the cabinet, reaching for the next mug and wrapping it in newspaper before tucking it into the box with the others. You glance back when you hear Robby coming into the kitchen. 

“Perfect timing. I was an inch away from tearing my hair out,” You grumble. He chuckles, and you hear the light rustle of him removing his backpack before he joins you at the counter. 

“They’ll get it done. You got a lot left to do?” 

“Uh,” You sigh, turning to look around the kitchen, “These and the cups, and then—I did the utensils already, got the plates packed away. I’ve still got some books in the living room, some stuff in the bedroom—Oh, and the basement’s done, completely done, except for two cans of paint that—I don’t even know how old they are, I’m not sure if they’re still good—?”

“Okay,” Robby soothes, sliding his hands over your shoulders. “I’m a little sorry I asked.” He offers you a soft smile as you sigh, scrubbing your hand over your face again. 

“I’m very tired and you’re being mean to me,” You pout. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” He murmurs, crowding closer. “Tell me what you want me to do.” 

“...Bring the paint cans up and put ‘em on the curb. Write 'free' on top, make them someone else's problem.” 

“Mhm.” 

“And then pack the books up. I’ll take care of the rest of the kitchen and the bedroom.” 

“Okay.” 

“One other thing, first.”

“Anything.”

“Gimme a kiss.” 

Robby’s smile widens as he lifts his hands from your shoulders to gently cup your face, drawing you in for a tender kiss. You sigh, chest flooding with relief as you sag against him, and curling your arms around his middle. Neither of you push to deepen it, instead relishing in one another’s touch: the warmth of one another’s arms, the steady, kind pressure of your kiss. 

“Are these boxes goin’, too?” 

The call from one of the movers makes you wince, and you just manage to fight back a groan. Robby leans back, tipping his chin up and pressing a kiss to your forehead before drawing away with a murmur of, “I’ve got it.” 

--  

“How are we doing back here?” 

You don’t answer until Robby’s just beside you, then wave into the drawer that you’re staring at.

“You think I can get away with just leaving all this shit in here and taping it up?” 

Robby hums, reaching in and poking through the contents—cough drops, a couple of pens, a bottle of lube, a few stray condoms. 

“I think that’d be alright.”

“Done,” You sigh, shoving the drawer shut before flopping onto the bed, your legs hanging off of the side. “The guys still here?”

“Nope, just left. Said they’ll be here bright and early at eight.”

“Perfect.”

Robby lays beside you with a sigh. You let your head loll to get a good look at him. You take in his closed eyes, his slightly pursed lips.

“...Can I be honest?” He asks. You frown, rolling onto your side and propping your head up on your hand to get a better look at him.

“‘Course.”

“I didn’t think you’d really do it.” 

You consider that as you lay back again peer back up at the ceiling, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“Honestly…I kinda didn’t think I would, either.” The two of you sit in that for a moment before you press, “Are you still mad at me?” 

“Mad at you?” 

“For deciding to move.” 

It’s Robby’s turn to roll over. You feel the bed shift as he moves, hear him sigh. 

“Not mad,” He insists. “I wasn’t before, either, I was, um…I think I was afraid.” 

Your brow furrows, and you frown as you meet his eye. “Really?” 

“So much has changed between us in the last couple of years. This was just one more thing—one more big thing. But I understand it now,” He smiles softly, “And I’m proud of you.” 

Heat rushes up your neck and sweeps across your face at his insistence, and you push yourself up with both hands. An uncomfortable, huffed, “Okay,” Leaves you as you start to stand, but Robby catches hold of you before you can get too far. 

“Hey,” His arm curls around your middle, “I mean it.” 

The urge to remove yourself from his sincere approval wells, but you stay there, resting your hand atop his as you settle back against the mattress. Robby gives a soft, approving hum, his thumb sweeping across the band of skin exposed by your top. 

“Look at us,” He teases, “Using what we learned in therapy.”

“Yeah?” 

“I’m communicating how I feel and you’re not completely running away from me.” 

You snort, raising a hand to toy with the tie on his hoodie. “I wasn’t running from you before.” 

“No, but you also couldn’t take a compliment.” 

You snort a laugh, nodding, grudgingly muttering, “That’s true.” You relax further as Robby scoots closer, nuzzling against your shoulder. “You staying? One more night in the old place?” 

“I didn’t pack my PJs.”

“Good.” 

-- 

Choosing the hardware for the coat hooks in the front hall…Fighting over what color to paint the kitchen…Spending hours deciding which light fixtures to install in the hall, the bathroom, the living room…

A thousand little thoughts went into making this your home. Are you really about to leave it? 

You comb your fingers through Robby’s hair, nails gently massaging his scalp. You glance down as he shifts beside you, his face pressing more tightly into the curve of your neck. It’s a moment before he draws in a deep breath, his fingers tightening in the fabric of your sleep shirt. 

“...You awake?” He mumbles. 

“Mhm.”

“Long?” 

“I don’t know. A while.” You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Did I wake you up?” 

“No.” He tips his chin up, kissing the curve of your  jaw. “Time is it?” 

“Mm—” You reach out, grabbing your phone from the bedside table and eyeing the time before dropping it again. “Five after five. You workin’ today?” 

“Mhm.” It’s a warm, lazy hum. Robby’s hand skims along your side, teasing under your sleep shirt as he brushes another kiss to your jaw. You tip your head to the side, catching his lips in a sweet kiss, and smiling as his tongue teases into your mouth. It’s only another two passes before Robby is rolling over you, the sheets sliding away, exposing you to the cool air of the room. You hum as Robby’s lips trail lower, tipping your head back into the pillow as his fingers inch higher and higher up your sides, shifting your shirt up to just under your chin. 

You suck in a stunned, sleepy breath as his lips brush across the top of one breast, his thumb sweeping across the other pebbling nipple. You groan softly, hips tipping up toward the heat of his body as you feel Robby’s hardening cock against your thigh. You draw your knees up to cradle him, sliding your hands over his arms as he inches further down, beard tickling the sensitive skin of your belly. His fingers curl around the band of your underwear, warm eyes turned up toward you as he waits. You bite your lip, stomach swirling with nerves and anticipation as you nod, tipping your hips up for him. 

The underwear has hardly hit the floor before Robby’s shoulders are spreading your thighs wide, his hands tucked beneath them as he laps broadly across your pussy. You whimper, hands fisting in his hair as your head presses back into the pillows. 

“Robby—Mikey, baby, fuck,” You mewl, grinding up against his questing tongue, skin tingling from the brush of his beard. He groans against you, moving his head from side to side before he leans up, lapping over your clit with sharp, flicking strokes. 

You can’t help the whimpers that drop from your lips. It’s almost embarrassing, the sound you make as he spears in one finger, then another. Your cunt throbs around them as he curls and strokes, pumping them harder as the familiar coiling sensation in your stomach winds tighter and tighter. 

You whine as he draws back with a final sucking kiss, reaching out as he kneels up on the bed. You reach out, palming his cock through his underwear as he leans across you, fishing into the bedside drawer. 

“Let me—” You plead, pushing yourself up, and pout Michael shakes his head. 

“Next time.” 

Next time, he says, like the two of you weren’t at each other’s throats just a few weeks ago—next time like you hadn’t considered moving fucking states to try and move on. 

Robby drops a condom on the bed beside you before his hand curls around your jaw, tipping your head up. 

“I need to be inside you.” He dips his head closer, and your eyelids flutter as his slick lips glide against yours. “Can I do that? Gonna let me cum inside you, sweetheart?” 

You nod almost dumbly, tongue flicking out to tease at the taste of yourself on his lips. You reach out, taking the condom from where he dropped it and flinging it out of view. Robby glances after it, surprise washing his features. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Uh-huh—”

“But I thought you got off of the pill.”

“I did.”

Robby’s brows jump up, his eyes sliding closed as you reach down, slipping your hands into his underwear and grasping his cock. He groans as you stroke him, forehead resting against yours. 

“Are you—fuck,” His breath hitches as you thumb the head of his cock, “Are you out of your fucking mind?” 

“A little.” You tip your head, lapping between his lips. “I wanna feel you, Michael. Fucking all of you.” 

He reels back, you fear that you’ve gone too far. But Robby is shoving off his underwear, pushing them away before he’s settling back over you. Your heart pounds in your throat as you lean back on your elbows, shivering as Robby draws the tip of his cock along your slick folds. Your hips twitch as he teases over your clit before leading it lower. The head just catches against your opening before he goes still. You glance up at him and find him watching you closely, almost nervously. You reach out, cupping his cheek. 

“What is it?” 

“You’re sure?” 

You push yourself up fully, smoothing your thumb across the apple of his cheek. 

“I want you to fuck me like this, Michael.” You lean up as the flush already crowding his cheeks begins to spread down to his neck, his bare chest. “I want you to cum in me. I want to be slick with you while I boss around those fucking moving men.” 

Michael’s groan blends with an almost pained chuckle as he crowds a little closer. 

“Do you wanna fuck me like this, Michael?” You push. 

“Yes.”

“Yeah? Wanna fill me up?”

“Yes, fuck, fuck—”

Your jaw drops as Robby's hips shove forward, easing in. You whimper as your pussy throbs around him, clenching around his length as you lean back against the bed. Robby follows you down, curling over you, his hands bracing on either side of your head. 

"Jesus christ, you're so wet," He swears, breath hot against your lips. 

"Move—”

"Not yet."

"Mikey—”

"Just—mm, god," He leans in, pressing his forehead against your jaw. "Need a minute." 

Your lips curl into a devious smile as you slide your hands up and over his shoulders. 

"Yeah?" You coo. "Why's that?"

"Don't." 

"Do I feel good?"

"You feel so fucking good." His hips grind forward, and you whimper, sliding your hand up into his hair as he begins to fuck you with steady strokes. "You are so fucking good." 

You turn your head, catching his lips in a kiss.  He breaks it with a gentle nip to your lip, tugging it before drawing back, pinning your hips to the bed as his thrusts pick up in pace. You slip a hand between your bodies, swiping over your swollen clit as you struggle to press up against him, to meet his thrusts. 

The otherwise quiet morning fills with your joint groans, moans, sighs, murmurs of praise, of need. For a few stunning moments, it feels like it used to—desperate, and loving, and steady. 

You lean up, straining for another kiss, and Robby bows over you, lips sliding messily against yours. You whimper, toying with your clit more roughly as you grow closer and closer to orgasm. 

“Robby,” You warn, raising your other hand to wind in his hair, “I’m—fuck, just like that—” 

“Yeah,” He goads between panting breaths, “That’s it. Take my cock, sweetie.”

“Just like that—Right there, rightthererightthere—Fuck!” 

-- 

“We gotta get up.” 

Robby doesn’t answer at first, and you worry that he’s fallen back asleep. But he nuzzles against your collarbone, letting out a soft grunt of dismay. 

“You’re gonna be late,” You warn, “And the moving guys don’t need to see either of us like this.” 

Robby chuckles, picking his head up and resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“I bet a couple of them want to.” 

“I think you’re projecting.”

“Oh no. I’ve seen guys size you up like that before.” 

“Blegh.” 

He chuckles, leaning up and giving you a soft kiss. 

“I'll come by after work, help you unpack.” 

“Only if you want to. I’m not gonna get it all done today,” You reassure, smoothing your fingers through his hair. “Just—See how your shift goes before you go making any promises.” 

Robby props himself up over you, holding your gaze steadily. 

“I am coming by tonight. I’m going to bring takeout, and I’m going to make sure none of your light bulbs need changing.” 

"Don't want me to wind up in the ER again?"

"I love seeing you, but I don't love seeing you at work."

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

@mad-girl-without-a-box ;  @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @veryprairieberry ;

@kittenlittle24 ; @ilariyalavorowrites ; @morgy3456 ; @emily-b ; @txtdreamss

@caramelised-onions ;

[takamiwife]

keigo as a daddy 🐣

not that kind of daddy, everyone get ur minds out of the gutters (same)

ANYWAYYY

- keigo had always thought about having kids of course, but reality always hit him quick. he was too busy, and his life was far too dangerous for a partner, let alone a child

- then he met you

- so one became two, and he was happy. truly happy for the first time since he could remember. but guilt and fear wracked him everyday. what if someone came after you? what if, god forbid, he died while on the job, leaving you alone? he couldn’t bear the thought. he dreamed of retiring, taking you, all his money, and buying a big, beautiful house out in the country where you’d grow old together with lots of kids and grandbabies.

- but it was just a fleeting thought. reality always hit. it wouldn’t be fair to anyone for him to have kids

- and then the war came

- and everything changed

- for a while, it seemed like things had changed for the worse

- but things got stable

- things got better

- heroes weren’t needed as much

- the day keigo took his position of president of the hero commission, he proposed to you

- he did it in front of nearly all of japan on live tv. not for his ego, not to get attention or fame, but because he wanted everyone to know how much he adored you

- his life was changing, and he wanted you to be in the rest of the chapters of it

- the two of you quickly settled in to married life. it was just as romantic and passionate as it had been when the two of you were dating; and better yet, you got to spend more time together with keigos new job

- of course he had you quit your job as soon as you got married, and you didn’t mind. you spent your days filled with philanthropy and finding ways to fulfill yourself and your community

- after being two for so long, imagine your surprise when one little stick told you that you’d be becoming three

- things were finally normal, finally stable, especially for keigo. you knew he’d be thrilled. he had always talked about having little ones, but the two of you figured it’d be a “if it happens, it happens” kind of deal

- and you were right, he was thrilled

- the man nearly burst into tears when he opened the small box at the dinner table containing an ultrasound and a onesie

- immediately he began looking at homes outside of the city. “this apartment isn’t big enough for a baby” (it was, but you weren’t going to tell him that)

- the man pampered you throughout your whole pregnancy. he was at every doctors appointment, got your every craving no matter the time of day or night, and made sure you never lifted a finger, especially during your move (much to your chagrin)

- though he hired movers and decorators, he designed and built everything in the nursery

- when he found out you were having a girl, he was even happier. tell me that man isn’t meant to be a girl dad, like cmon

- yea he cried when the baby was born. multiple times. she looks just like you, after all!

- not once did he make you get up to check on the baby at night. he would always do it. he adored her from the moment he laid eyes on her. he was going to be different than his parents. he was going to be better.

- one night, at nearly 2 am, you woke up, and when you went down the hallway, you saw him sitting beside the crib, gently stroking the little hair atop her head. you never told him you saw it

- keigo shows his two favorite girls in the world off wherever he goes. pictures of you and the baby are all over his office, and it’s a rarity to see him in public without you and the baby by his side

- as the baby grows, he only continues to spoil her, giving her all the love and affection he never received. he wasn’t certain of everything, but he knew that she would never question where her next meal was coming from, or ever doubt if she was loved

- her toys would be scattered across his office, he loves bringing her to work

- you two are double trouble for keigo. he can barely say no to you, let alone her. that man’s salary gets put to use, trust me

- bum ass dad? never heard of it. keigo is there for every possible event, from doctors appointments to recitals. he’s there.

- and don’t think he’s forgotten about you. that man lets you know how much he utterly adores you everyday. not just because you made him a father. no, because before all of that, you made him feel loved, and he could never repay you for what you’ve done for him

[2cupids]

𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒 | 𝐤. 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings — sugar daddy!hongjoong, readers in her 20s, hongjoong’s in his 40s, pet names, oral (m. receiving), f.ingering, cowgirl,choking, fluff at the end.

sugar daddy!hongjoong who takes you to buy a new dress any time he takes you out for dinner or when you have to attend events with him. you have at least 40 different dresses you could choose from at this point but it doesn’t matter to hongjoong.

when he can’t accompany you to shop for a dress because he has business to attend to, he simply gives you his card and tells you to pick the prettiest one and treat yourself to whatever else you want to that day.

but more often than not, he flies you out to italy to have your dresses custom made. sometimes he’ll send a sketch ahead of you of what he wants to see you in and let you talk with the designer about changing any details that you don’t like.

he wants you to have the best of the best, something other people can’t get their hands on.

sugar daddy!hongjoong who has no shame about renting out the entire floor of a restaurant for just the two of you. when you ask him his reason, he says that he just “prefers it this way.”

sugar daddy!hongjoong that lets you pick out your own penthouse.

he brings you along with him while he goes around looking at different places, citing the reason being that he’s “expanding his real estate portfolio”.

he’s constantly asking you what you think of each place, whether you could see yourself living there, how you would decorate the place, etc. you think it’s silly when he writes a check to buy the one that you liked the most but you don’t pay it too much mind.

that is until later that day when he hands you the keys.

“it’s all yours baby. i’ve already got movers packing up your old place, they should be here in an hour or two. is that alright with you?”

sugar daddy!hongjoong who loves surprising you with random shopping sprees. he likes surprising you with gifts and all, but he’d rather have you pick exactly what you like.

he could sit watch you try on outfits all day if it means he gets to see the way your eyes sparkle.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that was a bit of tsundere especially when you first met.

he has trouble expressing his love and admiration for you but he actively works to try to get better.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that enjoys sharing his hobbies with you, one of them being customizing clothes and shoes, giving them a personal touch.

you tend to make a mess whenever you work with the art supplies, accidentally getting paint and marker stains all over yourself. you find it bothersome but hongjoong finds it cute. to him, your clumsiness just adds to your charming qualities.

sugar daddy!hongjoong who gets excited whenever you let him choose your next hairstyle. if you’re hesitant about trying a certain style or color, he encourages you to do so, as long as you’re comfortable with it. he’s always complimenting you and praising you.

despite his love of picking your hairstyles, he loves when you decide to just wear your beautiful natural hair as well.

the same thing goes for your nails too. oh, and he always makes sure you get your toes done too so don’t even try to argue with him. if you’re out of the country and need a new set or a fill in, he’ll fly out your chosen nail tech.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that’s like putty in your hands whenever you flutter those pretty lashes of yours at him.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that not only likes to have custom dresses made for you but also have custom lingerie pieces made for you as well.

one of his favorites is an emerald green set with a garter belt and matching lacy stockings that have his initials ‘KHJ’ on the center gore of the bra.

sugar daddy!hongjoong wouldn’t call himself an exhibitionist but he will touch and tease you (discretely) in public settings or where others are present.

like while his chauffeur is driving you home, he’ll let his hand rest on your thigh, letting it slip under your dress and inch closer to your core until his fingers are hovering right in front of your soaked panties.

“don’t make a sound and i’ll fuck you to sleep when we get home.” he whispers in your ear as his fingers move your underwear to the side, finally making contact with your clit.

sugar daddy!hongjoong who possessiveness makes itself known in the bedroom. he wants to hear you tell him that you’re his and that he’s the only one who can make you feel good.

tell him what he wants to hear or he will slow down and eventually stop what he’s doing all together until he gets what he wants. no amount of squirming around on the bed or whining will help you.

“didn’t i ask you a question? tell me whose pussy this is.. or would you rather be left high and dry? your choice baby.”

sugar daddy!hongjoong who thinks you look so pretty when your mouth is full of his dick. he likes to hold your head in place while he fucks your pretty mouth.

“such a good girl for me. gonna stay like that and let me cum down your throat?”

sugar daddy!hongjoong who wraps his hand around your neck while you’re bouncing on his cock and it makes you see stars.

he likes the feeling of your walls clenching around him while you try to focus on riding him, the lack of oxygen slowly getting to you.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that likes it rough but makes sure he takes his time with you often, giving you good old fashioned love-making to remind you of how much he loves and cares for you.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that can be having a terrible day but once he sets eyes on you, his worries and frustration fade away.

sugar daddy!hongjoong who falls in love with you more and more every time he looks into your big, gorgeous eyes.

it’s been more than just a business relationship to him and he’s been feeling that way for a long time now.

he hopes to one day he’ll be lucky enough to be able to call you his wife.

[gurugirl]

Can We Start Over? | Ch. 2 The Job Offer

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 2. Summary: You can't stop thinking about what happened the night you met Harry and how much you hate him. But then you get some really good news about a new job. Except there's a catch.

Word Count: 9k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, alcohol consumption

Can We Start Over? masterlist

“Oh my god, Y/n. What a fucking dick. But your response was gold! I wish you’d stayed to see what happened. Holy shit!” Brandy laughed as she clinked her glass with yours, “That was some gangster shit right there!”

You both laughed at your recount of what had happened with Harry. You met your best friend Brandy for Sunday brunch at your usual spot. You had called her on Saturday after your exit paperwork was taken care of with Mr. Spector and said you had some very interesting news to tell her but that you wanted to share it in person. This wasn’t over-the-phone kind of gossip. It was a with-a-martini-in-hand face-to-face kind of gossip.

“And besides… the most important thing is at least you got off. Typical fuck-boy, good in bed but an absolute slut.”

You nodded, “Exactly. And it doesn’t bother me too much, really. Not now. Plus Mr. Spector gave me a really nice parting bonus. And I’m sure I’ll be matched with someone soon for another gig but even if it takes a few months, I won’t have to dig into savings thanks to him.”

And it was true. Mr. Spector presented you with the check and a hug and well wishes and you were nearly in tears by the time you left his estate. The movers were there the whole time, taking furniture out of his lovely home. A home you’d gotten to become very familiar with over the years. You held events and small parties there, you helped him redecorate the master suite and all the bathrooms (well you organized it all and helped the decorators and builders with the design and material selection). You even had your own room there. Not that you often needed to stay but that was part of your job description as a personal assistant. Sometimes you needed to stay. But usually, you’d go home at night.

The service that you worked for assured you there were a few clients in need of a personal assistant and if it was a good match, they’d refer you. That was important. To have the right match. You were lucky you were single and without kids. That meant you were more flexible. But that didn’t guarantee a good match.

You were sure you’d be enjoying a couple of weeks off work off to do nothing. It sounded fantastic.

.           .           .

You hadn’t expected to get an offer so soon. When Monica emailed you on Monday afternoon with the file and details of your new assignment (if you accepted) you perused the document with your mouth agape. You’d been matched with someone with what was known as stealth wealth (most were), who traveled frequently. You’d need to keep a bedroom in their home (not out of the norm) and travel with them from country to country. You would negotiate holidays and time off once meeting in person but the salary offered was the first thing you saw when you looked at the contract. There was no pressure to sign but how could you say no to an offer that would erase your college debt and allow you to buy a home in a year? You couldn’t let this one slip away. 

You emailed Monica back right away that you’d accept it and like to move forward. The next step would be to meet in person. Then, you’d find out more about who you’d be working for. The service was very discreet. The client was always given absolute anonymity until it was time for the first meeting.

You stared at your computer screen as if to will Monica to respond faster. Sipping your coffee you tapped your foot against the floor in anticipation. You kind of would have enjoyed some time off. A week or two of downtime. Sleeping in. Catching up on all the movies and shows you hadn’t had time to watch on Netflix. Order in pizza and Chinese, and day drink in your pajamas. But this opportunity wouldn’t be on the table for much longer. Another person would snatch this up in a heartbeat. That dollar sign alone would see to it.

When Monica finally responded you placed your mug of coffee down, held your breath, and clicked the email.

You’ll be meeting with the client tomorrow at 8:00 am at an address that will be sent to you via our private messaging app at 5:00 am. He requests you bring a physical copy of your resume and if you both agree to terms tomorrow he’ll bump up your salary 10% automatically. Confirm this is okay and I’ll set up the rest. Monica

You squealed as you quickly typed back a resounding Yes! Book it! Thank you!

You stood up and paced. Okay. So you learned the client was a he. Well, you’d blow him away. You’d make him want to hire you on the spot with that lovely little 10% bump.

You already knew the outfit. Thanks to working for Mr. Spector, you’d been allotted a stipend for very nice, and well-tailored outfits for when you needed to look chic and professional. Great for a first meeting, your double-breasted jacquard wool coat in neutral colors with a pop of blue, and your blue silk button-up tucked into your jacquard wool skirt, matching the coat. Stylish, flattering, and appropriate for meetings with a wealthy man who would undoubtedly be dressed very nicely as well.

It was perfect. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d gotten. A new assignment so quickly and one that paid so well? It felt like fate.

.           .           .          

Harry had his house manager, Lucio, contact a highly recommended service to find a personal assistant for himself. He hated to find someone new because that was just one more person who knew his business. And he preferred having very few people in his circle. But Thasi was dumb. He couldn’t bear to have her working for him another minute. She had trouble with very basic tasks, like adding events to his calendar. She’d even missed two flights that he had booked for her and the last flight she missed he only realized it when she came into his study with a folder asking him about an account he needed to close out.

He stood from his desk and looked at the girl in astonishment, “Thasi. Why are you not 30,000 feet in the air right now? Why are you here standing in my house asking me this question? You are meant to be headed to New York City.” His voice was firm. Irritated.

The girl dropped her mouth open and blinked her eyes until it had finally dawned on her that she had forgotten to make her flight to meet with an art dealer on Harry’s behalf.

“I take it by the look on your face that you now realize your irreversible blunder. You’re fired. I’ll have your things sent back to your home by tomorrow afternoon.”

The poor girl couldn’t even argue with him. She knew she’d blown it. That was her second missed flight, of equal importance. And Harry felt he’d been quite generous and patient with her by giving her another chance. But he shouldn’t have.

So when he learned about Personal Premier Services from a few of his colleagues he decided to look for a PA that way rather than on his own like he had with Thasi. Harry’d had good luck finding staff for everything he needed for the last five years without help. The personal assistant was something rather new to him as he usually did most of his own errands by himself or had Lucio do them. But things were changing in his business and he needed an assistant quite desperately.

Harry woke before the sun rose and took his morning jog. He loved getting his day started earlier than most people. It meant he had time to do things like, exercise, catch up on world news, meditate, shower, and eat breakfast all before most other people would even be out of their beds. He also wished he could just stay awake forever. Wished he didn’t need sleep. There were so many things he could accomplish during the hours he wasted sleeping. But, being that he was only a mere human, his body required sleep.

“Sir? Y/n Y/l/n has just arrived. I have her waiting in the sitting room. Would you like me to bring her up?”

Harry cocked his head and looked to Lucio as he sat his pen down, “What did you say her name was again?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

Why did that name somehow feel so familiar?

“No. That’s okay, Lucio.” He stood from his chair, “I’ll go and greet her myself. Thank you.”

Harry’s immediate instincts told him that name was familiar. But why? And oddly, he first let his mind wander to it being you. But it couldn’t be. You were at the ball and he was certain you were wealthy just like him based on your outfit and your demeanor. He’d only gotten your first name that night, not your last name. And while Y/n was your name, the person looking for a job waiting for him downstairs certainly wouldn’t be the same woman who had put a used condom on his hotel door’s handle only to have his now ex-friend-whatever-she-was find it.

Yes. The ex-friend. Aster. He knew he should have stopped their little arrangement before she got too attached. It was never meant to be anything serious. From the start, he told her he was seeing other people but she never wanted to hear about anyone else he might have been sleeping with. And when he realized she started getting attached he should have recognized it was time to end it. But he didn’t.

Harry clenched his jaw and swallowed.

The knocking on his door had come a lot faster than he’d hoped. Aster wasn’t even supposed to be there. Her flight had been canceled so she wasn’t going to make it to New York City. He told her he’d see her the following day when he flew back. But of course, she rebooked a later flight without him knowing. As a surprise. And the call from Aster telling him she was on her way had shocked him and really put a damper on the night he thought he’d be enjoying with you. He just hoped she hadn’t passed you on her way to the door.

As soon as he opened it up, Aster slapped him across the face and held up a napkin with a blush-colored lip stain on it and a scribbled note. But what really had his attention was a droopy condom on his doorknob. Fresh with his come.

“What the fuck, Harry? What the fuck?!”

“Aster, I don’t… what is this?” He knew goddamn well what it was. It was you. “I think someone is just playing a joke on me. This isn’t mine…”

“The note, Harry? Whoever it is knows your fucking name.” Aster pushed passed him to make her way into the room.

Harry looked down the hallway and then cringed as he pulled the condom from the knob with the discarded tissue he picked up off the floor.

“Babe, this was just a cruel joke from someone–“

“Don’t you dare call me babe! And I don’t believe you. Who is going to play this kind of joke on you and then write your name on a napkin from the event you were just at?” She tossed him the napkin, “Hmm? I bet I know who. Someone you just fucked and kicked out because you didn’t think I’d come.”

Harry looked down at the napkin. Sure enough, it said A Secret Garden in the City with Alfred Spector’s company logo printed on it, as well as the note you’d written – Thank you, Harry xx. Bitch. He dropped the napkin onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

He didn’t know what to say. And it wasn’t like he’d been all that serious about Aster to begin with. She was gorgeous and they’d known one another for a while but that was where his attraction ended. In all honesty, he didn’t like her that much. Perhaps this was for the better, as much of an asshole as that made him seem.

“Aster, look…” he sighed and sat down at the edge of the messy bed, “You and I weren’t exactly serious. It’s always just been casual. You know that,” he looked at her with her hands on her hips, red in the face, tears just breaking her lash line. “I’m sorry. You and I were never headed for marriage. It was just some fun for a bit.”

“Some fun? I flew out here to see you on a whim. Not because I thought you were just a bit of fun but because I actually did like you. But you know what? You’re right. I don’t think I could have ever pictured myself marrying someone like you. Selfish, pathetic, overly regimented. You’re doomed to die alone, Harry.”

She pressed her lips together and waited for a response but when it didn’t come she stomped toward the door, slamming it behind her on her way out.

Harry smoothed his expensive blazer out and brushed off the feeling he was getting as he walked through the hallway to the foyer and then peeked into the sitting area where his interviewee would be sitting and waiting for him.

He nearly jumped back when his eyes met yours. Both of your faces held the same expression. Complete shock lined with minor disgust.

“This must be a joke,” you stood up from the plush silk-lined chair you’d been sitting in and looked around the room as if someone were going to pop out and tell you that you were on that show, Candid Camera, and it was all for a good laugh.

But the only person in your sight was the man you had a one-night stand with. The cocky asshole who’d treated you like garbage and then kicked you out of his room when he got a call from someone.

“I think there must be a mistake… You’re… are you a personal assistant? I’m confused.” Harry mimicked your body language, pivoting himself to look around to see if he could find someone and demand answers.

“Yes. That’s what I do for a living. But clearly, I have no intention of working for anyone like you, so if you don’t mind…” you picked up your briefcase and began to walk toward Harry to move past him and see yourself out.

But just as you walked through the threshold of the sitting room to the foyer Harry spoke, “Y/n.”

You stopped and turned to look at him in question.

“Come. Let’s have a chat,” he turned and began walking toward the grand stairwell that led upstairs, turning back to make sure you were following.

You blinked your eyes and scoffed as you looked down at your red-painted nails. Should you follow him? What would be the point? Just to hear him insult you and turn you away at the end anyway?

“You are looking for a job, are you not?” Harry spoke from the bottom of the stairwell, his hand on the lacquered wooden banister.

“I am. But… I don’t think this would work out.” You gestured at him.

“You and I are professionals and you come highly regarded. I’m in great need of an assistant. At the very least we can have a discussion and see where it takes us. I don’t like my time wasted and I’m sure you don’t either. You came all the way here. Let’s at least talk.”

Harry thought you looked cute and he could see the gears turning in your head. He could deal with the one night he’d had with you and the very improper thing you’d done which outed him to Aster if you were good at what you did.

“Yeah, but we…” you chose your words carefully, “Friday night? I honestly don’t think–“

“I can look past that if you can. This is strictly professional. I’ve no interest in anything more.”

What were you to do? He hadn’t just been a one-night stand. He was an asshole. Could he really pretend that none of that had happened? Could you?

But. There was the matter of the salary he was offering. An enticing and frankly irresistible number that could have you swallowing your pride.

“Fine. But I can assure you I will not tolerate being treated like…” you paused to carefully choose your words again. You were certain his house had staff listening in.

Before you could find the word you were seeking, Harry spoke, “Like an assistant who is paid to do her job flawlessly?” He began to take the steps upward and you followed.

You frowned at his description. As if you wouldn’t do your job flawlessly. You weren’t sure what he was implying but you had a bad feeling about this.

When you followed him into a large study with dark woods and big windows with heavy drapes, a huge walnut desk with an expensive chair and bookshelves lining one of the walls he closed, and locked, you noted, the door behind himself, “Sit.”

You looked at the plushy green velvet chairs with tufted cushions and ornate carvings in the arms and legs and placed your bag down on the chair next to the one you sat in. He sat in his own chair at his desk and looked at you, a harsh expression on his face. He was far more intimidating in this setting.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he spoke clearly as he kept his eyes pinned to yours, “What you did when you left that night is unforgivable in a personal setting. And because of that, you and I will never be friends. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work well together as boss and employee. I expect complete discretion and a professional attitude from anyone that works for me. Is that a problem for you?”

You felt your ears growing hot as your anger slowly rose, “I am the most professional and discreet personal assistant you’ll ever find. Anyone else will disappoint you and I would also expect that any employer would treat me professionally and fairly. What you did to me that night was insulting and something I will never forget nor forgive. So don’t worry, I’d never want to be a friend to anyone like you.” 

Harry clenched his jaw at your response and nodded, “Fair enough. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk job details and salary.” Harry looked down at his folder and opened it up.

“Salary? That part was already determined. Plus 10% on top if we come to an agreement on terms of employment today.” You reminded him.

Harry laughed and looked up at you with his head tilted to the side as if he were curious about you, “That was before I knew who I was offering such a generous salary to.” He looked down at the paper in front of him, marking something out and scribbling over it. He held the sheet of paper out to you.

You squinted at him and leaned forward to take the paper and your eyes widened at the new number he’d written in on the contract. You laughed and crumpled the paper as you stood from your chair, dropping it onto the floor and lifting your bag, “Goodbye, Mr. Styles.”

Turning and walking over the grand Persian rug that took up most of the floor you reached for the handle and when you pulled realized the door was locked. You placed your fingers over the keyhole and turned back to the smug fucker. He sat comfortably in his chair with his brows raised at you, unimpressed.

“Unlock the fucking door. This conversation is over.” You were fuming.

“And why’s that? I feel like that’s just a starting place. A negotiation if you will. Tell me why you deserve more and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“This isn’t a game. You had a perfectly fine offer that I was willing to negotiate off of but now you’re just insulting me, once again might add. I’d never work for anyone for that wage. Much less a self-absorbed man who treats women like rubbish.”

Harry folded his lips into his mouth as he tampered his grin. His cocky attitude was infuriating, “Oh please. Save the dramatics. Sit.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “No. You’re an overly egotistical moron with nothing to back it up. I will not stand for being insulted this way.”

Harry pushed himself out of his chair and began to walk toward you, “Nothing to back it up? Wrong,” he grinned as he looked around his extravagantly decorated room and back toward you, “This home is a great example of what I’ve got to show for my accomplishments. My bank accounts as well,” he slowly walked to your side and put his hand onto the heavy oak door you were standing in front of as he licked his lips and looked down at your outfit before looking directly into your eyes, “And I’m pretty sure I had you crying my name over and over again when I made you come. I’d say that’s a great reason for my inflated ego. You certainly thought I was great when I had my dick inside of you.”

You swallowed and then scowled at his nerve to bring up such a thing, “Well, like you said, I’m a bit dramatic. I was overplaying it that night because I didn’t want you to feel bad. Now open the fucking door.”

Harry’s smirk didn’t fall as he leaned in closer, “Liar. You loved it,” then he backed away, giving you enough space to breathe, “Not that you’ll ever have a chance to experience it again.”

“Like I’d want that little thing anywhere near me. Now, are you gonna open the door or do I need to call 911 for attempted kidnapping?” You dug into your bag and pulled your cell phone out.

Harry laughed and you watched in dismay as his dimples appeared. He looked too handsome to be such an asshole. He put his hands up in surrender, “Okay. Fine. We’ll go back to negotiating off the original salary plus 10%. Okay?”

You sighed. You hated that you were even considering it. The salary he was offering was too good, though. You could handle him if he kept personal matters out of your working relationship. The worst-case scenario would be that you quit and told the service about him and how he treated you (of course you’d gather evidence so no one else had to put up with his shit) and then find another job working for someone else.

You rolled your eyes and moved past him to go back to your seat.

Harry rounded the desk and sat down, putting his elbows on the desk once again, just like he’d done when you both first sat down to negotiate terms, “There we go. Money talks doesn’t it?”

Unfortunately, he was right. Money does talk.

You rolled your eyes again and looked at the back corner of his office to relieve yourself from his intense gaze.

“Less attitude, Y/n. Let’s begin, shall we?”

You suffered through an hour of going back and forth on expectations with Harry but at the end realized it wasn’t that bad. Once you both got out your frustrations at the beginning it seemed to flow smoothly after.

You even talked him into paying you 15% more, rather than just the 10%. Which you felt was a big win. Harry didn’t seem that phased by it.

He led you to what would be your room, which had your jaw dropping to the floor. It was… gorgeous. Like the rest of the house, it was grand and old but well-kept. The wide plank dark floors were covered with a light cream wool rug with small yellow, green, and blue flowers woven into the fabric. Long soft, lacy drapes hung from the ceiling and brushed against the floor over the tall windows that overlooked the massive back garden full of trees and flowers and fountains. The king-sized four-poster bed had a pale yellow, silk canopy with tiny blue birds sewn into the material. The bedspread was white silk with the same yellow and blue birds sewn in. Ornate, heavy wooden side tables, a dresser with a big vanity and silk-covered cushion sat across from the bed. An antique chandelier hung in the center of the room, high above the bed. Flowers and potted plants with green leaves rounded out the space. There were two closed doors. One led to a small closet (not a surprise it was so small for the period of the house), and the other to a fully updated, spa bathroom which… you really had to pause for a bit as you took it all in.

Harry handed you keys to the house and a fob key that would allow you in the gates that surrounded the home and told you to arrange to have your things moved in by the following day (on his tab) and that you would start work at 8am sharp.

You called Brandy the moment you drove out of the gates to tell her what had just happened.

“It’s him. It’s the asshole one-night stand. I just accepted the offer to be his assistant.”

“I’m coming over with a bottle of wine. I need details in person.”

“Brandy, I’ve got to make arrangements and get everything ready, I don’t know…” you hemmed as you drove down the road with your heart beating fast in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d just accepted to work with Harry Styles.

“Don’t make stupid excuses with me. You can do all that with a glass of wine in your hand.”

.           .           .

“I see why you took the job. Damn. I’m jealous,” Brandy spoke as she stood in your bedroom doorway while you packed up things you’d need right away. Harry explained that you’d be staying at his house more often during the week than your own apartment. He ran a tight schedule and driving an hour to his house every morning didn’t sound appealing and he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Yeah. I was going to say no. I really was but… how can I turn down that offer? I’ve never made so much in my life and honestly? Probably never will again. I figure it’ll be like a trial run. We’ll see if he can be professional.”

You called around and found movers and arranged for them to have everything delivered to Harry’s address the following afternoon. It was still early in the day so you scheduled to have a set of your spare keys delivered by a courier by 5 pm so they could have access to your apartment the following day as you’d be gone.

You were busy the whole time Brandy was there but you were glad she was with you. You marked items you needed to have delivered and printed out a sheet of paper for a checklist for the movers.

But by the time your keys were picked up by the courier and you were halfway through the bottle of wine, you’d finally had time to sit and relax.

“You two are totally gonna fuck again,” Brandy grinned as she looked at the TV.

You scoffed and smacked her arm, “We are not. I’d never go near him again. Not after that night. I actually, fully despise him.”

“Yeah… sure. I mean… I know he was an asshole but also the way you spoke about how good he was in bed? How do you turn that down? You two are gonna practically be living together and traveling together. I don’t know… I looked him up. He’s hot, Y/n. An asshole but… we all have needs.”

Shaking your head you sipped your wine and ignored her. The thought had very very briefly crossed your mind but it was quickly pushed away because the reminder of how he treated you Friday night couldn’t be ignored. You’d never ever forget the way he made you feel so little and so disgusting.

“He literally cheated on someone while he was with me. He had a girlfriend. He fucked me as she was on her way over. Like…” you flailed your arms dramatically, “how could I possibly sleep with someone that is a cheater? I mean willingly? Now that I know?” You shook your head.

Still, Brandy didn’t seem deterred in her assumption, “Yeah… but we don’t really actually know who called him. And if it was someone he was seeing? I mean… come on. It’s not as if they were married. We can gather that much. Yeah, he’s shit for what he did but like… I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s not like he cheated on his wife or something.”

Brandy had always looked at things through rose-tinted glasses which was annoying. Where you were more practical and stubborn. There was no way you’d end up in his bed ever again. You didn’t know the excuse for why he kicked you out after he spoke on the phone and called someone babe. But that was beside the point. The more important factor was the way he treated you and that was simply unforgivable.

.           .           .

You were running late. You couldn’t believe it. Your alarm had gone off on time. You showered, ran through your quick morning routine, double-checked that all your things would be delivered to the correct address, and then you were on the road by 6:45 am. You allotted an extra 15 minutes in case of extra bad traffic.

But traffic is unpredictable.

“Hello?” Harry spoke into the receiver. You had your phone on speaker.

“Harry? Mr. Styles!” You corrected yourself, “Um… I’m stuck on the highway and it’s a bit backed up. I’m just giving you a heads up that I’ll be like…” You sighed and looked at the clock trying to make some kind of conservative estimate, “twenty minutes late?”

You heard him grunt in response and then sigh, “Fine. Please come up to my office the minute you walk in.” And then he hung up. That was it.

And of course, you half expected such a response. He gave you little indication of his opinion on you being late. You just hoped he didn’t hold it against you on your first day. It had genuinely been out of your hands. But then again, you being at the house with him on subsequent mornings would mean that being late in this way wouldn’t happen ever again.

When you parked at the front of the house you finagled your suitcase out of the backseat and lugged it up the front steps just as the door opened, “Good morning, Miss. Can I bring this to your room for you?” An older man stood with a smile as he scooped your suitcase away from you.

“Oh. Uh… Okay. Are you sure?” You followed him inside.

“Absolutely. Mr. Styles is expecting you right away.”

You swallowed and watched the man walk away as you took a breath. Your first day working for Harry Styles. Possibly also your last, depending on how everything went.

You climbed the stairs toward his study and knocked twice before pushing the door open gently.

“Come and sit.” He spoke right away. He didn’t even glance your way as he continued typing at his computer when he spoke.

You sat in the same chair you had the day previous and waited for him to finish whatever he was doing.

He cleared his throat and squinted at his computer screen, “I’m an art dealer as I mentioned yesterday. But… it’s more complicated than that sometimes. I deal in art and cultural artifacts that can sometimes be a bit…” he looked at you, “morally grey in the way they are handled. It’s rare but I do occasionally have opportunities and come across certain pieces when a collector is willing to pay an exorbitant finder’s fee for the item.”

“Morally grey. Which means illegal.” You corrected, keeping your eyes on him.

He shook his head, “No. Nothing I do is illegal. Some take issue with some of the items I procure and where they come from, but ultimately, everything I do is technically legal.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what he meant exactly. But you assumed you’d be finding out soon enough.

After Harry explained in detail your schedule from day to day, he had Lucio give you a quick tour of the parts of the house you didn’t see the day before. He even had a binder with your tentative weekly schedule, important numbers to have on hand, addresses, passcodes, a new laptop, and passwords to his login details for various online accounts. He also handed you a credit card, “You’ll make all your own arrangements as well as mine. The limit on this card will cover the cost of flights and accommodations. You and I will be traveling frequently, as I mentioned yesterday.”

Your morning was filled with short bursts of Harry giving you information and what to expect, but half of that consisted of you waiting while he spoke on the phone and typed out emails. You couldn’t imagine why an art dealer would be as busy as seemed to be. Clearly, he was making lots of money so there was no doubt that he was busy with clients. But why?

You researched the ins and outs of being an art dealer the evening before, once Brandy’s Uber arrived to take her home. The typical art dealer did not make the kind of money you knew Harry had. Most also typically worked through auctions, galleries, and museums. Harry seemed to be his own entity doing deals as an individual.  So you knew he wasn’t typical in his field.

At lunchtime you were hungry. You’d eaten something small before dashing to your car that morning but that had long been digested.

“Mr. Styles?” You looked at him from your spot in your chair as you closed your new laptop.

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s lunchtime for me. I was hoping I could get something to eat if that’s okay? You should probably also eat. I can bring you something if you take your lunch up here.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less if he ate, but you were so used to making sure Alfred ate that asking Harry was automatic.

Harry’s brows scrunched together and he looked at his computer screen, “Hadn’t realized the time. Sure. Feel free to make something for yourself or you can ask Carl to. I’d like a vegan cassoulet.”

You stood and looked at him in confusion, “A vegan… what?”

“A vegan cassoulet,” He pronounced the word obnoxiously, “Carl will know what I want. Just tell him.”

You repeated the word to yourself. Cas ooo lay – cas ooo lay… You thought it sounded like one of those French dishes you’d never ventured to try.

In the kitchen, you found Carl right away and told him what Harry wanted.

“And what for you?” He began to pull out pans and got to work right away.

“I can manage. I think just a sandwich. Is everything here in the fridge?” You opened up the door and immediately were overwhelmed by the amount of groceries and items packaged inside. The fridge itself was state-of-the-art. Everything in the kitchen was.

Carl laughed and stepped up behind you, “You can find everything you might need in this kitchen yes. But perhaps we’ll leave the cooking to me today, just until you get used to where everything is. What kind of sandwich would you like?”

“Oh. Maybe that’s a good idea. You don’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Carl reached passed you to pull out some vegetables, “Not at all. This is what I do. How about a French bread panini? I can slice up some turkey and Swiss, load it with vegetables? Or maybe you’d prefer grilled chicken and pesto? Egg salad? Or are you vegetarian?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m definitely not vegetarian. And the first one sounds fine. Turkey and Swiss panini. Any veggies you put on it will be good. I just don’t like mayo.”

It was wild to be having lunch made for yourself by a professional private chef. And Harry’s cassoulet looked divine but after googling it you learned it’s usually made with various kinds of meat and that the duck confit is what makes the dish. But since his version was supposedly vegan, you couldn’t imagine it tasting anything like it was probably supposed to.

You also learned that Carl wasn’t just a personal chef. He also did all the grocery shopping.

After lunch, your belongings arrived. The movers placed everything in your new bedroom and handed you the key to your apartment before they left.

“This is it?” Harry asked standing in the doorway as he looked around at the boxes and bags you’d had delivered.

“Yeah. I don’t have much I need to keep here. You’ve got the room fully furnished. Just my clothes and essentials.” You shrugged as you opened up the box near the bed.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you as you dug into the box and pulled out your potted Pothos plant. “What?” You looked at him as you placed the plant on the floor.

“Nothing. Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I think it’s a good stopping point today. We’ve got you set up on everything so you can unpack and relax. Normally our days will be longer but since it’s your first…” he put both arms down by his side and stopped fidgeting, “It’s good for today. And like I said earlier, you are free to watch TV in the main room downstairs or get anything from the kitchen you need at all. You don’t need to just stay in your room all night unless you choose to.”

You squinted at him, wondering if there was some kind of catch. He was rather pleasant, you had to admit. After you both got everything out of the way the day before things had been fine. Normal even. But you still had to keep your guard up around him. And all it took to remember who you were dealing with was what he’d done that night.

You decided against going downstairs to watch TV. Maybe you’d feel comfortable enough to do that later on but that night, it felt nice to take a long bath and listen to music and then curl up on your soft, silky bed with your laptop and Netflix.

Though you did get thirsty. And a bit hungry around 8. So you ventured down and hoped to not run into anyone.

Except of course, you ran into someone. When you entered the kitchen you saw Harry standing in front of the refrigerator looking in. Apparently, he had the same idea as you.

You cleared your throat and Harry turned to see you there, “Oh, hey.” He closed the fridge and faced you, “Need something?”

You nodded and stepped toward the pantry, “A little hungry and thirsty. Is it okay?”

“Of course it is. Help yourself to whatever. I was just about to make some pasta. Something simple. Would you like some?”

“Yeah. I can help you make it. What do we need?” You neared the fridge and opened it up, pulling out a glass pitcher of water.

Harry ran down the list of ingredients, which weren’t many, and you helped him slice garlic while he boiled the pasta and poured a can of San Marzano tomatoes into a small pot.

Everything came together quickly and you both sat at the island to eat the late-night meal together.

“Tomorrow we’ll book a trip to Vancouver. Someone has a few pieces I’d love to see in person.” Harry explained what to expect on the trip as you listened.

Then you got to talking about your parents and then college. Harry shared a little about himself but it wasn’t much. You didn’t expect that he would, but he did tell you about his mom and sister. You could tell how important they were to him just by the way he spoke. It made you feel warm toward him in a way knowing that he cared about people other than himself. Something you hadn’t been sure about as he seemed so cold.

When you were both done you tried to help him clean up, “You don’t have to do this, Y/n. I’ve got a housekeeper who will be here in the morning. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Are you sure? Are you headed to bed?” You asked as you placed the forks into the sink.

He nodded, “Yeah. Time to call it a night.”

“Do you always go to bed this early,” you grinned as you refilled your water to bring it with you to your room.

He raised his brows, “Yeah. I get up at 4:30 in the morning to start my day so 9:30 or 10 is about when I go to bed.”

You cringed to yourself. 4:30 in the morning? That sounded like hell.

You both went your separate ways as you bid Harry good night.

.           .           .

You had a busy morning. You booked a trip for the following week to Vancouver for yourself and Harry. Two nights at The Four Seasons (2 separate rooms, connected), first-class airline tickets, a reservation for the 2nd evening at a nice restaurant for four people, an on-call driver for the whole visit, and set-up details with someone’s assistant named Lana for the meeting.

Harry wanted everything to be perfect so you had to work at extracting as much information from Lana as possible. At first, Lana sent you an itinerary that was rather simple and would have most people feeling good about the meeting. But Harry took one look at it and knew he needed more information. So you spent the majority of your morning speaking with the young woman and filling in details that appeared to be missing.

“This is excellent, Y/n,” Harry looked up at you as he stood from his desk. The itinerary and all the bookings were taken care of. “I’m leaving to take care of something personal. You can have the rest of the day off. Thank you.”

You felt pleased. So far, working for Harry hadn’t been all that bad. He was picky and hard to please but you could handle him. You just hoped that the momentum you two had would continue into the weeks ahead.

.           .           .

You met Brandy out at your favorite club. You wore a cute black dress and black booties and your black leather jacket.

“Oh damn, girl! You look good!” Brandy called to you when she spotted you through the crowd.

“I can’t stay all night! I have to work in the morning, so I stop at 2 drinks!” You spoke loudly so Brandy could hear.

Brandy’s side eye told you that your friend would be trying to get you to enjoy yourself for longer. But you couldn’t. The last thing you wanted to do was to be on Harry’s bad side and be hungover the next morning.

But, Brandy was convincing. Too convincing at times.

Four martinis in and you were painfully aware that you wouldn’t be driving back. You’d need an Uber and that kind of sucked because Harry would know when your car wasn’t there. But… since you’d already need to Uber and you were already out, you had a fifth martini and danced with Brandy and forgot all about your promise to yourself.

The night grew blurry and you couldn’t stop talking about your boss.

“He’s so put together too,” you slurred as you and Brandy leaned into one another, too drunk to dance or drink anymore.

“I know. You keep saying that. And how big his cock was,” Brandy laughed and you pushed her, causing her to stumble back dramatically so you reached out to steady her but wound up falling with her to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Yeah, you’d gotten sloppy drunk.

“I need to go,” you pushed yourself up to stand as you reached for your cell phone. You could hardly see straight, and pulling up the Uber app was simply not going to work. Instead, you called the second to last person you’d texted, Harry. You really hadn’t put much thought into it.

He answered the line and you pushed your way toward the front of the club to go outside, dragging Brandy with you, “Harry!” You howled loudly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Club Yega. Can you pretty please come pick me up? I’m so drunk.” Your voice was scratchy and your words were watery.

Once you got outside you repeated your question, unable to hear what Harry had responded to you.

“Okay. Just wait for me outside. Is there anyone with you?” He sounded concerned.

“Brandy is here and the security guy standing by the door,” you said matter-of-factly before hiccupping.

Harry told you he’d be there soon and Brandy wobbled into your side as she used one eyeball to call an Uber for herself.

You were unable to recall how long it took for Harry to arrive, or when Brandy had gotten into her Uber and left but when you saw him, he was standing over you with his hand out, “Up you get,” he grasped your hand and helped you stand up. You’d been sitting on the sidewalk.

“Should be more responsible,” Harry chided you as he helped you to his running car, “No one’s watching over you. Where’s this friend you had with you?”

“She was here I promise but her Uber came to get her,” you stumbled into his car and plopped down into the seat with an umph!

Harry looked back at the front door security person and nodded to him as he rounded the car and got inside.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I was going to only have 2 drinks. Swear.”

“It happens. But you should have called me sooner. Don’t like that you were sitting out there alone like that. It’s late. And we have an early day tomorrow.”

You turned to look at him as he pulled into the street and reached a hand up to the curl that covered the top of his ear, “You’re so pretty. Which is weird because you’re such a fucking dick.”

Harry shook his head and laughed to himself as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I’m serious. You’re too pretty for it to be real. Your voice even.” You croaked.

Harry glanced at you quickly, “Oh yeah?” His grin widened. He knew the alcohol was talking but he certainly didn’t mind hearing your thoughts about him while you were inebriated.

“Yeah,” you lowered your finger to his shoulder and then poked at his bicep before dropping your hand back into your lap, “Nice everything. Except you’re not actually nice are you?” You let out a garbled laugh and closed your eyes for a moment.

“Hey… Come on. You’re drunk. Just close your eyes and we’ll be home soon.”

You shook your head and looked back at him, “Bossy too. But it sucks because it was so good that night. God I still think about it… and then I remember how you kicked me out like I was filthy. That was mean. Hurt my feelings.”

Harry sighed and stayed quiet. He was not going to engage in this kind of conversation with you while you were drunk. He was sure you wouldn’t remember any of it anyway.

But you didn’t stop there, “I wish I could stop thinking about it, though. S’not fair.”

Harry kept his eyes on the road and listened.

“The way you sounded when you were coming. I keep hearing it,” you squeezed your thighs together and looked out the window with a soft sigh. “Never had it like that before. But fuck you.”

Harry swallowed and blinked his eyes. He was a little surprised by your drunk confession. He liked that you thought fondly of some aspects of that night. Clearly you had enjoyed the sex. But to hear you saying how your feelings were hurt and that you were still angry about it all?

He looked over at you and down to your thigh where your dress had ridden up quickly before looking back at the road. He still refused to engage in this. You were drunk. Very much so.

“And your hands, Harry…” you reached over to brush your fingers over the back of his hand that was gripped on the steering wheel, “Oh god…” you breathed your words, “Your fingers. How good you are with them,” you bit your lip and leaned your head back into the leather seat and closed your eyes. “But still fuck you.”

When you were silent for a few minutes Harry looked over at you and noticed you were asleep.

He was glad you’d stopped staying the things you were. Your words had him confused. You were going from hot to cold fast. But he knew you wouldn’t ever reveal such things to him if you hadn’t been so far gone.

Waking you up gently, he put his arms under yours to help you out of his car, “We’re home, Y/n. Let’s get you up to bed.”

You were able to use your legs, but things were spinning. You clung tightly to Harry as he slowly brought you upstairs to your room.

When your bottom hit your mattress you laid back and sighed, “I might throw up,” you said.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head as he helped you out of your shoes. He knelt down and unzipped the leather to pull each one off. He didn’t intend to let his eyes wander over your legs and your thighs, but your dress had gotten bunched up so he could practically see your panties. And then they were fully on view when you scooted yourself into your bed further.

Harry leaned over you and pulled your blankets up over your body, “I’ll be right back with water.”

He couldn’t believe how adorable he thought you were. Even though you were still angry at him over what he’d done he liked the sass a little. He was definitely attracted to you. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He tried not thinking about that night with you but after you’d brought it up he couldn’t help himself but to indulge in thoughts of the way you felt and how wet you got for him. Your body, your voice… You were good with your hands too, he smiled remembering your comment about how you liked his hands. But of course, the smile fell from his face when he remembered how the night ended. How shitty he’d been. But now things were too complicated and he wasn’t sure that any kind of apology would ever be enough.

When he got back to your room you were asleep. Out cold. He placed the water on your nightstand and brushed his fingers along your forehead. You were cute.

He plugged in your cell phone and smiled at your sleeping face.

“Good night, pretty girl,” he whispered as he turned off the lamp next to you before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself.

Part 3

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @theastrologie @sassamanda77 @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @icumforbaldrry @harrrrystylesslut @straightontilmornin

[leqonsluv3r]

please read❗️

so as you all know, i haven’t been as active on here in the past couple of months.

here is why; it all started when we first moved into our apartment four months or so ago. the first week we moved in we have had issues with our downstairs neighbor. he has made our life a living hell basically and has complained to management about us a number of times. to preface, we have done nothing wrong. we always keep our noise to a minimum and our dogs never really bark unless they’re scared or playing. but that is besides the point, we got a number of complaints and were given a notice to not let our dogs dedicate on the sidewalk or bark (which was never really a problem to begin with but we complied).

cue those days that go buy, i get a knock on the door after i come home from work.

its an eviction notice.

instantly, im panicked and my mom is panicked. we don’t have money for this, we cant afford a mover or to move again. we just moved. these are all very real thoughts that kept going through my head. my anxiety didn’t make it any better lol, but that was the realness of it. we didn’t have the money or time for that, we had just moved three months prior into this apartment.

so we decided to get a lawyer, the eviction notice gave us two weeks to move out. TWO WEEKS. thats so illegal, hence, the lawyer we got. also the reason they wanted us gone was for our dog peeing on the sidewalk and barking excessively during quiet hours. which, keep in mind, neither has happened at all.

we got a court date after the two weeks, consulted a lawyer. BUT JUST WHEN YOU THINK IT CANT GET ANY FUCKING WORSE.

my mom looses her job, which….is more added stress on top of everything else we have going on. i only make so much and rent where i live is fucking astronomical and almost impossible to pay. hence, why im on here…i hate to be one of these people and i never thought i would have to make one of these, much less post it to my writing blog where i write leon smut lmao. but…i started a go fund me and it’s linked below. if you would like to help out even by a couple dollars…that would be great. even reblogging and sharing.

my mom is applying for foodstamps but we still need to pay for rent and other bills, its all on me and i don’t have all the money myself to do it. so any help at all is appreciated.

i just need all the help i can get right now and i hate asking for it but…

i really need it.

thank you, i love you all. ❤️



[variety-fangirl]

Neighbours / Moon Boys x fem!reader

Summary: you're the new neighbour, looking for a change of scenery and people, a fresh start. Your neighbour, Steven, is someone you find yourself trusting easily and quickly. Something about you both draws the other in, enticing each other to explore what this could mean. Yet, you have a secret about why you moved, will you feel comfortable enough to open up to him?

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS angst but mostly fluffy, mentions of previous toxic and abusive relationship (beginning of physical abuse, manipulation, and emotional abuse), swearing, let me know if I missed anything! Will add more later as the story progresses.

Author's note: Hello! I am back with something quick and lovely that I have been working on for a while. It feels good to get slowly back in to writing 😊 College really had taken so much out of me and my joy for writing when all I was doing for 10 months straight was writing long essays, it was also nice to take these months to relax and come to terms with everything. So much has been happening 😮‍💨 But I hope I will be back more consistently now, fingers crossed! I've been mostly writing to get new and fun ideas, hoping it would entice and inspire me to write. I hope you guys enjoy anyways and feel free to ignore my rant 😅 Feedback, comments, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated and lets me know how I'm doing. Thank you for reading and enjoy my loves 💜

Word count: 1.9k

You huff as you place another box on the floor of your new apartment, watching the movers bring in two more. You felt thankful that you had decided to pay extra for the movers to help you bring all your belongings up, far too much to have done on your own.

There were endless stairs, and it would have taken you hours to bring it all up here yourself, especially with your new sofa, bed, and dining room set. All were bought cheaply from a friend second-hand who was more than happy to help you. She was one of the only ones you'd told where you were going, and had left your address and new number with to contact you. Everything new and different, nothing to remind you of the old life that you'd left behind.

You started unpacking the basics whilst they brought the rest up, there were still quite a few boxes because you had to buy most stuff brand new. Luckily you had hidden as much money as possible before leaving, so you had more than enough to buy what you needed. You would work on buying extras and niceties when you had spare money throughout, you'd moved far enough that you were hoping not to have to move again unless you wanted to in the future.

That was at least the hope. Not because you were forced to leave in the middle of the night terrified for your life.

You try to take a deep breath as you subconsciously rub at the scar on your neck, you are safe now. You wanted to distract yourself for as long as possible, so you sorted the boxes out where they needed to go, to their newly allocated rooms.

It would be weird to live on your own again after so long, it had been five years since you'd run away from home and four since you'd started dating and moved in with your now ex, Noah. It was a scary thought once more, to be alone. More alone now than you'd been before, at least you had your best friend, Natalie, at home. Now, she lives four hours away from your new place in London.

You made her promise to conceal your number and hide your address, you knew he'd go to her first to ask where you'd gone. She would lie, she'd always been good at it but he wasn't stupid. He knew you would have told her, you just prayed he wouldn't hurt her. You could never forgive yourself if she got hurt because of you.

She was one of the only people who meant anything to you in this world. She at least had her boyfriend, Tyler, who was like a brother to you. He would protect her, he always hated Noah for how he treated you. Tyler had hated Noah from the moment he met him, made you known of it also but you just chalked it up to a bad first impression and yet it never improved no matter how much time they spent together. It wasn't until three years in that Noah showed his true colours and by that point, it was too late. You were in deep and he was a master manipulator and narcissist, he'd played you well. He almost came between you and Nat but she wouldn't allow it, tried to make you see him for who he really was. It didn't take much convincing when the major problems started in the last year of your relationship together.

The first time he'd hit you was a year before you left him, he apologised and said he was drunk. The typical excuse and blame on anything but himself. Promised he "won't do it again", two months go by and it happens again but this time more frequently. He drank more, went out frequently, and came back later. By the six-month mark, you caught him cheating for the first time (that you knew of).

That was the moment you vowed to leave him, it was as if all the years of manipulation and abuse faded away and you came to your senses. You had to save enough though to leave, so you let Nat and Tyler know of your plans and they helped you to set everything up. It took you six months of planning and saving, and you were finally ready.

The night finally came, you waited and told him before he had a drink, that you were leaving him. He started out crying, begging you not to leave him, you didn't budge. He tried to initiate sex, but you said no and he didn't like that. That night was the worst abuse you had endured the whole of your relationship combined. He threatened you, managed to get you down on the living room floor with a knife in hand, and held it to your neck to the point of blood drawn. You sobbed, pleaded with him, said just about anything to get him to calm down. You would still leave but you would say anything to get him off you. He began slowly slicing your neck open whilst screaming that he loved you, only luckily managing to get an inch before you kicked him in the balls hard enough that he collapsed just to the side of you.

You ran to the bathroom and locked the door, terrified out of your mind. You grabbed the first aid kit to clean and patch up the gash on your neck. Having done this a few times when he threw stuff at you or pushed you into surfaces sharp enough to cut skin. You had a few scars all over your body, it wasn't pretty but you wore them proudly to signify that you were a survivor. He tried to bash down the door before leaving, yelling about going to the bar and he would 'see to you later'. You knew that would be your only open window to leave, he would be at least two hours there. You immediately called your best friend, she and Tyler came over to help you in any way they could.

You packed two suitcases of clothes and shoes, a duffel bag of prized possessions and important bits, a backpack of money and goods to sell, and quickly changed from your bloody clothes into something clean but comfortable. You grabbed the first aid kit too for your neck. Everything was packed into your car in less than an hour, saving you enough time to wipe anything important and any trace of you behind, away. You immediately booked a two-day stay at a cheap hotel an hour away on Natalie's computer for the night so you could figure out your next move. He would come looking for you the second that he realised your stuff was gone and that terrified you, he was not a man who gave up on things he wanted.

It had taken you two months to find this apartment after a lot of rejections and failed apartment searches. It had immediately caught your eye when you saw the ad for it on one of the apartment renting sites. It was perfect for your situation. Multiple floors of tenants would make it far harder to search through unless you knew which floor to look at so you could blend among your new neighbours. A locked front door that had a security number code to be allowed entry and without it you couldn't enter. Security cameras on each floor show all angles of the apartments, which each tenant has access to for their safety and peace of mind through an app you can download on your phone.

You had downloaded and gained access before you'd started moving the boxes in. You were given access a week beforehand, which helped your anxiety and tight chest to ease just an inch. You knew it would take some time for you to feel safe and be able to walk down the street without looking over your shoulder every five minutes or keep your taser on hand in your pocket with your fingers gripping it just in case. You were constantly worried and paranoid that he was watching you from around the corner like he would pop out at any moment and drag you "home".

The police had never given a fuck about you or your situation, Noah's family has money and connections, so it was always swept under the rug. Just another number, another person to suffer in silence, until one day your dead body would have turned up. They would just pretend they didn't know. A murder gone wrong, you imagine they would chalk it up to.

You take a few calming breaths whilst unpacking, listening to the footsteps and quiet chatter from the moving company men. It eased the anxiety when someone was around, it helped you to feel safer and calmer. As if, if someone was with you or near you, you could be protected from the 'big bad wolf'. You were hoping to become friendly with some or all of the neighbours on your floor, not just for safety in case something happens but also because you'd never been allowed to make new friends with your old neighbours. Noah had made sure of that.

So, you were hoping that this move would be the perfect opportunity for you to do so. You loved to bake cakes and savoury treats but hadn't been able to with Noah because he always ruined things you loved, but now he was gone you could finally pick it back up again. You were planning to bake something sweet as a gesture to introduce yourself to your neighbours, hoping it would make a good first impression.

You walked back into the open apartment that was now your own little safe haven and smiled with contentment, this was the start of a happy new beginning for you. No more fearing what mood Noah would be in that day when he woke up, no more being abused daily, no more sobbing silently into your pillow or taking an emotionally broken moment of peace to cry out your feelings in the shower after he'd hit you. Just you, your new clean apartment, and the ability to do as you please without fear.

It didn't take the movers long to bring the remainder of your boxes up between the three of them. They took off just moments ago, and now you were finally alone. It felt strange, not hearing shouting or items smashing. Just pure blissful silence in your home. Your own place to do with as you please. It felt wonderful to have freedom.

You felt tears cloud your vision as you stared out the window you'd opened when you first stepped inside the apartment, feeling the warm Summer air blow in. The overwhelming emotions of freedom and serenity hit you like a punch to the gut, a sob immediately pulled from you as you sank to the ground. You felt the year-long toll of abuse and terror that had been weighing down your shoulders finally crumble and release you while the sun flowed into the room. You fought the battle and came out victoriously on top for the first time in your life and it felt amazing.

Once the sobs quieted down and the tears had stopped, you took a moment for yourself. You opened a bottle of your favourite wine and picked up an empty glass to pour yourself a drink. You took the bottle with you as you sat back down on the floor in front of the open window, feeling the warm breeze kiss your skin gently and watched the sun in peace. It was still early in the day, you would have plenty of time to unpack later on. But for now, you just want to relax without worry for the first time in a long time.

[billboard-hotties-tourney]

The Hot Shots Roster

Hey, everyone! As mentioned, here's the list of the Round One competitors that are vying for the title of the hottest vintage album cover:

AC/DC - High Voltage (European alternate cover)

Anita Ward - Songs of Love

Aretha Franklin - Almighty Fire

Aretha Franklin - La Diva

Aretha Franklin - With Everything I Feel in Me

Art Blakey - The Freedom Rider

Art Van Damme Quintet - Martini Time

Ashford and Simpson - Is It Still Good to Ya

Barbra Streisand - Classic Barbra

Barbra Streisand - Wet

Bee Gees - Main Course

Bee Gees - Spirits Having Flown

Belchior - Todos os Sentidos

Betty Davis - Nasty Gal

Billy Joel - 52nd Street

Billy Joel - The Stranger

Billy Preston - Live European Tour

Bionic Boogie - Tiger Tiger

Blondie - Parallel Lines

Blossom Dearie - Blossom Dearie

Blue Oyster Cult - Blue Oyster Cult

Blue Oyster Cult - Tyranny and Mutation

Bob Dylan and The Band - Before the Flood

Bob Dylan - Blonde on Blonde

Bob Dylan - Highway 61 Revisited

Bob Dylan - The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan

Bob Thompson, His Chorus, and Orchestra - On the Rocks

Bobbie Gentry - Fancy

Boney M - Love for Sale

Boney M - Take the Heat off Me

Breakwater - Breakwater

Bruce Springsteen - Born to Run

Bruce Springsteen - Darkness on the Edge of Town

Bruce Springsteen - The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle

Caetano Veloso - Araca Azul

Carly Simon - Boys in the Trees

Carly Simon - Playing Possum

Carmen Maki - Poems in the Midnight

Carole King - Tapestry

Carole King - Thoroughbred

Chaka Khan - Chaka

Cher - Backstage

Cher - Dark Lady

Cher - Half-Breed

Cher - Prisoner

Cher - Take Me Home

Chic - Chic

Claudio Baglioni - E tu...

Claudio Tellino - Calamo

Cockney Rebel - Love's a Prima Donna

Cockney Rebel - The Human Menagerie

Contortions - Buy

Cream - Disraeli Gears

Crosby, Stills, and Nash - CSN

Crystal Gaye - We Should Be Together

Curtis Mayfield - Do It All Night

Curtis Mayfield - Give, Get, Take, and Have

Dalida - Elle S'appelle Dalida

David Bowie - Aladdin Sane

David Bowie - The Man Who Sold the World

David Bowie - The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust

Deep Purple - Fireball

Deep Purple - Stormbringer

Deep Purple - The Book of Taliesyn

Della Reese - Moody

Dexter Gordon - Our Man in Paris

Diana Ross and Marvin Gaye - Diana and Marvin

Diana Ross - Baby It's Me

Diana Ross - Everything Is Everything

Diana Ross - Ross

Diana Ross - The Boss

Dionne Warwick - The Sensitive Sound of Dionne Warwick

Dolly Parton - Heartbreaker

Dolly Parton - Here You Come Again

Dolly Parton - My Blue Ridge Mountain Boy

Don McLean - Tapestry

Donna Summer - Bad Girls

Donna Summer - Four Seasons of Love

Donna Summer - Live and More

Donna Summer - Love to Love You Baby

Donna Summer - Once Upon a Time

Eartha Kitt - Down to Eartha

Eddie Rabbitt - Loveline

Eddie Rabbitt - Variations

Elton John - Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy

Elton John - Friends

Elvis Presley - Clambake

Emmylou Harris - Elite Hotel

Emmylou Harris - Luxury Liner

Eric Clapton - Backless

Fausto Papetti - 2a Raccolta

Fausto Papetti - La Playa

Fleetwood Mac - Rumours

Four Tops - On Broadway

Foxy - Get Off

Francesco de Gregori - Bufalo Bill

Frank Zappa - Apostrophe

Freddie Hubbard - Hub-Tones

Gal Costa - India

Gary Numan - The Pleasure Principle

Genevieve Waite - Romance Is on the Rise

George Martin - Live and Let Die

Gil Scott-Heron and Brian Jackson - Winter in America

Gina X Performance - Nice Mover

Grace Jones - Portfolio

Harry Belafonte - An Evening With Belafonte

Heart - Dreamboat Annie

Heidi Bruehl - Verliebt wie du und ich

Herb Alpert - Whipped Cream and Other Delights

Iggy Pop - New Values

Ivano Fossati - Good-bye Indiana

Janis Ian - Between the Lines

Janis Joplin - Janis Joplin's Greatest Hits

Jards Macale - Contrastes

Jeff Beck - Blow By Blow

Jim Post - I Love My Life

Jimi Hendrix - Crash Landing

Jimi Hendrix - Electric Ladyland

Jimi Hendrix - Loose Ends

Jimi Hendrix - The Cry of Love

Joan Armatrading - To the Limit

John Barry - You Only Live Twice

Johnny Cash - Orange Blossom Special

Johnny Mathis - Killing Me Softly With Her Song

Judas Priest - Sad Wings of Destiny

Juliane Werding - Ein Schritt weiter

Julie London - About the Blues

Julie London - Julie

Julie London - London by Night

Julie London - Whatever Julie Wants

Jun Fukamachi - Second Phase

Katja Ebstein - Mein Leben ist wie ein Lied

Kenny Burrell - Blue Lights

Kiki Dee - Stay With Me

King Crimson - In the Court of the Crimson King

Kool and the Gang - Spirit of the Boogie

Kumiko Hara - No Smoking

Leslie First and Combo - Sexy Hammond

Linda Ronstadt - Hasten Down the Wind

Linda Ronstadt - Heart Like a Wheel

Linda Ronstadt - Simple Dreams

Lizzy Mercier Descloux - Press Color

Loretta Lynn - Blue Kentucky Girl

Lou Reed - Coney Island Baby

Lou Reed - Rock n Roll Animal

Lou Reed - Take No Prisoners

Louis Moholo Octet - Spirits Rejoice!

Love - Forever Changes

Maria Bethania - Alibi

Marianne Faithfull - Broken English

Mark-Almond - Other People's Rooms

Martha Miyake - Together With Jun

Martin Denny - Quiet Village

Marvin Gaye - I Want You

Marvin Gaye - Live at the London Palladium

Marvin Gaye - What's Going On

Marvin Gaye - When I'm Alone I Cry

Mick Ronson - Slaughter on 10th Avenue

Miles Davis - 'Round About Midnight

Mina - Mina 2

Momoe Yamaguchi - Dramatic

Mott the Hoople - The Hoople

Musique - Keep on Jumpin'

Nanako Sato - Kissing Fish

Nelson Riddle - Sea of Dreams

New York Dolls - New York Dolls

Nick Drake - Bryter Layter

Nico - Desertshore

Nino Oliviero - La Moglie Giapponese

Nukhet Duru - Bir Nefes Gibi

Ohio Players - Ecstasy

Ohio Players - Fire

Olivia Newton-John - Totally Hot

Ornella Vanoni - Uomo Mio, Bambino Mio

Osanna - Suddance

Parliament - Mothership Connection

Patti Smith - Easter

Patti Smith - Horses

Pearl Bailey - Sings for Adults Only

Peggy Lee - The Man I Love

Peter Straker - Changeling

Phyllis Hyman - You Know How to Love Me

Pink Floyd - Animals

Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon

Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here

Prince - Prince

Pucho and his Latin Soul Brothers - Yaina

Queen - News of the World

Queen - Sheer Heart Attack

Ramones - Ramones

Ray Charles - The Great Ray Charles

Ray Conniff - Say It With Music

Rie Nakahara - Touch Me

Rod Stewart - Blondes Have More Fun

Roxy Music - For Your Pleasure

Roxy Music - Stranded

Ruth Copeland - Take Me to Baltimore

Scorpions - In Trance

Shirley Bassey - Something Else

Sonny Clark - Cool Struttin'

Sonny Rollins - Work Time

Sparks - Propaganda

Strapps - Strapps

Styx - Best of Styx

Styx - Man of Miracles

Su Kramer - Die zwei Gesichter

Sun - Wanna Make Love

Susan Cadogan - Doing It Her Way

Suzi Lane - Ooh La La

Suzi Quatro - Suzi Quatro

Suzi Quatro - Suzi...and Other Four Letter Words

Suzi Quatro - Your Mama Won't Like Me

T. Rex - T. Rex

T. Rex - A Beard of Stars

T. Rex - Electric Warrior

T. Rex - My People Were Fair...

T. Rex - Tanx

The Beatles - Abbey Road

The Beatles - Revolver

The Beatles - With The Beatles

The Cars - Candy-O

The Clash - London Calling

The Doors - The Doors

The Doors - Waiting for the Sun

The Dubliners - A Drop of the Hard Stuff

The George Shearing Quintet - Mood Latino

The Kinks - Low Budget

The Kinks - Percy

The Rolling Stones - Sticky Fingers

The Stooges - Raw Power

The Supremes - High Energy

The Velvet Underground - 1969: Live

The Velvet Underground - Andy Warhol's Velvet Underground ft. Nico

The Velvet Underground - Loaded

The Velvet Underground - Squeeze

Thin Lizzy - Fighting

Thin Lizzy - Nightlife

Thin Lizzy - Thin Lizzy

Tim Buckley - Tim Buckley

Tim Curry - Fearless

Tina Turner - Acid Queen

Tom Jones - The Body and Soul of Tom Jones

Tom Jones - Tom

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Tom Waits - Blue Valentine

Tom Zacharias - Belindas Doettrar

Toto - Hydra

Townes Van Zandt - Townes Van Zandt

Tubeway Army - Replicas

Van Halen - Van Halen

Vicky Leandros - Ich liebe das Leben

Wally Tax - Love In

Warren Zevon - Excitable Boy

Waylon Jennings - Hangin' On

Wild Cherry - Wild Cherry

Zafer Dilek - Oyun Havalari

[sterekbros]

12.1K | Fluff | Soulmates | Meet-Cute | Getting Together

a glimpse of you and me (12129 words) by Winchesterek Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Summary: “You write about soulmates?” Derek asked, sounding curious as he leaned in. “I didn't know there was a market for children’s books about that.” “Yeah, it’s starting to pick up traction the last few years. I know there weren't many books like this when I was a kid, but maybe things would’ve been different if there had been.” Stiles shrugged. Then he paused, wetting his lips as he tried to control his breathing. “Do…you believe in soulmates?”

A gift to @evanesdust for the Fall 2023 @sterek-exchange And @sterekweekly Turkey

~*~*~

It was move-in day. A day that Stiles was dreading because he didn't want to move their whole life into their new home on his own. Then again, that was why moving companies existed. And he’d made enough on his last published book that he could afford movers along with what he’d saved to buy their first home.

He was so proud of it and hoped that his daughter would love it just as much as he did, despite having to leave her friends when they moved back to his hometown, Beacon Hills. It had been a while since he’d been here, since High School really. He hadn’t been back for more than holiday visits and to bring Hazel to see her grandparents.

But now they’d be able to spend more time together as a family because he was back in his hometown rather than halfway across the country.

“Hazel!” Stiles shouted, looking around for his daughter as he picked up a box.

“Yes, daddy?!” She shouted back, coming into view. Where had she’d disappeared to for all of a minute? Stiles had no idea. She was fast and sneaky. He was always worried that she would get lost. It was one of his biggest fears.

“What were you doing?” He asked, hefting the box into his arms and looking down at her.

“Oh. I was looking around the yard.” She held up a dandelion. “And I picked you a flower!”

Stiles smiled, always fascinated by what the mind of a seven-year-old was entertained by. Then again, dandelion flowers turned into puffy weeds that made Stiles sneeze, so he was happy for her to pick them from the yard so he could eventually throw them away when they dried out on the kitchen counter.

“Let’s go inside so we can check out your room,” Stiles suggested, motioning with his head.

“Okay!” Hazel replied cheerily and then skipped toward the house.

“I get to pick any room?” She asked, voice tinny. He trailed after her, thanking her when she stepped inside and opened the door for him, but then she dropped it on his face so he struggled to open the screen door and get inside the house at the same time.

Then again, she was seven. She had the attention span of a bee.

Stiles put the box down once he was inside and closed the door behind him, looking around. It was a two-story home with a modest living room and a nice open-concept kitchen that overlooked the backyard where he would be able to see Hazel playing while he cooked.

And it had three baths. Not that Stiles thought they’d ever use three baths and the four rooms in the house, but maybe someday if he had more kids he’d put them to good use. Right now, Hazel was enough to give him a run for his money.

She was up the stairs before Stiles could answer her, no doubt already running to each room to look at them and choose the largest one. He was going to have to break her heart that the master bedroom wasn't going to be hers.

He found her in the largest secondary bedroom, looking out the window and into the front yard. He tapped on the door jam with his knuckle to alert her he was there before he asked, “Is this the one, pumpkin?”

“I think so.” She didn't look at him, too focused on whatever had caught her attention outside. “Daddy, who is that?”

Stiles walked up behind her and looked out the window, searching for what she was looking at. His eyes landed on a man in the driveway of the house next to theirs, working on what looked like a motorcycle.

“It looks like that’s probably our neighbor next door. And he’s doing something with a motorcycle…” Stiles couldn’t help but stare a little too long because the guy was traditionally attractive and the shirt he was wearing didn't leave much to the imagination with how it stuck to his body from what Stiles could imagine was from his sweat.

“Can we go see him?” Hazel asked, looking up at him with bright, curious eyes.

“Not today, sweetheart. We need to finish unpacking boxes and eat lunch. And we should get all of your stuff ready in your room so you can sleep in here,” Stiles replied, running his hand over the top of her head.

“Is Mommy coming over later?” She asked, her red hair shining in the sunlight that trickled through the window.

“Maybe. I’ll call her and ask to see if she’s busy. You know your mommy works a lot, but she loves you.” That seemed to tide Hazel over as she nodded and looked out the window again, leaving Stiles to shake his head.

They’d explained to her early on as best they could that mommies and daddies weren’t always together, especially since his best friend Lydia had done him a solid and was the surrogate for the child Stiles had always wanted. She’d even donated one of her eggs to him because she said her genetics were superior and needed to be passed on. He always got a laugh out of that, but he didn't think she was kidding when she’d said it.

So, Lydia took Hazel on weekends when she could and they chatted all the time on FaceTime. They had family dinners when Lydia was in town and Hazel didn't seem any worse for it. It worked for them. Stiles had Hazel full time and he was perfectly fine with that because he was the one that wanted her and practically begged Lydia to give her to him.

He owed her more than he ever could repay her for the little girl in front of him now. He also cursed her name half the time too when Hazel was too smart for her own good and left Stiles often confused about what to tell her. She was quick and her wit was sharp. Stiles didn't want to think about what she might be like when she was a teenager.

“Come on, pumpkin. Let’s go get some of your boxes from downstairs while the moving men unload the rest of our stuff from the truck,” Stiles said, running his hand over the top of her head.

“Okay, daddy. Then I can unpack!” She smiled up at him and then turned around and hurried off downstairs. He could hear her trampling the whole way down. That was going to be something Stiles had to get used to.

They busied themselves moving the smallest boxes into Hazel’s room while the moving company finished unpacking the truck and dispersing the boxes to the correct rooms. Stiles left Hazel in her room to unpack her boxes while we headed downstairs to make lunch. Two sandwiches later, one without the crusts and with extra pickles, the other being Stiles’ which he would say is a normal sandwich, and Stiles was ready for a break.

“Hazel! Lunch is ready!” Stiles waited and listened, but didn't hear little feat trampling down the stairs. “Hazel?”

Stiles frowned and went upstairs to check on Hazel, not finding her there.

Oh, god.

They hadn't even been at their new home for twenty-four hours and Stiles had already lost his daughter. Inside their house.

He hadn't heard Hazel sneak by, so Stiles checked all the rooms, the bathrooms and anywhere else he could think of before heading outside to check the backyard. He didn't find her there so he hurried outside to check the front yard. The moving company had already packed up and left.

And the only thing in the driveway was Stiles’ blue Jeep.

Stiles sighed in relief when he heard Hazel's tinny, high-pitched voice nearby.

He followed it, finding Hazel standing in the driveway next door with their hot motorcycle-owning neighbor. Stiles was going to regret this, especially if he fell all over himself talking to him.

“Hazel,” Stiles said, walking toward them. “I was worried when I couldn't find you.”

Hazel looked up at Stiles with her bright eyes, red curls tumbling down her shoulders. “Sorry, daddy. I wanted to talk to Mr. Derek!”

When Stiles’ gaze returned to Mr. Derek, he was surprised to see an almost blinding smile that made his eyes sparkle like a kaleidoscope. Damnit. This wasn't good for Stiles. At all.

“Uh, hi. I’m sorry my daughter was bothering you…while you’re working on your motorcycle.” Stiles kicked himself internally.

“No, no. It’s completely fine. I needed a break anyway.” Derek cleaned his hands with a rag, stained with oil.

“I’m Derek Hale,” he added, reaching his partially dirty hand out in offering to Stiles. Stiles took it, giving Derek a firm shake, and tried not to drool on him before releasing Derek’s hand. “Hazel was telling me that you two are my new neighbors.”

Obviously, Derek couldn't have missed the moving truck, but Stiles liked how he entertained his daughter and their conversation. “Oh, yeah. I used to live in Beacon Hills growing up and I’ve been away for a while, but I thought it was time to move back home.”

Derek nodded, still smiling as his gaze glanced over Stiles. “Well, welcome to the neighborhood—-”

Oh. Right. Stiles hadn't given Derek his name. “Stiles. Stilinski.”

Derek’s face looked thoughtful as he asked, “As in Sheriff Stilinski?”

“That’s the one.” Stiles chuckled. “He really should retire, but I think he’d be bored if he wasn't working. He likes to keep busy, even when he takes time off.”

Derek laughed and god, Stiles wanted to see more of that.

“I can understand that,” Derek replied, tossing the rag onto a toolbox next to his motorcycle. “I try to keep busy, but it’s easy to do when I’m at the firehouse most of the time.”

Stiles smoothed his hand over Hazel’s hair as she leaned into him, knowing that her big ears were taking in everything that Derek was saying. “Firehouse? So you’re a firefighter?”

“Yeah. I wanted to be one as a kid. I guess I grew up and managed to follow my dreams.” Derek chuckled again and met Stiles’ eyes.

For some reason, Stiles hadn't expected that. “Wow. That must be exciting.”

“It’s…interesting, for sure. I can say that the job is never boring.” Derek leaned over and closed the toolbox, which Stiles took advantage of and checked out Derek’s ass, which was very toned and unfair. Probably because of how much he worked out due to being a fireman.

“Well, we should let you finish up here and get back to our place. I made lunch,” Stiles replied, looking down at Hazel. And she was far too fascinated with Derek already. He was sure she was thinking up a thousand questions to ask him about being a fireman the second she got the chance.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I didn't mean to keep you,” Derek replied as he straightened and turned to them. He reached his hand down to Hazel and said, “It was nice meeting you, Miss Hazel. I’m sure we’ll see each other another time.”

“We will!” Hazel confirmed as she shook Derek’s hand. Stiles chuckled.

“Come on pumpkin, before your sandwich is soggy.” Stiles scooped Hazel into his arms and perched her on his hip, his eyes casting back to Derek, who was smiling at him still.

“It was nice meeting you, Stiles. Welcome to the neighborhood.” Derek’s eyes were downright sinful and Stiles had to calm himself as warmth spread through him at Derek’s look. He wasn't even sure if Derek liked dudes.

“Thank you. It was nice meeting you too… I’m sure we’ll see you around.”

“You can bet on it,” Derek replied and picked up his toolbox, then headed off toward his open garage.

He really needed to get his thoughts under control or they’d never make it through lunch. He jiggled Hazel and she giggled before they headed off back to their house.

Stiles had a really good feeling about being home again. Like it was all going to work out perfectly.

Chapter 2

Stiles heard all too familiar giggles from the aisle over and he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he and Derek started dating, but it seemed just like it was yesterday.

He grabbed a couple of boxes of stuffing and put them into his basket, followed by two cans of cranberry sauce and a can of mushroom soup so they could make turkey gravy.

Stiles loved the holidays, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas. His Dad would be coming over, along with Derek’s family and they were going to have the biggest Thanksgiving dinner that Stiles had had since he was around 7 years old. He wished that his mom could be here, too. Stiles thought she would love Derek as much as he did.

He walked down the aisle and turned the corner, seeing Derek carrying Hazel under one arm like she was a bag of potatoes while she wiggled around and laughed. Stiles wasn't surprised. She often thought playing games in stores was the funnest thing. Stiles, on the other hand, was always afraid that he’d lose her. And god, he would never forgive himself.

Then again, Derek was always really good at keeping an eye on her. He walked up behind them and tickled Hazel as she squirmed and bucked, so Derek put her down with a grunt.

“She’s definitely your daughter,” Derek teased as Stiles wrapped his arm around Derek’s waist and kissed Derek’s cheek.

“I can verify that I was a wild child,” Stiles replied with a chuckle as Hazel climbed into the cart and sat down.

“I think you’re getting a little big for that,” Stiles told her.

“I’m only 9, Daddy,” Hazel replied, sounding annoyed like she often did these days. Hazel was 9 and it had been two years since they’d moved into their new house. Derek was rarely at his own place anymore and they’d been considering turning it into a rental for extra income. Not that they needed it, but it was a nice thought.

“And 9 is a little old to be riding in the grocery cart. Where are we going to put the turkey?”

“You can carry it!” Hazel said it like it was the simplest answer in the world.

Stiles frowned. “I’m not carrying one turkey, much less the three we’re going to need for our family dinner.”

Hazel sighed. “Fine. Can we at least get the stuff for our pie now? You know, the one that you said grandma used to make when you were little?”

“Of course. Why don't you grab us some cool whip from the freezer right there?” Stiles suggested, hoping that it would tide Hazel over since she’d be helping.

“I can do that,” Hazel said with a nod, climbed out of their cart, and went over to the freezer.

Stiles set his basket in the cart and turned back to Derek. “Hey there,” he said and leaned in to kiss Derek. The kiss was soft and sweet and Stiles wished he could kiss Derek longer, but it would definitely be indecent in the grocery store.

“Hey,” Derek replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You find everything?” Derek’s hands fell to Stiles’ hips as he tugged him closer.

“I think I got everything other than the pie crusts and the cool whip. I figured Hazel might want to get those.” He wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, his fingers playing with Derek’s hair at the base of his skull. He knew that Derek loved it when he did that and if Derek could, Stiles thought he would purr.

“Good. Then we’re almost done getting everything. We just need the turkeys.” Derek gave Stiles another peck that sent shivers down Stiles’ spine, like the kiss was a promise of more.

Stiles sighed, letting the happiness settle in his chest. “I love you, Derek. So much.”

“I love you too,” Derek replied softly. “And our little family.”

And Stiles hoped that one day, their family might grow. After all, he did have extra bedrooms in his house that he needed to fill.

***

Stiles jerked awake and held his chest, his heart pounding in his ears. It felt like he was ripped from another life. He reached up to touch his head. Stiles was still disoriented, swimming in and out of his dream, trying to figure out what was real and what was a fantasy.

What the hell had that been?

He’d never felt anything like that before. Nothing had ever been that real. His dreams were just dreams and he'd never dreamt of someone he’d just met before.

They were also dreams that Stiles was told that he’d never have. After all, Stiles didn't have a soulmate and he was told that he never would. It just wasn't in the cards for him. So they for sure weren’t soulmate dreams. That was ludicrous.

He sighed as he laid back in bed, letting the mattress hug his body, sinking into the foam. He breathed in and out slowly, letting his heart calm and his brain sort out what had been a fantasy and the real world.

But all he could think about was Derek. Derek that had been with them at the grocery store like it was any other day. Derek that had a smile just for him. Derek whom he was in love with in his dream. DerekDerekDerek.

Stiles knew he was really attracted to Derek but he needed to get it together. He wasn't crazy and he wasn't desperate. It wasn't as if he hadn’t had relationships and that men and women hadn’t been interested in him. He just wasn't in one right now and didn't really have any plans to be. His life was focused on Hazel and his career and Stiles was completely okay with that.

His mind wandered… and Stiles ran a hand over his face as if it would push away thoughts of Derek.

He was screwed and not in the best way.

Fuck.

Chapter 3

It had been six months since Hazel had accosted Derek, making him tell her all about his motorcycle and what exactly he’d been doing to it. He’d been changing the oil, something that Stiles hadn’t found out until days later when he’d chatted with Derek at their mailboxes.

Now he’d often find Hazel chatting away with Derek in the driveway when he was outside working on his motorcycle, or when he was in his front yard taking care of the bushes or mowing the grass. She’d even managed to get Derek to play soccer with her, which Stiles had no idea where she’d gotten a soccer ball from. So likely it was Derek’s.

Stiles was not athletic. At all. So maybe it was for the best that Derek had been the one that she’d talked into playing soccer with her that day.

They hadn’t played soccer since.

Hazel’s interests were fickle like that since she was only seven years old.

But really, Stiles hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Derek. Especially since every time he spoke to Derek, he had another dream. It was always something so domestic and simple, something so mundane that it would be boring for most people. That was what made it so awesome for Stiles, though. It was like Derek just fit into his life. Like he had always been there and belonged there.

Stiles had stopped believing in soulmates a long time ago. When he was seventeen he’d visited a psychic, one that told him that he didn't have a soulmate. At the time he’d been so lonely that he needed to know if he’d ever find his soulmate. If he’d ever find someone that would be his world. After that, he’d given up on soulmates. He lived his life like a normal person, never expecting to meet their soulmate.

It happened sometimes. A person would have no soulmate, or people could have multiple. Or maybe their soulmate would just end up being their best friend and it would be platonic instead of romantic. No one ever really knew how the whole soulmate thing worked, but it seemed like it had a mind of its own. How crazy was that?

Stiles looked through the mail as he lingered by the mailbox. He didn't know if Derek was home since he worked the oddest hours. Derek would be on for 48 or 72 hours, then he would be off for 24 hours.

Not that Stiles was keeping track of that. Of course he wasn't. Which is why he didn't really know if Derek was home. Maybe he should keep track of Derek’s schedule if he was going to try bumping into him more often. That would probably be the best idea. Although, it was also slightly on the crazy side. He wasn't a stalker.

Stiles faintly wondered if Derek had been having dreams about him, too. Sometimes someone’s soulmate wasn't always the other person's soulmate. Stiles wondered if Derek had ever thought about soulmates before.

He had to have, right? At some point in his life? Everyone did…

It would kind of be a weird conversation starter, so Stiles dropped it and sighed, closing his mailbox. He quietly hoped that Derek would be home later and that Hazel would sneak off to talk to him just so Stiles could find her and have a reason to talk to Derek.

He was a terrible person who used his daughter’s curiosity in Derek just so he could talk to their hot next-door neighbor.

Stiles walked up the pathway to his house and climbed the steps, heading inside.

Hazel was out with Lydia for the day, so he had some time to himself for work. He tossed the mail on a side table and grabbed his tablet from the couch, falling back onto it and resting his head against fluffy pillows. Stiles could also use a nap, but he had to turn in a few pages at the end of the week to his publisher. Just an update of what he’d been working on since he had gotten an advance on his next publishing contract.

Stiles opened a canvas and looked at the sketch of a little wolf and fox. It was a story of them becoming fast friends and falling in love. It was probably one of the cutest stories he’d written in a while. He wasn't sure if he should be thankful or not that children’s publishing companies pushed for books about soulmates, so children could learn about them early on.

Stiles knew that the fox and the wolf would have a tough time, especially because they were different, but they were soulmates, and children learning about differences and challenges was always a good thing.

He started coloring in the scene, focusing on the wolf for a while, painting his black fur, and giving him minute details that didn't really matter in a children’s book. He smiled at the wolf and stroked his finger over the image.

“At least you have a soulmate little wolf,” Stiles said softly, then frowned when there was a knock on the front door.

He glanced at the time on his phone. It wasn't nearly time for Lydia to bring Hazel back and he wasn't expecting anyone. He closed his tablet and tossed it back onto the couch, then headed to the front door.

Stiles opened it, shocked to see Derek standing there.

“Uh, hi.” Derek smiled, shifting there awkwardly on Stiles’ porch. Then he wiggled something in his hand and Stiles’ eyes dropped to see a package. “It looks like this was delivered to my house but it’s yours.”

“Oh.” Of course Derek was here to do something as simple as return a package to him. It wasn't like he was there for Stiles. “Thanks.”

Stiles reached out for the package, his fingers brushing against Derek’s as it was handed over. He might have lingered a little too long during the exchange, but he told himself that was because he wanted to make sure that he had a good hold on his package before taking it from Derek.

If he were using an emoji right now, he would definitely be using a side-eyed Discord dog emoji in response to the lies he told himself.

“Would you like to come in?” Stiles asked, opening the door more and stepping aside. Why he was inviting Derek inside? Stiles had no idea. He just knew that he didn't want Derek to leave.

“Oh, sure.” Derek rubbed his hands on his pants, then stepped through the threshold. He looked around as Stiles closed the door. “Wow. I guess I wasn't sure what I expected it to look like in here, but it’s nearly the same design as my house.” Derek paused. “The layout, I mean.”

“Yeah, I figured they would all look pretty similar. I think when they made the neighborhood the developer had very little differences in the main layouts of the houses. It was really based on how many rooms there were. At least, that’s what I found online when I was researching. And by researching, I mean avoiding drawing,” Stiles rambled.

“You like to draw?” Derek asked, pushing his hands into his pockets as he faced Stiles.

Stiles smiled and nodded. “It’s kind of my job. I write and illustrate children’s books.” Which was probably what was inside the box now that Stiles was thinking about it. Derek looked star-struck when Stiles’ gaze flicked from Derek to the box in his own hands.

“Wow. That’s…amazing. I guess it wasn't expecting that either.” Derek’s cheeks were flushed and the tips of his ears were pink as Stiles studied him.

“What were you expecting?” Stiles asked curiously, wondering what Derek thought of him. But if Derek was expecting something, then at least he was thinking of Stiles, right?

“I’m not sure,” Derek replied, shifting from foot to foot. Stiles wondered why Derek seemed nervous. He never seemed nervous when they’d previously talked.

“I guess most people never expect me to be a children’s book writer and illustrator. So I shouldn't really be surprised that you thought I’d do something else for a living.” Stiles picked at the tape on his package.

“I guess because your father is the Sheriff, I thought you’d get into something doing with law enforcement. Maybe a lawyer,” Derek added, his gaze focused on Stiles.

Stiles laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. At least, the law enforcement part. At one point I wanted to work down at the station and possibly become a detective. I wasn't sure what kind of detective. And on another occasion, I entertained the idea of being an FBI agent.”

“FBI, huh? I guess your life would be a lot different if you did that for a living…” Derek rocked on his feet but he didn't turn away from Stiles nor look away.

Stiles tilted his head, thinking about that. His life might look different and he might not have the stability to have Hazel. Which meant that there was no choice. He wouldn't have it any other way.

“I guess it would be a lot different,” Stiles said and nodded. He licked his lips, the back of his mind itching to tell Derek he’d been dreaming about him. “Do you want something to drink?” he asked instead. Damnit.

“I’d love something to drink,” Derek said with a soft smile, the offer seeming to relax something in both of them. “Water is fine.”

Stiles tipped his chin toward the kitchen. “It’s this way, but if your house is almost exactly like mine, then you’d know that.”

It was Stiles’ turn to flush for no reason and he kicked himself mentally. He walked with Derek to the kitchen and set his package down on the island. “So you’re off for the next 24 hours?”

“Yes. I just got off shift.” Derek leaned against the island as Stiles grabbed a glass from the cupboard.

“Ice?”

“Sure.”

Stiles filled the glass with ice from the dispenser and topped it off with water before turning and handing it to Derek. “You must be pretty tired, then.”

“A little. I’m still running on adrenaline from our last call. But it will wear off in a bit.” Derek took the glass, not pulling it away from Stiles’ hand immediately. “Thank you…”

“Of course.” Stiles smiled almost shyly. “It’s the least I could do for you returning my package.”

Once Derek took the glass, Stiles looked at the box again and grabbed a butter knife. He cut the tape and set the knife aside before opening it. Sure enough, there were some proofs for his next book.

“Are those yours?” came Derek’s voice over his shoulder. It really shouldn't take Stiles’ breath away and send a shiver down his spine with how close Derek was now.

“Uh, yeah. Well, the beginning of a series that I’m working on.” Stiles pulled a book out and smiled as he smoothed his thumb over the black wolf on the front cover. “It’s about a fox and a wolf meeting and finding out they’re soulmates.”

Well, there it was. The topic had been thrown out into the open. There was no avoiding it now unless Stiles wasn't Derek’s soulmate despite Derek being his. Then Derek would have never seen glimpses of their possible future together.

“You write about soulmates?” Derek asked, sounding curious as he leaned in. “I didn't know there was a market for children’s books about that.”

“Yeah, it’s starting to pick up traction the last few years. I know there weren't many books like this when I was a kid, but maybe things would’ve been different if there had been.” Stiles shrugged. Then he paused, wetting his lips as he tried to control his breathing. “Do…you believe in soulmates?”

Derek looked hesitant, like he was searching for the right answer. After a few moments, Derek said, “I’ve always loved the idea of soulmates…but just because you have a soulmate doesn't mean it will work out, or that it will be romantic. It could be platonic. That doesn't mean you can't fall in love with someone that’s not your soulmate. That you can't have a life with someone and be happy if they aren’t your soulmate.”

Derek set the glass on the counter and shifted to lean his hip against it, standing next to Stiles. There were only scant inches between them, which had Stiles’ heartbeat speeding up. If Derek had supernatural hearing, Stiles’ heart would completely betray him.

“I think soulmates could make it easier if you’re compatible with the person. At least, if you’re mutual soulmates. I know it doesn't work out for everyone that way,” Derek added.

“So…you haven't found your soulmate yet?” Stiles asked carefully, knowing he was treading water and hoping he wasn't about to drown.

“Well…I wasn't sure that I had one,” Derek replied. “I, uh—also wasn't out there searching for my soulmate either. I figured if I ever met them, then it would happen because it was supposed to. I’ve never signed up for those soulmate dating apps or anything.”

So…then maybe Stiles wasn't Derek’s soulmate even if Derek was his. His heart sank at the thought and he drew in a shaky breath. “Yeah, well, I haven't used those sites either.”

The silence hung between them like it was something fragile that neither of them wanted to break. Stiles wasn't sure how long it lasted until Derek’s words broke into his thoughts with, “I had dreams about you after the first day we met, Stiles.”

Stiles looked at Derek, confused. Had he just heard what he thought he heard? “What?” Stiles asked, his mind fuzzy with hope and his heart breaking if it hadn't been.

“After we met that first day, the day you moved in. I had a dream about you and Hazel.” Derek took a deep breath. “We were at a grocery store shopping for a family Thanksgiving dinner.” He looked like he was waiting for Stiles to process what he’d said and Stiles’ mind was spinning.

Derek had had the same dream he had. Of them being a family, of being in love. Of spending the rest of their lives together. Because that’s exactly what Stiles had dreamt and felt then, too.

“Really?” Stiles asked, still refusing to believe it. He couldn't let himself believe that it was true. That his whole life had been a lie up until now. That he actually had a soulmate. “I—I— I had the same dream,” Stiles breathed.

“And your family was going to come over. And my dad. We were going to have Thanksgiving here.” Stiles slipped back into that moment with Derek, standing in the middle of the frozen section aisle while Hazel went to grab the cool whip for his mother's pie. He remembered the way Derek’s lips felt against his, how Derek’s voice sounded when he told Stiles that he loved him.

“Stiles?” Derek asked gently, pulling Stiles from his thoughts again. “Are you okay?”

Stiles ran a hand over his face, trying to push away his memories of their shared dream. Did that mean that Derek had shared Stiles’ other dreams? “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry… it’s just a lot to process.”

Derek nodded, crossing his arms and shifting to lean back against the island, his body turned away from Stiles. “Yeah… I understand. I wasn't sure if I should say anything…”

“It’s not that I don't believe in soulmates,” Stiles was quick to assure Derek, “It’s just that I didn't think that I had one. So, it’s a little more to process than just finding out… I guess, like, normally.”

Derek was nodding, but he didn't say anything right away. “Well,” he breathed out. “How about we start out by going out on a date? I mean, if you’re into guys. I guess I should have asked that first…”

Stiles laughed softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I am. It would kinda be weird if I wasn't and my soulmate was a dude, huh?”

Derek chuckled. “Well, I guess in that case we could have been really good friends… and maybe great neighbors.”

Stiles laughed again, then he breathed out all the tension he didn't know he’d been holding in. “You’re into dudes, right?”

Derek smiled at him like it was a given. “Well, yeah. I wouldn't have suggested we go out on a date if I wasn't.”

“I just had to make sure. You never really know with these things. I didn't want to assume.” Stiles looked down at the book in his hands that he’d completely forgotten about. “Did you want to look at the book? I’m working on the second one in the series now.”

“I’d love to,” Derek replied, uncrossing his arms and reaching out to take the book from Stiles’ hands. “So, you said it’s about a fox and a wolf?”

“Yeah…” Stiles turned to lean back against the island, scooting just a little closer to Derek as he looked at the book in Derek’s hands. “Obviously the black one is the wolf,” he added, reaching out to brush over the wolf with his finger. ��And the fox is a red fox.”

Stiles didn't know why he was telling Derek what he could see for himself. “They meet in the forest and spend the day together and promise to meet again before winter sets in.” He smiled as he studied the cover. “It takes a long time, between getting ready for winter and taking care of the pack, but within that time they dreamed of each other and of what their lives could be like if they stayed.”

Derek opened the book, looking at each page like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Like maybe it was their story.

“And they decide to winter together instead of being separated again.” Stiles smiled as he touched the opening of the wolf den on the page. “And then they never parted after.”

“So, the second book?” Derek asked as he looked through the rest of the pages. “What is that one about?”

Stiles shrugged and smiled. “Life, I guess. Just because someone is your soulmate doesn't mean you won't have challenges, right?”

“Right,” Derek agreed and closed the book. “I think it’s a really great book. And I can't wait to see what you come up with for the second book in the series. How many are going to be in it?”

“I’m not sure. But right now I have at least three planned out. I guess it depends on the publishing company and if they want more books in the series. I can always create new characters, though, for another series. New stories. New lessons.” Stiles bumped his shoulder with Derek’s and Derek handed the book back to him.

“I’d love to see your other work sometime,” Derek replied, not pulling away as Stiles rested their shoulders together.

“Yeah, I have other books I can show you. I don't think I can share what I’m working on right now, but after it’s all finalized I can share then.” He took the book from Derek and set it on the counter behind them.

“So…where are we going on a date?” Stiles felt his cheeks heat at the question, telling himself he shouldn't be nervous about this.

“I’ll leave that up to you,” Derek replied softly, smiling at Stiles. “We can work something out.”

Stiles had always believed that soulmates were forever and he couldn't wait to explore that possibility with Derek.

Derek was right. They’d work it out.

Chapter 4

Stiles checked his watch and sighed, looking around Hazel’s classroom and the other 25 first graders in the room. Today they were going on a field trip and Stiles had volunteered to be a parent chaperone.

He was already regretting it.

Apparently, there were no other parental chaperones. So, Stiles looked at the list of names in his hand and counted the kids again to make sure they had the correct amount before they all filed onto the school bus.

Their field trip was a short ride and Hazel had been talking non-stop about it. They were visiting a local firehouse to see the trucks and learn about fire safety. Stiles continuously reminded her that it might not even be Derek’s firehouse and if it was, Derek might not even be working when they got there. Or Derek might be out on a call saving someone from a fire.

Hazel promptly ignored everything Stiles said, insisting that Derek would be there because she was ‘going to see him be a fireman today!’

Stiles couldn't deny that he wasn't excited at the possibility of seeing Derek all dressed up in his work clothes. He hadn't seen Derek in anything related to his job yet, not that Stiles didn't like Derek’s regular clothes. But he’d thought about Derek on more than one occasion dressed up as a fireman. It had definitely fueled some of his late-night thoughts.

It had been two months since they’d started dating. It was difficult since he had Hazel full time and Derek’s schedule was a little crazy, but they’d found the time. Even if it was only when Derek came over after his shift while Hazel slept.

They snuggled and fell asleep together on the couch probably a little too often.

Too often for Derek not to have kissed him yet.

Stiles had been thinking about kissing Derek for weeks at this point on a daily basis. He just wasn't sure how to go about it and Stiles was worried that Hazel would wake up and catch them in the act. She’d never seen Stiles kiss anyone, so that would be a whole conversation in itself.

After he helped settle the kids into their seats, he took a seat at the front and they were off.

The drive was less than fifteen minutes to the firehouse and the kids were way too excited and in a chatter as they started unloading them. Stiles tried to keep an eye on everyone, even as Hazel took his hand and the kids gathered around in a small group with the teacher in front.

“Alright, class! We are going into the firehouse and they’re going to show us the firetruck after we discuss fire safety.”

With that, they filed into the building as quickly as 26 first graders and two adults could. Once they were inside the cramped space that looked like a lounging area that also had a kitchen on one side, they were greeted by three firefighters. Stiles glanced at their name tags, which read: Erica, Boyd, and Isaac.

The blond bombshell stepped out from the group. “Look at all these cuties!” she exclaimed excitedly, beaming at the kids. “I am Miss Erica and these are my two helpers, Isaac and Boyd.”

All the kids said hi in near unison and Stiles chuckled as he watched them explain fire safety to the kids. Then the blond guy, Isaac, acted like he was on fire, fake yelling and all before he dropped to the ground. Boyd, with an unamused look on his face, took off his coat and covered Isaac with it to pat him down. Erica narrating the whole scene was almost just as assuming as watching the two men act it out. The kids were enthralled by the demonstration.

All of them except for Hazel, of course. Stiles looked down when he felt Hazel tug his hand.

Her eyes were big and bright, looking expectantly at Stiles like he had all the answers in the world. Which he definitely didn't.

“Daddy…are we going to see Mr. Derek?” she asked, which made Stiles sigh. Again.

“I don't know, pumpkin. I told you that he might not be here when we got here. Right now it looks like we have some fun people showing your class about stopping, dropping, and rolling if you catch on fire, though.”

Hazel looked sad and uninterested. “I already know how to do that Daddy. We talked about it at school with the nurse.”

Of course they did.

Stiles glanced up at a tiny girl, who announced herself as Kira, came into the room and started separating the students. It looked like she was a paramedic and not a firefighter.

“Okay! Sir, you will be with me and I’m going to show your group the ambulance. Our firehouse is assigned an ambulance that makes emergency runs on its own but also assists the fire trucks. In addition, they back us up when we leave the firehouse on separate calls, just in case we need extra help,” Kira started as she motioned for the group of six kids that had been corralled with them toward the ambulance parked in the bay.

When they reached the back of the ambulance, a dark-haired woman was sitting inside with the doors open. Her smile was warm, her lips red, and her eyes sharp as she greeted the kids. “I’m Laura. Welcome to our firehouse. We’re so excited to have you here with us today!”

Stiles’ brows furrowed as he studied her. She looked frighteningly familiar, but he’d never met her before.

Kira and Laura helped the kids into the back of the ambulance, showing them the various tools inside. Hazel seemed more interested in talking to Laura, rapidly firing a million questions at her. Laura didn't seem to mind, like she was used to it.

His daughter had a way of wrapping every person she met around her little fingers and Laura looked like no exception. It was a good thing that they’d only interact for the field trip, otherwise Hazel might have another person out there willing to do her bidding for whatever she asked. Stiles chuckled to himself.

“Stiles,” came a voice from behind him and he turned to see Derek there, half-dressed in his fire get-up. He was also dirty, as if he’d just come from a call.

“Oh, hey,” Stiles replied, his smile growing. “I didn't know you were here.”

“I just got back,” Derek replied, motioning to the fire truck parked right outside the bay where other firemen were inventorying.

“We haven't been here that long,” Stiles assured him, tilting his head and taking in Derek’s appearance more. It really was hotter than Stiles expected it to be, especially because Derek was sweaty and had soot on his skin. “You okay?”

Derek nodded, smiling tiredly at Stiles. “Yeah. Just had a hard call. I can't exactly give you details, but everything worked out.” He walked over, reaching out to hold Stiles’ hand and tug him closer. All Stiles wanted to do was kiss him, but he managed to control himself as Derek wrapped his arms around him and buried his face against Stiles’ neck. Stiles circled his arms around Derek and held him, giving him whatever comfort he needed.

“Mr. Derek!” Hazel shouted, pulling Stiles from his thoughts. Well, there went the whole trip. He couldn't blame Hazel for being infatuated with Derek. Stiles was too. It was more than that for Stiles, though.

Derek chuckled and drew back, letting Stiles go, and looked down at Hazel who was already next to them, raising her arms excitedly. He picked her up and perched her on his hip easily. “Hey, Peep,” Derek teased.

“That’s not my name, Mr. Derek,” Hazel replied, sounding offended. Derek had given her the nickname within the first couple of weeks because he’d said Hazel’s voice sounded like a little bird. Stiles thought it was cute. Hazel did not. He supposed it could have been worse. He could have called her Chirp. Stiles really tried not to laugh to himself.

“Alright, alright. Miss Hazel,” Derek replied. “How are you enjoying your field trip?”

“Good, now that you’re here!” Hazel hugged Derek and Stiles thought it was the most adorable thing, but she would likely need a change of clothes with the soot that clung to Derek transferring onto Hazel.

She pulled back and looked him over, then frowned. “You’re stinky,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Hazel, that’s not nice,” Stiles chided, but he was smirking and biting his lip. “We don't say those things to people.”

“But he is,” she replied and shrugged.

Derek laughed. “Well, I was going to take a shower so I wouldn't be stinky, but I wanted to come say hi to you before I did that.” He glanced toward the ambulance and raised his chin at Laura.

Oh. Oh. Well, Stiles knew now why she looked familiar. She looked nearly identical to Derek.

“I see you met my sister, Laura.” Derek’s gaze returned to Stiles and he couldn't believe that he’d just met Derek’s sister. They hadn't really talked about meeting each other’s families yet.

“I didn't know she worked with you.” And why Derek hadn't mentioned it before.

“We both got our EMT certificates in high school, but I decided I wanted to become a fireman. Laura was happy with staying in an ambulance. She gets to help a lot of people that way. At least on a daily basis.” Derek jiggled Hazel and she giggled, holding onto him.

Stiles looked back over where Laura was letting the kids hear her heart through a stethoscope. Yeah, they were definitely related. And the genetics were strong. Derek had told him she constantly reminded him she was fifteen minutes older than him since they were twins.

Derek nudged Stiles with his shoulder.

“I’m going to shower and I’ll be right back,” he promised, handing Hazel over. Stiles shifted her onto his hip as Derek smoothed a hand over Hazel’s hair. “It won't be long.”

Before Stiles could respond, Derek was retreating and Hazel asked, “Are we going to see the fire truck, Daddy?”

All Stiles could think about was how fucking hot Derek’s ass was as he disappeared into the lobby.

He was going to Hell.

Chapter 5

Stiles closed the front door and locked it before taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair. Lydia had just left with Hazel for the weekend. And if Stiles’ weekend went as planned, Derek wouldn't be leaving until Monday since he had two days off. Two days that Stiles wanted to spend enjoying everything he could with Derek.

“Hazel leave okay?” Derek asked as Stiles walked back into the kitchen. He was chopping asparagus at the island, smiling at Stiles. He looked like he belonged there, just like he had when Stiles first dreamed about him ten months ago.

Ten whole months of domesticity and Derek slowly integrating into their lives. Stiles couldn't believe that much time had already passed since it seemed just like yesterday that they’d moved in next door.

“Yeah. She was excited about spending the weekend with Lydia.” He walked into the kitchen behind Derek, wrapping his arms around him and leaning his chin on Derek’s shoulder. “Lydia even gave me a wink.”

Derek chuckled. “High hopes for this weekend?”

“Maybe,” Stiles teased as he watched Derek finish the asparagus and put it into the pan. “I think the pot roast is almost done and I was thinking, maybe tomorrow we can have steak and mashed potatoes?”

Derek set the knife in his hand aside and turned the heat down on the stove before turning in Stiles’ arms to face him. He leaned back against the counter, one hand moving up to wrap around the back of Stiles’ neck.

“That sounds perfect,” Derek said softly, drawing Stiles in for a kiss. It was soft and sweet, undemanding. Safe. It made Stiles warm all over as he leaned in, pressing his body against Derek’s. When they parted, he sighed and rested his forehead against Derek’s, Stiles’ hands trailing up Derek’s arms and resting on his biceps.

“I could get used to kisses like that…” Stiles didn't pull away and wet his lips. “Every day…” The suggestion twisted his stomach, filling it with butterflies.

Derek smiled, brushing his nose against Stiles’, causing Stiles to look at him. “Are you asking me to move in with you Stiles Stilinski?”

“I—” Stiles studied Derek, looking into his eyes like they held the answers to the universe. Was he asking Derek to move in with him? Was ten months too soon? They were soulmates, after all. It wasn't as if they hadn't spent the last ten months weaving in and out of each other's lives. “I… think I am.”

Stiles breathed deeply, wishing for courage. “Hazel adores you,” he continued. “And I—” Oh, god. Was he going to say it? Would Derek say it back? Would Derek say yes? “I love you, Derek.”

Derek didn't hesitate as he replied, “I love you too, Stiles. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” He pressed his lips to Stiles’ again, this time kissing him a little deeper, almost tentative. “You’re my soulmate. This is the only place I want to be.”

Stiles squeezed Derek’s biceps as if they could ground him, taking a shaky breath. “So does that mean that you’re moving in with us? Is…that a yes?”

He didn't know why he was more nervous than he was before. There was no way that Derek would tell him no after what they just confessed, would he?

“Absolutely. Whenever you want. We can pack everything this weekend.” Derek’s smile was almost blinding as Stiles drew his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I… was hoping that we’d, um—spend our time inside this weekend. Together.” He could feel his skin flush, knowing it would make him blotchy all over. “Preferably with no clothes on.”

“Oh.” Derek chuckled. “Well, I can't say that I wasn't hoping for the same thing, because I was.” Stiles always thought Derek was cute when the tips of his ears turned red, but at least he knew that they were both flustered over the prospect of all-weekend sex.

Stiles laughed. “Well, we should probably at least eat first. We made all this food. Then we can put everything away. I can officially show you my bedroom.”

“I eagerly await the official tour,” Derek teased, giving Stiles a peck. Stiles knew it was more so neither of them would lose control and rip each other's clothes off right there in the kitchen. Not that Stiles was opposed to having sex for the first time with Derek in his kitchen. “Come on, let’s eat.” This was going to be the fastest dinner Stiles had ever eaten, knowing that he’d be practically inhaling it in anticipation.

He pulled away, moving to the other side of the counter to check on the pot roast in the oven, feeling Derek’s eyes roving over him.

Oh yeah. Dinner would be quick.

They’d eaten in record time and Stiles may or may not have been keeping track.

“Leave the dishes.” He reached out for Derek, his finger slipping into Derek’s belt loop, tugging Derek close.

Stiles didn't hesitate as he pressed their lips together, melting into the heat of Derek’s body. He whimpered against his lips as Derek’s hands found his hips. God, Stiles had been wanting this. Needing this.

He’d never needed anyone as much as he needed Derek right now that he was so overwhelmed with it.

“Fuck, I need you,” Stiles breathed, nipping at Derek’s lips and pressing his hips against Derek’s, letting him feel how hard he already was.

Derek’s hands slid over Stiles’ ass, rocking him against him. “Need to get to the bedroom before I fuck you right here over the counter.”

A needy sound fell from Stiles’ lips, his arms wrapping around Derek’s neck. “I wouldn't say no to that but we really need lube.”

Derek chuckled. “Definitely.” He kissed down Stiles’ neck, leaving gentle bites as he gripped and squeezed Sitles’ ass. “Hold onto me,” he whispered against Stiles’ skin.

And then Derek was gripping him firmly and lifting him, taking Stiles by surprise, which made him laugh. He moaned softly, his legs wrapping around Derek as his lips trailed along any skin he could reach.

“Are you going to brave the stairs while holding me?” Stiles teased, his grin mischievous as Derek carried him.

Derek looked dubious when they reached the bottom of the stairs, which only furthered Stiles’ amusement.

“If you drop me, you’ll regret it,” Stiles teased and Derek laughed nervously.

“Well, then I guess I better not drop you.” Derek kissed him briefly, a promise of more, and then they were ascending the stairs. Not that Stiles actually thought Derek would drop him. He did carry full-grown men for a living. And it was so fucking hot.

Stiles’ hands never stopped moving, needing to touch Derek, his legs squeezed tight around Derek’s waist. “Mmmm, okay, okay. My room,” Stiles motioned with the tip of his chin.

Derek took direction well, carrying Stiles to the door and Stiles’ hand reached behind him to twist the knob, letting them both in.

Stiles was just as reluctant as Derek seemed as Derek set him down, but their hands never left each other. Their fingers were frantic as they practically ripped each other’s clothes off, their lips kissing over exposed skin until they were both naked.

When Stiles felt the bed behind him, he sat down, his hands gripping Derek’s hips as he buried his face against the base of Derek’s dick. Derek groaned, his fingers threading into Stiles’ hair. “Fuck, Stiles. You make me so fucking hard.”

Stiles breathed deeply, taking in Derek’s musky scent, and rubbed his cheek against Derek’s cock as if he were marking him as his. Only his. “God, I need to taste you.”

“Fuck yeah. Please,” Derek breathed, sounding as desperate as Stiles felt. Stiles wasted no time drawing back just enough to draw Derek’s cock into his mouth, laving the head with his tongue and teasing it into Derek’s foreskin.

Derek groaned above him, his grip tightening in Stiles’ hair. It only made Stiles’ dick harder, precome leaking against his thigh, swallowing Derek down like he couldn't get enough. He was drunk on the taste of Derek, his skin feeling like it was on fire.

“Stiles—”

Derek tugged against Stiles’ hair and he whined as he let Derek’s cock fall from his mouth with a filthy sound. “You okay?” he panted.

“Yeah, fuck. I need—” Derek didn't finish his sentence as he dipped down and captured Stiles’ lips in a kiss. Stiles understood Derek’s need as it burned through him, licking into Derek’s mouth as they kissed fervently. He scooted back onto the bed, Derek following him down until he was pressing Stiles into the mattress with the weight of his body.

Stiles whimpered as Derek leaned down, kissing across his chest, and captured Stiles’ nipple between his lips. “Mmmm, god, Derek. I need—I need you to fuck me. I want you inside of me.”

They’d never discussed sex dynamics, but Stiles never thought Derek would deny him anything. He needed Derek like he needed to breathe and he knew Derek felt the same.

“Whatever you want,” Derek breathed, kissing across Stiles’ chest to give Stiles’ other nipple the same attention. “But first…I want to taste you too.”

Derek tilted his head up, kissing Stiles again, slower and deeper which sent a shiver down Stiles’ spine. His hand slid between them, gently stroking Stiles’ cock and brushing across the head teasingly.

“Mmm, yeah?” Stiles breathed, feeling Derek’s fingers slicken with his precome.

Derek released Stiles’ cock, his hand dipping between Stiles’ legs to stroke and tug at his balls. “I want to taste you… here,” he replied just as his fingers pressed between Stiles’ asscheeks to brush over his hole.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles moaned, his dick twitching at the thought of Derek licking his hole. He pressed against Derek’s fingers, needing more.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, okay.” Stiles kissed Derek, needy and wet before he pulled away and rolled over, Derek’s hands running along his back and thighs as he settled. He could feel Derek shift on the bed, feel the heat of his body sliding down his side and the weight of Derek settle on his thighs.

Stiles arched his back, raising his ass as Derek gripped his cheeks and spread them. He couldn't move with Derek’s chest lying across his thighs and he groaned as Derek pressed his face flush to him, wasting no time teasing.

Derek’s mouth was hot and wet, his tongue demanding as he licked and sucked against Stiles’ hole until he pressed in and Stiles’ hole fluttered open. Stiles cried out in pleasure, his fingers twisting into the bed sheets when Derek fucked him with his tongue. He was relentless, filthy sounds falling from Derek’s lips, Stiles’ ass getting sloppy wet with Derek’s saliva.

“Derek—Derek—” Stiles begged, but he wasn't sure if he was begging for Derek to keep going or to stop. Stiles just wanted. “Derek, please—”

Stiles swore it sounded like Derek growled, but his mind was so fuzzy with his arousal that all he could do was focus on Derek’s hands and mouth. “I need—” Stiles whined.

Derek drew back with a wet sound, giving Stiles’ hole one more sloppy kiss before his fingers rubbed over it.

“Where’s the lube?” Derek asked, voice rough with desire. “Need to open you up for me.”

Fuck.

“Nightstand,” Stiles sighed out, the sound desperate as Derek pulled away and kneeled, leaning over to open the nightstand and fished out the lube. “Do you—want me like this?”

“On your back.” Derek closed the drawer and sat back on his calves as Stiles rolled over. “I want to see your face.”

Just Derek admitting that sent heat coursing through him and straight to his dick. God, if he could get wet from being so turned on, he’d be sopping with it. Stiles’ thighs fell open unashamedly, exposing himself to Derek. He reached down to grip his own cock, stroking it lazily, watching Derek open the lube and squeeze some onto his fingers.

Derek’s fingers were so much thicker than his, and fuck, it was so hot. “Derek—”

“I’ve got you,” Derek promised, leaning in to kiss Stiles thoroughly.

Stiles gasped, then groaned when three of Derek’s fingers pushed into him. He loved the feeling of Derek fucking him open, stretching him for his cock. And fuck, Stiles was so close to coming already it should be embarrassing, but he wasn't.

“I don't want to wait,” Stiles panted against Derek’s lips. “Mmm, fuck, I need you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Derek kissed him once more before pulling his fingers free and then slicked his cock.

“Nuh-uh,” Stiles grinned, pushing his hand against Derek’s chest. “You’re going to lay back and let me ride you until you’re filling me with your come. And I’m going to get every bit of it I can from your gorgeous cock.”

The sound that fell from Derek’s lips was debauched in the best way as he rolled onto his back, his eyes following Stiles hungrily. “I’m all yours.”

Derek stroked his cock, getting it nice and slick as Stiles crawled into his lap still kissing him.

“C’mere,” Stiles whispered against Derek’s lips, still grinning. His fingers circled around Derek’s cock, holding it as he settled into Derek’s lap. “God, you’re so thick.”

He didn't wait for Derek to respond before he pressed Derek’s cock to his already fluttering hole and then sank onto him, his head dropping back in pleasure. Stiles didn't take Derek in slowly, groaning as he stretched himself on Derek’s cock, the feeling of Derek’s fingers gripping his hips so hard that he’d have bruises later being the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Jesus—fuck—” Stiles gasped as Derek bottomed out, his hands pressing to Derek’s chest as he leaned down to kiss him.

“Fuck, Stiles, You’re so tight,” Derek hissed, his hands urging Stiles’ hips to roll.

Stiles laughed softly. “Well, it’s been a while. But I can promise you it’ll never be that long again.” He raised his hips just enough to feel Derek’s cock drag against his prostate, which had him mewling.

Derek’s arms wrapped around him and Stiles groaned into Derek’s mouth, swallowing the sounds Derek gave him as they moved. He fucked himself languidly on Derek’s cock, taking his time to feel each and every thrust, their hips moving in counterpoint. Every snap of Derek’s hips had Stiles whimpering with abandon until he gave up trying to keep his rhythm, his fingers digging into Derek’s arms as he held on.

Their needy, desperate sounds and the slap of skin against skin were the only things that filled the room, words having fallen away as they focused on the feeling of each other. Stiles couldn't feel anything other than Derek. Nothing else existed other than them in this moment, together. Stiles felt his chest swell with warmth as Derek’s hips started to stutter, Stiles’ lips brushing and pressing against Derek’s more than kissing him now. He couldn't catch his breath as the base of his spine started to tingle and —

Suddenly Stiles cried out, clutching Derek close, his ass squeezing and then pulsing around Derek’s cock as he came hard, dick spurting between them. He keened with unrestrained gratification, even as Derek tensed under him and fucked them through both of their orgasms. He faintly made out the needy, guttural sounds beneath him as Stiles collapsed on top of Derek, chest heaving and mind swimming in fire.

“Derek—” Stiles panted, unable to raise his head to kiss Derek like he wanted to.

“I’ve got you,” Derek promised, arms circling around Stiles as his hands smoothed up and down Stiles’ back. “I’m right there with you.”

They lay like that together for some time, lost in the aftermath, unwilling to let the rest of the world back in. Stiles only gave an unhappy sound as he felt Derek’s dick start to soften and slip out of him, already missing the feeling of his soulmate sharing his body.

“Don't wanna move,” Stiles whispered.

Derek kissed the top of his head, his hand trailing down until Stiles felt Derek’s finger pressing between his cheeks and stroking over his used hole, fingering his come back into Stiles. “Don't have to. We have all weekend.”

“Mmm, good.” Stiles turned to press kisses along Derek’s chest, enjoying the feeling of Derek’s fingers lazily fucking him. It was hard to describe how he felt, but he knew he’d never felt so complete before. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you too, Stiles.” Derek’s free hand stroked through Stiles’ hair, practically petting him down. “Until the day we’re no longer here and into the next life. That’s what soulmates are… and I’ll always find you.”

“And I’ll wait for you,” Stiles promised. “However long it takes. Forever.” His smile was loopy and content as he turned his face up to kiss Derek. “Mmmm, but I think I want—”

Derek’s smile was bright as he laughed, curling his fingers inside of Stiles until Stiles moaned. “You’re insatiable,” Derek teased.

“Get used to it.” Stiles grinned and nipped Derek’s lip. “After all, we have forever, right? Are you ready for that?”

“Always.”

It was a promise that Stiles intended to keep, always and forever, no matter how many lifetimes they spent together. Their love could span the universe. They were soulmates. And it was all that Stiles would ever need to make his soul complete.

Chapter 6

Three years later.

Derek rubbed his eyes, smiling to himself as he walked downstairs, yawning. It was bright and early Christmas morning and it was their tradition that he would make everyone the best breakfast they’d had all year long. Including powdered sugar waffles covered in both Stiles and Hazel’s favorite fruits.

Strawberries and blueberries and only strawberries and blueberries. No other fruits were acceptable. Not even bananas. Derek had found that out the hard way.

He didn't know how Stiles and Hazel didn't like pancakes, but they were definitely a waffle family now and Derek didn't mind one bit. Whatever made Stiles and Hazel happy, made him happy.

Once he was in the kitchen, he hit the button on the coffee pot to brew his morning cup and dug around in the fridge, pulling out ingredients for eggs, hashbrowns, bacon, sausage, and their decadent family waffles.

In a few short hours, Hazel would be up, eager to see if Santa had visited (Stiles always bit the cookies and drank the milk while Derek stomped on the roof jingling bells after midnight, just in case Hazel was waiting up to hear them).

The base of the tree was filled to the brim with presents, but Hazel knew that they couldn't be opened until her grandparents and Aunt Laura arrived. It was a true family event, with everyone converging at the Stilinski-Hale household for every holiday.

Derek set the ingredients aside, reflecting on the last four years of his life. He glanced at his hand where a traditional gold band adorned his ring finger, the memory of their wedding day held close to his heart. It had been two years ago when they’d said I do.

Other than the day he’d met Stiles and Hazel, it had been the best day of his life, followed by the day he’d adopted Hazel and they’d become an official family.

Derek busied himself making breakfast, whipping up the batter and sipping his coffee, warmth spreading in his chest. It wasn't long before he heard Stiles coming downstairs and he grinned as Stiles’ strong arms wrapped around him from behind.

“Good morning,” Stiles said, voice rough with sleep. He kissed Derek’s shoulder and then nuzzled against the back of his neck.

“Good morning.” Derek tilted his head just enough to press a kiss to Stiles’ hair.

Stiles responded with his usual sleepy grumble and then turned a loopy smile up at Derek as he rested his chin on Derek’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday.”

“My mother really robbed me of double presents,” Derek joked. “Me and Laura.” Stiles chuckled and Derek laughed. “If we have another kid and it’s a December baby, they’re getting double presents.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, his fingers trailing up and down Derek’s chest. “You want another one? Hazel is 10 now… a baby might be a lot for us, but I’m game if you are.”

Derek considered that. Hazel was as much his daughter as she was Stiles’, but he had so much love to share and they had extra bedrooms, which Stiles kept reminding him about at least once a year. “I think I’m ready…do you think—”

“I can ask Lydia for an egg if she won't carry a baby for us. I know she’s working on a big research project right now, but we can always ask someone else to carry our baby for us.” Stiles trailed kisses along the back of Derek’s neck. “Plus… this way, they’ll be related to Hazel.”

Derek licked his lips, focusing on the eggs in front of him, even as Stiles hugged him closer. “You think she would?”

“I think she would. And… If you want to, I think it would be amazing if you were the biological father. I’ve been dreaming about having a little boy or girl and they look just like you,” Stiles said softly, rubbing his cheek against Derek.

Maybe they’d have a boy with Lydia’s eyes and his hair, or a little girl with his eyes and Lydia’s hair, hair that would be exactly like Hazel’s. Or it could look just like him. What if they had twins? The possibilities were endless and Derek’s mind was racing with them.

Before he could answer, a happy shriek sounded from the living room.

“Oops…” Stiles chuckled. “I guess I woke her up. My bad.”

Derek laughed. “3…2…1…”

Hazel came barreling into the kitchen shouting, “Santa came! Did you see all the presents?!”

They both laughed. Derek was surprised that Hazel still let them pretend Santa existed. Probably because she always got exactly what she asked for. They still wrote letters to Santa every year.

“Good morning, kiddo.” Stiles reluctantly let go of Derek and pulled Hazel in for a hug.

“Ew!” She fake gagged. “You probably still have Dad's cooties. Don't kiss my hair!”

Stiles let her go, laughing, even as she made a barfing noise and stuck her tongue out at him before she hugged Derek.

“Oh. I see how it is,” Stiles replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well Dad makes the food,” she defended. “And he doesn't give me cooties.”

Stiles rolled his eyes as Derek returned the hug, Derek’s focus returning to making breakfast. “The both of you are ridiculous.”

“The day you think cooties are nonexistent is the day that I’m going to remind you of these moments,” Stiles told Hazel.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” She moved away from them and opened the refrigerator, grabbing the orange juice and taking the cup Derek was already handing her before Stiles could remind her not to drink out of the carton.

“Thank you.” She went to sit on a stool at the island, pouring herself a cup. “So when is the pack going to descend on the house? Because I want to open my presents.”

Stiles snorted. “Well… they’ll probably start showing up—”

“In four hours,” Derek finished. “Isaac, Boyd, Erica, and Kira said they’d stop by too once they’re off shift. Laura has the day off so she’ll probably be here before our parents.”

“My dad will likely sleep in, even if my mom bugs him to wake up in a couple of hours. He keeps saying he’s going to retire, but I’ll believe it when I see it.” Stiles leaned against the counter as Derek put the eggs, bacon, and sausage on plates, then grabbed the waffle batter.

“Well, Grandpa is old.” Hazel’s smirk spoke volumes, especially since she loved to tease them about how old they were all getting.

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles was shaking his head, but his face was light with happiness.

Derek smiled, looking between the two people he loved most in the world. He poured the batter into the waffle maker and closed it, turning it over and, set the bowl aside.

He wasn't sure what he did to deserve this, but he thanked whoever or whatever had given him Stiles as his soulmate and the daughter which was their world.

It was more than he could have ever dreamed of.

It was perfect.

And he could only imagine how much more it would be as their family grew with love.

[spindle-girl]

Shadow 5.y

Before the fire, earlier during the raid, the first dream, Rain vs Snag, and then [REDACTED]

The food helped in the early weeks, but what really ended up mattering most was having the right mindset.  When the end of the world actually came it was a pretty heavy emotional blow.” “Yeah,” the guy said. “The people who seemed to do best weren’t always the preppers.  It was the people who could get back up after being hit that hard, and the ones with an idea of what to do when they’d been left with nothing.  It was better to have the right skills than the right things.  Having drive.

this feels like a commentary on parahumans, but i'm too tired to say on what precisely. something to look back on when i'm more awake

Jonathan bit his tongue.  He was tempted to offer more, but he couldn’t.  As it was, he’d barely make back the money selling the figure, if he made any at all.  He needed to eat and pay for the store space. ... “If you give it to me, and if I sell it, I’ll get the contact information from the buyer. Somewhere down the line, if you want, you can talk to me, I can give you that information. Maybe you can track it down and offer them enough to buy it back. That’s the best I can do.”

d'aw, Snag's being nice

And the Fallen kid -the fucking kid with the demon mask- went from railing uselessly against the walls of his cage to taunting Jonathan and the others.

ngl, it feels cheap to have the insults narrated to us again instead of having them on the page

She’d broken.  That she’d broken to the degree she had scared Jonathan, because he wasn’t sure how intact he was. He might lose it entirely if every night was like this.  This was only the second.

i was about to say, Snag and Cradle seemed remarkably calm* all things considered. maybe it was just trying to limit the noise

* calm in the sense that this kid ruined his life and it took three times of said kid ignoring him to raise his voice

His mover power let him treat any direction as down, with some nuance when it came to propelling himself forward.  He used it to ‘fall’ up to the top of a Fallen home.  His combat boots had enough gravel on them to crunch against the overlapping wooden slats.

i've always wanted a superpower like this, although i imagined it more as a pair of gravity boots kind of thing

“Blame her,” Imp said, indicating Bitch.  Bitch pushed her. “Protecting our asses,” Bitch said.  “Some might be in the building, and if we don’t check it’s clear, they’ll attack us from behind, whichever group we go after.”

awwww. Bitch is willing to explain

In another way, he hated it.  He hated what it represented.  That he had once had a tie to his brother, and he’d lost that family connection when, as he communicated with his brother on the phone over hours, the line had suddenly gone dead.  It had been by word of mouth, days later, that he’d heard New York had been hit.  Struck by a sweep of golden light.

oof. that just sucks

And the ashes, the memories, they had been stomped on, repeatedly, night after night, mixed with the memories of others, drowned out by a select set of events that were replayed ad nauseum.

it really does not seem like you need the bleed through to change Snag and Love Lost as people

“Yeah.  I know her,” Foil said.  “She’s been after me since… forever ago.  She turned up in Brockton Bay twice, after the portal, before the end of the world.  She kidnapped Parian once.” “She wanted to recruit me, months ago.” “She collects multi-triggers,” Parian said.

i forget, is this new information or did it get brought up after the timeskip?

Everything had gone still and quiet as the small band of heroes, March, and March’s coterie approached from the settlement.  The Undersiders were circling around to talk to the heroes that had cut off the Fallen’s retreat, Foil’s old teammates included, and the battle lines held. March saw him, then saluted.

very funny image of all these groups together. reminds me of the arc 29 squad Taylor set up. what worm arc 5 could have been if they fought the nazis instead

Snag pulled his attention away from Nursery and the likely Fallen boy and the heroes he’d inserted himself in.

love the phrasing here. the word inserted makes it feel like Snag wouldn't believe the heroes would help Rain if they knew what he had been about

He made eye contact with Secondhand, and Secondhand looked alarmed.  A moment later, the man disappeared.

lol, didn't know a thing but still managed to get the speedrunners to start the betrayal

“Why!?” Snag roared. “Someone’s gotta represent the fourth,” Secondhand’s voice could be heard from the crowd.  Everything was dissolving into chaos. The fourth. The fourth Endbringer.  Khonsu.  A time manipulator and teleporter. They were Fallen?  Had they been all along?

that's gotta suck for Snag and co

“The only words I’ve spoken in the last six months have been pleas for mercy and cooperation,” the boy said.  “Innocents- the innocents fighting back there, they don’t deserve that.”

pressing pause on Snag about to target innocents--

He grabbed the boy around the head with his arm, felt two hands grip his arm, and with a wrench, tore the arm clean off.

RAIN WAS TAUNTING THEM FOR SIX MONTHS??? the mall was a year ago, so. jeez. seriously, they do not need a shard pulling at their emotions. no fucking wonder they want to kill him

...maybe what's happening next is making me more against Rain. technically he could have stopped and been silent for most of that time after getting the initial insults out of the way

and Rain claimed he had a weak power

...

gonna be honest, took me reading the next paragraph to realize this is about Snag's gauntlet, not his actual arm, but the point stands i think since it's implied if Rain had hit Snag actual arm it would be just as easy

“I’m going to put the Fallen shit- unh.  Behind me.  I’m going to build something.  If you’d just… Let me!”

saving this for later

Help.  He’d get help.  He turned- He felt the impact of the silver blade.  A line marked his body. Two more lines appeared, as the boy struck him. “Either let me help… or get no help at all,” the boy said.

i'll be 100% honest with y'all, it's hard to root for Rain with this line of thought. Snag was literally turning to run and get help with his injuries

“You could let me go,” Snag said.  “If you had any mercy in you at all.” “If I let you go, you’ll come after me again.” “Yes,” Snag said. He felt the faint tingle of the lines start to fade.  The boy hit him again.  Two more.  One at the neck. “No,” the boy said.

it's going to be really funny to see Rain calling himself a hero after this

She spoke, her voice disused and broken by a throat raw from screaming, “Rest, Jonathan.” He opened his mouth to reply, but he knew it would be useless. “We’ll get your revenge,” she said. “No,” Jonathan said.  “It makes us into monsters.”

shard influence yeah yeah, conflict drive yeah. i guess Snag is trapped in cape hell now, unable to talk to anyone and forever in the dream world. i wonder when his shard's going to make him start to feel the pain from the wounds. does it have to become part of his identity like the rasp in his throat? he remarked how that hurt while in the dream world, so i imagine the wounds are going to start hurting too eventually too

With that knowledge, he slipped into dreams of a different sort, knowing that even if they paused or were broken up by visits to the room, there would never be an end to them.

i cannot imagine after the whole rigamarole their shard is putting them through with this emotion-bleeding effect that this will be in any way pleasant for Snag

End Notes:

i really thought this was going to be a case of Snag constantly chasing Rain until he splintered, but Snag ended up turning away to fight another day and Rain ended up stopping him from running to avoid being chased in the future sure is something. straight up killed the dude and unknowingly sentenced him to shard hell

like yeah, Snag was going to keep chasing him and he just showed a willingness to go after innocents, so i do understand it, but uh... i don't think Rain gets to call himself a hero after this

i'm pretty sure the thing in the fifth room is just their shard avatar thing that crushed that one cape

[picklesonjupiter]

A wip snippet of my snack fic where Sirius and Harry become Severus' new neighbors

Severus woke up early, like always, and drank his cuppa tea, like always. He grabbed the remote from between the couch cushions, turned on the telly, and went to the front door to pick up the newspaper, like always. Routine was safe. It was what kept his life from being turned upside down.  He flipped through the paper while a rerun of an 80s show played in the background. Suddenly, an annoyingly loud honking sound outside. Jumping out of his comfortable seat, he peeked out of his window blinds and saw a movers’ truck. Severus groaned. Mrs.Kilpatrick, his next door neighbor, had recently passed away from old age, and her children had decided to sell her home. Severus had not cared for the woman with her ten cats that roamed free and ate his garden’s plants. Yet she and her cats had been part of his routine. New neighbors meant having to adjust all over again.  Severus saw a boy no older than ten run out of the truck; the first thing he noticed was his unruly brown hair and crooked glasses. Then the boy shouted, “Padfoot, hurry up.” Out came a tall man, no jumper on to protect from the morning chill, showing off his tattooed arms. This "Padfoot" (what an outlandish name) person laughed heartily, showing off his pearly white teeth. Severus felt the vein in his forehead immediately begin to throb. His new neighbors seemed to be the sort to introduce themselves to the whole neighborhood and expect them to be neighborly by making small talk. Severus loathed small talk.  He shut the blinds and went about his business, ignoring his new neighbors’ moving ruckus as best as he could. After showering in lukewarm water, he dressed in his usual black attire and went into his childhood room, which was now remodeled as his study room. He graded his students’ assignments until the alarm he set went off.  Stretching his arms to get rid of his stiff neck and shoulders, he stood up and walked to his garden. His irises and camelias were beginning to bloom. He watered the tomatoes, onions, cabbage, and carrots that he planted a few weeks ago. He also watered his indoor plants and changed pots and dirt for the plants that were dry and dying.  Gardening always soothed him. It was a habit he began with his mother. When he was younger, they often could not afford to buy food, so his mother began planting seeds in their backyard until vegetables and fruit grew. (His father allowed his mother this one hobby because it fed them.) Severus was preparing lunch for himself when he heard knocking and then heard the sound of his doorbell. Wiping his hands, he opened his front door to find his new neighbors standing there.  “Hellu, I’m your new neighbor. I wanted to introduce myself to you. I’m Sirius Black and this is my son, Harry. I hope we can get to know each other and get along.”  Severus ignored the man’s outstretched hand, sneering at it. “Do you have any pets?” Sirius dropped his hand, his smile becoming a tad forced. “We do. A dog. His name is Lady. He’s a sweetheart; he loves to run around outside and play fetch.” “Keep him out of my garden.” He shut the door in his face. Severus heard Black say loudly, “What a rude man. I didn’t even get his name. Come on, Harry. Let’s hope our other neighbors are better.” “Anyone would be better than him. Did you see the way he looked at us? Like we were bugs.” The last thing Severus heard was that irritating belly laugh.  — From that point on, Severus received gifts from his annoyingly cheerful neighbor every few days. First it was freshly baked bread, then a pie, until the gifts became outrageously expensive. Severus walked to Black’s front door and knocked with extra force in his knocks. The boy opened the door, his hair looking like he had just rolled out of bed. “Is your father home?” The boy blinked up at him like an idiot before screaming for dad to come down.

[alieinthemorning]

An Addition to Change [Gojo Satoru]

Content: Depressed Reader, Depressed Gojo Satoru, Young Fugshiguro Megumi, Depression, Change, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, AU: No Curses, Not Beta Read

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Direct Continuation of: Tears of the Strongest

Change is something that Satoru did a lot. He changed his clothes, furniture, cars and even house at a whim. Often times, he'd have at least 5 outfit changes in a day, there would be movers in and out the house replacing furniture, he'd come home with a new car and about every 1-2 years you'd be moving to a new place.

And you'd just gone along with it all.

But this?

This was a bit much.

You eyed the child sitting across from you on the large gray couch, brand new, not even a dent in the cushions yet. He had black hair that was sticking up in every direction, violet eyes that bore into your own, unimpressed with...everything it seemed, and a frown that was too old and tired for a child his age.

Your gaze turned to Satoru, who was sitting beside you. He was pointedly looking at his phone, scrolling through social media to avoid both you and the child's stare.

"We can't avoid this Satoru." You began, "Can you please tell me what happened? But be for real this time."

Because "I just found him and it seemed like he needed a home!" is not an explanation at all. Sounds like he kidnapped a child off the streets and you really don't want to get tied up into something like that.

Satoru sighed in that dramatic way that he does, lolling his head away from you. "I told you—"

The child cut him off. "I've been living alone for a while now. He's been bothering me ever since he found out and now I'm here I guess." Satoru glared at him, but nodded along.

"Okay...and what about your guardians?"

"Dead." He replied flatly.

Your heart tightened. That poor baby, to have to navigate the world all by himself and for only he knows how long.

"What's your name?" You asked softly.

"...Megumi."

"Okay, Megumi, what would you like to do? Would you like to go back to where you were or would you rather stay here with us?"

He was quiet for a moment, playing with the sleeves of his jacket before finally answering you. "...I wanna stay here."

You smiled, "Okay, then." then it dropped, "We literally don't have anything for you."

Satoru laughed loudly, snorting while your head swiveled toward. "What are we gonna do?"

He stood, wiping a tear from his eye. "We're gonna go shopping, of course."

And after that shopping trip, you and Megumi vowed to never go shopping with Satoru again.

Mornings were always hard for you. It would either be a rough sleep of tossing and turning or a nightmare that disturbed your sleep to the point of waking up just as tired, if not more than when you went to sleep. So often times you'd lay in bed, fighting between succumbing to sleep or proceeding with living.

But then a small, warm hand landed on your cheek.

"I'm hungry. I would have fed myself, but I don't know where anything is..."

You blinked.

Oh yeah, Megumi.

You were not ready for a change as massive as this one, but you had to get up regardless because now there was a child in your care. So you pulled yourself up and smiled.

"Good morning, Megumi."

Change is something Megumi also did a lot. However, it made sense with him because he was a a child and children were always changing.

His favorite food changed weekly which kept you on your toes and kept you from fretting on what to make anymore.

He was a growing which meant new clothes needed to be bought ever few months (which prompted you to convince Satoru to stop buying him such expensive clothing).

His favorite shows and interests were also ever changing. New toys were bought every week and it was beginning to get harder to hold a conversation with Megumi since he would always be talking about something new (it was worth it though to see that sparkle in his eye when he talked about the things that he enjoyed).

There were a few things that didn't change though.

He still love frogs. He loved going out in the rain to hunt for them, despite usually coming back in empty handed (you had to stop Satoru from having frogs on standby for rainy days).

He also loved dogs which prompted Satoru into getting him two dire wolf dogs (how the hell he got them is beyond you).

He still only tolerated Satoru (that's what he said, but he really was opening up to him).

And he still favored you (you don't think that that will ever change though).

"Thanks for not turning me away..." Megumi told you as his face was just about buried in Shiro's black fur.

Satoru was still changing, but not as materialistically.

Now he was making more of an effort to be home with you and Megumi (he's days were now 9-5, no exception and no more bring work home).

More of an effort to bond with Megumi, who was thankfully warming up to him (he was even able to take him out on their own outings without the day going horrible wrong).

More of an effort to understand your words from before.

He is not the strongest, and that's okay (he did cry a bit when Megumi got sick, however. It was something new and scary for him, so you wouldn't tease him about it...much).

"Thank you for taking such good care of Megumi." His arms wrapped around your waist as his lips brushed against your neck, leaving a trail of  kisses. "And thank you for staying by my side all this time."

You also were changing.

You think it's a good thing.

"I love you two so much." Your smile was shy, but your words were genuine. "Thank you so much for being a part of my life and turning this house into a home."

You'll never forget the smiles they gave you. Bright, wide, full of teeth and as warm as a sun beam.

Hopefully, you'll continue to change alongside your boys.

In light of JJK 236 leaks dropping, I wrote this instead of going to sleep. I already was going to write this, but due to me being Apollo's favorite and being fucking prophetic—

Anyway! Here's something to drive the knife in deeper. :)

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[statelysapphic]

Letters to Emily

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: When Ian Doyle takes away the one person you love, you find solace in writing her letter.

Warnings: Typical talk of Emily being dead. Hurt. Let me know if I missed something<3

A/N: Hi friends! It’s been a while. I’ve been working on this for a while, and idk how I feel about it. I very lightly edited this. Feedback is appreciated as always. Ao3 Link. Enjoy!<3

July 26, 2011

Emily,

I accepted the job. I’m not sure what would piss you off more though: the fact that it’s a desk job or the fact that it’s in Phoenix and I’m leaving Quantico. Leaving the team. I know you’d tell me that I’m making a huge mistake but it’s just too painful.

JJ brings me coffee every morning, just like you did, and even though I know she means well, it’s a painful reminder that you will never bring me coffee again. When I look up from my desk in the bullpen to see the empty one across from me, I’m reminded that I won’t be able to watch you work anymore. I loved watching you pour over files, watching the gears turn in your head. Putting the pieces together and catching the bad guy. You were brilliant.

Emily paused as her vision blurred, the burning sensation of tears threatening to spill catches her attention and shifts her focus. She was angry. Angry at Doyle for forcing her into this mess. Angry at JJ for not telling her that you transferred. Angry at Hotch for even approving your transfer request. Angry at Derek, Spencer, and Penelope; Did they even try to convince you to stay? She took a deep breath, and then another. As she felt her heart rate return to normal, she wiped the tears away from her cheeks and continued reading.

Everything here is a painful reminder of you. Everything. I walk past a framed photo of you every single day and it guts me. Every single time. I can’t keep doing it, so I’m running. I know you’d be so disappointed in me. Virginia isn’t home without you, Em. It stopped feeling like home when JJ told me you “never made it off the table.” I don’t think I’ll ever find your feeling of home again.

I’m not sure how to tell the team about the transfer. Maybe I’ll buy them a round after this case and break the news to them then. Booze and karaoke should soften them up, right?

I don’t think they’re going to take it well. I just hope they skip the guilt trip.

I hate to end this on a sad note, so I will say that I think Arizona will be good for me. Lots of sunshine and wide open spaces. New people, new experiences. I actually think I’m excited, even though I feel guilty for it. I suppose that will get better with time. I don’t know if I’ve told you this, the one item on my bucket list is to go rockhounding out west. Maybe I’ll treat myself once I get settled.

I miss you so much, Em. But I love you even more. Always.

Emily refolded the letter and slid it back into its envelope. As she placed it on the coffee table in front of her, she finally allowed herself to cry. She had done everything in her power to protect you from Doyle and her past. Although you were physically safe, it was clear from your letters that the emotional toll was severe. She was only about halfway through the stack that she found in your bedside table, and she still had three months worth left to read. She knew she wouldn’t finish by the time you got home, but that was okay.

The raven haired woman sighed, picking up the next letter in the pile.

August 12, 2011

Emmy,

Fuck I miss you today. I wish you would’ve been here to ground me though that. Or kick some ass for me. The movers were nice enough to break my bed frame while bringing it up the stairs and then denied doing it. I watched him drop it, babe. I wasn’t even mad until he denied it. Don’t worry, I called the manager and received a full refund for the trouble.

I wish you were here to cuddle on this couch with me. I miss the way you’d hold me. I felt untouchable when I was in your arms. I think you’d like this new apartment though. The master bedroom has a killer view AND a balcony. It also has plenty of south facing windows for my houseplants, and room for many more. My collection has grown exponentially since you’ve seen it last. As odd as it sounds, they’ve helped me through this.

Sorry for the short letter today. Who knew moving halfway across the country would be so tiring? Could’ve fooled me. I love you, Emily. Always.

Emily chuckled lightly at your sarcasm, but soon felt the tears return.

Sadness began to fade within Emily, and anxiety soon took its place. She was unsure of how you would react when you came home after a long day at work to find your not-actually-dead partner sitting in your living room, reading your private letters, no less. Sure, they were technically addressed to her, but she knows you never thought anyone would read them. Maybe this wasn’t the best way to do this, but Emily vehemently rejected all help that the team offered. Hotch offered to call your Supervisor to have them sit you down to talk you through it. JJ nearly begged Emily to help in some capacity, already feeling immense guilt over the situation. Though, she almost let Rossi accompany her when he offered, and she was beginning to regret not doing so.

The regret faded almost instantly as Emily heard a key in the front door. Her heart rate increased and her chest became tight. The reality of the situation had settled in for Emily, and the uncertainty was paralyzing. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, a sorry attempt to calm her nerves, as she braced herself to face you. She heard the door shut, followed by footsteps that grew louder and louder until there was silence. Emily didn’t dare look up. Even as she heard the loud clatter of what she assumed were your keys colliding with the hardwood apartment floor.

“E… Emmy?”

~

[peachyblkdemonslayer]

2017 AU Sanzu buying back Arisa's piano and moving it into the house once they get back together

She couldn't help but still be in shock at everything that happened. She looked around the newly cleaned and furnished house with a sense of awe. The last of the movers bought in the ne vases she and Sanzu picked before moving back in.

"Alright Ma'am that's the last of all your stuff have a nice day"

"Oh thank you, you as well" Arisa replies. The mover bowed before leaving out the front door with his co worker and driving off.

She watched the truck till it was nothing but a small speck in the distance and sighed. She didn't know why but she couldn't fully relax until everything was in place and done for. The tension that seemed set in her bones melted away as she flopped onto the couch and took off her shoes.

A few cracks and pops could be heard as she stretched out, "God I need to do this more often I'm so sore" she pulled her legs under her and took a real good look at her new home.

It was everything she could have ever asked for and she still couldn't believe it even now. The day was still young but she had a feeling she wouldn't be going out anywhere today, she wanted to enjoy her house. She laid her head onto her arm and closed her eyes for a little bit just to take a micro nap.

She didn't know when it happened btu before she knew it some hours went by and she was awoken by someone giving her a light shake. She shoot up and looked around in confusion before she calm down and looked to see who it was that woke her up.

"Morning sleepy head you been resting for a while" Sanzu teased a slight grin coming across his face.

Arisa swiped at him half heartly, "Oh shut up I'm tired what is that you got?" she asked.

Sanzu lifted the box in his hand towards her, "Tonight's dinner you wanted traditional right?"

She blinked and took the box as she got up, "Yeah that's perfect actually man I've been out of it for so long that I forgot I said anything about it"

"Oh you didn't say this recently" Sanzu corrected.

Arisa looked at the pink haired man with confusion.

"I didn't?"

'Nope it was when we were first dating, you said when we get out own place you wanted to have traditional Japanese food to celebrate. And I wanted to keep my end of that"

She felt tears starting to come out of her eyes and she let out a choked noise before stuffing her mouth with food. Sanzu didn't say anything as he held her hand and ate as well. The night ending with a fresh new start and rekindling of a relationship.