#{ that last one's for ~spice~ since he is a witch but anyway } | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

mistletoe magic | stiles stilinski

word count; 10,490

summary; stiles learns that his cute neighbour might be a witch after accidentally getting her spellbooks delivered to him instead.

notes; I know a witch!au isn’t a huge au for stiles, because he’s had evident races of magic throughout the series anyway, but just enjoy it!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, use of magic

It had been a pretty regular Monday morning for Stiles.

At six sharp, he’d been up and awake, barely functional but stumbling through his apartment and clicking on the coffee machine, before hopping into the shower for a quick wash. When he’d emerged, the machine had just finished grinding, as always, his routine functioning like a well-oiled machine now, and he’d moved it all across into a to-go cup and left it on the counter before going to get dressed.

He’d stumbled around to find his school books and shove them into a bag, eaten two cinnamon pop tarts that had burned the tips of his fingers when he’d grabbed them straight from the toaster, and had still been chewing as he shoved his keys in his pocket and sipped at his coffee, straight into the elevator at twenty to seven.

It was a fifteen-minute walk across campus to his early morning lecture on a Monday, leaving him with a few minutes to spare, in case he saw the sweet older lady from two floors down and wanted to say ‘hi’, or the cute neighbour who lived across the hall that always made him fall over his own feet, or maybe even the kid who delivers newspapers and is always falling off of his bike. He made it on time, took some great notes, and was feeling a little more alive and welcome into his day.

At exactly ten past one, he’d been home, having gone to the library to get some study in and find his new books, and get lunch at the diner he always ate at after classes, a cheeseburger and curly fries, and grabbed his letters and a parcel from the mail slot with his housing number printed on, tucking the package under his arm and heading upstairs and back to his flat, ready to flick through his bills.

All according to plan. One year and four months away at university and he knew every day like he’d been doing it for a decade, so he was only half-way to the kitchen when he remembered the package he was clutching under his arm, coming to a complete halt, throwing the usual assortment of envelopes away to the counter, and producing the neatly wrapped bundle.

He didn’t question it, not even bothering to look at the front, figuring it was just an early delivery on the textbooks that he wasn’t expecting to get here for another three weeks, finger slipping under the folds of the brown paper and tearing it away, fingers dancing over the covers of the books, before his brows were furrowing once again.

These were definitely not his ‘intro to psychological profiling’ textbooks.

Beautiful swirls in gold, carved into dark leather across the front, Latin words he didn’t understand before he was opening the cover, brushing off a layer of dust and letting one brow arch up. The text inside was English - though, no modern - and paper that he was cautious to take care of, simply from what appeared to be the age of it, stained and worn, finger marks clear on the corner from being passed down through generations. It was handwritten, drawings in old ink that had leaked onto the paper a little, rough and coarse, and labelled doodles with names he had never heard of before.

At a glance, he would assume it to be some kind of witchcraft.

He felt on edge, suddenly. He’d left Beacon Hills to come to somewhere that no supernatural would follow, where things like werewolves were still a myth, something to be laughed at, and he swallowed thickly, looking around his apartment as though someone was going to jump out. He loved his friends, he really did, and he didn’t so much mind the supernatural when he was with them all because they protected him, but alone out here, he and his bat didn’t stand a chance.

Now, it was Christmas, he knew this from the poor excuse of a tree up in his living room, and the snow outside, and the fact that for the last six weeks, his usual mochas had been a gingerbread-spiced mocha, on the insistence of the barista who served him whenever he ventured into the little coffee shop joint, and he was growing find of it. So, he tried to be optimistic, in the spirit of festivities and all that, and texted the group chat, waiting to see if any of them had sent him the books as a present, maybe even his father or Melissa. He even texted Parrish.

Except, they all said no, and now, he was stumped. Then, as he was being extra nosey and flicking through the book, he came across a page marked with a small slip of card, the item falling out, and he cursed, having no idea which page it came from, but as he picked up the piece of paper, one of the questions in his puzzle finally gained another piece towards the jigsaw.

‘(Y/N), the spell you’re looking for is here, but be careful, it’s a strong one.’

So, the books are for his hot neighbour, the next number up from his, and it now made sense as to why he had these books - they were a mistake. It opened a new question, however, as to why you would be getting them.

He had absolutely no patience, barley remembering to flick the catch on his door so that he’d be able to get back inside, before he was striding across the hall in one, two steps, and knocking on the wood. He could hear you shuffling around inside, the soft and muffled notes of the classic rock music you’d been listening to getting turned right down to low. It only took you a further few seconds until you were opening the door, but it felt like years to him with his impatience, fingers tapping against the books agitatedly, biting the nail of the other thumb, and his foot was tapping against the floor.

When you opened the door, though, he felt like it was too soon, like he wasn’t prepared for what to say, his breath hitching in his throat as his heart leapt in his chest, eyes sweeping down along your body and widening at your bare legs, only a t-shirt hanging on your frame, rising up to reveal the edge of a pair of white lace panties as you opened the door, and he forced his eyes back up to yours, wincing as he bit down a little too harshly on his nail, and pulled it from his mouth, shaking it as his dropped to his side.

“Hey, neighbour.”

“H-Hi. Hello. Yes, hi.” He already wanted to die a little bit, he hadn't stuttered this much in front of a pretty girl since junior year in high school, even Lydia had lost this effect on him, and college really had been a growing experience for him. He’d had a fair few hook-ups, and experimented, and he wasn’t shy about flirting when he wanted to, but you always through hi right back through loops, like he was still that kid with a buzzcut.

“What can I do for you, four-A?”

“Stiles. My name is Stiles.” He waited for the usual reaction, the cringe, the eyebrows shooting up, the scowl, something to indicate that you had actually heard the pronunciation, but you only smiled a little wider.

“I know. After I introduced myself and you fell over and didn’t give me your name, I checked the mail in your post-slot. I was curious. There was a lot addressed to Mieczysłav, but then one with a handwritten address to Stiles.” You shrugged, leaning against the doorframe, and crossing your arms, and while you might seem casual, at least his degree was coming in useful for something, as your body language read an entirely different reaction, insecurity and worry rolling off of you in invisible waves of tells.

He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, laughing slightly. “That sounds like something I would do.”

Silence fell between you both for a second, and he couldn't help but stare, taking in every detail of your face, the way your lower lip was a little reddened, and he figured you must have been nibbling on it while working, and your hair was messy, an attempt to pin it back that seemed to have come loose and entirely ineffective, presumably from dancing, because you looked a little flushed. When you raised your brows at him a little, he realised you were waiting for him to explain himself, why he was on your doorstep, and he flushed with embarrassment shaking his head clear.

“I got your spellbooks by mistake.” He held them out, eyes widening even more, before his jaw was dropping open. “Book. Regular books. Not spell books, because that would imply magic, right? And, that’s dumb. Just regular books. I didn’t look at them, at all, not even a little bit, I promise.”

“You don’t believe in magic, then?” You took them from him, a coy smile on your lips, and you placed them down on the counter beside the door, pushing a bowl of potpourri getting pushed aside, along with your car keys and what looked like an incense burner.

“Do you?”

He was testing the water, seeing where your mind was at, and as a whistling came from your kitchen, you glanced back over to the kettle on the hob, and he thought this conversation might be about to come to an end. “Well, I think there’s always a little magic in life, even if people don’t notice it. You have to believe in magic to be able to see it. It’s like the supernatural that way.”

“And, you believe in the supernatural, huh?” He felt bad for the way he said it, because it was mocking, but he had to be sure that you weren’t messing with him, or spying on him, he had to try and find out who you were, but you only looked away as the whistling got louder, opening the door a little more and waving him inside as you walked away, and he stumbled after you and closed the door before his mind had even caught up with the movement of his feet.

Your apartment was littered with plants. The windowsills were lined with them, all brought green and blooming, even though he was sure it wasn’t the right season, and there was even a set of cactuses along a shelf near the corridor. There was a homey feel to your place, almost earthy, neutral tones and soft accents, a smell that was so calming he felt his own muscles begin to relax, and the music had changed from classic rock to some country song he was sure he’d heard in a movie somewhere but couldn't quite place it, and he followed you to the kitchen.

Rows of cookbooks and recipe folders stacked up on top of a lower cupboard, and he swallowed thickly, averting his gaze from the way your lace panties hugged your ass deliciously as you reached up for a mug, bringing back two, and pouring them both full of the herbal concoction you’d been making. On a mismatching saucer, you offered it to him, and he sniffed it carefully, but remembered his manners, mumbling a ‘thank you’, because his mother raised his right, even if he was a little suspicious of you.

“Relax, Stiles, if I was going to poison you, I wouldn’t be giving you tea made of Valerian and Lemon Balm. Do you want any honey, honey?” You grinned a little at your joke, but he shook his head, watching as you stirred a spoonful of the sticky sweetener into your own, and taking a tentative sip after blowing on the surface. It wasn’t all that bad, he had to admit, and he found his tensions slipping away a little. “It’s for relaxing, and helping with sleep.”

“It’s good.” You smiled, blowing lightly on your own, and he decided that he could busy himself by checking out your posters. An interesting arrangement, one was a band poster, the other was a chart with the phases of the moon, a third with diagrams of plants and little facts underneath, and the fourth, with symbols and drawing he didn’t quite understand. “So, you’re really embracing that whole witch thing, then?”

“Well, seeing as I am a witch, I would think it’s only appropriate.” He tried to hide his grin behind his mug, shaking his head a little, not believing that they really existed, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes, clearly, because there was a playful kind of offence flashing across your face. “You can’t tell me you think I’m insane, not when there’s so much of the supernatural all over you, Stiles.”

“The supernatural? Really?”

“So, you’re not the emissary to a pack of werewolves?” You challenged, his jaw dropping at the accuracy of it, and it was your turn to laugh at him. “It’s literally stitched into your aura, I sensed another supernatural the second you walked into the building.”

“I just associate with a lot of ‘em, but I’m not supernatural myself.”

“You sure about that?” He stilled, memories flashing behind his eyes of a time when he once was, and you seemed to pick up on the slightly sour mood he’d taken on, then again, he wasn’t really sure where your abilities lay, being that Scott or Derek would have simply sniffed it out on him. Your hand on his arm snapped him back to the moment, fingers squeezing lightly at his bicep. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“There was a possibility, once, but it’s gone. There’s a dark chapter in my past, and the spark I was told I once had disappeared when I got through it.”

It went quiet again after that, your fingers slipping down from his arm to take his, and you placed your cup down, the steaming brew barely touched, but he followed suit, letting himself be pulled along as you directed him back to the living room. You were distracting him, it was an obvious ploy, but he was excited to learn, and he let the sadness of remembering his possession fade away as the thrill of new knowledge took over. “I can tell you have a lot of questions, so, what do you want to know first?”

He rubbed at his chin, settling down onto the couch at the edge of the room, finding it surprisingly comfortable, and you were busying yourself around him, a little water jug in your hand as you nurtured the abundance of houseplants you owned. “How did you know about my pack? And how much do you know about them?”

“It’s in your aura, I suppose. I can just pick up hints of different things when you’re around. The wolves are obvious, I’ve been around a lot of wolves. I also get death, and I've never met a banshee, but I assume that’s what it is. I knew you were the emissary because you’re the only magic in there, I would sense other traces on you, and there’s something else I can’t quite place.” Your face screwed up a little bit as you thought about it, nose wrinkling adorably before shrugging. “Like a werewolf, but not quite. I can’t get it.”

“She’s a werecoyote.”

You paused your pouring, turning to look at him, eyes flicking lightly around his being, before smiling slightly to yourself, and going back to your task. “Huh. Interesting.”

“Have you been a witch your whole life?”

“Since the day I was born, but I didn’t know or start practising until I was older. It just kinda’ happens, comes out of nowhere at a certain age, you start to realise you have abilities.” You had moved onto using a dropper to give little drips of water to cacti and succulents, standing on a small step stool as you did.

“Do you have to go to a school, like Harry Potter? Do you have a wand?”

You laughed at that, a genuine and hearty laugh, and you finished up your tasks, legs folding underneath yourself and you smirked a little at him as you sat down and got comfortable. “You wish, Stilinski. It’s not like that, it's more of an earthly connection than magic. It’s why my plants are so healthy. I can brew stuff, make little potions-” You motioned a hand over the jars lining the shelves on the walls, his eyes scanning over each one, picking out the neatly written titles across the fronts. “-I can cast very light spells, but it’s not the sort of thing where you can curse people, or teleport.”

“So, you can’t curse people to turn into frogs?”

“No, unfortunately not.” He was sure your giggle was the sweetest he’d ever heard, and he dared to twist himself around a little more, inching slightly closer to you across the couch. “I can do some stuff, like make your skin break out or give you a rash that won’t go away until I let it, and I can even give you headaches and such, but I don’t like to dabble in that sort of stuff. I much prefer protection charms.”

“Protection charms?” His heart skipped a little beat at the way your face lit up as you nodded, and he was intrigued, interest piqued. “I could use one of those, y’know, I’m incredibly clumsy and often get into supernatural trouble when I’m home. Hasn’t been so bad since I got here. Will you make me one?”

Your eyes left him, bottom lip nibbled between your teeth, and for a second he had worried he’d messed up, unsure on how witch spellcasting etiquette worked, but then you were moving across the room, opening up the cabinet on the other side of the room, and inside the doors and wooden frame hung what must be close to a thirty different decorative charms. Some were dreamcatchers or garlands hanging on the inside of the door, others were handcrafted little ornaments sitting on the shelves and filling them up, and your fingers were flittering over them all.

When you found what you were looking for, you lifted it out, a dream catcher that was bright and colourful and a little odd-looking, before bringing it back over to him, and presenting him with it cautiously. “You already made me one?”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let the cute guy from across the hall get any more injuries. I watched you fall over five times in your first week living here. You’re really clumsy.”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks, and yet he couldn't help the goofy grin that travelled across his features, not mentioning the fact that he noticed you sitting considerably closer to home when you took your seat once again. He was embarrassed for two reasons, the first being that you had noticed his innate penchant for ridiculous injuries, but more overwhelmingly, the second being that you still thought he was cute. College might have helped him bloom a little, but when he had a crush, he was still a bumbling mess, and he didn’t know quite how to respond.

He busied himself with taking in the details of the dreamcatcher. Somehow, despite this being the first real conversation that the two of you had ever had, passing and fleeting chats in the halls and elevator not counting, you had managed to capture his entire essence, he could already tell. The strings were made of wool, chunky and all different colours, a mix of yellows and blues, woven in together and tangled in strange patterns, but beautiful nonetheless, and the little accents were what made it complete.

A button that had fallen off of one of his flannels, he recognised the distinctive wooden piece, and it was woven into the design, along with a blue ribbon in the same colour of the jeep that was tied in a bow, and a wooden twig tangled in it. Dangling on more pieces of wool from the bottom was a keyring he was sure he’d lost after leaving it downstairs overnight, the Yoda on it looking cleaner than he remembered, and you must've cleaned it. There was also a black feather, and a sprig of some kind of dried herb that he didn't recognise, but enjoyed the smell anyway.

It was intricate and personal, and he felt chuffed just to know that you’d made one for him, a little security and peace washing over him to know that someone was out here looking after him, completely unmaliciously, simply because you wanted to.

“This is incredible.” You let out a breath of relief, he recognised it in the way your body slumped a little, and he placed it down carefully on the coffee table beside you both, reaching out to take your hand in his, and daring to lace your fingers together and squeeze in gratitude, and you held onto him yourself, gaze dropping down to your connected hands. In a bold move of your own, you lifted your other hand, holding onto his with both of yours, and his thumb lifted out to brush lightly over your skin. “You’re the reason I don’t get papercuts and splinters anymore.”

“And you are very welcome for that.” You teased him back, and an easy kind of harmony fell between you both, your presence being more comfortable simply having only just really begun to meet you than he ever had been with someone new. It was strange, to feel so relaxed and at home with you, the way you put his fears at ease and soothed every worry without even trying, making him feel welcome and accepted, like he’d known you for years, not just shy of an hour. “Will you tell me about your pack?”

“You really want to know?” He couldn’t mask his surprise, and you nodded, excitement gleaming in your eyes, and he felt a surge of pride swell up in his system at the idea of getting to boast about his friends completely honestly for the first time in his life. There was no threat, he wasn’t showing off their skills as a way to try and ward off a threat or intimidate someone, but he simply wanted everyone else to be as awed by them as he was, and he didn’t have to hide any supernatural secrets from you. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Is it a long story?”

“Very long.” He confirmed, a shy laugh leaving you, before you were shifting again.

“How about I go and make us some fresh tea, then?” You were on your feet, wandering away to the kitchen as soon as he’d offered his affirmations of the idea, and he decided to follow after you, already beginning to blather about Peter Hale.

Hours seemed to pass by, as he spoke to you, two more pots of tea being made, and you’d broken out your snack-store for him, before the two of you had ordered pizza. He’d made himself at home, too, keys and phone sitting abandoned on the table, shoes kicked off on the floor, and feet stretched out along the couch. You were sitting at the opposite end, your legs stretched out in his direction, and one of his hands was sitting on your ankle, fingers drawing patterns on the soft skin there absentmindedly as his other hand was used to gesture wildly around himself.

He told you it all, confessing right from the beginning as he encountered Derek Hale, who liked to lurk in the woods, which had made you crack up as he told you about how the man was basically now the alpha, even if Scott was officially the alpha, and he’d told you about Jackson’s kanima phase, which had made you crack up even more as you claimed he deserved it.

You’d been shocked by his homicidal English teacher, and comforted him when he spilled his heart to you over the nogitsune incident he hated to think about, accepting your hush happily, and revelling in the smell of your hair when you’d pressed in close to him, before retreating to your seat.

He told you all about the benefactor and the dread doctors, and about Allison’s death, which he still blamed himself for when he was on a low day, and you’d used your thumb to clear away the tear that had fallen from his cheek, leaving him blushing and breathless for a second when you’d pressed a light kiss to his cheekbone just after.

You had scooted closer to him and stayed there near the end of his tales, tucked under his arm, playing with his fingers over your shoulders as he rambled about how alone he’d felt while taken by the Wild Hunt, thoughts that he’d always kept locked up in his own mind, never having shared with another person before.

“You really got the short end of the ‘supernatural encounters’ stick then, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that is the understatement of the century.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, your feet nudging together on the coffee table, the reindeer themed fluffy socks on your feet playing with the patchy and worn door knitted socks he’d had for years, worn to keep warm during the winter, even though your apartment was nice and toasty, the heaters running and the radiators on, and it was much cosier than his place had ever been.

The Christmas lights on a timer had come on, flickering around the place once the light had started fading, hours flashing by in the blink of an eye, a hazy glow cast over the apartment and creating a whole new range of shadows. “Do you want me to make charms for your friends?”

He watched you for a moment longer, trying to discern whether you were serious, and when he caught no gesture of ill-will, or hesitation, or hidden-motives, he smiled. “You’d do that?”

“Seems like you all need it.”

He shrugged a little, smiling when you rested your forehead against his, fingers playing together still, but feet stilling in their game of footsie. “I can’t believe I waited this long to get to know you. You’re, like, the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”

His eyes fluttered closed, he couldn't’ help it, noses bumping together as you both simply drowned in the moment, in what the moment was leading up to, where you both knew this was going but were revelling in the simple but exhilarating tension that was crackling with electricity in the millimetres of space between your lips and his. You were so close to him that he could feel it more than hear it when you whispered some words he didn’t quite understand, your breath fanning over his face in a dreamy sigh, and it took his hazed brain a second to catch up, before he was pulling back just enough to catch your eyes, one hand coming up to rest over your cheek as he turned to face you fully.

“Oh, my God. Did you just cast a spell?”

“Look up.” He was hesitant to pull back much further, but did so anyway, and he chuckled slightly as he spotted the little green plant beginning to sprout from the ceiling. Vines were still strengthening along the beam, and the leaves were beginning to form right before his eyes, white berries hanging between the green stems, and Stiles shook his head, in complete awe as he looked at it.

You were staring up to, eyes focused on the plant as it bloomed and he assumed you were concentrating on its development, but he couldn't hold back anymore, two hands on your cheeks, pulling your face back to his, and your lips barely parted to speak before his mouth was colliding with your own. A squeak left you, and he wanted to grin at being able illicit such a sound from you, but the temptation to kiss was just enough for him to contain himself. When your mind finally caught up, you were kissing him back just as eagerly, a soft sigh leaving you. “You are fucking adorable.”

The words were whispered into your mouth, he felt you shake with a soft laugh under his hold, before you were holding onto him just as tightly in return. One of your hands wrapped around his wrists, the other sliding over his bicep to his shoulder, before slipping down underneath, and smoothing over the front of his chest. He puffed out a little under your touch, pulling away for a quick breath, groaning slightly at the way your nails dug into his skin as he did, and then, he was diving right back into you.

Your hand slipped down to rest over his heart, the organ thudding under your hand, and he felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest, but as he pressed a little further into you, a shock like an electrocution was racing right through his body, a kind of jolt that was thoroughly exhilarating, and he pulled away, eyes wide as he stared at you.

You looked just as shocked as he expected he did too, his hands dropped down as he watched sparks and electricity crackle between your fingers and his, your brows raising at him. “Thought you said you had no magic left after.. y’know..”

He couldn’t drag his eyes away from it, your fingers weaving with his, a loud snapping sounding as a particularly bright flare went off, and he flinched a little, jaw dropping and a whine slipping from him as you contained it all the sight disappeared before his eyes. “So, there really are sparks flying between us, huh?”

He regretted the words the moment he’d said them, expecting to see on your face the same kind he’d always gotten from Malia or Lydia when he made those kinds of cheesy puns that only he enjoyed, even Scott daring to fix him with a bored or blank look, and Derek would simply glare, but much to his surprise, you laughed. It was fond, with a roll of your eyes and a huff to preempt it, but you laughed nonetheless, and he felt himself somehow manage to brighten even further. “That was cheesy.”

“I know.” He beamed, shifting a little, hands sinking down to your hips to pull you closer to himself as he settled back into the couch, and your hand pressed to the cushions beside his head, the other one coming up to weave into his hair lightly.

“I loved it. I am quite a fan of puns.”

“That’s good, because I usually have a lot of them.” He leaned up, daring himself to be bold enough to close that gap once again, and he could feel your lashes tickling his cheeks as you nuzzled into him a little more. “If I kiss you again, will those sparks happen this time, too?”

“If I stop controlling it, they will.”

“Stop controlling it, sweetheart.” He felt you move to nod your affirmations, but dipped his head in time, proud of his own reflexes as he caught your lips, feeling the hand in his hair tighten, and he was so glad he’d decided to grow it out all those years ago, because right now, he was losing all sense of himself in the way your nails would scratch across his scalp, or the delicious burning that flared over his skin for a split second when you pulled on his hair, before you were rubbing it softly, fingers working in tandem timing with your lips, teasing over his own.

That same feeling took up, a sparking that felt like fireworks, like energy surging through him, escaping at his fingertips in every place that he touched you, one palm smoothing along your back to somewhere that was definitely too lose to be respectable, as the other held onto your cheek still. You were taking control, your tongue darting out to trace over his lower lip, bribing him to part them but he needed no convincing, letting your tongue meet his own only a second after you’d made the request, equally breathy and needy noises escaping you both at the slow and wet drag of the muscles over one another.

His lungs were burning, lips beginning to sting as his assault on your mouth continued, his neck straining to hold this angle, and yet the more you kissed him, the more that the hazy feeling of getting to be with you like this raced through his body was the more he became addicted to needing more, chasing a high that he didn’t even know he wanted until now, like an addict finding his next hit.

You seemed to pick up on it all, as though you’d read all of his thoughts, because the second he’d had the lingering thoughts, you were settling yourself across his lap, a leg on either side of his own as you seated yourself down, and he couldn't help the way his hips bucked up a little to meet you, or the way his hand slid down fully to rest on your ass.

After all, as much as he’d gone through the make him grow up emotionally, physically he was still a horny-teen college boy, and you were one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, sitting half-naked in his lap and sucking on his lower lap while doing something with your tongue that was making him feel like he couldn't even breathe properly for how aroused he was.

Maybe you could feel the growing erection underneath of you, maybe you couldn't, but he’d stopped caring about being embarrassed around you about three hours ago when he’d had to tell you all about the time he’d once dropped a condom in Coach’s class in front of the entire classroom, and you’d laughed so much your face had gone red and you’d hidden it form him by pressing into his shoulder.

You were something he felt like he was dreaming up, like any moment now he’d wake up in a small puddle of his own drool with his face pressed into the desk of his lecture hall, the lights turned out and another note left by his kind professor to get more sleep at home, and to lock up when he left, before you were giggling a little at him, pulling away and stealing a few more pecks as you did, and he wondered if you really could read his mind, heat flushing his cheeks.

“Are you reading my mind or something?”

He felt stupid even as he mumbled te words, especially when it only seemed to heighten your entertainment, but you shook your head. “I can’t read your mind, I can just kinda’ sense your mood, I guess. It’s the connection, you were clearly thinking something funny, and I don’t know what it was, but I got a sudden rush of amusement.”

“That’s pretty fucking incredible.” He whispered, letting you peck his mouth a few more times, simply sitting there with puckered lips as he tried not to smile too much, before he was tucking hair away behind your ears and finally you were opening your eyes, and at this point, he really should learn to stop being surprised by new developments with you. “Holy shit, your eyes are glowing!”

“So are yours.” You winked, the bright purple being a shade that was so captivating and beautiful on you that he couldn’t look away, even when you leaned away from him to grab his phone, raising it up to snap a picture for him, and forcing his gaze down to it. Much like you’d said, his eyes were beginning to hint in with a faint purple, the neon shading beginning to drip into his irises and take over from the usual golden-brown that resided there. “You never made out with another witch before?”

He pinched at your ass for your cheeky comment, taking his phone and throwing it away to the side, grinning when you yelped at his painless attack. “I didn’t even know witches really existed before today. Besides, what makes you think I'm one? I had a spark once, but as I said, that died out. Nothing truly magical.”

“I don’t know, you’re having a pretty strong connection with me right now, aren’t you?” Your arms looped around his neck, snuggling in a little closer to him, and he bit back a groan as you shuffled in his lap. “I think you’re underestimating yourself, you just don’t know how to tap into your magic, you have to believe in it to see it.”

“You really think so?”

He was vulnerable and he knew it showed, he’d gone his entire life being unsure as to where all his energy and twitching came from, as to why he’d always felt a draw to the earth; the preserve and the woods, and justice and balance, and why he’d somehow fit into a supernatural world with far more elegance and ease than he ever had the normal one, and maybe this was the explanation. “I really do, Stiles.”

“Will you teach me?”

“I would love to.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and then to the spot below your ear, before flicking his tongue out a little to drag over the sensitive patch that lay there, before moving down your neck. He didn’t want to mark you without your consent, he wasn’t sure what was going to come of all of this and where it would go, but he was more than happy to lick and bite lightly at your skin, finding the sweet spot that made your hips roll down into his own and a sound of need and desperation to leave you that was like music to his ears, before his hips were bucking up to meet you once again.

“Y’know when you said that you could feel what I was feeling?”

“Uh-huh?” You were distracted, your reply seeming somewhat faded and distant, and he chuckled lightly, before making his way back up to your mouth now that you’d both had a chance to catch your breaths once again.

“Does that mean everything?”

“Are you asking if I know just how much you want to fuck me right now? Because yes, I do know.” He choked a little on his breath, your hand in his hair pulling his head back so that you could meet his gaze, your lower lip held between you teeth, flesh going a darker pink, and he longed to be the one biting that lip for you. “Trust me, the sentiment is returned.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah.” He wasn’t used to women being so confident with wanting him, being so unashamed of it, or of even wanting him at all. Most of his hook-ups had been slightly drunk make-outs and sloppy grinding, or booty calls and meetings in closets at parties. He got more action than he ever did in high school, he’d finally grown into his limbs and his looks, but that didn’t take away the surprise that still happened every time someone as pretty as you even offered him the time of day.

“Like, right here? Right now?”

“Been thinking about how much I want to ride you on my couch for like an hour and a half, now.” Stiles couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, lips parting as you ran a finger over his swollen lips, a cheeky glint flashing over purple eyes as you looked at him.

“You might just be perfect for me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A toothy smile was offered to you, before he was pulling you back in towards him, hands slipping down to lay resting on your thighs as soon as your lips had found his once again. The heat seemed to have passed, and while the kiss was still completely intoxicating, there was something a little more tender about it, too. It wasn’t nearly as rushed and frantic, the sloppy kisses you’d shared as you learned one another’s ticks had passed, and as your lips worked slowly with his own, Stiles found that he much preferred this kind of kiss.

This was the kind of kiss that he could picture himself sharing with you in many settings. A sleepy, early morning kiss, when you were still between the land of consciousness and the realm of unconsciousness. Or, late nights, when he’d fall asleep while studying, and he would let you drag him to his feet and to bed. Or, simply when he would finish a lecture, or get you coffee, or meet you for dinner. The point was, Stiles already knew he wanted to kiss you at all times of the day, and to hold onto you, and to watch you brew little spells at the stove while holding onto you from behind.

Your lips were wet when you pulled away, eyes sparkling as you looked at him, a bright shade of royal purple, like silk and rich violet on flower petals, and you looked utterly ethereal. “Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?”

“You’re sweet-talking me.” You teased, bumping the tip of your nose against his, and he shook his head.

“No, I’m not, I’m just being honest with you. I’ve been into you for a long time, even if I didn’t quite have my mind in the right place to actually say it.” You huffed out a little laugh, your eyes averting from his own so that you could try and hide your bashful little expression, but he didn’t miss it.

“Well, I’ve been admiring you a little, too. I should’ve had my deliveries sent to you sooner, if I knew it was going to end like this.” As if to punctuate your words, you rolled your hips down into his, reminding him of the solid erection pressing into his jeans, his fingers digging a little firmer into your skin, and he pushed your shirt up higher, the soft cotton of your panties revealed to him.

“These are just fucking sinful. Do you normally wander around your house in underwear and band-tees?” He tugged at it a little, before daring to tuck his hand underneath the fabric, trailing up, and a poorly-concealed groan left him as he found no further obstructions, fingers closing over one of your breasts, squeezing lightly as he palmed at your chest. “Well, clearly not all of your underwear.”

“I tend to, I keep it warm in here, for all the plants.” Your back arched up into his hand, one of your own closing over his outside of your shirt, as your other held onto his shoulder, fingers leaving crescent-moon shaped marks he was sure, and the rocking of your hips into his own only seemed to increase.

“I’d love to see you in one of my flannels sometime, just like this.”

“Give me your shirt and you’ll see it sooner than you think.” You teased, his brows raising, before he was pulling his hands back just long enough to lean into you, stripping the garment off as best as he could, leaving him in a thin black t-shirt as you took the item from him. He wanted to whine out as you stood up, choosing instead to replace the pressure of your core over his with his hand instead, palming at his cock through the thick denim, and you grinned as you watched him, yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

You stood before him, draping his shirt across his spread knees as he slumped further into the cushions, getting himself comfortable and popping the button on his jeans, swollen lower lip being nibbled as you played with the hem of your shirt. Your hips were swinging to the beat of the song, and then, you raised the garment up and over your head, letting it drop away to the carpet, his jaw dropping as he looked at you.

You picked up his flannel, pulling it up your arms, and leaving it open at the front, just barely covering your tits. You were an angel and also the devil, tempting him to do so many wrong things. Stretching his hands out toward you, he beckoned you back into his lap, an act you were more than happy to take as you bounded over to him, a pep on your few short steps, before you were settling back into his lap.

“Perfect.”

He let his hands find the flaps of the flannel, pulling it open wide enough to be able to admire your tits fully, letting you push your hair back away from your shoulders for his unobstructed view. Sealing one hand around your waist, he dragged you up closer, until you were almost pressed to him fully, before dipping his head down. His tongue dragged over a hardened nipple, taking the taut peak into his mouth and sucking harshly, as your hand wound into his hair. You tugged, roughly, a groan that vibrated along your entire body leaving him and making you shiver, and you made the prettiest little noises above him.

He switches sides, making sure to give the other half of your chest that same kind of attention, leaving wet marks and stinging watches along your skin that would become bright purple marks in the morning to match the colour of your eyes, and he just hoped you kept him around long enough to see them when they did become beautiful and prominent. He wanted to see his good work, he wanted to see the way he got to mark you up and leave his touch all over your body.

“Stiles..”

“I do love how you sound moaning my name, princess, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last when you're making noises like that and grinding yourself all over my cock like this.” You grinned, letting him kiss his way back up your chest and throat until he was taking your lips with his own. Your hands were moving down, tugging at his zipper as far as it would go, hid hips bucking up into his hand as he felt you drag a nail along his covered erection, breathy sounds between you both when you pulled away.

He only had to lift himself up for a moment, before you were tugging at his jeans, helping him to get them just far enough down his thighs for his boxers to be able to follow. His cock was throbbing, painfully hard and desperate for you, leaking precum along his skin, and he gave himself some form of relief. You were watching him, eyes wide as he pumped his length in one hand, the other dipping under your skirt rubbing over your core, and you bundled up your shirt for him.

“Y’know, all those times I thought about us, a quick fuck on your couch wasn’t how I had wanted our first time to be, but then again, I didn’t expect the cute chick across the hall to be a witch, wither, so..”

He used his thumb to drag your panties to the side, your sodden folds revealed to him, and he slipped two fingers into your dripping core with ease. “I’ll let you take it slow next time, I swear, but right now, I’d really like it if you’d fuck me.”

He could only nod, heart skipping a beat at the promise of another time. Your legs shifted, muscles clenching as he forced himself to take his touch away from your core and bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your sweet essence from the thin digits. As you leaned over him, he was sure to line himself up, and then, you were sinking down onto him, your forehead flailing to his as your mouth fell open, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispered the words, a little breathless and hanging on the edge of his orgasm already, and you seemed just as close, because as you finally sank all the way down and settled into his lap again, he could feel every pulse within your walls as you hugged around him.

It took him a moment, staving off his climax so that he didn’t come just from getting to feel you like this, and you looped your arms around his neck gently to find your purchase. Your nails were scratching lightly at the hairs at the base of his neck, his flannel once again flapping around you, panties pushed to the side to let him have access to your centre, and it was deliciously filthy.

Once you were settled, you circled your hips, a test movement, pleasure spiking in both of your systems and it felt like the temperature in the room was shooting upwards. Stiles could already feel sweat beginning to bead along his skin in a thin layer, and you pressed yourself in closer to him. Each time you shifted your hips you were moving a little more, every rock of your body into his, you were pulling yourself up just a little higher to be able to drop yourself back down onto his cock, stretching and squeezing around him.

You felt like velvet, slick and warm as you sheathed around him. You were precise and deliberate, and he couldn't help the wonton sounds that were leaving you with every drop down onto his cock, before you were taking him up to see stars every time, leaving the both of you resting in the clouds. Panted breaths, a scream in the back of your throat that tried to break out each time as you gave him broken moans of his name, picking up your pace further and further each time.

Once you were stable above him, you were moving with purpose, fast and quick as you rode him, gaining more confidence each time, and he was gripping you so tightly that there would be fingerprints all over your hips in the morning. He helped you go, lifting you up each time, only to pull you back down into his lap, thrusting up with a weak effort to meet you, but feeling you go wild each time. That same energy was back, crackling with more force, surging through him like nothing he had ever felt.

Stiles was in college, he was away from home and the weight of being the Sheriff’s kid for the first time, and he had experimented. He’d gotten drunk, and high, and hungover, but this was a whole new kind of thrill; it was like lighting up with fireworks and adrenaline all at once, like creating a bond with another person, and a tingling spread throughout his entire body as your magic bonded with his own. He hadn't felt this kind of singing in his blood since the day he’d managed to finish the circle with the mountain ash back when he was only sixteen, or breaking through the wild hunt barrier at almost eighteen.

These kind of thrills were rare for him, but they’d never been this strong, and as the two of you moved as one in the most intimate way that two people could, your mouth coming up to claim his as you silenced yourself and him, growing louder and more desperate as you went, he felt that final high beginning to build.

“‘M so close, honey.” His voice had taken on that same kind of scratchy rasp that he had in the mornings before he even broke into his day, “Oh, God, keep goin’.”

He knew his words were beginning to grow slurred, and he could barely buck his hips up into you. As everything within his body began to light up, he felt like all of his muscles were going lifeless, his body going boneless, because the heat was consuming him. He couldn't hold it back, he’d been waiting for so long to feel you this way, and his lips could barely even move back against your own as he went slack-jawed, exploding within your tight heat.

The send that he was shooting over the edge, you were following right after him, crying out his name into his mouth as you kept going against him, until you couldn't clumping down into his body as you trembled, and Stiles felt as though you’d milked absolutely everything from him that he had to offer. There was a crackling along his skin from everywhere that your fingertips smoothed over, sliding down from his shoulders so that you could press your cheek to the spot instead, fanning breaths rushing over his neck as you tried to catch your breath, racing heart just like his was.

You didn’t even bother to move from him, letting him throb within your walls with each flutter you made and each shift, and if you kept it up, he was sure he’d be ready for a second round, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he had that in him. Resting his head back against the edge of the couch, he let you lift yourself up and off of him finally, your legs shaking as you stood, offering him a weak smile as he took in your through fucked out state, before taking wobbly steps away from him, and disappearing down the hall.

He heard a door close, assuming you’d gone to the bathroom, and he leaned over to the coffee table to snatch up a few tissues, to clean himself up with, before sorting himself out too. He did the bare minimum, not even bothering to do up his jeans once he had them pulled back up, but he stretched out along the length of the couch to lay down, an arm popped under his head, and a little laugh on his lips as he did.

He took a moment to glance around, not missing the way that the plants all seemed to be blooming particularly beautifully, seeming more alive than ever. As he lifted up a hand before his face, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together, a spark travelled between the tips, and he felt a little in awe just at the sight of it.

“It's pretty incredible, right?”

He startled, jumping a little, before turning to look at you and propping himself up on his elbows as you lingered in the doorway. You had changed, your hair pulled back and out of your face, missing a few odd strands and you’d buttoned up his flannel along your body, mismatched and hanging unevenly, but still adorable. You took slower steps over to him, waiting for a second as you stood beside him, before he was lifting his arms and making it clear to you that you could lay with him, a smile gracing both of your faces as you flattened yourself along him, cheek pressed over his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You like feeling your magic, then?”

He lifted his palm, holding it to yours and admiring the final dying flares he saw, as the energy began to dissipate and absorb into his body and yours fully. “I’m not used to feeling special myself. I’ve always been a behind the scenes, research, kinda’ guy. I’m not used to being one of the main players.”

“Oh, hush. You told me your story, you were most definitely a key player, Stiles.” He shrugged under you, letting you cross your arms over his chest and prop your chin on them.

“Yeah, but I never really felt that way, and now I feel like I have something to offer.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips over his jaw with a sweet kiss, and he felt like he could most definitely get used to this feeling. Can I meet them?”

“My pack?”

You nodded, seeming a little shy now, and joy raced through him at the fact that you saw enough of a future with him to want to meet his friends an get to know them, and to once again be able to be completely open and honest with everyone, never having to hide anything from anyone, and being able to let you fully and wholly into his life. It was a surprise, because the more he’d thought about his future late at night when lying alone in his bed, he was so sure he’d never be able to really settle down, because he could never let someone in on his life in every single way, but with you, that wasn’t a problem.

“I would absolutely love that.”

“Really?” You were studying him carefully, trying to ensure that he was telling the truth, and he gave you the most honey look that he possibly could, before lifting his head to meet your lips as he leaned in.

Soft and delicate, like a kiss that was shared between deep romance and longtime lovers, and he rested a hand on your cheek, holding you to him, and rolling you to the side, to sandwich you between the couch and his body Your thigh came up to rest over his legs, his palm slipping from your face to rest on your leg, drawing patterns on the skin until you pulled away to breathe, lips detaching from his as you whined a little. You stayed close, though, a soft look etched onto your features;

“I just want to meet a few more supernatural people, and get to know others who I don’t have to hide from.”

“Well, you definitely don’t have to hide from them, and you’ll love them, just as much as they’ll love you. We’re a pretty odd group, you’ll fit right in.”

“You’re right about that ‘odd bunch’ thing. I’ve never met a banshee, or a - what did you call it? - werecoyote.” That was an undeniable truth, your head coming back down to rest on his chest as he shrugged, unable to deny that you were right. “Your wolves sound nice, too. All the other wolves I’ve met have been overly territorial and closed off.”

“Well, Derek used to be like that, but we’ve pulled him around a little. He is still broody, though.” You laughed at his joke, a sound that made his heart burst open slightly and bleed with affection, all for you, as you continued to take more and more pieces of his heart with every act, and he was falling in love with you faster than he’d ever known was possible. “Don’t take notice of any of his lurking, by the way, it’s his twisted way of showing concern and care.”

“I’ll remember that, and if I ever catch him hiding behind a tree, I’ll know that it’s real friendship.”

“He does that, I’m serious, don’t underestimate him. I think my dad arrested him for stalking, once.”

“I think your dad would be who I am most scared to meet.” A fond tone in your voice, before he was pressing a kiss to your forehead, humming under his breath.

“He’ll love you the most, don’t worry.”

Silence fell between you both then, and he busied himself with tracing illegible drawings into your skin, simply enjoying feeling so close to you. It was irrationally domestic, and you were the final piece in his college life and college experience that was missing. Despite not being a wolf, he was unequivocally part of a wolf pack, and being surrounded so closely by such a tight-knit group of friends for those years had made him dependent on company and reliability, and he had been feeling so alone since leaving for college.

Scott had Malia, Lydia had rekindled things with Jordan, and even Derek had been (begrudgingly, to begin) hooked up with a deputy by his father, and they’d been on a few dates.

The last time he’d been home, he’d felt like a fifth, seventh, or was it ninth wheel, when Liam and Hayden were taken into account? He had been feeling awfully lonely lately, and he was glad to finally find someone that fit him perfectly, matching him like a glove.

“When I do introduce you to my friends, my pack, y’know, and my dad..”

You lifted your head, a little crease across your cheek from the fold in his shirt, and he rubbed the spot with his thumb gently, an attempt to remove the mark. “Yeah?”

“What should I introduce you as?”

“A witch.” You deadpanned, and he knew immediately that you’d clearly know exactly what he meant, but were playing with him, and he pouted, fixing you with a mock glare, before you were laughing to yourself over your joke, something so undeniably cute that he couldn't even pretend to be mad about it. “What do you want to introduce me as?”

Nudging your jaw a little with his, he puckered his lips, tempting you down to kiss him, and you were more than happy to press a series of sweet and short kisses to his lips. “I’d really like to formally claim you to be my girlfriend?”

He mumbled the words into your mouth, feeling your lips flick up at the edges in a smile as you gave him a kiss that was a little more firm, a little more loving and powerful, before whispering your reply; “Then we’re on the same page, because I’d like to introduce you to my coven back home as my boyfriend.”

“You have a coven?” He pulled back, a gasp of shock, and you giggled at him.

“That I do. Maybe I should tell you about them?”

“You absolutely should.” He insisted, his craving for knowledge taking over, and he couldn't have been more glad to whatever deity was watching over benevolently that he’d taken the choice to stay the first time knowledge had been offered, because it had led him to where he was now.

“It might take all night, maybe you should go and get a change of clothes. Get comfortable.”

“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” You only nodded, letting him roll you back over onto your back as he kissed at your neck. “I’ll buy you take out if you cuddle me later?”

“Cuddling and dinner? Glad I get to call you my boyfriend, now.”

“Not nearly as glad as I am to call you my girlfriend. My little witch.” His lips sealed over yours, silencing your laughs against his mouth as you teased him for the nickname, and he pinched a little at your sides. The mistletoe overhead grew a little more, a few of the berries dropping away and bouncing off of his back as the plant became bolder, just like the rest, that energy beginning to grow once again, as you got lost in each other’s touch.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x reader smut #stiles stilinski/reader #stiles stilinski/reader smut #stiles stilinski teen wolf #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien teen wolf #dylan obrien stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien

2K notes · View notes

study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

October (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading! Turns out I can get a lot written during the week between work and school if I just utilize time blocking, lol. Anyway, enjoy, and don't forget to like/reblog and comment!

Playlist I listen to while writing this (not my playlist) if anyone wants to listen to while reading: here

Anyway, here's the imagine!

"Is Hailey on her way yet?" you asked Jay excitedly as you started to pour yourself a cup of coffee.

"She just texted and said she's on her way. She said she's grabbing coffee on her way here, too," he answered.

"Oh," you slid your mug of coffee towards him. "You can have this one then. Guess I don't need it."

Jay chuckled. "She didn't say she's bringing you anything."

"Hailey loves me," you countered. "If she said she's getting coffee, then that means she's getting some for me, too."

"Well, she loves me more, seeing as I am her boyfriend. So, she'll probably bring me coffee, too. So, I don't need this." He poured your mug of coffee back into the coffee pot seeing as you hadn't drank any yet.

"I hope she gets me a pumpkin spice latte," you said.

"You and your pumpkin everything." He looked at your shirt. "Nice shirt."

"Thanks, wonder who got it for me," you joked.

Last year, Jay had been scrolling through Amazon (because apparently, he does that at work when he's bored and has nothing to do) and he saw a gray t-shirt that said it's all a bunch of hocus pocus. The shirt had some little spooky designs on it and the three witches' outlines from the movie Hocus Pocus in white on it as well. And, you'd be damned if you didn't wear it at the bare minimum once a week during the month of October...the first of October and Halloween were the days you felt it was mandatory to wear your Hocus Pocus t-shirt...unless you got a different Halloween shirt during that month.

"Why do you like October so much anyway?" Jay asked.

"Because," you started, "you can wear long sleeves without having to bundle up, fall candles are the best, I like the rain, and it smells good...and Halloween."

Jay raised an eyebrow. "It smells good?"

"You know, that crisp outdoorsy smell and the smell after the rain. I like that."

"You're so weird."

You rolled your eyes and then the doorbell rang, alerting you that Hailey was here.

"I gotta go grab some money," you said quickly and ran off to your room.

After Jay let Hailey inside, he beckoned her into his bedroom and handed her a small pile of photos.

"When you're at the craft store," Jay started, "can you get these framed? I'd go, but it'd look suspicious...and I have to catch up on some paperwork."

"Of course," Hailey answered as she started sifting through the pictures. They were all cute pictures of you when you were younger, some of just you, some with your brothers, and some with your whole family. It was obvious that they were all taken around fall/Halloween time. "What are they for?"

"Halloween's Y/N's favorite holiday and I was thinking of giving her these and then us doing a bunch of stuff on the 30th and the 31st together. You can come if you want. I think she'd actually appreciate you coming since all her friends from high school are off at college and all her friends from college work most weekends. I've also told her enough horror stories about Halloween parties I've busted that hopefully, she won't even want to go to one even though she's 21."

Hailey laughed. "Good luck with that one. But, yes I'll join you." She quickly slipped the photos into a brown paper bag that Jay handed her a few seconds before you came back from your room.

A few hours later, while you were browsing and smelling all the fall-scented candles, Hailey was busy finding the perfect frame for the pictures Jay gave her.

***

A few weeks later, October 30th

"What are Will and Hailey doing here?" you asked after you had gotten back from the library around two in the afternoon.

"Well hello to you, too," Will joked.

"Thought you were at work. Actually, I thought all three of you were at work."

"How would you know Hailey's schedule?" Jay laughed.

"When you're at work, she's at work because you're partners. Not that hard, Jay."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Anyway, to answer your question, they're here because we have a surprise for you."

You narrowed your eyes. "You do know Halloween is tomorrow, right? That's why I went to the library today because I didn't want to study tomorrow."

"Oh, we know," Will said. "We just wanted to start early."

He handed you a gift wrapped in spooky wrapping paper which consisted of a black background, jack-o-lanterns, witch hats, and ghosts.

"What's this?" you asked while furrowing your eyebrows. It was in a weird shape, but kind of squarish, but with more pieces sticking out.

"Well open it and find out," Hailey laughed.

And so, you did.

You gasped and tears came to your eyes. You sat on the floor next to Jay, facing Hailey and Will on the couch so you didn't fall over.

In your hands was an autumnal picture frame which was brown with fall leaves and pumpkins around it. Inside the seven frames were seven pictures, some with you and your brothers and some with you and your whole family before your mom and dad passed away.

"You- you guys did this?" you asked as you ran your fingers over the pictures covered by the glass of the frames.

"Hailey picked out the frame," Jay supplied. "Me and Will found all the pictures together while you were out one night and decided on the best ones."

"That's why I didn't go candle-smelling with you at the craft store," Hailey added. "Jay gave me the task of picking out the frame."

You smiled up at her. "Well, you did good. Really good."

You looked at a picture of you when you were ten years old in a sort of police uniform, with Jay crouched next to you in his police dress blues with a hand on your shoulder. "I thought that Halloween was gonna suck," you reminisced.

"But, as your big brother, I made sure it didn't," Jay said.

You rolled your eyes and let out a small laugh as you continued to look at the picture.

The doorbell rang and you wiped away your tears. Then, you answered the door.

"Hey, kiddo, happy--" Jay started, but then he saw your distraught face. "Whoa, what's wrong?" he asked as he stepped inside.

"I don't have a costume," you huffed as tears started to roll down your cheeks again.

"Why not?" he asked. He kicked off his shoes and then sank down to your height.

"Because," you started and then took a deep breath, "Dad didn't take me to get a costume."

Jay sighed in frustration and closed his eyes. The deal was that he would take you trick-or-treating, but that your dad had to take you to get a costume.

He opened his eyes. "What did you want to be? What kind of costume did you want?" he asked.

"I dunno," you shrugged. "I was a witch last year, so I can't be that again."

You reached your hand out and started fiddling with Jay's badge which was on the chain around his neck.

This simple action gave Jay an idea.

"How about you be a police officer?" he suggested.

"Like you?" you asked. He nodded. "But I don't have a police officer costume."

Jay smiled. "Wait here."

He ran out to his truck where he still had his police uniform. He had changed at the station and didn't have a chance to stop back home and drop off his blues. Now, he was really glad he left later than planned because that meant you'd have a costume.

But, before he came back inside, he made his way to the backyard where your guys' dad was busy raking leaves.

"Seriously?" Jay yelled.

"What now, Jay?" your dad asked, clearly annoyed at being talked to while he was trying to do yardwork.

Jay marched closer to his dad. "You had one job! One job, Dad! And that was to get Y/N a Halloween costume and you couldn't even do that?"

"Doesn't trick-or-treating stop when they're like nine? I thought she was too old for that."

Jay huffed. "No, it doesn't. Why do you think I offered to take her? I wouldn't offer if ten-year-olds didn't go trick-or-treating."

"I'm sorry. Your mom typically did everything. I never had to worry about this stuff." But, Jay could tell by the tone of his voice that Pat Halstead was just saying that to say it; he didn't mean a word of it. He wasn't sorry, and Jay knew this.

"Just forget it, I've got it covered." He started to walk back inside. But then, he stopped and turned around. "And it's not me you should be apologizing to. It's Y/N. She's the one who answered the door crying."

Then, Jay walked back inside where you were waiting for him.

"Okay, let's see what we can do," Jay said. "Do you have a light blue shirt?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. "I thought I was wearing your police stuff."

Jay smiled and shook his head. "It would be way too big for you." He took off his badge on the chain and placed it around your neck. "But, you can wear this." He placed the officer cap on your head. "And this."

You fiddled with the badge. "And this is what tells people that you're a real police officer? Not a fake one, right?"

"Exactly. Now, let's go find you the rest of your costume."

***

After half an hour of digging through your closet, you had it. You were wearing the black pair of dress pants that you rarely wore except for on holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas, a light-blue t-shirt which you had flipped inside out since there was a design on the front, and a black zip-up sweatshirt and a pair of tennis shoes. You said that you could wear your black dress flats because you needed black shoes, but Jay said that he wanted your feet to be comfy while you were walking around, so you wore the tennis shoes.

"Ready?" Jay asked.

Your shirt was tucked into your pants like Jay said that the police officers had to wear it, your sweatshirt was unzipped because Jay said they didn't zip up their police jackets unless it was really, really cold outside, the badge was around your neck, the police hat was on, and your shoes and socks were on.

But, something was missing.

"You're not in your police officer outfit," you said.

"You want me to put mine on?" he asked.

You nodded. "Then we can be twins. And, you're a real police officer."

Jay couldn't say no to you.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Jay was glad that he left his gun in his car. Even though it felt like something was missing when he couldn't put his gun in his side holster, he knew that he couldn't take you trick-or-treating while being armed.

He pinned down his tie and walked out of the bathroom and back to your room.

"I need one of those!" you exclaimed.

"One of what?"

"A tie! I don't have one! I need one."

Jay supposed you were right. So, he went into your dad's room and grabbed a black tie. He tied it on you and told you to tuck it into your pants. So you did.

"Are you ready now, Officer Y/N?" he asked.

"Yes!" You grabbed your trick-or-treating basket which was a soft basket that looked like a jack-o-lantern.

***

Two hours later, you thought you were done, your basket was full, and you even had to shove some candy into the pockets of Jay's jacket because you had gotten so much. Turns out people were very generous when they learned your brother was an actual cop and not a fake one.

"Okay, kiddo, let's go inside and empty your basket, and then I have one more surprise for you," Jay said.

"Really? What is it?" you asked excitedly.

"You're just gonna have to wait and find out."

So, the two of you went inside and quickly emptied the candy from your basket and from Jay's pockets into a plastic bag.

You set your basket on the counter.

"Bring your basket," Jay said. "You might need it."

"We're doing more trick-or-treating?" you asked.

"Kind of. C'mon."

You were confused as you hopped into Jay's car. You never drove around to trick-or-treat.

Ten minutes later, you saw a firetruck.

"We're seeing firefighters?" you asked. "Why?"

"Some of them are my friends," Jay answered. "And, one of them was nice enough to tell me that they have cotton candy in there."

Your eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Really," Jay confirmed.

He quickly parallel parked and you and he walked across the street and into Firehouse 51.

"Halstead!" Kelly Severide yelled. "We don't let the other team in here. You know this!"

"Whatever, man," Jay said.

"And who is this?" Gabby asked as she got out of the ambo and placed her angel halo back on her head. Shay did the same, but with devil horns.

"This is Y/N, my little sister. Y/N," he started and looked down at you, "this is Gabby and Shay and the guy over there is Kelly. They're all really nice."

"Hi," you said shyly and grabbed Jay's hand.

Shay and Gabby shared a look and then made their way to the kitchen. Kelly came over and crouched down in front of you.

"So, you decided to be a cop like your brother?" he asked.

"Dad didn't take me to get a costume, so Jay helped me with this," you answered.

"Well, I think you look like a real cop," he said.

"Thank you."

"Do real cops like goodie bags?" Shay asked as she and Gabby came back onto the apparatus floor from the kitchen.

You nodded and Shay handed you the goodie bag.

"What do you say?" Jay prompted.

"Thank you!"

Then, you held it out to Jay. "Can you open it please?"

He took it from you and started to open it. "Just, don't eat all of it at once, okay?"

"Okay!"

Once Jay opened it, he handed it back to you and you looked at what was inside. There was a glove filled with popcorn, some mini candy bars, and some Jolly Ranchers, a firetruck eraser, a pencil with ambulances on it, and some pieces of bubble gum.

You opened a blue Jolly Rancher and popped it into your mouth.

"Pouch!" a firefighter yelled as he carried a few boxes out of the kitchen.

Kelly jumped up and stopped the dog from making a beeline towards you and Jay.

"Pouch! Sit!"

Pouch whined but reluctantly sat down.

You noticed the teal collar and the S-charm hanging from it.

"Look, Jay! He's Scooby-Doo!"

Jay looked closer at Pouch. "I guess he is."

"We couldn't have Halloween and not give Pouch here a costume," Gabby said. She moved her gaze from you to Jay. "Mind if me and Shay give her a tour of the firehouse and grab her some cotton candy?"

"Not at all," Jay said. "You wanna go with the girls, Y/N?"

"Yes, please!"

"Well, c'mon!" Gabby exclaimed.

"Can Scooby come, too?" you asked.

"He can," she confirmed. "Pouch, come," she ordered and he walked up to her side.

You let go of Jay's hand and walked next to Pouch and Shay, with Gabby on the other side of the Pouch. You were getting cotton candy and you'd get to see the firehouse! They even said they'd let you sit in the ambulance!

Kelly chuckled as the girls walked off with you. "You know you're not getting her back any time soon, right?"

"Oh, believe me, I know," Jay said.

An hour later, Jay said it was time to go. But, Gabby said she needed a picture of the two police officers...and that's how the photo in the frame came to be.

"Pretty sure we went to the firehouse every year after that," Jay said.

"Yeah, the cotton candy was definitely the best part," you said.

"Of course you thought that. We all know it wasn't the haunted house they started to put on."

"Well, I'm sorry that the one at the YMCA scarred me for life!"

"Mom said it gave you Laffy Taffy and you cried!" Will exclaimed with a laugh.

"How do you know? You weren't there!"

"Yeah, but I heard from Jay and Mom."

"You were so lucky I worked there and could still get you some candy once you came out," Jay laughed.

"Wait," Hailey started, "you worked at the Y?"

"Just for a little bit in high school. All I'll say is that it was not fun. It was exhausting. Entertaining kids all day after school, no thanks."

"You entertained her all the time," Will argued. "What's the difference?"

"I wasn't outnumbered when it was Y/N! I was when it was all those other kids!"

"I can see a very stressed out high school Jay," Hailey laughed. "Bet it was pretty funny."

"Oh, it probably was...to the people watching me."

"Is that why you won't watch horror movies, Y/N?" Hailey asked.

"Yup. Or go through haunted houses. I got scarred for life that day."

You were around four years and a half years old. Your mom had just finished swimming at the YMCA and had picked you up from the daycare center. You wanted to be in the group Jay was in today, but he wasn't working in your daycare area today like he normally was. You wondered where he was.

"Mommy!" you yelled and jumped up and down when you saw her.

"Hi, baby!" she said as she signed you out. "Do you want to go to the haunted house and see all the ghosts now?"

"Yes, please!" you said. Then, she held out her hand and you grabbed it and followed her out of the daycare center and to the line for the haunted house.

Your mom wasn't worried about you going in because it was a hunted house for children, so she knew it wouldn't be scary for you, more of a fun Halloween experience.

You held her hand as you walked through the dark hallways and rooms, complete with cobwebs, fake spiders and bats, and ghosts.

You were almost at the end when your mom told you to look.

You looked at a black booth, but there was nothing there. You were wondering why she told you to look there when there wasn't even anything--

"Hahaha!"

You quickly buried your head into your mom's waist when you saw the skeleton.

"It's okay, Y/N," she soothed. She tapped the booth. "Look, he gave you Laffy Taffy."

"No!" you wailed. "Scary!"

"Honey, the skeleton's gone."

You peeked your head out and saw that the skeleton was gone, but the Laffy Taffy was there. Then, you buried your face back in your mom's waist. What if the skeleton came out again?

"No more! No more! Please go!"

"Honey, we're almost--"

"No!" you screamed. "Scary!"

You kept crying, so your mom waved over a worker and she walked you out of the haunted house while profusely apologizing.

"Mom?" Jay asked as she walked out of the haunted house, carrying you on her hip. "What are you doing here?" He knew that she worked out and you went to daycare during that time, but he didn't expect to see you at the haunted house...even if it was geared toward little kids.

"I thought I'd take Y/N through the haunted house, but the skeleton popped out and gave her Laffy Taffy and she didn't like that," she answered her son.

"He was scary, Jay Jay!" you cried.

Jay shared a look with his coworker and his eyes wandered over to the big basket of candy in the corner and he looked back at her. She nodded and Jay walked over and grabbed the basket of candy.

"Do you want some sour skittles?" he asked as he pulled a big box of that specific candy out of the candy basket and walked back over to you and your mom. "Would that make you feel any better?"

"Sour skittles?" you asked as you pulled your head away from being buried in your mom's neck and looked at Jay and the green box of candy he was holding.

"Yeah, they're for you. Do you want them?"

"Mommy?" you asked, looking up at her. "Can I have them?"

She smiled. "You can." Usually, she didn't like you to have such big boxes of candy all at once because it would make you have a sugar high, but she made an exception after the meltdown you had.

After that, you left the YMCA. Your mom had a feeling you might swear off haunted houses forever after that terrifying experience...and she was right.

"And these four pictures," Jay said as he pointed at each one, "are what we are doing today."

You looked at each of them and then it dawned on you. "We're going to the pumpkin patch?"

"Yup. So get changed into something warmer and then we'll get going."

"Can we get--"

"Yes, Y/N, we can get coffee on the way there. Now get changed. We're burning daylight."

"Okay, okay. And please, never say we're burning daylight again. That was such a dad thing to say."

***

You held your Black Forest latte in your hands as you waited in line for Jay to buy tickets to the corn maze. You decided on this latte (mocha, caramel, and blackberry) because to you, it tasted like you thought fall would taste...and because you figured you'd get a pumpkin-flavored latte tomorrow since tomorrow was Halloween. God, you had to stop spending all your hard-earned money on coffee. But, at least Jay paid for everyone's today.

"Okay, how do we want to do this?" Jay asked as the four of you moved to the side after the tickets were paid for. "All together or split up and race?"

"I propose boys against girls," Will suggested. "That way, everyone gets a detective. Because God knows if it was me and Y/N we'd be screwed."

"Hey!" you protested. "I'm not that bad!"

"Oh yeah? You need your phone's GPS to get anywhere."

"No, I don't!"

"Then, how do you get home from here?"

You paused and Jay raised an eyebrow and Will crossed his arms across his chest. They were quite amused at how directionally challenged you were.

You threw your arms up in the air. "I don't know!" You lowered your arms. "But, I do know we came from that way." You pointed to your right.

"Close, but not quite," Hailey laughed.

"We came from that way." Jay pointed at an angle, somewhere between to the right of you and behind you. "Nice try though. Last question, Y/N. Which way's north?"

You pointed in front of you because, when you learned the compass in elementary school, north was in front of you, east was to your right, south was behind you, and west was to your left. You knew it depended on where you were standing and which way you were going, so you knew it could be east, south, or west. But, you gave it your best guess. And, since north was in front of you, you could justify your thought process.

Jay looked at the ground and laughed. "Hailey?" he prompted.

"You pointed east," she answered. "North is to your left."

"How do you guys even know this?" you asked. It came so easy to them! How?

"Practice," Jay answered. "So, boys against girls?"

"You're on."

***

You and Hailey walked through the corn maze a while later. You kept a fast pace while you walked because you wanted bragging rights against your brothers and Hailey wanted them against her boyfriend. Hailey, of course, was the one reading the map and directing the two of you toward the exit of the corn maze for most of the time.

"So," she started, "what's the story behind that picture of you and the boys in the corn maze?" she asked. "The one from the frame?"

You laughed. "That was Will trying to not get sucker-punched by Jay."

"What?" she asked as she stopped walking and looked at you. "I'm gonna need more details. You can't just leave it at that."

"As long as we keep walking, I'll give them to you. We need to beat them."

"Fair enough."

So, the two of you continued walking and you dove into the story from your childhood and Will and Jay's teenagehood.

You were walking through the maze of corn with your mom and Jay in front of you and Will and your dad behind you. They thought it was best to put you in the middle because, since you were only four and a half years old, you could easily run into the corn and not be spotted because you were small.

You had on jeans, a t-shirt with a witch (which was covered by a sweatshirt that was orange and had the face of a jack-o-lantern on it because it was October in Illinois), and a pair of black rain boots because the corn maze was muddy since it had rained last night. Your hair was pulled back into two pigtails, which were held back with two black ponytail holders with two jack-o-lantern beads on each.

Your mom always found it adorable to dress you up according to the holidays when you had to go out so close to them. And, since it was a few days until Halloween, she deemed this the perfect outfit for her little girl.

You had fun jumping in a few puddles and trying to pull some stalks of corn down as Will had done. Jay, on the other hand, had been on his flip phone most of the time, texting Allie. Your mom thought about taking the phone away from him, but she didn't feel like causing a scene when there were other families around, specifically inside a corn maze of all places. So, she figured she'd let him keep it. But, when you got to the pumpkin patch, she would be taking that phone away from him.

"Y/N," Will whispered as he walked closer to you.

You turned and look at him with wide eyes.

"Wanna help me?" he asked.

"I will help you!" you exclaimed, causing Jay to turn around and raise an eyebrow at the two of you and then turn back to his phone.

"Okay. But we have to be quiet." Will put a finger to his lips.

"Okay, shhh," you whispered and then put a finger to your lips as well.

Will went over and grabbed a small piece of corn from the ground. He wiped the dirt off of it with his hand, thankful that it wasn't muddy so he didn't get mud on his hand. He would have taken one right off the stalk, but he didn't want the loud noise to alert Jay.

He walked back over to you.

"What are we doing?" you whispered.

"Well, I'm gonna lift you up, and then we're going to put this corn in Jay's hoodie." You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn't understand. Will touched the hood on your jack-o-lantern sweatshirt. "This part."

"Oh, okay! We get Jay Jay!" you whisper yelled.

Will chuckled and then helped you onto his shoulders. From behind you, your dad gave you and Will a look that you couldn't see since your guys' back was to him. But, he figured he wouldn't say anything. For all he knew, you wanted to carry a piece of corn around and see more, which being on Will's shoulders would help you to see more.

"When I get close and pull his hoodie, you put it in. Okay, Y/N?" Will asked.

"Okay," you whispered back.

Meanwhile, your mom had watched this whole thing and knew what you and Will were planning. So, she pulled out the digital camera.

Will walked a bit faster and gently pulled the hoodie, slow and soft enough that Jay barely felt a thing. You held the corn right over his hood.

"Jay, smile," your mom said.

"What?" he asked, very confused, and then looked up.

Then, your mom clicked the button on the camera, and the flash went off...just as you dropped the corn into his hood.

Jay didn't find the corn in his hood until he took it off at home later that night so you and Will considered it a win. Will also blamed it all on you so he and Jay wouldn't fight and you gladly took all the blame while giggling about how funny you found the entire thing.

So, that was how the picture of you on Will's shoulders, him pulling Jay's hood back, you with a piece of corn poised over it, and Jay in front of you with a very confused look on his face came to be. And, every year after that, Will and Jay always tried to put corn in each other's hoods. Whoever put the most in the other's, won. You'd be on one of their sides, but since both brothers wanted you on their team, you'd go with whichever one would get you more boxes of sour skittles.

"And one year, Jay got a face full of mud from face-planting in the corn maze when he was trying to run to catch up with Will before we finished the corn maze because he was ahead by one piece of corn," you told Hailey.

"It's a good thing it's girls against boys or else, it sounds like we'd be sprinting through this," she mused.

"They're so damn competitive, it's ridiculous," you agreed.

"I think we take a left here and then we're out," Hailey said as she looked at the map.

"Okay, you're the detective who knows all the directions...because obviously, I don't."

You and Hailey took a left and then saw the exit straight ahead.

"How much you wanna bet they're still in there?" you heard Will ask, his voice coming from the right of you.

There were two routes to get out, and Will and Jay must've taken the other one.

"I dunno, man. Hailey's a damn good detective, too," Jay said.

"Why thank you," Hailey said, drawing the two boys' attention.

Will and Jay locked eyes with you and Hailey.

"Hold this," you said and then handed your cup of coffee to Hailey before she could protest.

Then, you took off running towards the exit.

You looked back to see that Jay was sprinting after you and you knew he'd easily overtake you and get through the exit first, so you picked up your pace, running as fast as you ever probably have in your entire life.

You heard his footsteps behind you and knew that he was probably half a step from overtaking you, and you were only about two steps from the exit at this point.

So, you did what you had to do: you dove across the exit and got your clothes full of dirt.

"Fuck," Jay sighed frustratedly.

You looked up. "Did we win?"

Will and Hailey jogged over to you. "That was awesome!" Will exclaimed and held out a hand to help you up.

"Thanks," you panted. You looked at Hailey. "We won, right?"

She laughed. "We did."

You brushed the dirt off your clothes as best you could. "Good, because I didn't get my clothes this dirty for nothing."

"Who knew you were so competitive," Jay joked.

"Not me."

"Now, since we won," Hailey started, "I say me and Y/N get to pick what kind of donuts we have."

"What? That was not part of the deal!" Jay protested.

"Well, it is now." She gave Jay a hug. "Don't pout, baby, it doesn't look good on you," she whispered seductively in his ear, while her hands traveled down to the back pocket of his jeans, where he kept his wallet and slithered inside, safely securing the wallet.

Will fake gagged, which made Hailey pull away. She shot you a look and started running towards where the barn with the donuts was, so you followed her.

"Told you we'd pick the donuts!" she yelled to the boys while holding Jay's wallet above her head.

"Hailey!" Jay yelled after her as he and Will started to run after you two. "Come back here!"

"No can do, Halstead!"

When you and Hailey beat the boys to the donuts, you quickly decided on what three flavors you wanted: cherry glazed, pumpkin glazed, and cinnamon and sugar.

Will and Jay quickly got in line behind you.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me," Jay said and raised an eyebrow.

"Not until after we order the donuts," Hailey said and stuffed the wallet in her bra. "Come and get it, baby."

Jay's face turned a shade of red as his eyes traveled down to her boobs. They were in a public place, there was no way he was going there right now.

You even felt uncomfortable at that moment. You knew the two had their fun together because they were dating after all, but you didn't want a front-row seat to this. Just thinking of your brother...

Ew, yeah, not going there, you thought to yourself.

"Y/N doesn't know where the bathroom is so I'm gonna take her," Will piped up, but not before he sent a glare to his brother.

Will grabbed your wrist and you were quickly tugged along until you were out of line.

"That was..." you trailed off, not even knowing what to say about that. You knew that Hailey was quite an introverted person, so seeing her pull something like that in public, shocked you to your core.

"Inappropriate? Disgusting? All of the above?" Will finished for you.

"Yeah, those."

"Much different from the first time we had donuts here, huh?"

"Mom took a great picture of me for that one," you groaned and rolled your eyes.

Will laughed, knowing exactly which one you were referring to because it was in the frame you had just gotten.

"Do-nuts! Do-nuts!" you chanted as you walked into the barn holding one of your mom's hands and one of your dad's, swinging yours and their arms back and forth as you walked to beat of your chanting.

"Yes, honey, we're getting donuts," your mom confirmed.

"Yay!"

When you got inside you patiently waited in line (okay, maybe not so patiently since you were only a little kid). Once you got your donuts and cider, you sat down at a table and started to eat.

And, when your mom had been at the counter, Will had taken to talking to one of the workers who was on break because he knew her from school. So, he said he had to go make a phone call to one of his project partners...whatever that meant. Your mom had raised a suspicious eyebrow at him when he left around the same time as the girl he had been talking to, but she didn't stop him. She knew what it was like to be a teenager.

So, you, Jay, and your mom and dad ate your donuts and drank your cider and saved some for Will.

You discreetly grabbed one of the two donuts that your family had saved for Will and started to eat it.

"Y/N Halstead!" your mom exclaimed and picked up the camera. "That donut was for Will! Not for you."

"Oopsie," you said with chunks of donut in your mouth. "You have some?" you asked as you held the donut out to her, your mouth still open and closing in the act of chewing.

That's when she snapped the picture. So, it was a picture of you holding the donut out to her with your mouth open with chunks of donut inside since you were mid-chew, and crumbs of donut all over your face.

When Will came back, he had some red on his face, so you asked if you could get your face painted, too. But, then, he quickly wiped the red from his cheek and the slight pinkish tint from around his lips.

"We'll talk later," your mom told Will pointedly.

You didn't know what that meant, so you just held the extra donut out to Will.

"Oh my God!" you gasped as your adult brain grasped what Will had been doing. "You made out with that girl!"

Will laughed. "And you didn't realize that until now?"

"I didn't really think of that until now, Will! And, excuse my four-year-old self for not seeing the signs of a makeout session!"

"Had to get some practice in for college somehow." He shrugged.

"Ew."

"Now, do you really have to go to the bathroom?" he asked. "Because if not, I think we can head back to Hailey and Jay now."

"I don't. Let's go...hopefully, they're done being nasty."

Will laughed and the two of you walked back to where you had been, not without Will chanting do-nuts quietly and you elbowing him in the ribs to make him stop because you knew he was making fun of what you had done all those years ago.

You sat down next to Hailey and Will sat down on the other side of Jay.

"Thank God you guys are done with whatever the hell you had going on earlier," you said. "Now, everyone gets three donuts, one of each flavor right?"

Jay confirmed what you had just asked with a nod of his head and opened the cap to the gallon of apple cider. Then, the four of you dug into your donuts and washed them down with large gulps of cold apple cider.

***

"Are we carving pumpkins?" you asked as you, Jay, Will, and Hailey walked through the pumpkin patch after you had finished your donuts. "Because, that makes a difference in what kind of pumpkin I grab," you clarified.

"We can," Jay said. "I'm sure mine and Will's will be the best since we both have steady hands, though."

"Hailey can hold a gun, too you know," you pointed out. "Pretty sure she has steady hands, too."

"Thanks, Y/N. Jay, have a little faith in me, would you? I mean, I know Will's a doctor and all, so he definitely knows his way around a scalpel, but me and you both have knife and gun experience."

"Sorry, babe," Jay apologized with a laugh. "You're just not a sniper."

"I know how to work a sniper rifle for your information. Do you not remember the time I saved you from getting necrotizing fasciitis by firing a shot into that conference room?"

"That was really stupid, Jay," Will said. "You're so lucky me and Natalie were there with the antidote in case it went south."

Jay sighed. He knew he couldn't win this argument. "I just meant you're not a trained sniper, Hails. That's all."

"Mhm, sure you did."

"So, are we carving pumpkins or not? And if so, can I use a template from Pinterest? Because, we all know I can't freehand them," you asked.

"We're carving," Jay confirmed. "Templates are free game. Winner gets bragging rights."

"Let's go get some pumpkins," Will said. Then, he turned to you with a serious look on his face. "And, no throwing pumpkins this time, Y/N."

"I was a toddler!" you argued. Hailey looked between you and Will. "Time for another storytime," you said as the four of you walked into the pumpkin patch and began looking for pumpkins.

As you all were walking and looking for the perfect pumpkin, Will started to tell the story of when you were little and decided that all the little pumpkins looked like the big bouncy balls you played with at home.

"Can you say pumpkin?" your mom asked as you sat in your stroller, taking in everything about the pumpkin patch.

"Pun-kin," you said.

Your dad laughed. "Close enough."

"Good job, honey. You wanna help me pick out my pumpkin?" she asked.

"Yeah!" you exclaimed and clapped your hands and turned your head to look at her with a giant smile on your little face.

"Boys!" your mom yelled to Will and Jay. "Slow down! There's roots everywhere! I don't want to have to go to the hospital tonight because one of you tripped and broke something!"

Will and Jay slowed down. "Fine," Will huffed out.

Your mom pushed you around in your stroller while your dad made his way to the boys to make sure they didn't do anything stupid...because, they were teenage boys. Your dad knew that if there wasn't a pair of eyes on them, they'd do whatever popped into their heads without thinking about the consequences of their actions.

Your eyes wandered to the little baby pumpkin next to the big pumpkin your mom was currently inspecting.

"Dat one!" you exclaimed while pointing.

Your mom noticed where you were looking and smiled. "Baby pumpkin for the baby?" she asked as she picked it up.

"Not baby. Big girl," you said.

"Oh, how could I forget. You're my big girl, aren't you?" She set the pumpkin on the tray of the stroller so that it was right in front of you and then gave you a kiss on the cheek, which caused you to giggle.

Then, every time you saw a baby pumpkin, you'd point it out and your mom would place it on the tray of the stroller right in front of you until you had five little pumpkins all for yourself.

Your mom had found big pumpkins for both you and her, so she took this opportunity to snap a picture.

"Say, cheese Y/N!" she said from in front of you, focusing her camera on you and your five baby pumpkins.

"Cheese!" you said and gave your two-year-old, baby-toothed grin.

Then, she took the picture.

A few minutes later, Will, Jay, and your dad came back to you.

"Will!" you yelled.

"Yes, Y/N?" he asked and turned to you.

"My punkins," you said with a big smile on your face.

"Oh, wow, that's a lot." He picked one up. "Can I have one?"

"No!" you screamed. They were your pumpkins. Yours. You picked up a baby pumpkin from your tray. "Mine!" Then, you threw the pumpkin straight at him.

"Y/N!" your mom scolded. "We do not throw things! Tell Will you're sorry."

Your bottom lip began to wobble. "I sorry, Will. I sorry."

Will smiled. "It's okay. You want your pumpkins back?"

A few tears rolled down your cheeks and you wiped them away with your little fists. "Please," you said.

The minute you got all your pumpkins back, you smiled and the tears stopped.

"I learned my lesson," you said to Will.

"What did Mom do with all those little pumpkins anyway?" Jay wondered aloud.

Will laughed. "Absolutely no idea. I just know that Y/N kept carrying one around with her until Halloween."

"Aw, that's adorable," Hailey gushed.

"You're kidding. I did not do that," you protested.

"How would you know?" Jay asked. "You were like two."

"That might explain why she loves pumpkin spice lattes and October so much," Will pointed out.

You rolled your eyes. "Could be. We all got a pumpkin to carve?"

Since all four of you had your pumpkins, you went up and each paid your pumpkin and then made your way back to Jay's truck, the day at the pumpkin patch and corn maze finally coming to an end. But, the night wasn't over yet.

***

"Don't you dare change it!" you yelled to Jay and pointed the knife you were using to carve your pumpkin straight at him. "I may not be a cop or a doctor, but I know how to kill someone with a knife!"

Jay held his hands up in a sign of surrender and Hailey and Will burst out laughing.

"Yeah, but she sure as hell would need help hiding your body, Jay, and I for one will not be helping with that," Will said.

"Me neither. You're on your own if you kill him, Y/N," Hailey agreed. She paused. "What is this song anyways?"

"Friends on the Other Side from Princess and the Frog," you answered.

"But isn't that a Disney movie?" she asked.

"Yeah, but this is like voodoo, so it's spooky and it's spooky season, so it's okay," you answered. "And I swear to god if neither of you guys knows what spooky season is, I will be spamming your social media account with memes about it."

"We know what it is, Y/N," Jay said and finally put his hands down. "Mostly because you always say it."

You kept carving your pumpkins and listening to Halloween music until you broke the silence by remembering something.

"Can we made roasted pumpkin seeds?" you asked. "Like Mom used to make?"

"My mom would make those, too!" Hailey exclaimed. "And, I actually know how to make them if that helps at all."

"Then let's make them," Jay agreed. "Time to dig through some pumpkin guts."

Will laughed. "Remember when you tried to eat a raw one when you were little?"

"And of course Mom had to get a picture and didn't tell me to stop before it was actually in my mouth and I tried to chew it. Never again."

"You wanna paint a kitty cat on your pumpkin, Y/N?" your mom asked.

"Yeah!" you exclaimed. A kitty cat would be perfect!

"Do you want me to draw it on there for you first?"

"Please," you said.

You watched as Will and Jay took the guts out of their pumpkins and put them all over the newspaper that was covering the kitchen table to keep it semi-clean from the mess all of you were making.

You reached your hand into a pile of pumpkin guts and squished it in your little fist, the slimy strings of orange pumpkin squeezing through your fingers.

"Gooshy!" you laughed and then did the same thing with the other hand. It felt so funny to hold! It was like Silly Putty, but slimier! "Ahh!" You kept doing the same thing over and over again.

"Y/N," your mom began, "how about you take the seeds out and put them in this bowl?" she suggested. She put down the pencil she was using to draw a cat face on your pumpkin. She picked up a handful of pumpkin guts. "You take the seeds away from the slimy stuff and then put them in here. Just like this." She separated a few seeds from the pumpkin guts while you watched intently, hanging onto her every word. "Can you do that for Mommy?"

"Yeah!" Then, you started separating the seeds from the pumpkin guts just like your mom had shown you.

You thought it was so much fun! It felt so funny in your hands and you couldn't help but laugh when you started doing it.

Once you had been at this for ten minutes you remembered something: your Mommy always gave these to you for a snack at preschool whenever she made them. And, you really, really liked them.

So, you put a few in your hand.

Your mom had finished drawing the cat face on the pumpkin for you and had started taking pictures a few moments prior. So, when she saw you bring one up to your mouth, she snapped the picture.

"Y/N--" But it was too late; you had already dropped the raw pumpkin seed in your mouth.

You started to chew. This didn't taste like the ones your mommy normally made!

You spit it out into your hand. "Yucky!"

"Yes, yucky!" your mom agreed. "I have to cook them first, honey."

You held the bowl of raw pumpkin seeds out to your mom. "Cook now?"

Your mom laughed. "Not yet, later. How about you paint your kitty cat now?" she suggested.

Your face lit up. "Paint kitty! Paint kitty!"

You changed your spot at the table and dipped a paintbrush into black paint and started painting your kitty cat face on your pumpkin. You wished you could do this all the time, it was so much fun! And maybe when you were a big kid like your brothers, you'd get to cut faces into the pumpkins!

"Everyone works on separating the seeds from the guts," you ordered. "I'm not getting stuck sorting them all by myself again." You glared at your brothers because they had left you alone to finish that job before and you were not going to let that happen again.

***

"You win," you groaned as you looked at Will's design in his pumpkin after the four of you had washed all the pumpkin from your hands. He had carved the Blackhawks logo to near perfection whereas you, Hailey, and Jay had just carved spooky faces into your pumpkins. Hailey's and Jay's were a ton better than yours; theirs had more details and their edges were actually straight...which, yours were all jagged and it was obvious you weren't very good with a knife.

"I have to admit," Hailey started, "that is pretty cool."

"I've earned bragging rights and I also think I've earned the right to take off and go home and make you three roast the pumpkin seeds and clean up. "

You all started yelling at him to come back here, but he just grabbed his jacket and left.

"Guess it's just us," you said and started grabbing the pieces of newspaper with pumpkin guts all over them from the kitchen table and putting them in a paper bag for Jay to take out to the trash.

"You two go start on the pumpkin seeds," Jay suggested. "I'll do the clean-up."

"You sure, babe?" Hailey asked.

"Don't question it!" you yelled. "Just come on!" You grabbed the bowl of pumpkin seeds and pulled Hailey into the kitchen behind you. "What do we do first?" you asked.

She grabbed the roll of paper towel from the rack where Jay kept it. "First, I preheat the oven and then we pat the seeds as dry as possible." She hit a few buttons on the oven and set it to preheat and then handed you a few pieces of paper towel.

The two of you dried the pumpkin seeds and then once that was done, covered the seeds in oil and salt, spread them on a baking sheet, and popped them into the oven.

You yawned just as Jay walked back inside from taking out the trash.

"Tired?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, it's been a long day. Fun, but long." You paused. "I think I'm gonna take a shower and go to bed. Remember to put the fake candles in the pumpkins to make them actual jack-o-lanterns."

Jay laughed. "Don't worry, we won't forget. Goodnight."

"Night."

"Goodnight, Y/N," Hailey said. "I had so much fun today. Glad you dove at the end of the corn maze so we could win."

You smiled. "Me too. Goodnight."

"Have fun watching movies tomorrow," Hailey said and Jay quickly covered her mouth with his hand to keep her from saying anything more.

"Movies?" you asked curiously. "What movies?"

"Don't worry about it," Jay said quickly as he removed his hand from Hailey's mouth. "Just go to bed. Tomorrow's Halloween."

You shook your head in both confusion and amusement but went to go take a shower and go to bed. After all, Jay did have a point: tomorrow was Halloween.

***

The next day, October 31st, Halloween

You rolled out of bed the next morning very late since it was a Sunday. Then, before you left your room to grab breakfast--well, more like brunch since it was 11 am--you slipped on a pair of leggings and a black sweatshirt that said Dead Inside but Caffeinated in purple lettering and had a skeleton holding a cup of coffee on it.

You smirked as you left your room. You knew just what to say.

"What a glorious morning," you began in your best Sanderson Sister voice. "Makes me sick," you quoted from Hocus Pocus.

When you saw that both your brothers were here, not just Jay, you were quite confused. And, to make you even more confused, they were both drinking Starbucks.

"Did I fall into some alternate dimension or something?" you asked, which quickly gained their attention.

"No," Will laughed. "Just us. Your annoying older brothers. But this older brother, your favorite, picked up coffee on his way here." He handed you a Starbucks cup. "Pumpkin spice latte."

"You're right, Will. You are my favorite," you said with a laugh and then took a sip of the fall-flavored coffee.

"Uh-huh," Jay said sarcastically. "Sure he's your favorite."

"Whoever gets me coffee is my favorite," you fired back. "Yesterday, since you bought me coffee, you were my favorite. And today, Will brought me coffee, so he's my favorite."

"They say bribery wouldn't get you anywhere, but that's a lie," Will joked.

Jay cleared his throat. "So, do you remember Monstober, Y/N?"

You smiled. "How could I forget? That was the best thing about Disney Channel."

Every October on Disney Channel, they'd always show a bunch of Disney Channel Halloween movies, such as Twitches and Twitches Too, My Babysitter's a Vampire, and all four Halloweentown movies. There'd also be Halloween episodes of all your favorite shows. Some, looking back, were definitely too scary for you to be watching as a child, like the Suite Life of Zach and Cody episode where the bellhop, Esteban, got possessed and turned into this creepy lady ghost. Yeah, that one definitely had you sleeping in your parents' bed when you first watched it.

But, needless to say, you loved all those movies that were played. And, since you weren't a fan of horror movies, these were typically the movies you watched around this time of year.

You remembered Jay and Will trying to watch horror movies when Halloweentown was on and you cried and whined because you couldn't watch it later since you had to go to bed after the movie.

"No!" you screamed as Jay got up and tried to shove you out of the living room. "My movie time! Mine!"

"No, ours!" Jay argued. "And, it's scary anyway; you can't watch this."

"Then you and Will watch Halloweentown," you fired back and crossed your arms across your chest.

"No, we're watching Chucky. You'll just have to watch it some other time."

Your lip wobbled as you ran out of the living room and into the kitchen.

"Mommy!" you cried as tears started to roll down your cheeks. She turned her attention to you instead of the paperwork in front of her. "I wanna watch my movie and Will and Jay won't let me! And I gotta go to bed soon! And Jay pushed me!"

Your mom sighed. She quickly weighed her options. She knew that the boys could easily watch their movie after you finished yours, and she had a trick up her sleeve to stop arguments.

"Let's go talk to them and see, okay?" your mom asked and stood up. You nodded and the two of you walked into the living room. "Turn it off."

"Mom!" Will protested.

"Pause it while I talk at least," she said. "I'm not letting your sister see even one scene of a horror movie at this age."

Will reluctantly paused the movie.

"Good. Now, first off, Jay, apologize to Y/N for pushing her."

Jay huffed but did it anyway. "I'm sorry, Y/N. Do you forgive me?"

"Yes I do," you said.

"Now," your mom paused, "I'll give you boys two options. Option one: you finish your movie, but you have to bed at the same time as Y/N--"

"Mom!" Jay interrupted. "That's not fair!"

"I said I'd give you two options, didn't I?" Jay nodded. "Then listen to the second option." Will and Jay stayed silent and looked at their mom, awaiting the second option, which they both hoped was better than the first. "The second option is that you watch Y/N's movie with her, I'll make you guys popcorn, and then you two can finish whatever scary movie you're watching once she goes to bed."

"Two!" both Will and Jay yelled in unison.

"Can one of you set up the movie and get it started? I'll start on the popcorn," your mom asked.

"I got it," Will volunteered.

Will got the movie set up and you ran to your room to grab your favorite blanket to use while watching the movie.

"I'm ready!" you exclaimed as you pulled yourself up on the couch between your brothers. Your mommy always told you to sit between them so they wouldn't fight, so you did just that.

Will pressed play on the movie and soon your mom came out with popcorn. She even put some candy corn in the popcorn bowl so that you could have candy with your popcorn, too!

"You want some blanket, Will?" you asked. But, before he could even reply, you put some of your blanket over Will's legs; it was big enough for two people. But, Jay could get his own because he pushed you earlier.

A few minutes later, when the three of you were sitting on the couch, engrossed in the movie while eating your snacks, your mom took the picture.

"Yes, I remember Monstober," you answered.

"Good," Jay said. "Because we're having our own version."

"Um, okay?"

"He means we're watching all four Halloweentown movies and ending the night by watching Hocus Pocus," Will clarified. "With a bunch of snacks."

Jay reached into the pantry. "Starting with pancakes. So, you two better help me make them."

The rest of Halloween was great. You ate pancakes, then pizza, then a bunch of candy, mozzarella sticks, more candy, and popcorn...and later into the night drank some spiked apple cider. It was a great night spent with your brothers watching your favorite movies from your childhood. And, it ended with Jay pulling out his phone.

"Say cheese," he said and the three of you did so and took a selfie with Hocus Pocus playing in the background. Then, he procured another picture frame from beside him. It was the same as the other one but with only four frames this time.

Then, Will pulled out three pictures. One was of you and Hailey walking through the corn maze, the other was of you and your brothers carving pumpkins, and one was of you eating a donut.

"How did you...?" you trailed off.

"Mom's not the only one who can be sneaky with her pictures," Will answered.

"Now you have fall memories from when you were little and now," Jay explained. "And once I get the selfie we just took developed, that one can go in there, too."

You felt tears prick your eyes. "You guys..." you trailed off, not knowing how to thank them.

"Yes, we know," Will started, "we're the best brothers in the world."

You just laughed and stole some of his popcorn.

"Happy Halloween, kiddo," Jay said and ruffled your hair, making you swat at his hand which made him pull it away.

But he was right: it was a very happy Halloween indeed.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you can't tell by this imagine, fall is my favorite season and October is my favorite month! Please remember to like/reblog and comment! I love reading your comments as you read through the imagine; they make my day! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

160 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 3 years

Text

Samhain

amazing art, and concept, by the incredible @mrstarksbaby

WARNING - OUR FIRST NC-17 OFFERING IN THIS SERIES

Enjoy

Samhain

Tony knew there would be trouble when they had returned from Mabon and, within half an hour of entering the penthouse, he had caught Peter sobbing over his phone. His to-do list for the next Monday had grown exponentially and the boy was blaming himself. “Why was I so naive to think they would ever give me a chance to catch up? Why did I ever think a 3-day weekend wouldn’t just get me further behind? Why was I so stupid?” It was a familiar line of reasoning ever since Peter has started

graduate school, and it left Tony perplexed and baffled.

Perplexed, baffled, and helpless.

His entire life, Tony Stark had been surrounded by men whose anger exploded outward, who blamed others. He didn’t know there was any other way to be angry. But Peter was different. Peter exploded inward, blaming himself. And Tony was helpless to do anything about it.

And, really, what else could Tony do? He could provide laundry and meal service, could make sure Peter always had a ride to and from wherever he needed to go. But that wasn’t much help - those were things Tony was providing anyway, had been providing since he had finally convinced his lover to move in together. He couldn’t do anything else but watch.

Watch, and try very hard not to advise. Peter didn’t like it when Tony advised.

But really, what advice could Tony even give? That was the trouble with their May-December romance (although Tony insisted it was a May-October romance, he wasn’t that old.) They had both faced their 20’s on two different planets. When Tony was Peter’s age he coped with drugs and alcohol, just like the rest of his peers and everyone on TV. Drugs, alcohol and anonymous sex. Two of which Peter would never touch and the third - well that just gave Tony nightmares…

(But that was the real problem, wasn��t it? In Peter’s new world, a world of new challenges, new names and new faces and new time-demands left Tony in the dark, sometimes in the cold.)

The days after Mabon became a steady challenge, leaving Tony feeling less useful than ever before. There simply wasn’t enough sex to comfort his boyfriend now, to erase the doubts that were blossoming in the mind of the young genius who had never doubted himself before. But those were the milestones that every 20-something kid had to face and, in the end, Tony was no help at all.

But Samhain Was Here and no matter how busy the schedule, his witch couldn’t miss a High Holy Day. So here they were on their way out of town. Driving in silence since that last blow up (another tense argument. Over nothing, as always.) Now Peter was giving him the cold shoulder. There was nothing Tony could do but drive.

When they arrived at the cabin it was already drizzling. Tony asked, as cautiously as possible, if Peter had any High Holy plans.

“Maybe just light some intention candles,” he mumbled, reaching for his bag. Which meant Tony wasn’t even carrying his bag in.

Just one more way that Peter didn’t need him.

Just like that graduate degree that Peter was paying for himself (“It’s what Uncle Ben wanted, it was what the money was for, he wanted it that way!”) Add that to the list of One More Thing Peter Could Do For Himself.

To add insult to injury, Peter didn’t even have a special recipe for Tony to prepare for dinner. That, somehow, stung the most. More than once Tony offered to wing it - after reading Cunningham’s Book of Magical Herbs from cover to cover he had bought every spice and herb listed in the book so he was ready for all occasions. Their battered copy of Cunningham’s Book sat right there in the pantry for convenience. Tony could whip up a pasta or rice dish for any occasion and a corresponding omelet for breakfast to boot.

But Peter had grabbed some microwave meals at the last convenience store they hit before heading to the cabin. Peter didn’t need him to cook.

Which meant Tony would be pretty much useless for the rest of the weekend.

The sun was setting when they arrived, but the cloud cover meant there was no sunset to view. Cloud cover meant there was no moon or constellations to view either, which would just put Peter in a darker mood. But then his witch said something offhand that made Tony’s ears perk up.

“Just a few intention candles, and I’ll put some rocks out on the porch facing west. Then the 5-fold kiss and I’m going straight to bed.”

Tony smiled ruefully. At least he would be good for something tonight.

His witch couldn’t exactly kiss himself.

* * *

They somehow even managed to get into an argument about whether they were doing this in front of the fireplace or in the bed, and how that argument even started Tony couldn’t hardly fathom. He had been so careful not to say anything, not to make any definitive statements or make any suggestions. He was very careful to only ask questions (and that only when necessary.) And yet here they were yelling “Fine!” “Fine!” at each other and stomping off to various parts of the cabin to get what they needed for the most intimate ritual of the evening.

Tony found himself storming off to the bedroom with a clenched jaw. But that was better. Keeping his mouth shut meant that he wasn’t talking. Talking always seemed to get him into trouble.

He returned to the fireplace room with the sheet he found his witch already laying down on the scratchy rug, his tense, angry body covered in the gentle silky wine-colored negligee that Tony had been the present from Mabon. Tony was glad to see his witch wearing it, even if his heart sank to see his lover lying down instead of standing up.

The last time they had been at the cabin, Peter had finished his rituals full of vim and vigor, which had led to an amazing night in front of the fireplace. When it came time for the five-fold kiss, he had stayed on his feet. Stayed on his feet, ordering Tony to his knees to supply the first two kisses.

Tony had gone gladly. Gladly bowed his head to kiss and caress Peter’s feet, then his knees, as his grinning witch murmured the ritual words.

Words that dried up in Peter’s smiling mouth when Tony pressed the kiss softly onto Peter’s silk-covered cock. Even the smile disappeared, Tony remembered, when Tony, using only his mouth, had teased Peter rock-hard through the tiny slip of silk panties.

Tony hoped that this was a sign of more good things to come. Since they had started dating Peter had become, naturally, more confident in bed. More willing to give up the romantic for the more adventurous (ie the more kinky. More of the things that Tony had asked for.)

Things like ordering Tony to his knees, things like standing up when the oral sex began. Things like allowing Tony to fully define the term “Cock Worship.”

But that had just been a moment in time, it would seem. From now on the five-fold kiss would involve Peter lying down, just as it always had. That last ritual, that had just been a special occasion. The very first time that Tony’s younger, shyer lover had allowed Tony to engage in this particular sex-act. Tony’s favorite sex-act (ie, oral sex that was less tender and more agressive, with Tony on his knees and Peter’s hands tangled in his hair. There was a crude word for that, but Peter didn’t like to hear those words in bed.)

And, it would seem, the last.

That had been a special night, a night when his young witch, filled with confidence after his midnight ritual, had discovered that he could do all the things that Tony had been suggesting, had been hinting at (had sometimes begged for.) Could take Tony’s head by the hair and move him into position, could use his mouth… and use it vigorously… until he came…

It had only been a moment in time. There would not be a repeat of that night again. It was obvious when Tony walked into the room and found Peter lying on the floor, in his usual position.

Tony tried not to be disappointed.

At least Peter was here at all.

* * *

He said nothing. Silently he tossed the wine sheet aside by the door. He took his place at Peter’s feet and knelt.

He wanted to apologize before he began, but there was no real way to do that. Words just got him into trouble, so he didn’t try. But before he placed the kiss on the two bare feet he began to knead them, massaging them instead of apologizing. He tried to let his hands do the talking, saying what he couldn’t really say.

And so, silently, he apologized. Apologized for being so old, for being so needy. As he caressed and kneaded, digging his fingers gently but firmly he knew he had much more to apologize for. For being him. Unuseful. Uneeded. For the part where he hadn’t warned Peter. Hadn't warned him that this was inevitable. That Peter would go on to do new things, face new challenges, become a new person, and more importantly MEET NEW PEOPLE and realize that it was time to move on – peter as moving forward, which he was supposed to do at his age – and Tony is standing still – which he is supposed to do at his age, and this May-October romance may be coming to its logical conclusion.

It’s foreordained conclusion.

It hurt, but the truth hurt sometimes.

Tony lifted Peter’s foot and pressed it to his mouth, kissing the instep.

Peter’s breath caught.

Tony looked up, blinking. He hadn’t even thought about it - had just kissed instinctually. Kissed the boy that he was hurting… kissed the boy that hurt. And now that same boy was lying in front of him, eyes closed, mouth hanging open…

Tony leaned down and kissed the instep again.

* * *

What happened next happened very naturally. Although it had been years, decades really since Tony had enjoyed a lover who let him play with his feet… well… enjoying it again was a rare treat.

His hands continuously working, Tony kissed and nuzzled and teased with his tongue, his teeth. Peter enjoyed the treatment with his eyes closed, moaning softly, right up until his big toe went entirely into Tony’s mouth. He jerked a little, but Tony only smiled. Gently he put that foot down and picked up the second, and started the treatment again. There were words Peter was supposed to say at this point, but the room was silent. There was no noise except the crackling fire. The fire, and Peter’s tiny whimpers.

Tony slipped his tongue between each toe, holding Peter’s foot steady as he shivered, teasing the tip of each toe with his teeth. A plan was forming in his mind… a plan that involved doing the same thing to Peter’s knees… first the massage, then the tongue and teeth…

… but that wasn’t going to happen. Tony sighed in disappointment as Peter pulled his foot, gently, away.

“No… I didn’t say stop…” Peter whispered, pushing his foot back into Tony’s hand.

Tony looked down at him in confusion.

“Do it again,” Peter said in a tiny voice.

Confused, Tony began massaging again. It was only when he leaned down to kiss Peter’s big toe that Tony understood.

Keeping his mouth close to Peter’s foot, he followed as the boy pulled him closer.

His acrobat spent no effort at all, bringing his foot until it was hovering right above his cock, visibly straining under two layers of fabric. Then the foot went away and Tony lowered his head with a moan to place kisses on what he found there.

Breathing in deeply, anchored in Peter’s scent, Tony relaxed completely, his worries melting away. He moaned in appreciation as Peter lifted up the skirt of the negligee. Beneath it, Peter’s erection poked out from the silk and lace. Tony teased the tip with a wicked tongue…

…then reminded himself to be a good boy, and kissed his way back down to the base. The 3rd ritual kiss of the night (apparently they had skipped the knee-kisses but who was Tony to complain?? Peter was in charge here) was not supposed to turn into a different type of sex-act. Peter was adamant. Oral sex could happen after. That was the rule.

Not that they always followed that rule.

And apparently they weren’t following that rule tonight.

It was particularly apparent when Tony found himself, with no idea how he got there, with Peter’s legs wrapped around his shoulder and not ONE but TWO of Peter’s insistent hands tangled in his hair. And then… ah gods and then…

…from the very beginning of their relationship, Tony had begged for this. Begged for Peter to use his mouth this way, to be more, well, enthusiastic during this particular sex-act. To be more demanding. It was something his young, gentle lover had always blanched at, up until now. Until tonight. Tonight, Tony was getting everything he had suggested, had hinted at, had provided a few video clips as descriptors (that was what his gentle lover had blanched at.) Tonight, Tony was getting his wish.

It was a truly holy night after all.

He was hoping that Peter would come in his mouth, of course. But he couldn’t exactly argue when Peter pulled away and flipped him onto his back (after all, his lover was quite a bit stronger than he was.) He tried to argue a bit when Peter straddled him, but before he could even catch his breath to speak he found his lover already prepped himself during their short time apart. He opened his mouth to comment, only to fall silent when Peter began riding him with a will.

“Our first angry-sex,” Tony’s belegured brain informed him, and it was true (certainly this wasn’t makeup sex.) Peter had thigh muscles that just wouldn’t quit, and seemed, once again, to prove it. Tony himself wasn’t a young man - but tonight he had a few things to prove as well. He’d been sore in the morning, but right now? He was prepared to give as good as he got.

* * *

They held each other in the afterglow, talking quietly. Trading ‘I love you’s.’ Trading apologies. Holding each other close.

Then, when Peter had turned around and snuggled against Tony’s chest, they watched the fire together.

And Tony spoke.

He spoke about young men who needed to spread their wings and fly out on their own, and about the older men who just needed to be needed. And he spoke of the specific type of brains that never stopped moving who found every puzzle presented in highschool to be simple to the point of boring. He spoke about the panic the first time that brain faced a puzzle that it had solved wrong. He spoke of impossible expectations that might come from demanding parental figures, or might just come from the demanding voice inside a head. Both were voices that could never be pleased. Both were voices that could never be satisfied.

They spoke long into the night. There were tears and whispered confessions and repeated assurances and more declarations of solidarity.

Finally, as the fire died down, there were actual plans made. Plans that involved more realistic goals. Plans that involved longer timelines, and less ambitious courseloads. It was only in the wee hours of the morning that Peter fell silent, turning around and snuggling in to sleep.

But Tony lay awake for a long time afterward. Holding his boy close, harboring a little hope for the future.

Believing, a little, in magic.

#Samhain #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Starker #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #TheWitchway writes stuff #Ben's Moodboards - tease - wait till you see the real thing #Starker Sabbats #Witch!Peter #Peter Feels #Tony Feels #ITS DONE FINALLY

67 notes · View notes

taetertotsv · 2 years

Text

Ready, Set, Bowl!

"Cas, you have to let go of the ball. How have you seriously never learned how to bowl?" You commented.

"As an angel of the lord it was not one of my duties to... bowl." He turned towards you all, the bowling ball still in his grasp. "Why are we here anyway?"

"Y/N wants to win this stupid tournament." Dean scoffed.

"Ah, no. Not stupid. This is for a case." You retorted, standing up.

"How does this have anything to do with a case?" Sam inquired as his eyes followed you.

"I'm glad you asked Sammy boy. I have reason to believe that a witch has been here. Before you say anything, hear me out," You said quickly, seeing their faces start to contort. "The witch has been pulling some strings to always win at this specific bowling alley. Now that they've qualified for the tournament, they're gonna wanna win."

"And you came to this conclusion... how?"

"Dean, I'm trying to explain." You huffed. "So I'm thinking that if we make it to the last stages of the tournament, the last person we go up against has to be the witch. If we beat them, they'll get mad and then we can get em."

"Why not just take them down once we get to the final bowl?" Cas finally joined you guys near the sofa situated behind the lane you guys had.

"Because... it'll be fun to see their face after they've lost." You admitted and saw Dean smile.

"I like this idea. I hate witches." He mumbled.

"How many people are in this tournament?" Sam asked.

"Not many. Just like ten or so teams."

~~~

"This is not just ten or so teams, Y/N."

"I'm sorry! I didn't know this many people would show up!" You argued.

The place was packed, a team on every lane and even more, waiting for some team to fail so they could take over that lane.

"It's gonna be fine guys." You hoped out loud, trying to convince yourself more than the others.

You waited around for a while, watching as all of the other teams either did well or absolutely horrible. Whenever it got to your turn, you would take it, everyone doing the best they could.

"Cas, can't you do some angel stuff and just get a strike?" Dean groaned out, watching as Cas rolled yet another ball into the gutter.

"Dean." He said with a warning hinting in his voice. Dean held his hands up in defense and you laughed. "Your turn Sam."

Sam straightened out as he stood up and went up to take his turn. While observing your team, Sam and Dean seemed to be doing the best. You figured it was because they had made it a competition amongst themselves.

"Alright tournament people, we now are left with four teams. The Inkos, Losechesters, Bicarbonate Allies, and Utopia Prowlers." As the announcer paused, you noticed Sam and Dean give you a look. "We'll have all the teams come together to these center lanes please. We will have the Inkos and Bicarbonate allies against each other, and then the Losechesters and Utopia Prowlers."

They finished their announcement and everyone started to move around. You felt like you could finally breathe since most of the teams had left, not wanting to watch someone else win.

"What the hell?" Dean asked after he took his turn.

"I wanted to go with a funny name. Plus, the witch won't know it's us."

"Yeah because it totally doesn't sound like Winchester." Sam scoffed but had a playful smile on his face.

You watched as Cas went again and rolled yet another bowling ball in the gutter. He clearly wasn't the strongest player. Then again you weren't that much of a star either.

While looking at the teams, you could already tell which one you were going to end up going up against. The Biocarbonate Allies seemed to be doing the best. That had to be the team the witch was on.

By the time you had beaten the Utopia Prowlers, it was already late in the day, and you were tired. You yawned as your team set up to go against the other winning team, just as you suspected, the Biocarbonate Allies.

"To spice this competition up a little, we will be picking one random member from each team and making them go on a one on one match. You'll only do one frame so make it count. Now let's see who'll be going."

"Hopefully it'll be me."

"You? I've done better than you this whole time." Sam retorted right after Dean had said something.

"Veronica and Castiel!"

"Son of a bitch." Dean rubbed a hand down his face. "The one person."

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad." Cas defended.

"Cas, don't take this the wrong way. but I have almost no faith in you." You said in the nicest way you could. "This just isn't something you've been good at."

"I can do it, I know I can."

With that, he went up to the lane and took his shot, rolling another gutter ball. He turned around with an undistinguished look on his face and you couldn't help but laugh.

Dean cleared his throat and not so discreetly looked at his gun. "Want to just get em now?"

"Yeah..." You sighed. You really wanted the satisfaction of beating them, to see the look on their face.

#avanaturals300celebration #supernatural #spn #castiel #sam winchester #team free will #dean winchester #supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction

23 notes · View notes

headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 3 years

Text

Hogwarts No.1 Ship

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader Word count: 3.4k Summary: You - Rubeus Hagrid’s niece and a surprising slytherin - have a crush on the Slytherin prince himself, but you are sugar and he is spice and there is no world where the two of you would fit together...right? Warning: Swearwordsm concussion, broken bones, but mostly fluffffffffff Requested by the amazing and patient (I’m really sorry it took so long) @onlycherryblossom: Hi! I love your work and I was wondering if you could right a Draco Malfoy x Reader. you know, the one we talked about. It'd be so awesome! i hope you have a good day/night! (I won’t put our chat in here so that I don’t spoiler anything)

Hogwarts had rarely ever known two students who were as opposite to each other as Draco Malfoy and Y/N Hagrid. Draco - who was the embodiment of how people imagined the stereotype of Slytherin to be - was (most of the time) a prideful, cold, unempathetic prick, while you were a selfless, positive thinking, kind and gentle soul that could‘ve been a descendant of Helga Huffelpuff herself. The two of you did have one thing in common though. Your house. The hat had made you both into Slytherins which was on Draco’s side not surprising at all, but quite a shock for everyone who had talked to you for even a minute. Probably the biggest shock was courtesy of Rubeus Hagris - Half-Giant and your adopted uncle (on his father’s side) - who insisted that the hat must have made a mistake, but was quickly shot down by Dumbledoor who assured that the hat didn‘t make any mistakes. After some initial tumbling though, Hagrid realized that the house didn‘t make the person and that it didn‘t matter in what house you were sorted into, you’d always be his little pumpkin. And he was quite right. Even after you had been a Slytherin for just about five years, you had only grown more kind and loving - having bonded with many people in the other houses and years, but not quite as many in your own house. You’d call Blaze and Millicent maybe something close to friends and Pansy tolerated you which is why you gave her the title of ‘good acquaintances‘, but other than that you didn‘t really have a lot of contact with them in your free time. The most complicated relationship you held though was the one to the aforementioned Draco Malfoy. In a weird twist of fate the two of you somehow became the main ship in Hogwarts (with Harry and Ginny or Harry and Hermione as close second) even though you couldn‘t remember more than two or three times that you had talked to the boy outside of a classroom or study environment. Sure, he had never bullied or teased you which already differentiated you from most of the students, but you simply explained it by the fact that you were a good student - especially in potions class - and behaved well enough to gain a number of house points which made you into a good asset to Slytherin and as such made you a less logical target. Now all in itself that would‘ve been more than fine with you, but for some stupid reason your heart decided to betray you against it‘s better judgement and fall for him. Somehow, even after years of seeing him kick others down and behave like a complete douchebag you couldn‘t help but blush slightly at the mention of his name and feel your heart flutter when you walked by him in the hall or in the common room. The worst part was in potions class where he sat right beside you after Snape deemed your former partner as way too unqualified for one of his best students and exchanged him for Draco. Working with him in and of itself was actually rather nice. He was a good student and did his work thoroughly and mindfully, but you found it hard to concentrate when his hand brushed yours as you read a passage in the book or when he poured ingredients in the coultron that you were stirring. You really tried to ignore your feelings and ban every thought of him, but it seemed like you weren‘t doing the best job at it since your uncle kept asking about what it was that was distracting you all the time. On a rainy October day fairly at the beginning of your fifth year you decided you had enough. You were sitting in your Uncles hut with a plate of more or less edible cookies in front of you and a cup of something that was surely supposed to be tea when you finally gathered the courage to say what you had been meaning to say for weeks now. “Uncle Rubeus, can I ask you something?” Hagrid turned to you with his usual smile as he patted fang who was drooling all over his lap where he had laid his head. “Course ya can pumpkin. What’s it about?” “Uhm...well… you know there is this boy that I-“ “Ohhh Ah see,” Hagrid quickly interrupted you before you could even ask the question, “Ya know, usually I’d be more than happy to help ya with every question you have but ah really don’t thin’ I’m the right person for this, I’m sorry.” A little bit disappointed but not really surprised you just sighed and shook your head, telling him that it was okay, before bidding your goodbyes and making your way back to the castle quietly mulling over what exactly your plan b should be now that plan a had failed and you still had no idea what to do with or how to get rid of your stupid crush on Draco.

“You know what I would do if I were you?“ Ginny asked and pointed the end of her quill at you. The both of you were sitting in a corner of the library where you had planned to help her study for her upcoming potions exam, only for her to basically interrogate you until you admitted that you had an unlucky crush, even though she luckily hadn‘t pushed you to tell her who the guy you had a crush on was. “I‘d probably just tell them, I mean what do you have to lose. Either he‘ll say yes and you‘re happy or he says no and you just avoid him like he doesn‘t even exist - which would honestly be the appropriate reaction if he refuses a snack like you. See, no real downside to it.“ “Oh really? Hmmm, I wonder why you haven‘t told Harry how you feel yet then,“ you teased her and tapped your chin. Ginny‘s face immediately started to rival the colour of her hair and the way she crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted reminded you of an overgrown toddler - but in a cute way. “I-I don‘t like Harry, okay? I mean I did when I was like ten because he was famous and I was a child,“ she tried to make sure you really knew how silly she wanted you to believe she thought it was by drawing out the word child for a good few seconds before rolling her eyes and looking to the side, “And anyway, it‘s not like he‘d date his best friend’s sister…“ “Oh Gin,“ you immediately felt bad and grabbed one of her hands with yours, “Have you looked at yourself? You‘re amazing and if Harry doesn‘t see that through his stupid invisible cloak and these glasses than he doesn‘t even deserve you.“ “Even though I admit that yes, I am amazing, this isn‘t the topic that we should be conversing about right now, remember? I think there‘s a certain blond Slytherin that you should be worried about more right now.“ Immediately blood shot right to your cheeks and you quickly looked around to make sure no one could‘ve heard her before leaning forward and hissing: “What? No? I don‘t like Draco? Why would you even think that? I never said that he is the one I have a crush on.“ Ginny just raised her eyebrows in an unimpressed manner, leaning back in her chair and picking the quill back up to play around with while she talked. “Listen honey, I‘m not judging you or anything. Don‘t get me wrong, I still and probably will always think Draco is a major asshole and doesn‘t even deserve to breath the same air as you-“ “He isn‘t that bad…“ “Yes he is, but anyways, no matter what I think of him I also know that you are a clever girl that knows how to protect herself and who knows, maybe you‘d even have a good influence on him.“ Images of you and Draco together with your friend group laughing and having fun crossed your mind and you could feel your heartbeat fasten involuntarily. “That‘s all great and good, but like I said, I don‘t have a crush on Draco,“ you gave the hope of getting out of this situation with the lie you‘ve been telling yourself for months still intact one last try, but Ginny didn‘t give it the time of day. “Oh please, I see the way you look at him in the dining hall and how your eyes are always on him when he‘s playing quidditch and just now you defended him even though the two of you aren‘t even friends. My love-radar is pinging like crazy around the two of you which is why I, Ginny Wealey also known as the love witch-“ “No one calls you that,“ you interrupted her only to be shushed by an evil glare. “I, Ginny Weasley, will help you in fulfilling your desire and getting together with Draco and I already have the perfect plan.“ “No no no no, please don‘t! Don‘t do this! Ginny no!“ you tried to make your point clear but she was already cleaning up her stuff and getting ready to leave. “Don‘t worry oh sweet Y/N, the next time we‘ll talk everything will be set in motion,“ she winked before dashing off leaving you standing in her figurative dust with your mouth agape for a few seconds before you let your head sink onto the table. This would definitely take an interesting turn…

After that you definitely started to actively avoid Draco which was - surprisingly enough - not as easy as you thought. Somehow he was almost always at least in your near vicinity. Besides the obvious factors of class (where you tried to focus on working and on praying whatever Ginny had planned wouldn‘t happen) and when you were eating in the great hall (where you had resorted to sitting at the very end of the table as far away from him as possible) he seemed to also be there in your free time. You were relaxing in the common room? He was there reading a book. You were outside with Harry and co.? Guess who’s coming their way to insult them (while not saying a single bad thing about you). By now there were just about three places where you were sure that he wouldn’t be able to pop up at any given moment. Your room, the bathroom and the potions classroom on Wednesday and Friday afternoon when class has already ended. After Snape had realized that he had some real potions-potential sitting in front of him he offered you extra credit as some sort of teaching assistant which basically meant that you helped him prepare lessons, helped him grade the first to third years tests and that you cleaned up and organized the potions classroom twice a week. Now usually, knowing that you were more than capable of handling the potions and ingredients standing around on your own after having seen you do it for a few months, you‘d be alone while you cleaned up except for the occasional visit of your professor to tell you which ingredients you should put on the students desks for the next class, but for some reason the next Friday - three days after Ginny had made her promise to you - the door already stood open and you could hear Professor Snape talking to someone. “I really expected better of you, your action is the reasons Slytherin has lost 50 housepoints and I hope you know that it is on you to gain them back, no matter your status,“ Snape‘s voice carried to where you stood and you wondered who the student was if Snape went so easy on them with his lecture. Usually you‘d be afraid for your life after losing even ten house points so getting such a calm reaction for 50 must‘ve really meant something. Your questions about the identity of the student were answered when you entered the dungeon room and immediately felt yourself freeze. Of course not even you (time dependent) sanctuary was safe anymore. Of course Draco just had to stand there and look at you without any identifiable emotion in his gaze. “Ah, Miss Hagrid, right on time as always,“ Snape nodded after he also noticed you and you felt slightly more at ease knowing that with him there nothing could really happen. “Should I come back later?” you asked politely, not sure if you had interrupted something. “No, you may stay. Mister Malfoy over here has got himself caught trying to sabotage McGonagall class, a childish act which I would’ve expected of the Weasleys but really not from you. As a punishment he will be the one to clean the potions classroom bi-weekly from now on until he has regained the house points lost. You’ll supervise him.” “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I understand.” “Malfoy will do all the cleaning but since he has no experience with it I can’t just leave him alone so, since you’d be here anyway, you can watch him and make sure that everything goes orderly.“ It wasn‘t really a question as much as a command, something that you were used to from Snape, so you just nodded and bid him goodbye as he went to his office, leaving you and Draco behind. By now you had seen through what was happening. This was Ginny‘s plan. Somehow she must‘ve managed to blame Malfoy for the prank on McGonagall - something rather extreme given the taken house points- hoping (or somehow knowing) that his punishment would force you to spend at least an hour with him alone in a dimmed room twice a week. Inwardly you cursed your friend, while outwardly you tried everything to avoid directly looking at Draco as you explained his tasks to him before you sat down at your usual place and pulled out a book really hoping you could get him to not talk to you that way. Either your plan was working great or Draco just really didn‘t care for you, because an hour later you still hadn‘t exchanged any words, instead he dutifully, but slightly pouting, had done his job while you shot him the occasional glance to make sure he was doing it correctly. “I think that was all, you should be good to go now,“ you told him with a small smile, relieved that you were finally free to leave the room and with that the tension that had built up inside you as a mix of nervousness and fear. Draco had opened his mouth to respond when a third year came rushing inside with at least twelve books in her arms that almost towered over her which she quickly placed on a table, slightly out of breath. “Professor Snape sent me. He said these have to be sorted and put away.” You could probably feel Draco’s sigh before he had made it and - not really fond of spending more time so frustratingly close to your crush and yet so far - you just nodded and told both of them that you’d take care of it and that they could leave, which both promptly did. You took the books and carried them to the back of the room where a sole, old bookshelf was standing - since the students mostly had their own books - and started putting them away when you heard a sickening crunch before suddenly the shelf including books came crashing down at you and before you could even think to pull out your wand, the world turned black.

“I’m so so so sorry, you were right I shouldn’t have interfered, if I’d just listened to you you wouldn‘t be lying here now,“ Ginny whined from beside your bed where she had been sitting for the past twenty minutes apologizing over and over again and blaming herself for the broken arm, leg and the concussion that had you unable to leave the infirmary for the next three days to a week. “Ginny, how often do I gotta tell you, it isn’t your fault! I would’ve sorted those books in anyways - no matter if you had pulled that prank or not - and it would’ve fallen anyways,” you tried to reassure her and gave her a soft smile. “But-“ “No but, okay? We can’t change the past anyways, and even if we could I wouldn’t because thanks to you, I don’t have to take that stupid DADA test.” Your attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work, because soon you and Ginny were back to your usual conversation-style and it relieved you immensely. It made you feel okay again. She was just telling you of a stung Harry had pulled in the Gryffindor Common room when she suddenly paused mid sentence and looked up. You followed her eyes to where they were placed firmly on a certain Platinum blond boy that looked simultaneously like he’d rather be everywhere else and like he was glad to be there, it was a sight to see. “I think I’ll leave for now, I’ll come back later with tons of sweets that Luna and I are going to steal from Harry’s personal stash,” Ginny said goodbye and gave you a wink as she walked away making you torn between wanting to roll your eyes and feeling yourself blush. Unsure of what to do next you motioned to the chair that Ginny had just occupied and Draco seemed to get the hint because he quickly sat down. “Hey-“ “Hi-“ “Sorry, you first.” “No it’s fine, you’re injured, you go first.” “Well, uhm-“ you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, “-I wanted to thank you, for bringing me here I mean, Madame Pomfrey told me you carried me all the way.” You looked away hoping that he wouldn’t see how nervous you were. “You don’t need to thank me, I couldn’t just let you lay there buried under books, your not Granger after all,” he said, seemingly trying to joke but immediately noticed that it was probably not the best thing to say given that you and Hermione were good friends. “Listen, what I came here for,” now it was Draco’s turn to take a deep breath, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but you were always with Potter or avoiding me or whatever, but after I saw you lying there… I guess I was just worried for you, I really don’t want you to get hurt.” Now that definitely caught your attention. For a second you played with the thought that this could possibly not be Malfoy but just someone else playing him with the help of polyjuice potion because he was definitely not acting like himself, but something in his word convinced you otherwise. “Thanks, I think, but would you mind me asking why? I mean...we’re not really the closest of friends,” you asked him, looking directly into his face to search signs of a possible answer. “Fuck it, I like you, okay? Happy?” You were completely stunned. Stunned, speechless, shocked. In all the time that you had been crushing on him you had never even really considered even the slightest possibility that he could reciprocate your feelings but now here he was telling you straight up. “You-You like me? Like like-like me?” You asked, just really wanting to be sure. There was a hint of nervousness and worry in his eyes, but he hid it behind a wall of annoyance. “You heard me, didn’t you? So, just get it over with, do you like me too or do you not, because if you don’t then I don’t want to waste my time any longer.” This definitely sounded more like the Draco you were used to and you had to giggle a little bit. “Yes, yes I like you too,” you confessed and like it was the most natural thing in the world you moved the uninjured hand over to where he laid on your bed and took it in yours. For the moment, you were caught in the shimmer of happiness and glee at having your crush there with you, definitely something more than your crush, and it would probably take a while until you‘d realize that there were some interesting things to follow, like telling your uncle about this for example...

#Draco Malfoy #Draco Malfoy x reader #draco #harry potter #hogwarts x reader #harry potter x reader #ginny weasley #professor venomous #oneshot #hogwarts oneshot #harry potter oneshots #hogwarts

100 notes · View notes

dat-town · 3 years

Text

colour the world with you

Characters: Yeonjun & You

Genre: fluff

Setting: witch shop au

Summary: The crazy hair coloured guy working at the witch shop where your grandma has you run errands for her keeps getting on your nerves.

Words: 3.7k

Author’s note: title is from TXT’s Your Light

For @restlessmaknae to fill your holidays with colours, smiles and happiness.

You told yourself you weren't a believer. People talked about magic as if they had seen it happen but you were doubtful, even when your weak grandma asked you to get a potion for her. When doctors couldn't help, she always turned to alternative methods even though you thought just taking her pills could have helped her. But no, she insisted, put the money into your hands and told you to ask for Han halmeoni's usual. You gritted your teeth but despite not saying it, you were upset how people out there could take advantage of naive elders with their expensive fake herb drinks. Though, you knew better than anyone that arguing with your grandma wouldn't have led anywhere since she was just as stubborn as you. So you agreed with a smile and promised you would get the potion the next day.

Finding the shop called Magic Island – what an obnoxious name for real – was easier than you thought. Witchcraft wasn't hunted or looked down upon as it used to be but you really didn't expect to find it between a coffee shop and a bookstore. From outside it seemed like any other store with its glass windows though it was more colourful and lively than most due to the flowers by the door and the dreamcatcher on the door. You double checked the name and the address then tentatively pressed down on the handle.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, the smell of herbs and spices, burning candle scents and warmth hit you in waves. The whole place gave off a very soothing and welcoming vibe and while the interior was even more colourful than the outside, nothing stood out as much as the vivid blue hair of the guy behind the counter.

"Hello, how can I help you?" he inquired, voice mellow and smile kind. The thin, light blue sweater he wore showed a bit of one of his collarbones and the dangling earring he had in one ear had small blue stones in it. You felt like you had never seen anybody like him.

"I came to pick up something for my grandma, Han halmeoni's usual potion," you recited the rehearsed speech before you could have blurted out something rude. At the mention of your granny, the cashier boy's eyes lit up and he smiled wider.

"Ah, just a minute," he excused himself and leaned down, opening small cabinets full of folies and cans under the counter until he found the glass of the thick green liquid. "Is halmeoni alright though? Has her knee been acting up again?" he asked while he rang up the product and you shouldn't have been surprised that your grandma probably told him about all her life.

"It's her waist this time," you said curtly, wanting to get over the payment as soon as possible. But even after the machine beeped accepting your credit card, the boy with his crazy hair switched on his employee of the mouth smile and kept you there with his rambling:

"It seems like you're quite stressed and anxious recently. Wouldn't you like some chamomile-lavender tea? Or we have a peppermint-citrus cream for headaches, too or–"

"I'm fine," you cut him off not too nicely. Argh... you hated when cashiers were so noisy and he even acted like he knew you just because you weren't in a good mood today but that had nothing to do with your usual exam stress. He couldn't have known about that anyway. And as if some cream would have helped!

The next time you saw the boy he had yellow locks. The unnatural, bright yellow like the fermented radish you liked so much with your traditional Korean dishes. Of course, you didn't go to his shop out of boredom or happiness but for your grandmother's sake you didn't want her to travel across half the city just to get her favourite tea leaves for better digestion. It had been about two months since you had visited the colourful shop, so the changes shouldn't have taken you so aback – after all every shop was usually decorated according to the season – and yet, for a moment you just stood there in the bright warmth of the sunlit room full of buttercups and sunflowers. It almost seemed like the same cashier guy as last time had a hair colour to fit the enterieur but that sounded a bit too ridiculous. Who would have dyed their hair because of their workplace's new decoration? Though who worked at a witch shop in the first place?

"Hi! How can I help you today?" the boy, Yeonjun according to his name tag, flashed a beaming smile at you. He seemed really giddy all the time, maybe being surrounded by all these herbs all day long did something to his brain… or maybe got him high.

"I would like to have a packet of Island of Calm tea," you told him straight, wanting to make it a real quick in and out.

"Ah, for your grandma? I'm glad it helps her," the boy smiled at you sweetly and started humming an annoyingly cheerful song while preparing the packet neatly. He wrapped it up, put on a sticker with good wishes before he would have turned to the cashier machine.

You had already prepared with your wallet but instead of letting you know the price, this Yeonjun guy decided to play with your nerves.

"Sorry about the other day if I came off too strong. We have amulets too if you prefer…"

You slammed down the money on the counter, grabbed the tea and turned to walk out on him before he could have finished that. But...

"It will rain today. Take an umbrella," he shouted after you which only made you snicker.

Hah, who was this guy? He should have minded his own business! The weather forecast didn't say anything about rain anyways.

"I'm fine," you bit at him and walked out.

It didn't even take 10 minutes though for you to get soaking wet in a sudden summer downpour. Under your breath you kept cursing the guy from the magic shop although he had nothing to do with the rain. He just had a good guess.

You really didn't want to go back to the shop. It gave you the chills, like that uneasiness in the stomach that made you want to throw up. You didn't want to go back because you didn't want to hear that crazy hair coloured guy's unwanted preaching about your stress level. You might have been a bit on the edge these days but you were okay, you could handle it. Even if you wished your group partners to Hell sometimes because they couldn't even answer your questions about the schedule and the presentation in your KKT group chat, even if your teacher was a pain in the ass moving the classes as he pleased as if you had nothing better to do. Even if an upcoming family gathering was unnerving you because you didn't want to hear them comparing you to your relatives. It was just a bad time, it would pass, you told yourself, nothing to whine about.

So you took a deep breath, list in hand and you raised your chin before you stepped inside the so-called magic shop. You planned ahead: going to the counter, handing over the list, pretending to get a phone call and leave. Easy and interaction-free. But the moment you stepped inside, the sight this time took your breath away. You really didn't understand how and why the store changed its interior so drastically and so frequently but this look was even more breathtaking than the ones before.

The whole place had a pink hue, it even smelled like cotton candy and everything had this rosy colour from afar. The ceiling looked like a pink sky with white cloud decorations made of cotton. The dreamcatchers and amulets hanging down all sparkled in the shade of blue hour and you forgot why you came for a moment.

"Pretty, isn't it?" A voice spoke up from beside you and only then you realised that the cashier boy wasn't behind the counter like usual but instead he was walking between the shelves in the book section, holding a few volumes in his arms. You jumped at his sudden closeness, blinking up at him surprised and it took you a moment too long to process what you had been seeing.

The guy had bright pink hair.

And it looked strangely good on him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned and only then you realised that you had been staring. At the way his locks looked against his tanned forehead. At the way he pulled his mouth into a gentle smile and suddenly you felt like the air was getting sucked out of your lungs. What the hell were you doing? Why did he suddenly have such an effect on you?

"Yeah, I'm fine," you muttered, clearing your throat, stepping away.

You walked up to the counter confidently and the boy didn't try to stop you. He didn't say anything, not even as he followed you and took your paper with the list your grandma suddenly needed after you complained to her about the nosy guy in the shop. He prepared the small box with different herbs, creams and lucky charms wordlessly which was a bit unsettling. You only met him twice before yet it seemed like it was out of character for him. But you tried not to think too much into it and just watched him work.

When Yeonjun read your total out loud for you and you handed your card to him there was something knowing in his eyes that you couldn't quite put a finger on.

"You know you should really stop saying you're fine when you aren't," he spoke up finally when he gave you back the plastic but instead of letting it go, he looked down on your hand intently. Not understanding the reason behind it you followed his gaze and saw that you managed to cut your finger earlier with the paper when you got startled. You didn't even feel it up until then even though it drew a bit of blood, a few drops drying on your index finger.

"Let me," the boy muttered as he let go and looked around on a shelf not far from the counter.

"It's nothing really," you protested but you felt bad because he shouldn't have been worried about you just because it was him who got you scared. You should have paid more attention.

"It could get infected," he reasoned as he got back with some lotion in a small capsule. He took your hand, gentle and you realised that his hands were soft despite the calluses on his fingertips. Not to mention, it was endearing how attentive he was, even sticking out his tongue a bit in concentration as he put a plaster over the oil-coated wound.

"Thanks," you breathed not really knowing what else you could say and you couldn't even anymore, not with the way he smiled at you, warm like the Sun and soothing like spring breezes.

As you were leaving you couldn't help but think that the way he said those words about you pretending to be okay was about more than just your scar. Maybe he had a great sense for such things.

It was not until you got home that you noticed the extra object in the packet you bought at the shop. You even double-checked with your grandma's list but a scent bag of herbs for better sleeping weren't on that and you didn't even pay for that, so how?

The answer was ridiculously easy: the cashier guy must have sneaked it into your bag, yet you didn't get his reason and why he always tried to have a say in your life but then you looked down on the cute pink plaster on your finger and decided to accept the gift. Even though you didn't believe in it, you put it under your pillow for the night like you were instructed. You almost forgot about it because by the time it was bedtime for you your head was full of unnecessary drama and thoughts that were driving you crazy. On nights like this it was hard to fall asleep because you had too many what ifs going on inside of your head. But this time, even before you could have realised it, you were already drifting off to sleep, tense shoulders relaxing, head empty. You didn't remember when you last slept so well.

So maybe it was confusion, gratitude or the mix of those two that led you back to the Magic Island only a few days later, this time without your grandma having to make you. This time you were expecting the change of interior, so the universe-like violet colours and planets flying around (must be some kind of trick) didn't take you that aback. Yeonjun was nowhere to be seen even though the bells rang prettily above the door when you arrived.

For once, you decided to take a look around, so tentatively you wandered deeper into the store, into parts you hadn't been before. You had seen tarot cards in one corner and Ouija boards in another, there were books about ghosts and other dimensions. There was a whole section about curses and a closed off one for potions. You were reading some of the ridiculously long tea names (and why does The night when the world has burned, we are… has chilli in it anyways?) when you heard someone clear their throat. You turned around to face them but your hello died on the tip of your tongue.

Now Yeonjun's hair was purple, that dark but warm kind, like nights on which the sky seemed to embrace you.

"Does halmeoni need something else?" he looked up at you with a genuine, kind smile.

"No, I... Actually I just wanted to thank you for the scent bag," you muttered under your nose, a bit embarrassed but determined to be a bigger person and not act petty over an act of kindness.

"Did it help?" Yeonjun's eyes lit up immediately, straight up happily when you nodded. The smile on his face widened. "Then you're welcome."

You just stood there, uncertain, not knowing what to say or do because apparently he was well aware that he gifted you that and it seemed like he didn't expect anything in return. Not to mention that he figured out that you barely had any sleep lately and cinnamon was one of your favourite scents. Was it just a coincidence? Or did the bags under your eyes betray you like that? Was cinnamon just a lucky guess?

"How did you know?" you blurted out eventually, not getting over your internal struggle. For a moment Yeonjun just looked at you, really looked as if he tried to figure you out and he was rather tentative when he spoke up:

"You don't believe in magic, do you?"

You raised an eyebrow as if asking: seriously? at which he let out a chuckle. His laughter made such a pleasant sound!

"Well, then you could say it was just a good hunch," he shrugged and his carefree attitude made you even more curious, throwing you more recklessly into the unknown.

"And if I said I believe in it?" you wondered out loud and the cashier guy looked back at you as if it was a challenge. Maybe it was since you were interested in how he would try to convince you about magic being real.

"It's your aura," he said simply, looking at you and at the same time around you and started explaining: "It has a different energy based on your mood and well-being. It wasn't that hard to figure out based on that."

You hummed, trying to see whether your rational mind could take it as an answer but even auras and halos and such seemed too... intangible for you. Yeonjun must have sensed your hesitance because a moment later he straightened his back and tilted his head.

"It's easier to show you," he offered, waiting, patient. He must have learned that being pushy with you didn't work because the more he insisted, the more you resisted. But putting it this way: him offering a chance for you to see and believe but with no pressure, it made you halt. Because all your life you had liked certain things. You liked plans, schedules, believing in things you saw or experienced. Maybe that's why magic had always been obnoxious for you: you had met with too many liars and fakes.

You slowly, tentatively nodded.

"Close your eyes," Yeonjun smiled at you encouragingly and albeit not liking the idea of becoming vulnerable even this much, you obeyed. About five seconds passed before the boy called your name. "You can open them."

Not expecting any big change, you were at a loss of words when Yeonjun stood in front of you with silver grey hair. And not just that! The shop's interior changed in a blink of a minute, too. It was no longer purple but rather monochrome, serious, angular.

"How?" you gasped in awe.

"Magic," Yeonjun smiled and laughed at you before explaining that his mother was a witch, so he's partly one too and that the shop is enchanted, changing based on his mood or will, similarly as his hair colour. It was still unbelievable but you couldn't deny the obvious, so instead of protesting against it anymore, you threw your dozen questions at the boy to which he answered very enthusiastically.

After that afternoon, you slowly started to become a regular at Magic Island. Not only when your grandma had an errand to run but you visited the shop even when you got tired of your scent bag's type or due to another excuse. It was easy to come up with those when you had so many questions. With Yeonjun by your side guiding you through a whole new world opened up in front of you. After your uni classes, you sometimes dropped by to read a book between the shelves about auras and the harmony with nature or potions that actually worked until Yeonjun found you there. Sometimes he called you out on never buying the books but it was only a friendly, teasing banter that ended up with him inviting you over for some herb tea matching your mood (a lot of sweet strawberry and rose mint lately). On other occasions, he joined you on the floor, leaning his back onto the bookshelf too, his arm almost brushing yours as he asked about what you were currently reading about.

He also told you a lot of fun stories and while chuckling over his jokes your stomach didn't ache only due to laughter. You hated to call this feeling as 'butterflies in your stomach' but you had no better word for it and being so good at reading your aura, Yeonjun must have known, too. Yet, he didn't say anything, so you decided to take matters into your hands.

When you opened the door of the magic store on that chilly December afternoon after finally finishing with your exams before winter break, the first thing that hit you was the cinnamon and plum scent. You inhaled deeply and smiled at the Christmassy atmosphere inside the store with the festive decoration. Yeonjun must have had the holiday spirit these days, you thought and it seemed like right because the boy walked out of the storage room in a cute snowman sweater and with faded lavender coloured hair.

"Heya, how was the exam?" he turned to you with a bright smile which you couldn't help but mimic as you walked up to the other side of the counter.

"Manageable," you shrugged, happy that you were finally done with it. Then before you could have chickened out during your conversation, you blurted out: "Do you perhaps have the opposite of love potions?"

"Like an antiserum? Did someone give you a love potion?" Yeonjun wiggled his eyebrows but his tone was kind of worried. Cute, you noted.

"No but I'd like this stupid crush gone," you sighed and even grimaced for impact, watching the boy's reaction closely but he seemed more curious and a bit confused than anything.

"Why?"

"I just..." You vaguely threw your hands up and pouted which Yeonjun must have found endearing because the mischievousness was back in his glittering dark eyes and the smirk was on his lips again as he leaned provocatively closer.

"And if I like you back?" he raised an eyebrow and the confidence in his voice made your jaw drop.

The audacity!

"I'm not talking about you!" you retorted right away but more out of pride and teasing than honesty. You couldn't hide that too well from the witch boy either as his grin only widened seeing your blushed cheeks.

"Too bad," he snickered playfully, his lower lip jutting out in a sulky pout. Then he pulled back in an instant, brushing his lavender hair out of his eyes with an overdramatic sigh. "And I was about to suggest a hot chocolate date..."

"A date you say?" you breathed with a hopeful smile and rested your palms on the counter while this time it was you who leaned closer. Not that it meant a lot because with Yeonjun's height, you just had to angle your neck even more sharply. At least until he decided to scrunch down to your level, dark orbs glimmering in the colourful lights of the shop.

"That I say," he nodded and briefly looked up prompting you to do the same only to see a white mistletoe slowly growing and hanging down above you.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, mister," you flicked his forehead but giggled anyway knowing all too well that your aura must have been just as pink as your cheeks. But you didn't mind one bit, not until it was Yeonjun who made your world so colourful.

#txt scenarios #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fluff #txt fluff #stories

134 notes · View notes

after-witch · 3 years

Text

(Horrorfest) Down the Cellar Stairs [Early 20th Century Reader x Tragedy]

Title: Down the Cellar Stairs (Horrorfest)

Synopsis: It’s a silly game, just a a silly game that silly people play on All Hallow’s Eve. Walk down the cellar stairs backwards looking into a mirror, and you’ll glimpse the features of your true love. You play along... but you may get more than you bargained for once you’re down there.

Word count: 1800ish

notes: yandere, violence, reckless backwards traversing of a staircase

Happy Halloween~!

You didn't have to glance into the mirror to see the disapproval of the lady's maid--your mother's lady’s maid, to be precise; but you did, anyway, and the grim line of her mouth confirmed your suspicions. She thought you were distasteful. You shouldn't be going to a party--a Halloween party, no less, a trendy ghastly thing that had recently become popular among your circle--in your... condition.

But it was old fashioned to throw yourself into deep mourning, the way that they used to do. Now you wept and cried, but you kept your tea afternoons soon after; perhaps wearing mementos, perhaps gathering together to sniffle and dab your handkerchiefs. But you went on, all the same.

Besides, you thought as you watched her complete the last finishing touches on your hair, it would do you good to be distracted.

You hadn't slept well since the accident. Since you were driving in the car with your doting fiancé. Since he... since the car spun out of control, and the scarf meant to keep him warm had wrapped itself so tightly around a tree that his neck broke on the spot. You can still see his face, you can still see the way--no no, you thought, no, no, no. Not tonight. You would not see those images tonight.

"All finished, miss," the maid said, flat but not surly enough to bring up to your mother. Lady's maids were old fashioned, too, earning side glances and knowing smiles when they were brought up in conversation; although to your knowledge no one had dismissed their "old fashioned" servants. It was one thing to make a comment about dowdy old traditions, and quite another to start dressing yourself.

You waited until she closed the door behind her to stand up and admire yourself in your full glory. You looked marvelous, truth be told. You had mailed in for a costume pattern, an old fashioned white gown that you'd embroidered with pearls and antique lace from the market. You paired it with a gold locket, and the maid had pinned flowers in your hair, completing the look. An old fashioned princess, something you would have no doubt loved to wear as a child. Or as a bride. But you shook the thought of brides and weddings and--him--out of your mind.

A polite rap at your door overwhelmed your thoughts. The driver must have arrived. It was time to go.

You loved Halloween. It lent the world a magical air. It lent even an ordinary home something wonderful and otherworldly. Swathes of costumed guests--ghosts and witches and royalty-mingled; wafts of perfumes and the smell of spiced treats filled the air.

You had only attended the newly fashioned parties in the past few years, but you already knew that you would never go a year without attending them again. They were great fun. And a great distraction. Guests were attired in costumes of all sorts--from simpler costumes, regular attire with masks, to more elaborate pieces that made you want to step aside and write down ideas for upcoming parties.

Conversations were light and pleasant. The people that knew you, that knew of your plight, gave you pitiful smiles and inquired about your health. A few mentioned if you were really up to a party, and offered to escort you home. You smiled and nodded and deflected. You were perfectly fine. You didn't tell them about the sleepless nights, about the nights you could swear you heard his voice in your ear; you didn't tell them about the nights you did sleep, when nightmares would engulf you so fully that you woke up screaming.

No, indeed. You held your hands behind your back and bobbed for apples. You clapped politely at a tableaux vivant starring the hostess and her brother. You tucked yourself into the corner of a library and pet the hostess' beautifully white cat. You thought briefly, as you scratched under her chin, that your beau would have likely scolded you for such a thing. Women of society, he would no doubt say, do not sneak away to pet cats. But he was terribly traditional at times, in more ways than one.

You were still busying yourself with the cat when you heard the hostess call everyone into the grand parlor. You followed the crowd of guests, excited to see what was sure to be the final and therefore most exciting event of the evening. After everyone was gathered, the hostess gave a self-satisfied smile and nod towards her butler, and in a moment the lights were dimmed with a flourish.

The flickering candles were magical--they reminded you of the soft, slightly gloomy gas lamps of the theater. Theatrical was indeed the proper word for the scene before you: a low table set with all sorts of unusual items. A scrying bowl, apples and sharp knives, a few glistening silver mirrors, and even a crystal ball.

"it is time," said the hostess, dramatically seating herself on the sofa with a dramatic flourish, "to tell our fortunes."

A low murmur went through the crowd. Telling fortunes was tradition on Halloween, whether you were at a party or not. It was terribly fun, although your stomach twisted at the thought of telling certain fortunes. A few years ago, it was a fortune that had predicted the first letter of your lover's name; an apple peel, twisting and curling in crystal clear water that flickered in candle light. It was a silly game of course, but even silly games could come true.

You watched politely as the hostess selected guests to take their turn. You thought about excusing yourself, but as you were about to turn away, someone called out your name.

"What about (Y/N)? She hasn't had her turn yet."

"Oh, yes!" Said someone else. "Why doesn't she do 'cellar stairs' with the mirror, to find out the face of her true love?"

There was a sudden, uncomfortable tension simmering in the air. Your legs felt heavy. They didn't know, of course they didn't know, and you heard the hostess begin to politely explain your situation when you felt your lips move of their own accord.

"Certainly," you said, nearly blurting in a tone that would have sent your beau (to say nothing of the lady's maid back home) in a tizzy. "I would love to play that game. How does it go?"

You heard a few murmurs, but whether they were disapproval or pity that you'd wanted to avoid the awkward conversation, you couldn't tell. You didn't want to ruin the party by declining the game.

The hostess smiled primly. Her hands twitched before she picked up the mirror from the low table, and held it out towards you. Someone beside her flipped through a book filled with games and rules for such parties, and began to read:

"Cellar stairs. Cellar-stairs' test is where a girl boldly goes downstairs backward, holding a mirror, and trying to catch in it features of him who is to be her mate."

The words made your stomach twist. Twist, just like--

You practically snatched the mirror, barely smiling, before following the hostess as the led the group towards the cellar door. She opened it and turned up the gas lights fastened next to the door. "There are no lights on down there, I'm afraid, but this should be enough."

You nodded and almost started walking straight down, before remembering the rules of the game. You turned around and chuckled mirthlessly, followed in suit by some of the guests who watched as you took the first steps backward; one hand pressing against the wall, keeping you balanced, and the other holding up the mirror.

Down, down the cellar stairs you went.

It wasn't until you were perhaps halfway through that the idea of heading into the abyss below gave you goosebumps. The stairs underneath you creaked; you glanced in the mirror, feeling silly, and saw your own reflection dimly light by the light streaming in from the top of the stairs.

My love.

You took another careful step back, and stopped in your tracks. Had someone spoken? Perhaps there was someone downstairs, playing a joke on you. Halloween party books often suggested such things, to make things more lively.

"Do let me know if someone is down here!" You called out. "If I get startled, I could fall and break my..." you stopped yourself before the words could come out, and briefly closed your eyes as flashes of that terrible night came back to you. The car. The argument. The scarf. His face. His neck. His neck.

Suddenly, the light from the top of the stairs goes out with a furious slam. The door has been shut above you.

You shuddered.

"Open the door, please! And I need help getting back up these stairs."

No response. No sound at all, except your own breathing, and the stale cold air of the cellar, and the creaking of someone coming up the stairs behind you.

Oh God.

You closed your eyes. That night. His face. The scarf. His neck.

"You have to be more sensible, (Y/N). I will not have a wife with a profession. How will you have time for the children?" His voice was calm, but his face was growing more irritated by the minute. The scenery behind him blurred past as the car wheels spun faster down the road. You watched as the scarf you'd dutifully wrapped around his neck seemed to fly in the air of its own accord, pushed by the wind and the car's increasing speed.

"Maybe I don't want children," you said.

The car sped up. He was truly upset now.

"Maybe I don't want to be some... some homemaker."

Faster now.

"Maybe I don't want to be your wife anymore."

So much faster now.

You don't remember the moment of the impact into the tree, exactly, only the pain in your entire body that came afterward. You do remember looking at him, and crying out in raw horror. The scarf had wrapped around a branch. It was tight, so tight, around his neck. His face was turning unnatural shades. He choked and choked and looked at you with begging, bulging eyes. But you didn't reach out. You... couldn't, could you? Your body was in so much pain, you couldn't move.

That's what you told yourself right before his panicking foot slammed on the pedal. The scarf twisted, suddenly--along with his neck. You want to forget the noise it made, but you can't. You can't forget his neck all twisted, his face bulging and unnatural, the stench of his death.

You opened your eyes.

His face was in the mirror. His neck, twisted to the side. His mouth, gaping and half-slack. He groaned your name, and you screamed and screamed and screamed.

And then your legs fell out from under you.

Down, down, down the cellar stairs.

#horror #halloween #all hallow's eve #yandere #horror writing #afterwitch writes #horrorfest #original stuffs

183 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 3 years

Text

Stockings (S.R.)

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3000

Summary: You just wanted to decorate the apartment for a bit, you swear.

It wasn’t your fault that it was impossible to stay with your mind out of the gutter for longer than five minutes whenever Steve was around.

A/N: No knowledge of Attached needed I think 😉 Feel free to read as a standalone, you’ll find it in my masterlist as both.

A/N 2: For @wonderlandmind4 ‘s challenge. Congrats on your follower count and for coming up with this awesome challenge!

Prompt: “Those - weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-“ (bold in text)

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied smut with tiny bit of action so 18+, nsfw, language (always), and one (1) trope that has definitely been used before

Series masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

When the idea of decorating first flashed through your mind, it was, honest to God, completely innocent.

Due to loads of schoolwork, Halloween somehow passed by and you barely noticed, the most festive thing you had done being the indulgent orders of pumpkin spiced lattés and hogging some of the candy for your exam time stress-eating. Candy which just happened to be shaped like spiders, snakes, witches and other lovely stuff.

But that was it and with ditching the spooky holiday and the Thanksgiving which no one in your apartment was allowed to talk about, you itched to celebrate at least one of the holidays in peace and with everything that belonged with it.

Gifts, obviously.

Baking, perhaps.

Decorations, absolutely.

Last year, you and Penny had gone a bit overboard, fully affected by the holiday madness, and bought half the store (well, as much as your financial situation allowed anyway). Your dorm room looked as if Santa puked there, as Penny elaborately put it, but you both adored it.

Now, with Steve, you knew you had to be considerably more restrained.

Not that he would notice if your apartment turned into a damn Santa village, because he was too preoccupied with grading midterm papers. Non-stop, it seemed. The pile never ever appeared to be reducing.

However, you and Steve had set a rule that even if you were both crazy busy, you’d make time for at least one or two evenings together – simply to take few moments to fully appreciate each other’s company.

That night, Steve’s mind wandered despite trying to stay focused on you, you could tell. You felt for him, you truly did… but you missed him. Your time together, truly together, became so rare lately and--- you didn’t want to end up like the couple that kisses goodnight and good-morning just because they share quarters and a bed, and ignores one another for the rest of the day.

Rather than letting the gloomy thoughts consume you though, you tried a different approach; humour.

After all, that was how your relationship had started, along with loads of awkwardness.

“Penny says hi, by the way,” you said casually, practically feeling Steve’s absence despite his body engulfing you as you cuddled on the couch, movie on your laptop playing in the background which neither of you were watching.

Steve hummed, his fingers never ceasing the comforting strokes on your arm.

You adored him, you did – which really was the reason why you couldn’t but mess with him, tease him for his mental trip to the far-away lands.

“She and Bucky hooked up again.”

“Mm.”

“She still claims he was the best she ever had.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Steve muttered, almost as if he was actually listening to you.

“I’m meeting them tomorrow both, because they offered me a threesome.”

“That’s nice.”

The corners of your lips twitched. God, Steve was lucky to have you to take his mind off his job sometimes, otherwise he would work himself into the ground with how much of his brain space was filled with university matters. He was so detached from life sometimes…

“Bucky asked if he could film it, do you think I should say yes?”

“Whatever you think—wait WHAT?!” he cried out, sitting up straight, hence pushing you up too since you had been nestled on his chest.

Giggles erupted from your throat as you watched his perplexed and scandalized face, realization slowly dawning on him as he probably went over the last few sentences that left your mouth – and his expression gradually melted into an apologetic one, blending into exhaustion as he ran his hand down his face.

You cupped his cheeks then, leaning in to plant a kiss on his forehead – you would swear it was a fraction hotter than normal, his poor brain overheating – and stifled the aww threatening to spill when Steve closed his eyes contentedly, a hum vibrating in his chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing your lips chastely before wrapping his arms around you to hold you close again, face nuzzling your hair. “I’m listening now.”

You curled into his warmth, much more welcoming than the comforter wrapped around you.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I know you’re tired. We’ll just call it a night.”

“But you wanted to talk about something?” he protested softly, earning a hum in affirmation.

“Just wanted to ask if you’d be okay with me decorating the apartment? Just a bit, to bring a piece of the Christmas spirit in here?”

You could feel his smile against your scalp as his thumb caressed your shoulders blades, his large form shifting for a bit.

“We both live here, sweetheart,” he reminded you and you made a tiny sound of protest. Yes, he was correct, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t consult him on stuff before messing with the interior, even if it was with the best intentions. Duh. “But I appreciate you asking. Decorations, huh?”

You withdrew, meeting his tired eyes with a barely-there twinkle. You smiled at up at him innocently, showing him a tiny space between your thumb and index finger.

“Just a little bit. Just the basics…”

“Uh-huh. The basics. So that’s what? Christmas lights, stockings, mistletoe, a tree?” he mused, his thumb moving to your chin, to your lower lip, brushing it tenderly as you nodded minutely with a smile. His irises lit up a fraction with that image he must have painted in his mind and you felt familiar warmth around your heart at the sight. “I guess we’ll have to talk about getting a tree then. But it sounds nice, babygirl. The mistletoe in particular.”

He proceeded to capture that lips with his, lazy but indulgent kiss that sent pleasant sparkles down your spine and yet made you sleepy as it was soothing, feeling like home.

“Yeah. Sounds nice,” you echoed dreamily, meeting his lips again in a short kiss before nudging him to stand up so you could begin to move to bed.

Only later it occurred to you just how nice you could do with the stuff Steve had mentioned if you tried – and you fell asleep in his arms, a menacing grin that would make Grinch green with envy on your lips.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Carrying the box after hanging one mistletoe branchlet in the kitchen along with very few fairy lights in the window, you were ready to move onto the bedroom, where Steve was, again, working.

Not for long, you hoped – after all, you put notable effort into your appearance.

With a small smirk on your lips, you knocked on the separating wall, peeking from behind it, trying your best not reveal too much.

Steve didn’t even bother looking up, a semi-loud hum the only sign of him acknowledging your presence.

“I’m gonna decorate this room… you mind me messing around for a bit?” you asked, attempting to sound compassionate about his workload, which you were, and perfectly innocent, which you were not.

That got him eye you briefly, an unconvincing smile passing his lips.

“Sure, go ahead,” he encouraged you softly. He turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk and started writing notes before you could even respond – hence missing your victorious smile.

“Thanks!”

You gleefully walked in, steps soundless against the floor thanks to the thin fabric covering your soles, and placed the box on your own desk.

The rustle of papers and the sudden lack of scribbling sound had you biting your cheek so you wouldn’t burst out laughing.

Steve cleared his throat loudly; when you looked at him over your shoulder however, he went back to reading his damn papers.

You swallowed your disappointment, trying not to think much of it – Steve could be very patient when he wanted to be – or very impulsive. And sometimes, he was both at the same time.

So you pressed your lips together and removed the other branchlet of mistletoe from the top of the box, following with Christmas lights, putting whatever you needed on the desk.

“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice sounded from his seat, partly amused, partly… hoarse, affected, and you had to bite your lips so the giggles wouldn’t spill out. “What are you wearing?”

You turned to him, making a show of checking your outfit, letting your palms sprawl over your barely covered thighs and slowly moving them up, the hem of Steve’s loose ivory sweater hiking up an inch and revealing the lace of your thigh-high crimson stockings; perhaps even offering a peek of the straps holding them in place due to the garter belt.

“Your old sweater… and stockings,” you offered with a one-shoulder shrug, cool as cucumber in December – or as yourself teasing your loveable boyfriend at the end of November – on the outside, giddy on the inside as his gaze trailed all over your figure, wavering at the lace and the patch of skin on display, before focusing on your face.

“Those-- those weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-- when I, uhm, talked about decorating this place,” he explained.

He sounded almost patient, as if it wasn’t clear as day. His irises, however, were not clear – a cloud of desire covered them, turning them a shade darker, hungrier.

It sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, heat pooling in your belly, satisfaction at inching closer to your goal causing your chest nearly puff with pride.

“Oh, my bad!” you exclaimed, chuckling self-depreciatingly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you eyed Steve from under your eyelashes, picture perfect of innocence… not. “Silly me! I’m sorry, I know how much you hate me in stockings…”

“Babygirl…”

His voice resembled a growl, a low warning not to toy with him – which was exactly what you did want to do, teasing him shamelessly when having added emphasis on him not liking your attire.

Stockings and/or his clothes on you got your boyfriend going in fact, sometimes for hours even, thank you very much.

“Yes, Steve?”

“This isn’t going to work, you know. I really have to finish these,” he stated and you most definitely didn’t imagine the impatience and his dislike towards his task sneaking into his voice.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. These are just…” you bit gently on your lower lip, sliding your palms up and down your thighs, Steve’s gaze following the motion instinctively, pupils dilating with the craving to replace your hands with his own, “…comfy, just like your sweater. You never minded when I borrowed it before—you know I love stealing it. It just… it smells like you and it’s warm. It’s like you’re all over me. It’s perfect.”

His glare zeroed on your mouth, slightly accented by a natural, yet visible shade of your lipstick. Steve didn’t say a word, simply staring – and shifting slightly in his seat, much to your glee, which hopefully didn’t show too much – and grumbling an unidentifiable noise.

You felt for him, you truly did – god knew that sometimes, you were overwhelmed with schoolwork too – but that didn’t stop you from smiling at him sweetly now, adding an apologetic tone to your next words.

“Sorry. I talk too much. Don’t let me disturb you. You have work to do and so do I. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

Then you spun on your heels and went back to continue your previous activity, laying out decorations on your desk.

Steve only grunted behind you, but you could hear him as he started going through the papers again, probably trying – and hopefully failing – to ignore your presence.

It wasn’t that you wanted to be mean, there was no single drop of malice in your plan; Steve needed to get his head off his work for a bit, even if he wasn’t aware of it. The way he was overworking himself was beginning to threaten to his sanity.

You simply wanted to help and this was just the way that had crossed your mind first; it was entirely on Steve and his stupidly perfect everything that you couldn’t seem to get your head out of the gutter sometimes when in his presence.

You wished nothing more than for him to turn off his brain… and to relax and enjoy himself.

Clearly, he was enjoying the view indeed.

You caught his sharp inhale when you accidentally dropped a tacky plastic Santa and proceeded to bend over to pick it up… offering Steve a perfect view of your rear and revealing the smart garter belt you wore; with nothing as much as a thong, leaving your most intimate areas bare.

You heard him shuffling in the chair and had to smirk, mentally counting down the time until his resolve broke.

He was holding up quite bravely – nearly long enough to make you doubt your ability to seduce him. Except the shuffle of papers that followed sounded as if he was trying to make a point and you knew that the breaking point was on horizon.

So when the time came to set in motion what you assumed would be the final strike – pushing the chair from your desk to the middle of the room to get ready to put your stockings on display right in his natural line of vision – you delicately took the branchlet of mistletoe with you, climbing up and carefully tying it to the lamp.

Steve’s pen hit the desk with a click and you quickly shot him a glance, meeting his stern and yet rather amused eyes. He sighed at your ridiculously unsubtle antics, but one corner of his lips rose anyway.

“Alright, that’s it. Get down here, you little minx,” he huffed.

Oh, sweet victory.

Mirroring his expression, you retorted cheekily: “Come get me.”

There was no missing the dangerous glint in is eye as he rose to his feet and stalked to your chair, a smirk playing on his lips, every movement purposeful and precise as if he was a predator chasing his prey to the corner.

Your breathing picked up as he neared, your heart pounding, chest heaving quickly – fuck, wasn’t it an erotic sight, Steve’s figure cladded in plain t-shirt and sweats, looking up at you as if he was about to eat you alive.

Maybe it was the expression on his face, somewhere between aroused, amused, cocky and predatory at the same time. Maybe it was the outline of his semi-hard dick on his sweatpants. But shit, you knew you were in trouble, you loved it, and you might have been this close to drooling. You were glad for forgoing underwear, because it would be absolutely useless and soaked through in an instant.

And Steve hadn’t even started yet.

Stopping right in front of you, craning his neck only a bit to face you (the tall bastard), his wide palms sprawled over your calves, their heat warming you from inside out.

An appreciative hum rumbled in his chest as his touch trailed up at torturously slow pace, drinking in the sight of your ragged breaths, indulging in every inch he laid his hands on. You couldn’t withhold the shudder running through your whole body and his grin widened.

“You’re such a fucking tease….” he whispered, licking his lips as his gaze fell lower again, following the movements of his hands, clasping the back of your thighs now, inching toward their inner part, fingers brushing the hem of your stockings.

“Is it-“ You had to clear your throat against the lump that grew there, your body buzzing with anticipation, the smart remark growing heavy on your tongue. “Is it teasing when you can just take what you want?”

He chuckled, a delicious dark sound, bringing more slickness between your legs, much to his apparent satisfaction as he set eyes on his prize.

“Downright naughty…”

His mouth landed softly on the inside of your right calf, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs to nudge them few inches apart to make space for him.

“Does that… uhm, does that mean I won’t be getting any presents from Santa this year?”

You had genuinely no clue how you managed to form a sentence through the fog of arousal around your brain, only growing thicker when Steve’s teeth grazed the skin above your knee, his fingertips brushing an extremely sensitive spot so close to your core.

“You could come down now, be a very good girl and I might put in a good word for you,” he muttered, biting down some more, drawing a mewl from your lips, another one escaping you when he snapped one of the strings holding your stockings in place.

The sharp gentle pain was enough to make words roll off your tongue.

“You think that would work?”

“Oh sweetheart…” Steve chuckled again, a huff of breath warming your thighs, before his eyes, wide-blown and hungry, met yours. “If it doesn’t… you can be damn sure I’m gonna give you fucking everything I have.”

You yelped when his grip on the back of your thighs tightened and he tugged you forward, your hands instantly going to his shoulders to maintain balance as you found yourself with no surface under your feet all of sudden.

He grinned up at you – the show-off, but by God, wasn’t the demonstration of strength setting your body on fire, rendering you speechless – and slowly lowered you to the ground, half-lidded eyes zeroed on your lips. He made damn sure that you felt his erection against your body at all time as he always loosened his grip and tightened it a second later, until your feet touched the ground – and yet you felt your legs shaking, unsteady with the need to feel more of him.

It dawned to you how crazy he managed to drive you, your roles reversed, your plan backfiring. But was it? Backfiring? Because you couldn’t wait to see how it would unfold--

His hands slipped under the sweater you stole from him, one grasping your hip to hold you tight against his body, fingers of the other diving into the pool of slick between your legs, causing you to jerk forward into his hand.

He leaned down to nip at the skin of your neck right under your ear, forefinger circling your clit for a good measure, drawing a needy moan from you.

“And I bet you’re gonna take it…” he hummed into your ear, satisfied smile audible in his hoarse voice, “and thank me for it like the good girl you are.”

You barely forced the words out, heavy with desire but any less true.

“Yes, Professor Rogers. I think I will.”

“Damn right.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

S.R. masterlist

Attached masterlist

The One Word (next in timeline)

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

I really wanted to come up with an original title… and failed. Also, it was supposed to be a drabble, but you know that I tend to babble… and rhyme, apparently.

Thank you for reading and for any kind of feedback :-*

185 notes · View notes

sadaboutniall · 4 years

Text

happy halloween! 👻 here’s a quickie little yn x niall fic to celebrate my fave holiday! this song is the vibe, if you want some listening to go along with.

the moon laughs and whispers, ‘tis near Halloween

Unsurprisingly, Halloween is perfectly at home in Edinburgh. The night is dark and damp, a pervasive chill hanging in the air as you and your friends rush drunkenly along the cobblestone street, rain hitting the backs of your necks, and warm, golden lamplight from flats above trickling out onto the dark stone. The city is as alive as it always is—alive in a way that feels like a million different lives, like it somehow knows both the past and the future, like it’s holding you close but also hurtling you forward. It feels like tonight is a special night—and, although you have no real reason to think this Halloween will be different from any other Halloween, you let that feeling in, let it settle into your bones and carry you forward toward the party.

It had been Fiona’s idea, going to the football squad’s Halloween party. Your other friends had championed a pub crawl or a scary movie night at the flat, but Fiona’d heard about the football party and, knowing the keeper she’s been crushing on would surely be there, insisted. And now you’re here, drunk in a witch costume on a dark October eve, your pointed hat barely keeping the rain off your face, orange and brown leaves crunching under the heel of your boots as you pick up the pace and run toward the party, giggling into the night.

The football house is packed even fuller than you’d imagined it would be, the air thick with the smell of beer and weed and Fiona, dressed as Posh Spice, spots the keeper just milliseconds after your group ducks into the party, disappearing in a flurry of rhinestones. It leaves just three of you—Fleur, Amina, and yourself—standing in the middle of a heaving party, first years entirely out of their element.

“Drinks?” Fleur, dressed as a zombie bride, asks.

“Drinks.” Echoes Amina, the antennas on her alien costume bobbing as she nods her head.

The three of you clasp hands so as not to lose each other and Fleur leads the way, zig zagging through the crowd of goblins and ghouls and strangely sexual Boris Johnson costumes until she finds the kitchen, a dark, damp little room with one, singular coffin shaped window above the sink and no furniture save for a wooden table in the middle of the room, without a single chair. Atop the table sits a literal cauldron, cast iron and all, with a pink liquid gently swaying inside.

“Ick,” says Amina, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. “Boys.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s been in here for a hundred years,” you say, voice low. Something about the room makes you feel like you’ve travelled a million miles away from the party, just on the other side of the door. You can’t hear a thing in here—just the pitter patter of the rain against the window, and the creaking of the floorboards as Fleur steps forward.

“That’s probably true,” she laughs, peering into the cauldron. “I bet none of these lads can cook. They must order Nando’s every night.”

“Probably,” Amina agrees, stepping forward to peer over Fleur’s shoulder. “At least they went through the effort of making a mixed drink, though. I’m far too bloated for a beer.”

“Aye,” Fleur’s Scottish accent thickens when she’s drunk, but it sounds even thicker all of a sudden. “Commitment to the theme as well.”

“It smells lovely,” says Amina, shutting her eyes as she smiles. “Like roses.”

“Really?” Fleur says, as you step deeper into the kitchen and join them around the cauldron. “I reckon it smells like chocolate.”

You lean forward, too, despite yourself. The scent of the drink is intoxicating—neither roses nor chocolate but, you think, the distinct smell of a chilly day by the sea: salt air and a rising tide and it’s more like a memory than a scent, a moment in time, the most peculiar sense of deja vu. Whatever it is, it’s not the kind of smell that should be coming from a mixed drink at a house party. Whatever it is, you don’t want to step away from it.

The three of you—the witch, the bride, and the alien—stand over the cauldron for a long moment, breathing it in. There is no sound beyond the rain outside, no semblance of the party raging beyond the kitchen door. It’s just the three of you, this cold, quiet room, and the strangely comforting feeling that you are, after all, not alone.

“Are there any cups?” Amina speaks first, glancing up at you, across the table from her. Her brown eyes are glassy, her gaze faraway.

“Cups,” you echo, a little floaty, your mind still by the seaside. “Right. Let me find some.”

The room’s only cabinets flank the sink and the single window, one on each side. You find the first cabinet empty except for a shimmery spider web and an old looking candle, but the second holds exactly what you’re looking for: three cocktail glasses, set on the shelf in a pretty row, glinting despite the dingy light. Perfect.

“Bingo!” You say, turning back toward your friends. “And only three left anyw—guys?”

The room is empty.

The cauldron still sits atop the table, its intoxicating smell strong as ever, but your friends are not where you left them, twenty seconds ago, when you turned toward the cabinets. Your friends are not anywhere in sight.

“Guys?” You call out again, taking one step forward. “You’re so not funny. I found cups.”

Silence.

“Fleur? Amina?” You step forward again, toward the center of the room, toward the drink. “You want a drink, or no?”

Still, silence—somehow more silent than before. Even the rain sounds like it’s whispering.

“This is fucking freaky,” you say, one last shot, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. “You guys win, I’m fully freaked out, Happy Halloween.”

Silence. Stillness. A sudden, oppressive need to get out of this room.

Quick as a cat, you do.

When you step back through the door and out into the party, alone, it’s like you were never gone. In fact, it’s a bit like time has stopped—the party is just as packed as it was when you arrived, and you’re pretty sure the same song is still blasting through the speakers. Confused but ignoring it, you start to push your way through the crowd, in search of your friends.

A few steps deeper into the crowd and you spot a sliding back door. It makes perfect sense to you, the idea of Fleur and Amina slipping out into the backyard for some air, so you head straight for it, stepping out into the chilly, dark night.

The rain has mostly stopped, though the leafy ground is still damp beneath your feet and the air feels wet, like it could begin again at any moment. Although it’s dark, you can see well enough—the yard is illuminated by a group of jack o’lanterns lined up along the back brick wall, and fairy lights strung between trees, casting a warm, flickering aura—and it’s immediately clear that Amina and Fleur are not out here. In fact, no one is.

You turn around to head back inside, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you do. And that’s when you walk right into him.

“Lads, are you—oof. Deo, you eejit—shit, you’re not, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“I—” you step back to collect yourself for a moment, eyes trailing up the hard chest you just stumbled straight into. It’s just a guy—blonde hair, bright blue eyes, thick Irish accent—but there’s something about him that keeps you rooted to your spot. Something about him that feels safer than going back inside.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He rushes, when you don’t answer. I should’ve been looking, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no,” you manage. “I’m fine. It was my fault anyway, was looking at my phone. Are you okay? You sounded, like, worried?” You don’t know this man, you have no idea what his worried sounds like. But you can’t stop yourself from saying it.

“Can’t find my mates anywhere,” the stranger says, eyes sweeping the backyard over your head. “It’s like they fucking vanished.”

“I lost my friends too,” you echo, turning to look with him, though you know you’ll only find an empty yard. “I thought they might be out here, but nothing.”

“Two lost souls,” says the stranger, a smile in his voice. When you turn back around he’s pulling at his phone, saying, “I’m just going to text them and tell them I’m out here. They can come find me.”

“I was about to do the same,” you tell him, glancing down at your phone in your hands to shoot off the text. “There are way too many people in there.”

“Wanna wait it out together?” He looks up from his phone, a smile on his face. It brings out one tiny dimple, and sets your heart moving a little faster. “I’m Niall.”

“I’m a witch,” you smile back at him and he laughs, blue eyes trailing down your body once. It sends a jolt of something through you, makes you hope the flush creeping up your face isn’t visible in the flickering light.

“Have you got any powers?” Asks Niall, his eyes moving back up to meet yours. The blue is stunningly bright, even in the darkness.

“That’s for me to know,” you say, more smoothly than you ever imagined. “And you to find out. What’s your costume?”

“You can’t tell?” He glances down at himself, dressed in double denim with an American flag bandana tied around his neck. “Bruce Springsteen.”

“Right,” you nod, though it wasn’t obvious to you at all. “Course. You need to work on that accent, though.”

“Do I?” He raises an eyebrow, and adopts a surprisingly good—if over exaggerated—New Jersey accent. “I’m pretty proud of it, honestly. Been convincing people that it’s real all night.”

It’s not all that difficult for you to believe, actually, a bunch of drunk Brits buying into a fake, over the top, American accent without a single question. Instead, you ask him, “is there a tragic backstory, then? To go along with the tragic attempt at an accent?”

Niall laughs, bold and loud into the dark night, and suddenly you realize how entirely unafraid you feel with him—how you’d been on edge since the moment you stepped into the party but now that’s gone, evaporated, replaced, with a warm feeling in your belly and Niall’s infectious laughter. You bring your drink up to your lips and take a sip before you realize yet another thing: you have no memory of filling up your cup before leaving the kitchen.

Across from you, Niall’s clutching what looks like a pint of Guinness, which is a drink that makes very little sense at a house party. The more you think about it, the less of the night makes sense. You shake your head to push it away, not quite ready to give this up just yet.

Under the golden, flickering light from the jack o'lanterns, you study Niall: the way his freckles sprinkle across his thick neck, how his roots are so much darker than the blonde at his tips, the tuft of chest hair peeking out from where his denim shirt is unbuttoned—everything about him leaves you breathless, desperate, longing, attracted to him in a way you’ve never experienced before. You feel, distinctly, that you are both supposed to be here, tonight, alone, together.

You feel, distinctly, that something went out if its way to make sure this would happen.

And maybe it’s the drink—the mysterious thing that smells like sea salt to you and roses to Amina—but here, with the wind rising around you and the night settling in, you have the distinct feeling that Niall is on the exact same page.

“I have the strangest feeling,” Niall says, voice dropping to something like a whisper. Behind him, leaves rustle as the wind blows a strong, measured gust though the garden. “We haven’t met before, have we?”

“I don’t think so,” you can’t look anywhere other than Niall’s eyes. “But I know what you mean.”

Niall nods, taking one step forward to lessen the gap between you. He’s so close you can smell him: warm and musky and soft and something else, too—something that reminds you of salt air and days by the sea. “I just feel like,” he says, and you nod.

“Me too.”

Far, far away someone calls your name, but you can’t stop looking at Niall, stepping closer and closer to him with every distant shout of your name. The shouting grows louder and louder until it’s impossible to ignore, although Niall doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all. You open your mouth to ask him if he can hear it too, but before you get the chance something shakes your shoulder, calls your name one more time, and you open your eyes.

“Jesus,” says Amina, a mixture of relief and concern clouding her features. “You are impossible to wake up.”

“I’m—what?” You sit up in bed, head foggy, limbs heavy. “Fuck, what time is it?”

“Noon,” Amina pulls out her phone to check. “We’re gonna be late for our brunch reservations, that’s why I came to wake you up.”

“Oh,” you rub your eyes, shaking your head to try to bring yourself back down to Earth. “I was having such a vivid dream, sorry.”

“It’s cool, just hurry up.” Amina makes her way to your bedroom door, but pauses before she steps back out into the hallway. “Oh, by the way, Fiona said there’s a Halloween party at the football house tonight and she’s fucking desperate to go since she fancies the keeper. Could be fun, no?”

On Halloween night, dressed as a witch, you stand in the backyard of the football house with your friends. The yard is illuminated by jack o’lanterns and fairy lights and Fiona is off snogging the keeper upstairs and you feel warm and safe and happy, despite the autumnal chill in the air. As Fleur tells your small group a story about the weird couple sitting across from you at brunch today, you drop your head back to stare up at the night sky, sprinkled with stars, and the full moon peeking out over the clouds. It feels like you are supposed to be here tonight. You exhale, watching your breath fog with the cold and curl in the air above you.

“I’m going to refill my drink,” you say, smiling at the small group you’ve been standing with. You can feel something budding between Fleur and the pretty girl she’s been chatting to, dressed as Britney Spears, and you want to give them a moment alone. Fleur flashes you a grateful smile as you walk away.

Back inside, you locate the entirely normal kitchen, bright and airy and crowded, with a coffin-shaped window above the sink, and pull open the fridge to grab a beer from the stock inside. When you shut the door, there’s someone standing on the other side.

He’s dressed as Bruce Springsteen, double denim and an American flag bandana around his neck. He’s blonde hair with dark roots, and bright blue eyes. He’s staring right at you, with an unmistakable look of recognition on his face.

“Hi,” he says, stepping forward to lessen the gap between you and him. He smells warm and musky and safe—with a whiff of something like salt air. “Sorry if this is a bit weird, but I’m Niall. Have we—have we met before?”

####

sources for images: 1, 2, 3

#one direction #1dff #one direction fan fiction #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan imagine #niall #niall horan x reader #halloween #thank u to rand for all her help with this as always!!#this is v different for me I hope it's ok!

85 notes · View notes