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hoodharlow · 3 years

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End Up Here

El Novio Quarantine Edition: Part 5

AN: Here’s part 5!!! I forgot to schedule this yesterday and throughout the day I was busy cleaning. Anyways this part is set a few hours after we found out that Claudia salío con nasu domingo siete lol. Enjoy :)

Requested? No

Warnings: angst with a not angsty ending, mentions of menstruation, more talk of the consequences of not using contraception and birth control

Word Count: 1.7k words

Calum stomach dropped reading the text that Claudia sent him. Apparently, she wasn't able to pick him up because something had come up, so Ashton was picking him up instead. He knew something was up. He just wasn't sure what.

After checking in with customs, he made his way outside where Ashton was waiting for him. He spotted his raven haired friend and held his bag tighter around his shoulder.

"How was the flight?" Ashton asked as he helped him put his bags on the trunk of his car.

"Good, but exhausting as always." Calum nodded. He looked around, hoping Claudia was joking and she did come to get him.

He didn't mind Ashton. He just wanted to see Claudia.

"She didn't tell me why she wanted me to pick you up. She just asked me." Ashton said as he climbed in his seat.

"Have you seen her?" He asked.

"No, but KayKay went out to eat with her." He said, quickly giving Calum a rundown about the lunch. He told him everything: from Sierra going to the restaurant on the opposite side of town and having to drive to where Claudia and KayKay were, making her almost an hour late. He even mentioned that Claudia ate pickles.

Calum looked away from the window and sat up. "Claudia ate what?"

"Pickles. KayKay said that she took 'em out of her sandwich and ate them without a bother in the world.” Ashton said, reaching for his iced coffee. “Now that I think of it she did the same thing about two weeks ago with kumquats. I called her because I know your tree was ready for picking and so they don't go to waste since she doesn't like them. She goes off saying that the past few days she's been feeling nauseous and they help her with that."

Calum stayed quiet, processing what Ashton was telling him. He pulled out his phone and checked the period app Claudia uses. He synced it up from her phone, so he knew what days to buy extra ice cream and tea. He checked the calendar and the past few weeks were empty. He refreshed the app twice in case it wasn't synched up. Nothing.

He pocketed his phone and sighed in relief as Ashton pulled into his street.

"You okay, mate?" Ashton asked him.

"Yeah, jetlag just settled in." Calum mumbled. He faked a yawn. "Miss my bed."

"And the girl in it, who can't parallel park to save her life." Ashton nodded his head to Claudia who slid back in her car after seeing that she got on the sidewalk.

"Obviously." He chuckled.

Ashton hovered a few cars behind Claudia as slowly backed into the spot. He pulled up to Calum's driveway just as she got out of her car.

Calum watched her drop off some shopping and grocery bags on the front door. She ran to him and jumped him, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips. He turned them around and backed her up against Ashton's car as he pulled her into a needy kiss.

Claudia tightly gripped his curls, deepening their kiss. She moaned out as Calum kissed down her neck.

"You rabbits couldn't wait until you got inside?" Ashton scolded, interrupting their kiss.

“No.” Claudia giggled before kissing Calum once more.

She got down and awkwardly pulled down her tie dye biker shorts. One of the reasons why she hated the summer was the awkward tugging between her thighs wherever she would wear shorts or rompers. One thing she did like was how biker shorts looked on her. The ones she wore were from a PR box Aerie sent her.

She waved to Ashton before going inside the house. As she picked up the bags, she heard him and Calum plan on going back to the studio after Calum is done quarantining. She began putting away the groceries, starting with ice cream and other frozen foods. While at Target she found some frozen gnocchi. She pan seared the gnocchi and used the sauce they provided as a dipping sauce.

She heard shower start in the guest room, so she continued putting away the groceries and the other things she bought. The water shut off just before she rinsed out some of the produce she bought.

Duke took a minute to realize that his pops was back. He got on his hind legs and pawed at him. Calum picked him and hugged him. Cherry hopped off the couch and sniffed him before going to the kitchen.

Calum set Duke back on his bed and made his way in the kitchen. Claudia smiled and poured them a glass of agua de guayaba.

“I didn’t think I would be done with my errands so soon." She said, pulling out some snacks. "I had to go to my doctor because UCLA picked me to do the teaching job. Which is amazing. I’m getting my tuition waived and my parents don’t have to worry about that. But they needed me to get all these things done some immunizations, a physical and a —”

"Claudia, are you pregnant?" he asked her, not caring that he interrupted her.

"What...How?—I'm sorry what?"

"Claudia, answer me." He said sternly.

"I really don't like that tone of yours."

"Just answer my fucking question."

"I am! Happy?"

Calum cursed. He sat on a stool and ran his hand over his curls in frustration.

"How did this happen?"

"What do you mean? We fucked! 'Just this one time' became just a few more times. The three weeks leading up to your trip we had sex at least once a day. Not once did you stop and think that maybe we should have used a condom?"

"Don't act like this is solely my fault, Claudia."

"Well it's not like I can fuck myself pregnant." She scoffed sarcastically.

Calum sighed and rubbed his temples. "This isn't going to work out—"

"You're seriously breaking up with me right now?"

He gave her a confused look. "What? No, if you let me finish."

"I did let you finish. It's why we're in this mess in the first place."

“I’m going upstairs to sort this out. We’ll talk about this later.”

Calum went upstairs without another word, leaving Claudia awkwardly standing in the kitchen. She sighed and finished up putting away groceries. After she grabbed the frozen gnocchi and pan seared it while in a saucepan she made a brown butter and sage sauce.

Once she was done cooking, she went upstairs. She lightly knocked and poked her head in the bedroom. Her eyes zoned in on a boxer clad Calum laying on the bed.

"Cal, can I nap with you?" she asked quietly.

"Sure." He said, moving away from the center of the bed to his side.

Claudia came in and set her bag on the nightstand on her side. She turned back and slipped off her biker shorts and crawled to bed. She laid on her back, not sure what to do. She usually attached herself to Calum's side and slipped one of her legs in between his legs.

Calum snorted a few minutes later. "That was pretty clever… What you said earlier. 'I did let you finish. It's why we're in this mess in the first place.'” he chuckled to himself.

"Thanks." Claudia said, quickly glancing over him before looking away.

They fell into another awkward silence. They both looked up at the ceiling, trying to piece together what they wanted to say to the other.

"I, um, lied earlier." Claudia said. She sat up and hugged her knees. "I didn't go see my doctor about the school stuff. I went to Planned Parenthood and got a pregnancy test. I'm roughly six weeks pregnant."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Calum asked quietly.

"I didn't think much of it, my periods sometimes fluctuate. Until the past weeks I spent the better half of the night throwing up. Then KayKay pointed out the pickles thing. So last night I finally took a test, well several, and they all gave me the same results." Her voice cracked. "Cal, I'm so fucking scared."

Calum pulled her into his chest as she cried. He didn't know what else to do other than hold her in his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Claudia." He whispered in her hair. A few tears escaped and rolled down his cheeks. He sniffled. "Whatever you decide, I'll support you. You that?"

Claudia nodded. She wiped her mocos with her shirt sleeve. Calum propped up his knee so she could lean against it. She rested her head on his knee and circled her arm around his leg. She lazily ran her finger around around the hem of his boxers.

Calum found her free hand and gently squeezed it. "I'm sorry for how I reacted earlier." He said intertwining their fingers together.

"It's fine." Claudia shrugged him off. "That was on me. I practically blindsided you. How did you even figure it out though?"

"Ashton, he told me that KayKay told him that you ate pickles and how you had nausea so you would eat some kumquats for what. It didn't sit right with me that you were eating some of the foods you detested with your whole being. I checked your period app and saw that you haven't had your period in weeks. Everything fell into place once I saw that."

"Okay Fred Jones." Claudia teased.

"I have my moments." He said, earning a sarcastic hum from her.

Calum let go of her hand and rubbed her thigh.

"I have pictures if you wanna see them. They're about the size of a pomegranate seed."

"Sure."

Claudia reached over to her bag and pulled out an envelope. She handed it to him and sat next to him.

Calum's hands shook as he opened the envelope. It revealed a long paper with five black and white images. On the side it said Claudia's name and general information. Below that was how far along she was. In the center was a small patch.

"Is that our baby?" he asked her.

Claudia softly smiled at his word choice and smiled. "Yeah, that's our baby."

Taglist: @f-mu @another-lonely-heart @sunshinebabycal-deactivated2021 @calumscalm @karajaynetoday @cherryxwildflower @myloverboyash @idontneedanyone @findingliam-o @5-secondsofcolor @mulletgate @sexgodashton @fckingpernico @2fangirl4u @calpops

#calum hood fluff #calum hood angst #calum hood one shot #calum hood imagine #calum hood fanfic #calum hood series #calum hood fic #calum hood oneshot #el novio series #el novio quarantine edition

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itsadamcole · 3 years

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christmas with benefits

fem!reader x ‘hangman’ adam page

reader and 'Hangman' Adam Page made a deal a few years ago; that if they were single at Christmastime then they would hook up. Christmas with benefits is what they called it, but this year, it's a little different ...

word count: 2.5k+

warnings: smut (friends with benefits, kinda), kinda fluffy, idrk what else :)

— day 25 ... we did it, and i will be going on a short break after this is posted (it’ll probably be around 11 pm est when y’all see this bc i was really late when i began to write this). i hope you enjoyed these christmas / holiday / winter themed imagines bc i enjoyed writing them —

masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You sit in your bed in your room back in your parents' house in Virginia. You've texted your best friend, the Hangman Adam Page, to come over since he's not that far away.

It's late, almost midnight on Christmas Eve going into Christmas Day. You sit in your Christmas pajamas as you wait. Your parents have gone to sleep so you just wait for the usual "I'm here" text from Adam so you can go open the front door for him.

This has been a thing every Christmas since yours and Adam's Ring of Honor days. Five years ago, five Christmases ago, both you and Adam agreed that if you were both single during the holidays then you'd casually just hook up. No strings attached, no feelings attached. Christmas with benefits is what Adam first called it, and you couldn't help but agree.

Every year, you'd either meet him at his childhood home, he'd meet you at your childhood home, or you'd meet at a motel.

You don't know how it even got to this point. Five years of hooking up on Christmas. Only one Christmas was missed because Adam was technically seeing a woman and didn't want to do the Christmas with benefits that year, which was fine with you.

The led lights that hang around your room are set to a light blue color and you play with the remote as you wait for your phone to go off.

Just before midnight, at 11:48, your phone starts ringing and Adam's contact pops up. You answer.

"Hey," you say. "Almost here?"

Adam says, "Just turned down your street. I hope you don't mind, and I wanted to give you a heads up, but I brought you a present. I don't know the next time we'll see each other so I wanted to make sure that you got it."

You smile and leave your room, walking downstairs. "Yeah, that's fine," you say. "I have something for you too."

It's been a while since you've seen Adam. He works with AEW and you work with WWE. Your schedules just don't allow you to see him except for a few times a year. Especially since you're NXT women's champion right now.

"Yay," Adam says. "I'll see you in a few."

You say your goodbyes and you wait at the door, watching for Adam's car.

This is something you've always looked forward to. It's something about being close to someone who cares for you and who you care for deeply. If it wasn't for the no feelings attached rule then you would have told him how you felt a long time ago.

Adam's car pulls up out from and you open the front door. The cool air hits you and you shiver a bit. You watch him get out of the car in his cowboy Christmas pajamas. He has a bag and a wrapped box.

Another part of your deal is that after the hookup then it's Christmas movies and snacks. Adam has snacks. That's what you assume is in the bag.

He walks up to your front door and smiles when he sees you. "Hi," he says. "I thought that maybe we can open presents before we, um, you know."

You smile and nod, moving aside so he can walk inside. You close and lock the door behind Adam as he walks upstairs to your bedroom. You closely follow him.

Adam sets the bag and the box down on your bed and you sit on the bed. You grab Adam's present off the bedside table under the lamp before you crisscross your legs and look up at him.

He sits in front of you, mirroring your position. He holds out his present and you take it. "Go ahead," he says. "I'm excited to see your reaction."

You giggle and begin to unwrap the gift. You open the box, which is actually kind of big.

Inside the box is an AEW merch shirt, one of the bandannas that Adam's worn during his entrances, and a necklace that you've wanted forever. It has your birthstone inside of a heart.

"Adam," you gasp. "I've been wanting this necklace forever."

He laughs and says, "I know. I figured it was time to buy it for you. Also, I dare you to wear the AEW shirt to work one day."

You laugh and say, "Stop trying to get me fired."

Adam helps you put the necklace on as he says, "Tony Khan already has told me he wants you on the roster so if Vince McMahon fires you then just come to AEW."

His fingers linger on the back of your neck by the necklace clasp a little longer than they probably should. You look back at Adam and say, "We'll see." You smile. "Anyway, it's time for your present. Open the little envelope after you open your gift."

You hold out the medium-sized box and Adam takes it. He unwraps it and opens the box.

Inside the box you gave Adam is a cowboy hat that has the AEW logo on it, one of your merch shirts, and a little silver bracelet with "cowboy shit", which is Adam's thing, and "ice queen", which is your thing, engraved on it.

You're known as NXT's resident "ice queen" because of your cold heart and rude personality. It's your gimmick. You love it, and it sounds kinda cool.

Adam smiles and opens the tiny envelope. You watch as his eyes widen and he says, "I know you didn't give me a yearlong pass to come to any WWE show."

"Of course I did," you say. "Front row, off-camera for the most part. I know we haven't seen much of each other because of conflicting schedules but maybe if you have some free time and are in the same area then you can use this pass to go in and out of the arena. It's completely free so you don't have to waste several hundred dollars just to see me for twenty minutes."

Adam's tried to come to WWE shows, but tickets were always sold out or not where he wanted them because it was always so last minute. You had the idea of the pass a few weeks ago, talked to management, and got it in time for Christmas.

He says, "You are literally the best person on this Earth."

You giggle and say, "That works for literally any WWE event. A Takeover, a regular NXT live show, or even Wrestlemania."

"Thank you, Y/N," Adam says, putting everything back in the box. "Seriously."

You do the same and say, "It's the least I can do. Maybe we'll see each other more than three or four times a year."

Adam looks at you and smiles. "I'll have to use that pass all the time," he says. "I need to see you more than three or four times a year."

You put your gift from Adam on your bedside table and say, "I agree."

He says, "So, about this Christmas with benefits thing."

"I wanted to talk to you about that," you admit.

While you waited for Adam, you decided to tell him how you feel. Screw the no feelings attached rule.

Adam looks at you confused and says, "Okay. What's on that pretty little mind of yours?"

Your face gets flustered a bit as you say, "We agreed that there would be no feelings attached and no strings attached, and we've done well at that for the past few years."

"But?" Adam asks. He knows what's about to happen.

Nervously, you say, "But recently I've been thinking of you as more than my best friend. I just want more out of this besides sex. You already treat me so well, and we've known each other for years, so I thought that maybe we could try to be more than just friends."

He stares at you as you talk. He can't believe this. You've been doing such a good job at hiding this that he had no idea, and he's not mad about it. He can finally tell you how he's been feeling about you.

In one swift movement, Adam cups your face and pulls you toward him. Your lips crash to Adam's and you gasp. You gasp softly but kiss him back.

The kiss lasts for a few moments before you pull back and ask, "What was that for? You've never kissed me except for when we're, you know."

Adam pushes your hair behind your ear as he says, "I thought that I could start kissing you when we're not having sex."

A smile forms on your lips and your face gets a little flustered. "I would, uh, like that," you stammer. "Can we still have our usual Christmas sex?"

He laughs and says, "That was never out of the equation, Y/N."

You giggle and lean in, kissing Adam again. He kisses you back and you crawl onto his lap, straddling his waist. Your hands slide into his curly hair and his hands slide up the back of your pajama top.

Sighs leave your lips when his hands touch your skin. You smile against his lips and push Adam onto his back.

Slowly, you begin to undress Adam underneath you. You kiss Adam's bare chest once his shirt is off. You do leave a couple of marks on his chest.

"The first chance you get, you mark me up," Adam says, looking down at you. You trail your fingers over the marks and down to the waistband of his Christmas pajama pants.

You look up at Adam with your eyes before you say, "You're mine now. I hope."

Nerves rise up within you as Adam says, "I am. I'm yours."

"Thank God," you sigh as Adam smiles.

You pull off Adam's pajama pants right before Adam rolls and lays on top of you.

He stares down at you and attacks your neck with kisses. You sigh and let out a soft moan. Adam's hands roam your body as he kisses your neck.

You pull off your top, leaving your upper body exposed. Adam's eyes are on your body and you bite your lip softly, watching him. After a moment, he leans down and presses kisses to your bare stomach. You sigh softly.

Adam hooks his fingers into your pajama pants waistband and pulls them off your body. He slips his fingers into your panties and runs his fingers through your folds. You gasp and your back arches off the bed.

After a few seconds of this, Adam pulls off your panties. You look down at Adam and find that he's looking up at you with his eyes. Your tongue swipes across your bottom lip as Adam slips a finger into you, moving it shallowly and slowly. You create a little 'O' with your mouth and a moan escapes.

"Baby, you have to be quiet," Adam reminds you. "Your parents are just down the hall."

You giggle and say, "Oops."

He laughs and speeds up his fingers as he begins to play with your clit with his tongue. "Adam," you sigh. "God, don't stop."

Adam smirks and adds a second finger. Your fingers are back in his curly blond hair. He edges you closer and closer to an orgasm. Your back arches off the bed a few times before Adam pins your hips to the mattress.

You feel your walls begin to clench around Adam's fingers, and he realizes this too. "You gonna come, baby?" he asks. You nod eagerly.

"Please," you whine, needing to release.

He nods and says, "Come for me."

So you do. All over Adam's fingers. You softly moan his name as you release. He sucks his fingers clean before coming up to your lips and kissing you. You moan into his mouth as you kiss him back.

While he's distracted with kissing you, you roll so you're straddling Adam's waist. Your lips are still on his.

Adam pulls back from the kiss and asks, "Where did this all of a sudden come from?"

"I wanted to try something new," you say, kissing Adam's jaw and neck. He sighs beneth you.

You slip your hand down to the bulge in his boxer shorts. You rub him gently and he makes a soft growl sound. "Y/N," he says with a soft moan. "Be nice."

In a split second, you decide to be a little tease. You grind down against his bulge and say, "You won't do anything."

He stares up at you as your finally pull off his boxers. You take his erect member and pump him a few times. You line him up with your entrance and he asks, "Are you still taking the pills?"

"I got an implant to make it easier on myself," you admit. "I kept forgetting to take the pills."

Adam laughs and you smile. Adam's laughs turn into soft sighs as you lower yourself onto him, his length slowly beginning to fill you. You throw your head back as you wait a second before you move. Your hands are on his chest to keep your balance as you begin to move.

Both of you let soft sighs leave your lips. Adam's thumb finds it's way to your clit as you move your hips. You moan softly as you move your hips faster. Adam's other hand is on your waist, helping you move.

He sits up a bit, propping himself up on one arm. His thumb is still rubbing your clit. You wrap your arms around his neck and your fingers are in his hair. His lips are on your collarbone.

His lips make their way up to your jaw. He says softly, "Keep going. You're making me feel so good."

Adam’s praises give you the confidence to move faster. His tip hits your g-spot and you gasp.

You lean down and kiss Adam softly as you move.

Your walls clench around Adam’s length. He moans into the kiss softly as you both reach an orgasm.

His name falls from your lips as you release around him and he releases his seed into you. You both fall into the bed beside each other.

The kissing doesn’t stop. You messily makeout with Adam as you both catch your breath. Your hands both roam each other’s bodies as your lips move messily against each other.

Adam is the first to pull away from the messy kiss. You look at him and he says, “So, we’re together now?”

“Take me out on a date first and we’ll see,” you tease.

He laughs and kisses you one more time before he pulls you into his arms. You bury your face into his neck and smile against his skin before dozing off a few moments later. Adam soon follows you and dozes off too.

#adam page imagine #adam page smut #hangman adam page imagine #hangman adam page smut #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut #aew imagine #aew smut #imagines #imagine #smut imagine #friends with benefits imagine #smut #nswf imagine

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

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House Calls (2/2 )

Hannibal (TV)

This part took much longer than the first. The muse eluded me for quite some time but it has finally returned! And the fact that this beautiful gifset from the show is making the rounds again certainly helped. ❤❤ Shoutout to @mongooseblues for inspiration for and assistance with this fic! A small note for those that read part 1, I'm retconning the fact that Hannibal had a digital thermometer that beeps. He would definitely have a mercury one.

Read part 1 here. (Recommended, it is referenced quite a few times in part 2)

Read my other works here (works best on desktop) (Also on AO3)

My asks are always open for prompts!

For the second time in one week, Will Graham was awoken by the phone ringing. Granted, a week ago it had woken him because it rang at an unusually early hour. This time it woke him because he was still getting over the godawful bug he'd caught, and he was going to bed earlier and sleeping in later.

He fumbled for the device and picked it up with a groggy " H'llo?"

"Will, it's Hannibal." The doctor paused to clear his throat roughly. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I have a favor to ask of you, if you're up to it." There was a strange noise on the other end of the line, a kind of shuffling noise-- or perhaps a sniffle?

"Sure," Will said with a yawn and a sniffle of his own, rubbing his eyes. "I've been feeling pretty good since yesterday. I can help with whatever you need."

"That's very promising. As to the favor... It appears I've left my medical bag at my office." Here he had to stop to clear his throat again and cough before he continued. "I was wondering if you would be able to collect it for me and bring it to my home. I'm… well, it seems I've caught your illness and I don't believe it would be wise for me to leave the house."

By this time, Will had slid to sit on the edge of the bed as he listened, stifling further yawns. The damn flu still had him feeling so unbelievably tired and groggy.

"I'll head out right away," Will replied, rubbing his face. "And… I'm really sorry to have put you in this position, Dr. Leh--Hannibal. I never meant to get you sick."

"Occupational hazard, and I don't regret any of my actions concerning your care. But I appreciate your assistance in getting my bag. I will see you soon I hope."

"See you soon." Will ended the call with a small sigh. Now he felt guilty *and* tired. He was almost glad there was something he could do for the doctor to help assuage his own conscience.

Less than an hour later, Will arrived at Hannibal's stately house. It had been no problem to retrieve the black leather medical bag from Hannibal's office. Due to the late hour of their therapy sessions, Will always arrived after the office front entrance was locked, so he knew the code to the building’s back door. The bag had been hidden behind a table leg and it was easy to see how Hannibal had overlooked it Now it was simply a matter of delivering it.

Already a bit overwhelmed to be approaching such a house, Will hesitated after mounting the porch steps. Hannibal hadn't told him what to do when he arrived. If the doctor was sleeping he didn't want to rouse him out of bed, but he didn't want to just walk in either. However, the safest option seemed to be to bite the bullet and knock. As he raised his hand to do so though, he realized the door was slightly ajar. A man like Dr. Lecter wouldn't accidentally leave a door open, no matter how ill he was. It stood to reason, then, that it had been left open for him. With more than a little trepidation, Will pushed the door open and stepped in.

The house was dim and still, and just as stately and pristine as everything else of Hannibal's. Will heard the sound of a harpsichord from somewhere inside. Hannibal was awake, then. At least that was something.

Will followed the sounds of the music, which led him into the cavernous kitchen. The stainless steel appliances were silent and eerie without Hannibal's bustling presence giving them life. The music was louder now, seemingly coming from the next room, and echoing slightly against the polished surfaces. A strange sixth sense kept Will from calling out that he had arrived, as if there was a spell on the house that didn't want to be broken. Will paused before he approached the corner that turned into the next room. As he did, the music stopped abruptly, and instead a different noise punctuated the air:

"HrrrrRRISHyuu! ErrrrRREISH-shooo! ISSSHH-chuhh! Hh'rrrsshh'CHHOOF!"

It was of course Hannibal who had sneezed. Logically Will knew this was to be expected when a person was sick. Yet it seemed so strange to hear such a mundane noise from such an extraordinary person. It was as if he'd accidentally witnessed something exceedingly private.

Still, the sneezing had broken the spell. The doctor said something in Lithuanian that sounded suspiciously like swearing, then began to blow his nose. As he did this, Will retreated several steps and reentered the kitchen more noisily:

"Dr. Lecter! I'm here! I've got your bag!"

"I'm in the study," came the congested reply, annexed by a chesty cough.

Will found the man where he said, seated in front of the instrument as he tended to his nose. Yet still, the doctor tried to smile warmly upon seeing him, though his shoulders had a limp sag to them, and he shivered as he sniffled into his handkerchief. He was wearing a fine blue silk robe with a plain white tee shirt and blue plaid pajama pants, neat but still a far cry from his usual suits. His hair was combed but lacked the crisp, styled look it usually had, hanging more naturally around his face. His eyes were fever-bright, and his cheeks were flushed from the same. He looked overall rundown and quite unwell.

Will handed him the black leather bag right away. Hannibal took it, looking grateful.

"Thank you so much for coming, Will. I didn't know who else to call." His voice was husky and thick, more than hinting at a miserable sore throat.

"No problem. But what are you doing out here? I thought the reason I fetched this was because you were too sick to get out of bed."

"I'm really not very ill. I was merely trying to avoid getting anyone else ill by my going out. But you've already had this illness, so you are safe from infection, which is why I thought to call you."

"That's logical I suppose," said Will wryly. "You look pretty sick to me, though."

"I assure you I'm fie- fine…. '' Hannibal quickly disappeared behind the handkerchief again, his breath hitching to sneeze. His shoulders leapt violently several times, and the motion made his hair fall across his forehead. However, any other sneeze side effects were thoroughly stifled into silence. After finishing the fit, Hannibal wiped his nose and flipped his hair back again with a toss of his head. Noting how familiar the doctor seemed to be with the gesture, Will could only guess at the number of sneezing fits he had had prior to this one.

Seeing the poor man’s sinuses take such abuse from the forceful stifles though made Will's own still-congested sinuses start dripping in sympathy. He hastily pulled out a tissue and wiped his nose.

"Ah, but you are still ill yourself. Where are my manners? I'll make us both tea." Hannibal quickly stood, but staggered before he could take a step, a hand going to his temple.

"Dr. Lecter--!" Will was at his side in a moment to steady him, one hand on the doctor's arm and the other at his back, just as Hannibal had steadied him earlier in the week. Will was prepared to do whatever was needed to keep Hannibal upright, though his swaying made Will more than a little nervous, for Hannibal was much taller than he, and would more than likely take them both down if he fell.

Thankfully, the doctor quickly righted himself, pulling away from Will's grasp. "Forgive me, I stood up too quickly." Dr. Lecter cleared his throat harshly, rubbing a palm across his eyes.

"Are you sure you--"

"I'm fine, Will. Now, tea." He strode away to the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation, as was his talent.

Will held his tongue for the time being and silently followed, sitting at the kitchen island while Hannibal puttered around making tea. The silence was companionable, only broken by the doctor's soft sniffles and coughs. At one point though, the doctor was overcome with a nasty coughing fit that bent him over at the waist as he grasped the countertop for balance. When the barking coughs subsided and he could breathe relatively normally once more, he flipped his hair back into place yet again and proceeded with what he was doing as if nothing had happened. Will noted all of this without comment.

Once the tea was poured, Hannibal seated himself beside Will, and they sipped together in continued silence. Will found it odd, though not unpleasant, to be sitting next to Hannibal without speaking, for their usual interactions dictated that conversation was necessary. Will found the quiet enjoyable. Yet Hannibal could not relax, for he was forced to tend to another harsh bout of coughing, turned away from Will and muffled into his elbow. His lungs sounded as if they were trying to tear their way out of his chest. Will could only look on in concern, and it was several long moments before he quieted.

"My apologies, Will," the doctor rasped as soon as he was able, the exertion having turned his face an even deeper shade of red.

"You don’t need to apologize. But you sound sick. And you look like you're running a fever. You should be in bed."

"I rest better down here with my music and my cooking. I couldn't lie in bed all day."

"I don't think you should do any cooking. You're shaking."

The doctor quickly hid his hands, which were indeed trembling with chills. "Even so. I find it hard to rest in bed during the day. I have trouble getting settled. It's too… quiet I suppose." He sniffled wetly, and was forced to dab at his nose with his handkerchief.

"Hmm." Will thought for a moment, studying his own hands, currently wrapped around his mug. "I suppose I have the same problem. And it's worse when you're not feeling well. But you helped alleviate that for me when I was sick." Will met the doctor's eyes, reddening slightly. "You should lie down after we're done with tea… and if you want, I'll stay with you for a while... If you think it'll help, I mean."

Hannibal regarded him in his penetrating way. "Are you that worried about my health, Will?"

"You're sick, Dr. Leh-- Hannibal. And I know how bad this flu is. I don't want to see you get worse."

Hannibal was quiet for a moment, aside from another moist sniffle. "That is very kind of you to offer. I suppose you are right. Some rest would perhaps do me good."

Will nodded. "When we're finished, I'll stay here and do these dishes while you go get settled. I'll come see you as soon as I'm done. But let me know if there's anything else you need."

Hannibal gave a tiny smile. "Thank you, Will." With that, he obediently swallowed the last few gulps of tea and stood, moving toward the back of the house.

"Hannibal?"

The doctor turned.

"You don't… have to keep pretending you're fine. If you are pretending, I mean. I know how badly you're probably feeling better than anyone. You don't need to fake anything for my sake."

Will watched as Hannibal's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly--a thin crack in the veneer. The sick man gave the barest of nods, then proceeded on to what Will assumed was his bedroom.

Will felt quite out of his element in more ways than one as he cleaned the dishes from their tea. Having no idea where anything went, he left it all out on a towel to dry. Once the kitchen was as clean as he could make it, he steeled himself to go check on his therapist.

The master bedroom was as luxurious as the rest of the house, and Will did his best not to gawk or make comparisons between this and his own tiny house. Hannibal had hung up his robe and was huddled in bed. He wasn't fully lying down, but was propped up against a stack of pillows, his breathing noticeably thick and raspy in the silent room. As Will expected, lying down evidently made the doctor feel the full impact of his symptoms (or perhaps he was simply done pretending). Hearing Will enter, he turned his head, lethargically opening heavy-lidded eyes. Against the cream sheets, the contrast between his pallor and fever flush was even more striking.

"It seems I'm more unwell than I thought," Hannibal murmured with a cough. "This is why I wanted to avoid lying down."

Will made a sympathetic sound. "That means you *need* to be lying down then. Have you taken your temperature recently? If not, we should."

Hannibal glanced at the medical bag he'd brought up with him. "The only thermometer I own is in there, so I have been unable to."

"A doctor that doesn't own a thermometer?" Will chuckled, moving to the bag. "I wouldn't have expected that."

"I do own one. I've never seen the need to own two."

Will deigned not to reply as he rummaged through the bag, quickly finding what he needed. He shook down the mercury as he returned to Hannibal's side. Hannibal held out his hand to take it, then shakily inserted it under his tongue. He leaned back to stare at the ceiling while Will stared at the floor, hands in his pockets.

Will waited what felt like an awkwardly long time before he finally shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. "How long does it take to get a reading? I've never--"

Hannibal held up a hand and waited a bit longer, then removed the device from his mouth, glanced at it, and handed it to Will without comment.

Seeing the reading, Will gave a low whistle. 104.1… that's high, Hannibal."

"My body temperature is always above average. This is more pronounced when I'm ill."

"Do you have some medicine? You should probably take something. Or do you want a cool rag?"

"I have just taken medication." The doctor gestured to his nightstand with a thick sniffle where there was a small collection of unmarked pill bottles. "And there's no need for cooling methods. A fever is a natural physiological response to infection. Nothing to be alarmed about." He swiped at his nose with his handkerchief, stifling a cough.

Will was skeptical, but before he could respond, Hannibal jerked forward at the waist, pressing the handkerchief to his face again:

"Gghnxt! Kppshht!"

The expression on the doctor’s face indicated that he could have (and maybe should have) kept sneezing, but he harshly pinched his nose with a wet squelch and blew, forcing the tickle to subside.

Will sighed and shook his head, then made a face upon noticing the state of the handkerchief Hannibal was using.

"That handkerchief is...sodden. It's practically dripping. I'll get you a fresh one. Where do you keep them?"

"I only have 3 others and they are in worse shape than this one. I've rather been running through them."

Will chuckled. "I can't imagine why." He rummaged through his pockets, finally producing a nearly full, cellophane-wrapped travel pack of Kleenex which he handed to the doctor.

Hannibal made a face. "I despise using these."

"I'm not sure you have an option right now. These have to be better than your soaking wet cloth ones."

"Debatable," Hannibal muttered. Still, he shook one out and gingerly brought it to his face. He gave several thick, gurgling blows, productive to the point of starting to disintegrate the tissue. Seeing this, Hannibal made another face.

"You really need to use 2 or 3 of those at a time," Will said, trying not to laugh. "But let me get you a trash can."

"There is one in the master bathroom," Hannibal croaked, looking peeved and sounding more congested than ever.

Will quickly fetched the bin while Hannibal tried again to blow his nose, using 4 Kleenex this time. The 2nd round of blowing was equally productive. When he was finished, Will held the bin out and Hannibal tossed the tissues in as if he were tossing in a dead rat.

"This is most unsanitary Will," Hannibal muttered with a slushy sniffle, yet still pulling out more to continue wiping his streaming nostrils.

Will only chuckled. Hannibal was breathing slightly easier now, but his eyes were heavier than ever.

"You should sleep, Dr--Hannibal. You don't have to stay awake for my sake. I'll be here when you wake up."

The doctor nodded, obediently closing his eyes with a sigh.

Will didn't expect such a quick response, and for a moment he watched the doctor to ensure he was truly going to sleep. When it appeared he was, Will perched on a nearby chair, unsure what else to do. It seemed he was to be staying with Hannibal in the most literal sense, for he wasn’t about to go wandering around this house by himself.

Half an hour passed, the minutes dragging slowly. The doctor lay perfectly still the entire time, but Will knew he wasn't sleeping. His frame was too alert. Meanwhile Will, with nothing to do except scroll through his phone and listen to Hannibal's deep breathing, was struggling to stay awake and wishing he too had a bed. Killing time was only making him more groggy, and his head was beginning to ache.

Getting fed up with it, Will went with his instincts and tried something else. Swallowing a yawn and rubbing his eyes, he navigated to the e-reader app on his phone and pulled up one of his favorite novels. Clearing his throat, he began to read aloud: "The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident, a mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten…."

As soon as there was another sound in the room, Hannibal began to visibly relax, angling his face toward Will even as he got more comfortable in the bed, though his eyes never opened. Slowly, slowly he sank deeper into the pillows as Will read on. Will sensed he was trying to follow the story, but it seemed the doctor's fatigue was overwhelming, especially since Will was trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. Within another 30 minutes, Hannibal's hand had gone limp around the Kleenex he was holding as he softly snored, sleeping at last.

Will finished the chapter he was on, just to be sure the sick man wouldn't wake again, before he finally closed the book. His mouth was very dry and he needed a glass of water. Before he left the room though, he turned on the white noise machine he'd noted near the bed (he had a similar one in his own room), hoping some kind of continued noise would help Hannibal sleep longer. Will then tiptoed to the kitchen, pouring himself a huge glass of water right away. As he sat and drank it, he thought about what else he should do, for he didn't want to just continue sitting around.

"What do you do for someone when they're sick?" he murmured to himself. Another moment later, he answered himself: "Make them soup, I guess."

Hannibal's soup had been wonderful, but Will was no chef. He could prepare many basic things, but spices and seasonings, and thus soups, eluded him. He cringed at the thought of preparing something from scratch for a culinary master like Dr. Lecter.

However, another idea occurred to him, and he smiled to himself as he considered it. It might work, but he would need to run an errand. He stood right away and strode to the front door, wanting to go and be back as quickly as possible. He only hoped Hannibal would sleep the whole time he was gone, for Will had promised to be there when he woke, and he intended to keep that promise.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hannibal didn't wake until many hours later, and Will was indeed at his side when he did. It was Hannibal's treacherous nose that did it. Will had noted subtle signs of him nearing consciousness again for a while, but the final straw was an uncontainable volley of sneezes:

"HRRIIZZSHH-uh! HhURRSHH-shuh! hrrRIIIZZSHHD! Hhh-KKRRCHHSSHHooo!"

The sighed exhale that followed bordered on a groan as that doctor shakily grabbed the tissues at his side and tended to his cherry-red nose yet again with several gurgling blows. Will had been at his side from the first sound, looking for any way to be useful. Eventually Hannibal met his gaze, taking a moment to survey the younger man.

"You look tired, Will."

Will huffed a cheerless laugh. "You haven't doctored me enough yet this week?"

"A physician's nature doesn't change just because he's ill," Hannibal sniffled. "And you've also been ill. I don't want you to overtax yourself on my account."

"I'm fine. But you look tired too. How are you feeling?"

Hannibal didn't reply immediately, seemingly taking inventory. A shaky breath caused him to cough harshly before he could speak, and Will winced in sympathy.

"I feel thoroughly disgusting. And ill," Hannibal mumbled through congested-sounding consonants. "My head and chest feel achingly thick. Heavy." He put his own wrist to his forehead for a moment. "Feverish."

"Here, you need to drink." Will handed the doctor a tall glass of ice water. Hannibal took it and drank it down with a grateful look, but the chill from the ice immediately caused him to cough into his fist yet again.

Will watched all of this, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm still sorry I got you sick, Hannibal. I hate seeing you like this."

Though Hannibal's eyes shone with fever, he eyed Will keenly. "This is not your fault. Illness is an expected part of the human experience. You must not blame yourself." It occurred to Will that congestion was not the only thing making Hannibal more difficult to understand--his Lithuanian accent was also far more pronounced than usual.

"I still feel terrible."

The doctor quirked an eyebrow at him, looking faintly amused. "What a coincidence. As I've just told you, so do I."

Will couldn't think how to respond, so they merely shared a wry smile. Then, without warning, Hannibal's torso whipped forward, and he exploded into another pair of thick, spraying sneezes:

"Hhht-KNNXT! hhnnxxt-CHUUHG!" Evidently his ability to stifle was weakening as his symptoms worsened. The sick doctor stayed hunched forward, blowing and wiping his raw nose for the hundredth time, looking utterly miserable as he shook the last few Kleenex from the package.

"At least that's something I can help you with," Will said, nodding at the empty wrapper. He bent down and came back up with 2 new boxes of tissues. He opened one and handed it over. Hannibal took it reluctantly.

"Those are the best ones you can get. They should be almost like real cloth."

"I rather doubt that," Hannibal muttered. "But I thank you nonetheless. They are sorely needed."

"And I plan to take your cloth ones home and wash them and bring them back tomorrow. Including the one I still have. So you'll only have to deal with these for a bit longer," Will said with a little grin.

The doctor's eyes lit up in pleasure. "I would be most grateful for that."

"Is there anything else you'd like? Either now or tomorrow?"

Hannibal again coughed into his first before he spoke, sounding thoroughly phlegmy. "I should likely take some food. I'm feeling weaker than I ought to."

It was Will's turn to light up. "There's another coincidence… I have food ready for you. Some soup and stuff."

"I thought I smelled something simmering, even through this dreadful congestion. That explains why I'm suddenly hungry," Hannibal said with a thick sniffle, leaning back into his pillows. "Thank you for thinking of it. Though I would hardly call your predicting my needs a coincidence, but rather proof of your capabilities as a caretaker. Just something to think on.” The doctor gave him a pointed look even as he sniffled again.

Will was now embarrassed and quickly moved to the doorway. "I'll go bring some for you now."

Hannibal let the subject drop and nodded weakly, closing his eyes as he massaged the bridge of his nose. Will hurried to the kitchen and ladled a bowl of chicken soup from the pot warming on the stove. He had the ingredients for grilled cheese ready as well, and a hot griddle waiting, so it was only a matter of minutes before he had a fresh, hot sandwich to accompany the soup. As a final touch, he peeled an orange and placed it on the plate with the sandwich, then grabbed the bottle of soda he'd bought, and transported it all to the sick room on a large tray.

Hannibal was clearly a bit taken aback upon seeing it all. "This is quite the spread, Will," he croaked. "Did you make all of this?"

"Define 'make', Will chuckled. "I turned the stove on, yes."

"The soup isn't yours then?"

"It's Campbell's chicken noodle, fresh from the can. The genuine, original sick day food. Grilled cheese made with the finest Kraft singles of course. An orange for the Vitamin C, no seeds. For the drink, we have ginger ale, the beverage that can cure any ailment. And for dessert, if you so desire, we also have hot chocolate."

Hannibal was speechless for a moment. Then, a tiny smile began to play across his features. "This is ...really something, Will. I haven't been served a meal quite like this in a very long time. I can't even remember the last time I had a cola."

"Only the finest. Or at least the finest I could manage on short notice."

"You bought all of this just today?"

Will nodded. "This is what I used to like when I was sick. I figured I couldn't go wrong with classic comfort foods. I'm sorry I couldn't give you something higher quality. But I hope it still helps."

"Indeed." The doctor chuckled hoarsely. "This is quite satisfactory. I'm sure it will help. Thank you once again." Without further ado, the doctor dug into his feast.

To Will's surprise, the doctor easily finished not only the orange, but the soup and the sandwich as well, and seemed to enjoy them as much as could be expected. He was most skeptical of the ginger ale, but he finished half of that as well, pronouncing it "very interesting." Will also made sure he drank plenty of water to round it all out. Finally Hannibal pushed the tray away with a contented sound.

"In a practical sense, I always knew the restorative properties of chicken soup, but it's been many years since I experienced them first-hand," Hannibal managed, after blowing his streaming nose several times. "My throat and sinuses feel significantly better. As does my headache. Perhaps we should save the hot chocolate for tomorrow however, for I am comfortably full now."

Will thought he was going to say more, for he paused oddly. Instead the doctor's breath hitched violently:

"Gihh-chuuh! Chnnggh!..."

Only the first two in the fit were audible. He seemingly sneezed several more times, but he stifled them into oblivion, with only the movement of his head to indicate what was happening. Watching such forceful suppression was still painful, but it heartened Will slightly to know that Hannibal was feeling well enough after some food to worry about his dignity once more.

Finally the doctor ended his fit and fell back against the pillows with a weary sigh and a weak cough, flipping the hair off of his forehead yet again.

"That looked exhausting."

"Perhaps it would have been if I weren't exhausted to begin with," Hannibal mumbled, an arm over his face.

"Then you should sleep more."

Hannibal uncovered his eyes to meet Will's. "It would be terribly rude of me to sleep again while you are here."

Then I'll get ready to go. I'll clean up all of this then head out. Let you have some peace. But like I said, I'll be back tomorrow with your handkerchiefs." Will grabbed the tray, preparing to carry it to the kitchen.

"Will?"

Will paused, turning around.

Hannibal looked slightly imploring. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind reading a bit more before you go? I was quite enjoying the story."

Will couldn't help but smile. "It would be my pleasure."

#Sickness #sickfic #sicknario #snzfic #snzblr #snzario #snz #Hann/bal Lec/ter #Wi/ll Gra/ham #everyone is hotter with a fever #fanfic #fandom

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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Okay well then!!!! I am very glad and excited to share my most recent idea I had while rereading Yeti Hunting again!! And the new Incubus one too!! They're almost exactly the same idea, just different flavors I suppose. Also Joe is trans in both the ideas but that's less to do with the ideas themself and more to do with just me projecting on him sgfjgsjfhsjdh

Okay so it's like a reverse au so Stern is some kind of cryptid, but as far as Barclay knows they're just two good human friends (but maybe they wanna be a little more than friends...). And then one day Joseph goes into heat and tells Barclay he's sick to try to keep him away, but Barclay being the sweetest man alive goes to his house with fresh soup to take care of him and Joe seems really panicked about Bar being there and tries to make him leave but he is CLEARLY unwell and Barclay is very stubborn when it comes to helping people he cares about and so he plants himself down on the couch and says he's not leaving until Joe tells him what's wrong and Stern tries to hold onto his human form but it's taking too much focus and energy and whoops Barclay finds out his friend not human and currently in distress and so horny it hurts and if he can help his friend and fuck him at the same time, well then that's just a win all around (bonus points if at the end Barclay is kinda sad because he thinks Joe just needed somone to fuck him, not nessacarry Barclay, but Joe frantically assures him that he is SUPER into him and if it were anyone else he would have kicked them the hell out and probably skipped town bc he couldn't trust anyone else with a secret like this).

Or!! (This is where the incubus part comes in) Joe is an incubus and currently hiding out in his human disguise at the Amnesty lodge and it's going fine for a while, but then he starts talking to and getting to know the really hot chef. And they slowly start growing closer and closer. And maybe in this world, the power an Incubus gets from sex depends just as much on their desires as it does the human's. And this has never been an issue for Stern before, but now he's falling for Barclay and wants him and no one else so he's getting less and less energy from his encounters and Barclay is worried about him because he doesn't seem like himself anymore. Almost as if he's... dulled? When Barclay looks at him the blue of his eyes seem muted and his general aura seems... gray. And it all comes to ahead when Joe finally stops insisting he's fine and after dinner one night he asks if he can speak to Barclay privately, and he comes clean about everything and Barclay, while a little shocked, rolls with it very well and cups Joe's face in his hands and kisses him softly and it like,,, you should have come to me sooner, I'd do anything for you,,, and yeah it's really tender,,,,

Okay that's it I'm sorry it's so long and probably incoherent. I tried to use at least little formatting to make it better but it's a tumblr mobile ask, I'm not sure even the new paragraphs will translate over. The general idea is that they're close friends and Stern is Not Human and Barclay finds out under less than ideal circumstances :3 I know these are far from original or unique but I just wanted to share my ideas with you bc you're the inspiration for a good 70% of my private writings, but if you like them enough and ever feel like doing something with them that'd be cool ;3

Here you go! I went with scenario one. Content Note: some “mating” talk and mild subdrop at the end (which is, of course, taken care of)

The two canvas bags are ready to burst. Barclay peers into them, contemplating the addition of another box of tea, in case Joseph doesn’t like the other two. Mama was cagey when he asked, he doesn’t know what’s ailing the other man, only that he’s sick.

Joseph manages Amnesty Lodge, where Barclays’ been a cook for the last six months. Barclay was initially wary of him; his cosmopolitan bearing and clean-cut appearance is so out of place in the rustic mountain town of Kepler that the logical explanation is he’s one of those city types who fell on hard times and got stuck here.

It took less than forty-eight hours for him to prove Barclay wrong. Polite and polished, efficient and stunningly good in a crisis, Joseph handles the day to day chaos of the lodge while Mama, the owner, took care of the big picture stuff. His friendly greetings and consistent compliments about Barclays cooking gradually turned to afternoons spent at a table with his work so they could talk during lulls in business.

When Joseph leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled up, laughing as he helped Barclay tidy the kitchen, the cook rushed headlong into his crush and never looked back. He regularly dreams of blue eyes and a movie-star face, finds his day doesn’t really start until Joseph pokes his head in to say good morning.

He’s been without that greeting for two days now. Joseph never misses work, and his sudden absence worried Barclay enough that he checked with Mama to be sure the manager was okay.

“Joe’s fine big fella, just under the weather is all.”

The one time Barclay got sick, Joseph brought him tea and soup himself, checked in on him every hour, and--if Barclay’s fever addled brain is to be trusted--fluffed his pillows. It’s the least Barclay can do to drop off snacks and be sure his friend is okay.

It’s a short drive to cabin Joseph calls home; he used to live at the Lodge, but as it got more crowded, he moved to his own space so those who needed a cheap, safe place to stay could have one.

His knock on the door is answered by a brisk, “Who is it?”

“Barclay. I, uh, I brought you a get-well gift.”

Joseph opens the door to the cabin and to an entire new universe of fantasies. His normally slicked-back hair falls, relaxed, across his forehead, his loosely tied blue robe shows a tantalizing V of skin, and the dreamy-sleepy expression makes his face even more kissable.

“Hi.” Joseph takes a step forward, taking the bags and bringing his face achingly close to Barclays’. Then he freezes, reversing into the house, “I, um, it was very sweet of you to bring all this. But you need to go.” He takes another step back, then doubles over with a groan.

Barclay hurries across the threshold, setting the bags on the floor and steadying him over to the couch.

“Fuck, do you need me to get you like a heat pack, or a puke bucket?”

“No, no I just need to lay down, and for you to g-” he shudders, curling in on himself and tipping sideways.

“Joseph, you’re really sick, I’m not gonna just leave you here. I mean, fuck, what if it’s your appendix or something?” He sits down next to the shaking man, rubbing his back comfortingly.

“It’s not, I promise. Oh lord” he whines, looks at Barclay with frantic eyes, “I hope you can keep a secret.”

“Of course I can. Whatever I can do to help, I want to.”

“Careful with those promises, big guy.” The nickname comes out in a growl as Joseph stands, undoing his wristwatch.

“Oh FUCK!” Barclay scrambles back, almost falling over the arm of the couch.

There’s a monster where Joseph just was. Years ago Barclay saw a Maned Wolf in a zoo, and he’d swear that’s what he’s looking at now were it not for several glaring issues. First, it’s standing comfortably on two legs. It’s paws are more like hands, able to hold the watch and adjust the collar of its shirt. And he’s never seen a wolf, maned or otherwise, with spines down its back and a whip-like tail.

The creature runs a clawed hand through the fur at the top of it’s head, the way Joseph does when he’s nervous, “So. I can’t tell you everything, at least not right now. What I can tell you is that this is the form I was born into, somewhere far away from earth.”

“Okay.” Barclays brain grinds like a broken ice machine as a familiar voice speaks to him from a fanged mouth.

“I, um, I’m what humans call a Chupacabra. To answer the usual questions: no, I’ve never been to Puerto Rico. No, I don’t eat goats. And no, I’m not going to eat you.”

“Okay.” His heart is still racing, but not from fear, which is the most confusing was this could have gone.

Pointed ears flick, worried, “Are you in shock?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He nods as Joseph sits next to him with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I took the next few days off to avoid this exact scenario. I figured I wouldn’t see you, but forgot how thoughtful and caring you are.” Claws gently stroke Barclays hair, “my wonderful Barclay.”

He’s about to bring his hand up, cup those strange fingers to his cheek and whisper “always”, when Joseph pulls away.

“I, I’m sorry. Again. I always get too handsy when I’m in heat. That’s the second worst side-effect, after the fact that being in my disguise is untenable when I’m in the thick of it. It’s like wearing a wet, wool sweater made of nausea.”

“....Hold on, you had to take time off work because you’re horny?”

“Almost. Heat doesn’t come that often for me, which means whenever it happens, it’s intense. I have a hard time eating or sleeping, I can’t focus, and I spend most of the week masturbating. Which is not as fun as it sounds; I’m not even at the height of the damn thing and last night I humped a pillow on the kitchen floor while dinner reheated.”

Barclay groans, tries to hide it when the ears swivel his way, “Uh, guess I’m glad I brought you lots of food so you remember to eat. Shoulda, uh, put some lube or something in there as well, huh?”

Joseph chuckles, “My nose tells me you put molasses cookies in there, so I’ll let it slide.”

“There anything else I can do to help?”

“Well…” he shakes his head, “never mind, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Do what?”

“My heat is more manageable when I have a partner. Fucking someone relieves things more effectively than masturbation does. But I can’t-”

“I can help with that.” The offer is out before his brain catches up with his mouth.

“Barclay, my kind have a very, um, involved mode of, um, well, I guess you foreplay. As, as much as I’d love for you to be my mate” he winces, “see, that’s what I mean. I say things like that, most of them not even possible given the fact you and I can’t reproduce.”

“Uh, does it help if I say hearing you call me that is really hot?”

Blue eyes widen, and a tail traces up Barclays leg, “Only if you mean it.”

“I do.”

A narrow, long tongue flicks into the air, “In that case, big guy, how about we have a little planning session over dinner?”

-------------------------------------------------

Barclay parks in the driveway, next to Josephs’ sedan. He heads past the house and down a short slope to a creek, the twilight sky casting the forest in eerie grey-blue. There’s a tire swing leftover from a previous resident, and he idly pushes it back and forth as he waits for the game to start.

“It’s like hide and seek” Joseph wipes his mouth, cleans cookie crumbs from the table, “We start outside, move inside, and you go as long as you can without me catching you. After all, I want a mate who can hold his own.”

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket to warm them. A yip bounces out from the trees behind him. When he turns, he quickly spots glinting eyes and bared fangs hidden in the undergrowth.

Sprinting towards the cabin, he realizes Joseph laid a trap for him from the start; by asking him to begin at the creek, he’s forcing him to run uphill to safety, slowing him down. He lets his lizard-brain, concerned only with the fact that something dangerous is chasing him, take over and drive his legs as fast as they’ll go. The back door is locked, he double-checked that on the way down, so he doesn’t waste his time trying it, races to the front of the cabin and slams the door shut just as something huge rounds the corner after him.

The nob jiggles, his pursuer testing the lock and discovering the thrown deadbolt. Barclay uses those few seconds to secure the windows on the first floor, throws his jacket down into the cellar as a failsafe, and bolts up to the bedroom. His hammering heart insists that locking that door is not enough, so he crawls into the closet and shuts himself up among the meticulously organized shirts and slacks. It’s not enough space for him to stand, so he tucks his knees to his chest and waits.

“What happens if I, like, completely outsmart you.”

A toothy smile, “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”

Each of the downstairs windows rattle in turn. Then the scratching starts, claws on wood coming closer with each breath. Joseph is climbing the wall up to the bedroom window that Barclay knows for a motherfucking fact he did not secure.

A shuff as the window slides open, the cryptid landing with remarkable stealth on the bedroom floor. Barclay tracks him by the light coming under the closet door, his mouth covered so his breathing won’t give him away. The shadow pauses, sniffs, and then the bedroom door opens and shuts. Barclay’s not moving until he hears the front door do the same.

Just as his legs start to protest being smushed up against his chest, the door reopens. Snuffling signals Joseph closing in, and an instant later the only light coming in is from the far ends of the door. Slowly, his last line of defense rolls to the right, revealing the creature crouching on the other side.

“Not a bad effort, big guy. You actually confused me for a minute with the scent trail of your coat downstairs.” Joseph reaches for him and Barclay, remembering that he’s not supposed to give up until he’s pinned, leans away.

“That’s how my mate wants to play?”

“J-just following your instructions, babe.”

An intrigued purr, “I guess you are. All the more reason you’re the perfect partner for me.”

The words Barclays dreamed of hearing for months distract from the claws closing around his ankles. He lets out an undignified yelp when Joseph pulls his legs straight out and drags him out of the closet. Once he’s free of the forest of clothing, the cryptid picks him up and drops him on the bed. He moans and Joseph snickers, joining him on the bedspread.

“Fuck, Joseph, no one’s ever been able to do that before and it’s so, so fucking hot.” He arches his back and shifts his limbs to help Joseph undress him.

“It’s because you’re the perfect size; big and strong, large enough to give me a decent cuddle when I’m human, but still small enough to be an easily subdued mate.” He gets the humans’ jeans and boxers off, hesitates, and then tosses them on the floor with a pained expression, “I’ll fold those later.”

“Gonna hold you to that. Also, wanna point out that it wasn’t that easy to subdue me.”

Joseph nuzzles his cheek, claws caressing his thighs, “Barclay, I was jogging while you were sprinting.”

“You coulda caught me right awaAAy ohwhatthefuck.” Tingling heat glides down his throat as Joseph licks a stripe along the skin, “fuck, it, it feels like the time I tried hot wax.”

The cryptid sits up slightly to look at him, “Is that a...good thing?”

“Fuck yeah. I really fucking liked it but it was fucking murder with the chest hair.”

Joseph runs his claws through the hair in question, “I like it.”

“I know, I saw you eyeing me that one time I used the springs at the lodge.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Joseph leans back down, curling his tongue around Barclays left nipple. The sensation makes him buck his hips, which Joseph correctly takes as a signal for more. He moves to the other side, takes his time teasing it and licking down the sensitive center of Barclays chest. Noses his stomach, nips his sides, and slides the alien heat of his tongue into the crease of his thighs.

“Y’know I, ohfuck, I assumed from all that talk yesterday you’d get right to fucking me.”

Joseph kisses the inside of one thigh, “I, um, I thought about it, almost ripped your jeans to shreds and took you on the floor. But I wanted to be sure you were turned on. You’re not just a warm body, Barclay. You’re my mate. That means your pleasure matters as much as mine.” He licks up Barclays’ cock, hardened from rubbing against the soft fur of his belly, and sighs, “and what a mate.”

“Fuck” he squeezes his eyes closed because if we watches that mouth saying everything he wants to hear in between sucking his dick, he’ll cum in ten seconds flat.

A final lick to the tip and then Joseph hops off the bed, “Did you prep the way I told you?”

“Uhhuh.”

“Good.” Joseph returns, sets several items he can’t see by his feet, “that’ll make things easier. First things first” he produces a cock cage, sliding it into place, “these are a few things I smuggled over from my original home. This is enchanted, so it can go on an erect cock but still prevent the wearer from cumming until it’s removed.”

“That’s just cruel, babe.” He sits up on his elbows to kiss Josephs snout, earning him a pleased yip.

“If you cum too fast, I won’t be able to properly breed you.” He winces again, “sorry, I sound like one of Indrids romance novels.”

“Again, gorgeous, I find it really fucking hot.”

The spines on Joseph’s back ripple, “You think I’m gorgeous? Like this?”

“I do. Also kinda scary, but in a hot way.” Now it’s his turn to cringe, “see? I sound like cheap porn written by an eighth grader when I’m horny. The way you sound is fine.”

Joseph lovebites his ear, then retrieves the other two items from the end of the bed.

“And how does this look, big guy?”

“Like it’s either going to kill me or make me cum like a dozen times.” He furrows his brow at the strap-on. It’s narrower than the average human dick, with a pointed, slightly up-curved tip. What’s worrying him are the spikes.

The entire shaft is coated in short protrusions. They don’t end in points, thank god, but if they’re at all stiff this is going to be miserable.

“Here” Joseph waves him over, “touch it.” He guides his fingers along one side and the spines bend fluidly under his touch, and now all he wants to know is how they feel inside him. Joseph also moans, bucking his hips so the toy slides along Barclays palm.

“It’s, ohlord, also enchanted so that the wearer feels it as an extension of their body and can cum with it. Also, please decide in the next thirty seconds whether you want to be on your back or your stomach.” Amber pre-cum drips down Barclay’s fingers.

“Stomach is better for meWHOAH, ohfuck, okay we’re doing this.” Now flipped on his belly, he raises his ass. The cryptid kneads it appreciatively before holding it open and sliding his cock in with once, graceful thrust.

He bottoms out with a groan, which is more articulate than Barclay is managing to be as the spines rub and glide inside him, finding every patch of nerves, every angle to drag against in just the right way. Joseph hauls him onto his knees and then he’s off, growls and yips filling the as he fucks him. Barclay only just registers the bed banging into the wall so forcefully the headboard is cracking when claws sink into his hips and Joseph pulls him all the way onto his cock and pulses into him.

“Holy fuck that was fast.”

“I, I didn’t jack off once today. Didn’t want to waste it, wanted to save it all for my perfect mate.” He’s thrusting again, not as hard but twice as fast, “shit, you feel so good, big guy, please tell me Mama okayed your time off for tomorrow.”

“Wh-why are we talkingAHnnn, about this now?”

Hot breath tickles his ear, “Because now that I know what’s like to cum in you, I don’t plan on cumming anywhere else for the next day and a half.”

“Ohfuckme” Barclay groans happily into the pillows as Joseph empties into him, cries out when his tail whips across his calf.

“Shit, did that hurt?”

“No, no it felt good, fucking-A babe every fucking part of you is amazing.”

The cryptid whines, pleased, and wiggles his hips, giving Barclay an idea.

“That’s, uh, that’s why I want you for my mate, because you’re so fucking goo-mmph” his face presses harder into the pillows as Joseph pins his shoulders down and fucks into him, snarling “yes” over and over again. When he finishes this time he hunches over, nipping Barclay’ shoulders and neck.

“You catch on quick, big guy.”

“Thanks, babe. Uh, are we gonna switch it up at any point or am I staying like this until tomorrow night?”

“No, we can fuck however we want. After” a fuzzy hand rubs circles on Barclay’s abdomen, “I’ve cum in you enough times that I can feel it from out here.”

Barclay moans, tightening around him as his hips snap once more, already imagining being full and fucked out. Maybe it’ll take all night. He’ll be limp if it does, but right now nothing sounds better than melting into the bed while Joseph fucks his ass like it belongs to him.

After forty-five minutes, his cock is aching, his mind holds only thoughts of how good it feels to do as Joseph tells him, and he’s been cum in so many times that wet, obscene sounds accompany the cryptids thrusts. Said sounds pale in comparison to Josephs’ voice, which is spinning increasingly impossible scenarios the longer they’re in bed.

“I hope they take after you.” Joseph murmurs.

Barclay just manages to turn his head, “Who?”

A muzzle playfully nudges his cheek, “Our kids.”

His heart seizes and shakes at the words; they both know that’s not what will happen. Joseph warned him he might say things like this, said he could tell him to knock it off if need be.

“Maybe they’ll, ahnn, they’ll have big, beautiful brown eyes and bigger hearts, just like you.”

He doesn’t want him to stop. Every thrust hits deeper, every point where their skin meets buzzes brighter when he talks like this.

“H-hope at least one looks like you, blue eyes.”

A guttural whine, tingling heat as Joseph laps tenderly at the back of his neck, “We’ll just have to see, usually we’re born in threes so, soOH, oh I’m close, shitshit”

“That’s it babe, fill me up, c’mon, c’mon I want it so bad, Joseph, baby, please.”

There’s a howltrill as cum spurts into him, Joseph panting as he smooths his hand around Barclays side.

“There, that’s done it.”

Barclay whimpers as he pulls out, his mind and body pulled tight, certain that if he doesn’t cum soon he’ll propose marriage instead and that’ll be a fucking disaster.

Joseph carefully rolls him over and unlocks the cage, “Do you want to cum?”

“More than anything. Oh!” he’s unprepared for Joseph to sink down on his cock, “oh fuck, yeah, wanna cum so bad babe please, I’ll be so good, be such a good mate if you just let me cum in y-fuuuck” A trio of sensations levels him as he climaxes; his vision whites out, his hips jerk more violently than they ever have before, and a line of cum drips down his leg.

Somewhere far away, Joseph says, “I think we’ve earned a break.”

He nods, body limp as the cryptid climbs off him. Then he’s falling, spinning helplessly down in a pit of realizations.

Joseph didn’t mean any of those things he said. His friend needed a mate and Barclay, lovesick fool he is, was eager for a chance to play pretend that he didn’t think about what would happen when the game ended. Even if Joseph keeps him here through tomorrow, the next time they meet at the Lodge he’ll act like nothing happened.

Fuck, Barclay didn’t even get to kiss him during all this, and now he’ll never get the chance, never, nevernever-

“Shit, I should have put a towel or a spare blanket down. Now I’ll have to strip the bed before I can--Barclay? Oh, oh baby, what’s wrong?” A hand pets his face and he turns away from it, refusing to open his eyes. Joseph takes his hand instead, “it’s okay, I’m here, whatever you need I’ll-”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. You can’t give me what I need, it isn’t your fault I, I know I’m not really your partner and I, I…” he sniffles, wipes his palm under his eye.

“Barclay, look at me please.”

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes just in time to see Joseph dip down and kiss him. It’s awkward, their mouths not made to fit together, but he savors it all the same because it’s Joseph, his Joseph, kissing him like he hoped he would.

“My heat can make me say some ridiculous things. What it can’t do is make me feel affection where none exists. In fact, the reason I wasn’t able to keep my disguise on yesterday is because being near you meant being near the mate I wanted most in the world. I, um, suspected you might share my feelings, but I didn’t want our first interaction as boyfriend to be me asking if you wanted to spend a day or so with me while I was in a sex haze. But then you offered to help, and I wanted it so badly that I barreled ahead without making sure you understood that this was me declaring my feelings. I’m sorry.”

Barclay climbs into his lap, not caring about the mess he makes in the process. The cryptid laughs, hugs him close.

“I, I shoulda said something sooner too. Not that I regret how we spent our first date.” He kisses Josephs chin.

“Me neither, though I don’t think it quite counts.” He rubs their foreheads together, “can your boyfriend take you out to dinner on Friday?”

Barclay grins, looks into loving, blue eyes, “Yeah, he can.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #reverse!AU #reverse AU #monster march

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the-fangirl-way · 5 years

Text

2: Ink

I looked up Harry's file, I had looked at it before on the FBI page, but it was the standard documents, medical history, school records, and his background.

I pulled out the access code Mr. Callahan had given me and typed it into the systems network, instantly at least thirty more documents on Harry came up, these were the very private documents that only officials such as Mr. Callahan and the higher ranked officers were allowed access to.

The newest up to date picture of Harry had been his mugshot from six months ago, back when his skin wasn't so pale it was almost gray, or when his cheeks weren't so sunken in from malnourishment. His hair was tamed, still long, but not as long as it was now.

Harry had been an attractive guy at one point, although I would never admit that to anyone.

Reports of Harry's recent run in with the law came up and I wasn't shocked to find out he had ties with several drug busts and had been caught using more than once. It was minor charges of marijuana, nothing heavier than THC.

The next few files were smaller accusations, a DUI, and a claim of property damage, the dated year was Harry's senior year of high school, no doubt a stupid high school prank.

Nothing really seemed to stand out, but I jotted down the small accounts in the file.

The next couple of pages were more or less just added information, court dates, tickets, so on and so forth.

It wasn't until about the fifth page I found the one document that could be my potential next lead.

Mr. Samuel Tracey, the owner of the handgun found in Harry's car that night.

It looked like I was going to have to pay Mr. Tracey a visit.

Samuel Tracey lived six blocks from my apartment, he wasn't hard to find.

I knocked on his door and waited patiently, I could hear shuffling from the other side. Finally a gruff voice hollered "Who is it?"

"Detective DeLaney. I'm looking for a Samuel Tracey." I said holding up my badge to the peephole, the deadbolt clicked and the door cracked open before an old man with a beard submerged from behind it.

He was wearing glasses and a sweater vest, those were the first things I noticed about Mr. Tracey.

"What do you want?"

"Mr. Tracey, have you ever seen this man?" I asked holding up a picture of Harry from the folder in my hands.

Tracey studied the picture for a second before nodding slightly.

"I've seen him. Why? What has he done?"

I looked around, his house was located on a busy street, cars and people passing by.

"It's kind of a personal matter, mind if I come inside?" I asked and he paused before slowly moving out of the doorway allowing me to step inside.

His home was warm, and smelled old.

"Have a seat." Tracey grumbled before taking a seat himself on the recliner across from the couch.

"So what's he done?"

"Well, Mr. Tracey-"

"Call me Sam." He corrected.

"He was found about six months ago with a handgun in his car, this particular handgun belonged to you." I said and he sighed a long exasperated sigh.

"Damn kids." He mumbled under his breath.

"Excuse me?" I asked and he rubbed his hands together sitting forward.

"Harry and my boy were friends, Douglas," He said gesturing to a picture of a young man about Harry's age hanging on the wall.

"Douglas was killed about two months ago in a drug heist." Tracey said clearing his throat and I instantly felt sympathy for him.

"I'm so sorry."

"No, he was always getting into trouble, hell from the time he was in elementary school I was getting calls for his behavior, I didn't expect much more out of him as he got older." He explained, I noticed then the bottle of scotch and glass sitting on the coffee table. Mr. Tracey poured himself a glass before offering me some which I declined.

"My wife Laura," He continued, "died giving birth, leaving me to raise Douglas. I tried my best by him, worked three jobs to give him the best life I could give him, but he took it for granted." He said taking a sip of his drink.

"Mr. Tra- Sam," I corrected, "You said Harry and your son were friends?" I asked and he nodded.

"Harry and Douglas went to school together, and they were friends all the way up until about six months ago when Harry disappeared. They would hang out after school and once they graduated my son and Harry would hang out almost every other day or so, no doubt both doing things they shouldn't do, which leads me to ask again, what did Harry do?"

I sighed and opened the folder containing Harry's file.

"About six months ago the police found Harry's car outside of a Mr. Wesley Langston's home, he had been waiting there for about four hours for Mr. Langston to return home, and he had your handgun in the car with him. He also had some rope, sheets, duct tape, other various items, so the intent was clear what he was planning on doing." I said and Mr. Tracey's features changed to surprised by the news.

"Harry?" He asked and I nodded.

"Harry was such a good kid, I mean, he got into trouble like Douglas but Harry would never try to kill anyone.."

"I would like to think so too Mr. Tracey, but as of right now Harry is still pledging guilty until proven otherwise." I said and Tracey sighed.

"I don't know anything about the gun. I realized it was missing about two weeks ago when I was going through my things trying to find something to sell to pay my rent," he said taking another sip, "since Douglas passed I've let myself slip, I lost all three of my jobs, of course, the government takes no pity on people like me. So I decided to try and sale some of my things to get money to get back on my feet until I could find a job, I didn't even know the gun was gone until then." He explained and I nodded sympathizing.

"Well, the gun will stay with the police for evidence until the trial is over and decided, if you want it back-"

"I don't want it back." Tracey said cutting me off.

"Tell them to keep it, I'll even sign my name over to them, I just, I don't want it back. I'm old," He started, "I'm old and I'm at the point now, my wife is gone, my son is gone, if someone breaks into my house with the intent to kill me, well, I'll be ready." His eyes were misty and I swallowed a lump, such a sad thing when someone doesn't value their life anymore after all the trials and tribulations they had been through.

"I understand." I said finally, gathering my things to leave.

"I'll let the police department know that you want to sign the title over to them, I'm sure someone will contact you within the next week or so to do it."

Tracey nodded and then he too stood up.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more help." He said and I shook my head.

"No, you were a good help, I can mark this off my list." I said and he smiled a small smile then offered to walk me out.

"Thank you for your time Mr. er, Sam." I corrected.

"You're quite welcome Ms. DeLaney."

I headed to my car, it had started to rain, shocker.

My phone began to ring and it was Lennon.

"Hello?"

"Good morning." He said from the other end and I could practically hear his flirty smirk.

"Are you off today?" I asked.

"I am, I was actually wondering if you wanted to get some lunch?" He asked and I wanted to say yes, but I knew I had far too much research to do.

"I would love to, but Callahan has me on Harry search all weekend."

"Oh, I understand." He said sighing.

There was a silence.

"So I'm guessing our dinner plans are off for tonight then?"

I felt my heart sink, I had forgotten about our date.

"Tristan I-"

"No really, it's fine." He said sincerely although I knew he was really disappointed.

I thought about it for a minute.

"You know what? How does takeout sound? My place tonight? Maybe you can help me with my research." I said and I heard him chuckle.

"Sounds great. Seven?"

"Seven." I agreed before hanging up.

I drove to the library, it was always quiet there and I figured I could get some more research done.

The wind whipped around me creating goosebumps on my arms and legs, I was glad I had chosen to wear slacks today.

As I stepped through the library door, the warmth welcomed me, I always silently adored libraries, the smell of books and the serene calm of the silence of those going into parallel universes created in their minds by the turning of each page.

The librarian, Doris, knew me well, she lived in our building for while after Devlin and I moved in and I had come to this library many times in the past to do research on cases. She smiled fondly at me as I walked over the help desk.

"Detective DeLaney nice to see you."

"Doris, I told you, call me Avery." I said smiling and she laughed.

"I'll try to remember that."

I smiled at at her and headed over to the table I usually sat at, pulling out my laptop and connecting it to the internet.

The next four hours I spent looking up every single detail I could get about Harry, his mother Anne, his sister Gemma, his father Desmond, all of the people in his life. There was nothing out of the ordinary, which only infuriated me more that I wasn't getting anything.

My cell phone buzzed in my pocket and I stepped outside to take the call, it was Devlin.

"Hey Ave, I'm on lunch wanna grab something?" She asked and I thought about declining but the growl in my stomach told me otherwise.

"Where?"

I met Devlin at Wahaca, a Mexican restaurant, she was sitting in a corner booth clad in her scrubs, today was Minnie Mouse.

"I ordered you a tequila sunrise." She said smirking and I rolled my eyes.

"It's midday."

"And? You walked here didn't you?"

I started to protest but the waitress reappeared with a large glass of orange and red liquid, an umbrella and orange wedge sat on top.

"Thank you."

She took our order before disappearing again.

"So, any news on Styles?" She asked dipping a chip in salsa.

"No, and the only lead I got turned out to not really be a lead at all. Turns out the gun that was on him belonged to a friend of his father, his son, Harry's friend, was killed a couple of months ago and he doesn't want the gun back." I said and she looked sympathetic.

"How sad."

"Tell me about it."

"So what now?" She asked and I shrugged tugging on my hair.

"I have no idea Dev, Callahan wants all this information on Styles by Monday and I have nothing."

"What about the other guy? Langston right?"

"I haven't done a lot of research on him yet, but the police already talked to him and said he cleared." I said and she nodded.

"You should still do some research just in case they missed something."

"You're right." I agreed and the food arrived.

We ate and talked some more about the case and her job.

"I'm telling you, if he asks again I'm tempted to do it." She said and I laughed.

"I think you should, he's good looking, smart, he's obviously got money.."

"Yeah, yeah." She said waving her hand.

"What about you and Officer sexy?" She asked talking about Lennon, I could feel my cheeks reddening.

"He's actually coming over tonight."

Her eyebrows lifted and she smirked.

"Oh really? Should I occupy myself with something tonight and leave you two...?"

"No, it's not like that." I said rolling my eyes, "He's just coming to help me with the case."

"Mmhmm, I hope you shaved your legs."

I rolled my eyes but could feel my cheeks blazing again.

"I mean it's not like you haven't-"

I blushed even harder and avoided her gaze.

"Oh my God, you haven't slept with him yet? Seriously?"

"Shut up." I said and she burst into a fit of giggles.

"Ave! Get on it! I mean literally get on it. "

"Shut up!"

"I'm just saying!" She said throwing her hands up and then checking her watch.

"Shit, I have to get back to work."

I nodded and slid out of the booth behind her, laying a tip on the table as we walked out.

"I'll see you at home." I said and she shook her head.

"Oh no, I'm not coming home until late, I'll leave you and Officer Hot Pants to it."

I smacked her on the arm and she laughed again before hugging me and departing in the opposite direction to her car.

The walk back to the library was short, but I was freezing by the time I got there.

My muscles were stiff from sitting so long and when I checked the time I jumped in panic to realize that it was going on five thirty.

I put my laptop back in my bag and my things before waving goodbye to Doris and leaving the library.

The air outside had dropped measurably and I shivered getting into my car putting the heat on full blast.

When I got to the apartment I took a quick shower, shaving my legs I felt the heat return to my cheeks, Devlin could be right.

I was in the kitchen when I heard the doorbell buzz and I headed to the speaker.

Come on up." I said and within a few minutes I heard a light tap on the door.

I opened the door, expecting to see Tristan on the other side, but who was there instead had my heart pounding, my head swimming, and the feeling of vomit creeping up my windpipe.

He was leaning up against the door frame, his arms crossed, clad in a white tee shirt and a pair of black jeans; his inky tattoos snaked up his arms and across his torso visible through his thin tee shirt. His hair was now tamed and swirled in waves around his face, a smirk placed on his full lips, his green eyes burning dangerously into mine.

"Hello Avery." Greeted Harry.

#harry styles #harrystylessmut #harrystyles #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry smut #harry #solo harry #harry styles fanfiction

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riderdrauggrim · 4 years

Text

Day Unknown. Sat, Sep 26, 2020.

Nervous about randomly hiding in 4G Motorsports parking lot, I'm awake a few short hours later around 6:30. I have the tent packed by 8:30, and huddle beside the bike, waiting for staff.

9:00 rolls around and I approach the doors, making my way back to the Parts/Service desk. A young woman who's family shifts her between Alberta and Toronto seems thrilled to meet someone else from Ontario. We check if they have a replacement battery in stock. They do not. And their mechanics are not in on the weekends.

But!

There's a MAGNACHARGE Battery megaemporium RIGHT across the street!

Heartened my luck might be improving, I trot over.

Nope.

They're closed on weekends.

I trot back to 4G, on the way calling Riverside Honda in St. Albert, the blokes who'd changed my tires. They sold their last YTZ14S on Friday. BUT they'd ordered more and they should arrive at the start of this coming week.

I run over my problems with their parts guy. He suggests I remove the battery and try starting the bike with another random battery attached; That might be able to isolate if it is my battery or my starter system/charging stator/rectifier/words.

Sounds good.

Back at 4G I ask if they have a charger or a booster. The parts girl knows where a tender is, but not how to use it. It's okay, I do. They graciously let me push the bike inside their service bay so I can tinker on it, good thing too as it starts to drizzle outside.

So! My battery: Out and Charging.

My bike: New battery hooked up to test the ignition.

My key: In the ignition, turning to activate the bike-*Crack*.

One of the few flaws I've found with the NC750 design is the key is needed in a secondary lock. Turn one way to unlock the frunk (front trunk) where the gas tank USUALLY sits on a motorcycle. Turn the other way to unlock the latch securing the passenger seat, this allowing you to lift it up to reveal the gas cap to fill the tank, which sits under the rider. The problem with this lock is the key does not fully insert. It's about 3/4 depth to the ignition proper.

Over time, this has created something of a weak point on the key itself, occasionally twisting ever so slightly if too much pressure is applied, if the latches are sticky, or the frunk is overfull and a bit jammed. This was usually corrected by sticking the key in and turning it the other way, straightening the blade out again. For this trip, due to the tail luggage making lifting the passenger seat incredibly difficult at best, I had opted to outright remove the pillion cover, leaving the gas cap exposed for easy access. All I needed the secondary lock for was to get in and out of the frunk, which I was doing several times a day to fetch out Goose and Hat, or store drinks, or change power banks.

Perhaps it was this excess of one direction twisting that finally did the blade in.

Perhaps it was just six years of use and wear.

Perhaps life just wanted to take the difficulty level up a notch.

In any event.

I was left holding the top quarter of my key. The remainder still inside the ignition. Even if I can get a new battery, I can now no longer turn on the bike.

My coworker who helped fund this adventure texts me to see how things are going. I tell him my key just snapped in half. He says if I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. We discuss options. I'm 3,505 km from home. I'm 427 km from the nearest Honda dealership. I just want to Abandon Quest and Hearthstone out of here, but that's not an option. So I work through various plans.

I call Riverside back and get the Service department. Nick remembers me. I fill him in on the last twelve hours. "Wow." Indeed. He puts me on hold and consults his coworkers. If I can get it there, they'll try and squeeze me in and get this sorted. Some people have good luck using super glue to get broken keys out and then jury rigged back together. With my luck, I'll make a mess and fuse the tumblers and need an entirely new ignition system. The key is also a newer blade style, not a normal tooth house lock key. It's supposed to be stronger, amusingly enough. But it's not the sort of thing local locksmiths should be able to replicate, it needs a Dealership. So even if I got a Fort McMurray locksmith to fish the main part out, if he can't make a new one, I still can't Go.

AND there's the pressing matter of the battery.

During all this my battery on the tender has completed charging. I restore it into the bike, or try to, as the damn nut in the contact for the red lead slips out of the holder and falls precisely through the ONE (1) hole at the bottom of the compartment and somewhere onto the engine block. I don't hear it hit the belly pan, and wedging my fingers into every nook, curve and cranny yields nothing but grimy hands.

I call CAA anew. I get the same woman as the night before, so that helped since she already knew the first part of this story. I now have Multiple Problems that can not be fixed locally. St. Albert is outside the Alberta tow range of 350km. But my membership is from Niagara, and I'm covered for 500km. She calls them to approve it. They say 'of course'. One hurdle down.

She contacts the tow company. New hurdle.

Due to the nine hour round-trip commute, they don't run every single broken vehicle south to Edmonton every time someone breaks down. They wait for multiple items, load them all on a long truck, and do a couple runs a week. So. Yes, they can get my bike to St. Albert. Eventuallllyyyyy.

I get it; from a logistics and efficiency and financial perspective it makes perfect sense.

From a "but... my bike..." and waiting for a nebulous amount of time in a hotel somewhere just for it to get TO the mechanics, nevermind the unknown timeframe of the shop having time to look at it, figure out what's wrong, order new parts if needed, and install them.... Hrrrggggnnnnn.

So EMI came with the short bed and picked up the bike from 4G. The logic being, now it's in their secure compound, ready to go, and when they have a load ready, they'll shove it on and take it south for me. Solid.

How do -I- get back to Edmonton.

Well, there's several buses that run the corridor, presumably for the mine workers to get up and back around their shift days. Awesome!

Oh but they don't run again until Monday. Less awesome!

But what can you do.

My bike won't leave until monday at the /earliest/ anyway, so me being there any sooner really makes no difference.

I book a ticket - cheap at 65$! For a nearly five hour trip? I paid 85$ plus tip for the 20 minute taxi ride from Supertest Hill to Fort McMurray the night prior.

Leaving Monday at 8:30am, arrive near downtown Edmonton. Found a hotel for 80$ within a block of Riverside Honda, not as cheap as my beloved Whitemud, but Whitemud Inn being at the south center of the Edmonton bubble, I'd be paying more than the 15$ a night difference in a cab to get up to St. Albert region. So I'll be right nearby the bike if we can get it going, or I need something from my bags.

In the meantime.

I found an RV campsite literally next door to the bus stop. I called the owner and explained my experiances, and my need for somewhere to simply hide in a tent until Monday morning. Sure, I could try and hide -anywhere-, but for my own safety, and nerves, if I can do this cheap and legal, the better for it. She says she can help me out. She offers a site for a price considerably cheaper than the nearby hotels, which I of course agree to. It's a twenty minute walk from 4G, made longer by hauling two drybags of tent/sleeping bag and essentials, and a third partial of food. Plus wearing my gear. And being somewhat small and scrawny. I take several rests. I drink my Gatorades. I make it. She has the sweetest tabby cat with white socks, no tail, and the SOFTEST fur. Name 'Trouble'. Awwww.

Transaction complete, I set up my tent, kindly serenaded by a curious magpie.

I hear a nearby RV owner pull up, truck doors closing, and then I see a giant white monster making a beeline straight for me. My best guess would be Lab/Samoyed. The head was very much the rectangle block and jowls of a lab, but the pelt was definitely a living cloud. It gives an very quick sniff at my tent, and promptly accepts me petting it. I realize I've been pet-starved during my journey. All my stress is put on pause as I scruffle the heck out of this random dog's sides. In fact, twice I tried to move one hand to teach for my phone for a photo, and he turned in annoyance to see why I'd partially stopped. I hear a woman calling, and ask if he needs to go. He makes no move. In fact he tries to push backwards closer. On a whim, I drop to my rear and make a bowl with my legs. He promptly fills said bowl with his rump. Me on my butt and him on his haunches, I came up to his shoulders.

Good dog.

A woman shouts again, more insistent. I give him a bump with my leg. He resigns himself to getting up and heading home. I realize the owner can't see us, so I pop up and apologize for stealing her dog. She realizes he hadn't just ran off for no reason, and laughs, saying he loves people. Yes, I had learned this.

I needed that.

There's a valley beside the camp ground.

The trees are spent matchsticks, grey and charred and empty against the sky. New growth slowly fills in around the dead wood. I don't know if this is a remainder of the BIG fire of 2016, or another more recent event. It's a staggering amount of devastation, and only a small fragment of the damage done.

The clouds out here... I love skyscapes.

Beautiful.

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c-e-c-e-r-o · 6 years

Text

On Love's Tail, Part 15

The usually quiet wood is filled with the sound of shifting dirt, clacking rocks, and frenzied grunts of exertion. Sær digs furiously, using the remaining broken half of his sword. After so long underground, it's become rusted and brittle, snapping in half soon after Sær started digging. A large mound of earth lies next to him, rising as the sun lowers. Sweat pours off his face in rivulets, dropping down into the loose earth as he works.

He is close to unearthing the buried man, so, tossing his sword away, he begins to shift the soft dirt with his hands. The going is slow, and by the time the few beams of light that can be seen are shining straight down, he is only just unearthing the man's helm. With renewed strength, Sær picks up his broken sword, using it to scrape away the earth, revealing a tangle of pulsing roots. They shift and writhe upon being uncovered, and one with draws itself from the man's chest, lunging forth. Sær's eyes glint, and he lets it peirce his shoulder, wrapping his arm around it and heaving, ripping it out of the ground as it emits an eerie screech. The root falls to the floor in a spray of blood, writhing and wriggling before going still.

Sær sets to work, mercilessly grabbing and chopping the parasitic plants. In a cascade of earth, the knight tumbles from the dirt, gasping his first breath in an impossibly long time.

"HO HO!" The man belts out, causing Sær to jump back, startled. The knight stands on shaky legs, then clasps his shoulders. "My friend! I cannot express my gratitude sufficiently! For so long I was trapped in this ghastly wood..." He shudders. "I, Solaire of Astora, pledge my leal service to you!"

"That's alright," Sær says, put off by the man's boisterousness. Optimism is the last thing he wants; it feels like a crime for happiness to exist while Priscilla still sleeps. He disentangles himself from Solaire. "Truth be told, my reasons are selfish. I need aid."

Solaire chortles. "Whatever you ask of me, you shall have it. I am at your whims!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The sun sets on the third day of Sær's awakening as the group gathers for supper. The company had grown exponentially quite quickly; dig up one person, and they dig up another, and the manpower is doubled. Within the few days since they first began, they had unearthed hundreds of trapped travelers, each with their own skills and an unrelenting eagerness to aid the man responsible for freeing them; Sær.

The group gathers around a small clearing, each eating while they chatter about their respective duties. Andre the blacksmith forges shovels and axes to aid in the rescue effort, Cale maps the forest as it's cleared, Rosabeth would light fires and burn paths with her pyromancy, and Vengarl educated the group on battle tactics and stories of old. Vengarl and Sær had become fast friends; Sær brazenly told him not to get 'a head' of himself, and that gave him the hardest laugh of his life. The entirety of the company would avoid mentioning the fact that he was naught but a head and helm, and he respected Sær for being so straightforward.

Vengarl takes a deep breath, free from the smell of earth, a scent he had to suffer for decades. The only company to be had in that miserable dirt was the occasional mole or burrowing snake; many an argument had ended with a hiss and a bite. He's happy just to talk to someone with thumbs.

"Not long now," Sær ponders beside him.

"'til we unearth your wife?"

"Not married just yet," he replies.

"If she is as fair as you claim, then you would do well to keep a close eye on her. To hear you speak, one would think that she is a veritable goddess."

"Well, she is half goddess."

"Truly?" Vengarl raises an eyebrow. "Big lass, is she?"

"You could say that. Tall, long fair hair, pristine white fur..." Sær sighs.

"White fur? Such opulence is only afforded to royalty."

"Her father's a Duke."

"A Duke?!" Vengarl's eyebrows raise even higher. "What dark sacrifice did you have to make to marry a goddess and a noble's daughter!? I call bull-shite. No man- Especially a lowly undead vagrant- could be so lucky."

"You would eat your words upon meeting her, if you had a stomach." Sær sighs, saddened by the thought of Priscilla in her earthen prison.

"Cease your incessant suspiring, Sigh-ær." Vengarl growls.

"So long as you cease your incessant barking, Ven-growl."

The two are silent, then burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the wood as the rescued company work to aid their savior.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On the night of the first moon since Sær's awakening, the group gathers in a large clearing by Priscilla's tree. The company is five hundred strong now, with another hundred sent into the depths of the forest to rescue more unlucky souls.

The forest teems with light now, lanterns lining the bridges that run through the trees. Houses, kitchens, and even staircases have been carved into the massive trees, making massive, interconnected towers that are lit up like a starry sky. The dozen or so children that had been rescued run fearlessly along the bridges, swinging on vines and carving slides into the stairs.

Below, the pavillion is abuzz with chatter as axes and shovels are dispensed among the crowd. Solaire, sporting his typical flair for theatrics, climbs the carved steps overlooking the crowd.

"My friends! Before we begin, I bid thee all to rise your arms and praise the-" Several apples, two gauntlets and a book are promptly thrown, the apples hitting their mark and splattering against Solaire's tunic.

"Get on wif' it!"

"Stick your praise where your sun don't shine!"

"If you were my sun, you'd get a right wallopin'!"

Solaire sweeps the chunks of apple off of his shirt, used to their disdain of his obsession. "Yes, well... The time has come to free the lady Priscilla from her earthen prison! Take it a day or a year, we shall not rest until Master Sær's betrothed is free!"

A roar erupts from the crowd as they all hurry to grab their tools, eager to repay their savior. Solaire walks over to Sær, who had stood against the wall listening quietly. He claps his hand upon Sær's shoulder, only for it to emit a growl. "SUN ABOVE!" He jumps back in fright.

"Watch yourself, sun," Vengarl says, for indeed it is him. His helm (and head, for they are one) is fastened to Sær's left shoulder like a pauldron, glaring at Solaire through the mouth of his helm.

Solaire composes himself and turns to Sær. "You must be quite thrilled, eh? To see your lovely lady once again, after such a tragic parting! How romantic!" His arms swing in exaggerated motions. Sær cringes. "I cannot wait to meet her!"

"I, as well," Vengarl adds. "I have seen many things, but never a perfect woman, which she is, if you are to be believed."

Sær chuckles. "I think you two will be suprised, regardless..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A day into the rescue effort, and significant progress has been made. It is made slow going by the precautions taken so that Priscilla may not be harmed, however. holes must be carefully chisled to make sure it is safe to swing an axe, while the tunnels beneath have to be perfectly supported so as not to collapse the great tree. Sær had attempted to aid in the rescue, but could not bring himself to sink an axe into the tree, convinced it would hit Priscilla. Instead he would pace about the treetop villa, nearly wearing a hole in the floorboards.

On the eve of the second day, Sær is snapped out of his reverie by numerous shouts. Flying down the slide the children had carved, he jumps off and hits the ground running. As he approaches the tree, he sees it. A tuft of white fur.

With a yell and a teary smile, he snatches up a chisel and starts furiously chipping the wood away, wood flying. The rest of the villagers join him, careful to leave support for the tree. Soon, the forest floor is littered with wood shavings, and Priscilla tumbles out of the great tree. Sær quickly hacks at the writhing roots as the rest of the company stare in stunned silence. They all gather around the giant beauty, bewitched.

Priscilla's tail twitches and her eyes slowly open. Her slit pupils dilate, exposed to light for the first time in decades. Sær gently stokes the thin fur on her cheek. "Priscilla? Darling? Can you hear me?"

"Mmmmh... Tired..." She wraps her arms around him, nuzzling his chest. Vengarl lets out a suprised shout and Priscilla flings Sær away, scuttling back against the tree, now wide awake. "Wh-what is that monstrous growth upon your shoulder?!"

"I'm monstrous?!" Vengarl says incredulously. He drops his voice to an angry whisper, muttering to Sær. "You failed to mention that your fiancé is thrice your size," he hisses. "A little warning might have been useful!"

"Two and a half times my size," Sær corrects him. "Isn't she great?!" He beams.

Vengarl would shake his head in disbelief, if he could. And they say I have lost my head.

Once the village recovers from their initial shock, They quickly take to Priscilla like wrinkles on a hollow. They watch on in awe an no small amount of embarrassment as the two lovers cuddle, feeding each other. It takes some getting used to; it's difficult for the men to fathom having such a large partner. It becomes a strange fascination to the village, and Sær and Priscilla quickly gain celebrity status due to their pairing and Sær's rescue of most everyone there.

Priscilla isn't coping to well. This is the first time in her life she has had to interact, or even be around a group. Sær has to shoo away the crowds at least twice a day while Priscilla cowers adorably behind her tail.

"Darling." Priscilla speaks softly to him on the last day of their first week together again. She lays on a large pillow, sewn by a team of seamstresses and filled with down feathers by a team of hunters. They lay warm and comfortable inside the great tree, it's now-hollowed trunk serving as a luxurious tower for the two. The walls are covered in ornate carvings, courtesy of admiring sculptors in the village. The pair had become de facto royalty, if only in name. Grateful villagers would come bearing gifts at all times of day, and they scarcely had room to store them.

"Hm?" Sær hums.

"When shall we continue our quest?" I understand the need to rest after this ordeal, but my aunt- I mean, uncle Gwyndolin will be even weaker now. After so much time trapped, we can't afford to be as lazy as you are." She pokes his forehead admonishingly. "I begin to grow worried about my future husband's idleness. I won't be shouldered with all the housework will you sleep," she says, vigorously poking his head.

Sær winces, burrowing into her chest to evade her assault. "As soon as the scouts return," he yawns. "Your mother said we can't have help, but a little information doesn't count, right?"

"I won't tell if you won't."

Said information was not long off. The next morning, the two are visited by a courier hauling a comically large scroll, so made so Priscilla can read it. She scans it as Sær stretches, still groggy. "Darling, about the artifact we need to obtain..."

"The sword?"

"Yes. The wolf gaurding it-"

"Are you really that worried about one wolf? Art thou turning craven, milady? One kick and he'll be sent across the-"

Priscilla reaches out a hand and clamps his jaw shut. "The wolf's name is Sif, the very same wolf from the legends. One he may be, but that poses a problem when he is as big as me." Sær's eyes widen.

"Oh," she says, releasing his jaw. "And he doesn't guard the sword. He uses it." She smirks. "But since I am a craven, I shall leave him to you."

#crossbreed priscilla #dark souls #romance #fanfic #fluffy tail #fluff #love #cuddles #size difference #giantess #best souls girl

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hollyhomburg · 6 years

Text

Don’t Care if it Hurts pt. 4

Dog hybrid! + Gaurd dog!Jimin x Reader) (ft.olderBrother! + Mafia boss!Namjoon)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: After a rival gang makes an attempt on your life, Your older brother, the infamous leader of Seoul’s largest gang; Kim Namjoon gets you a guard hybrid; Park Jimin, The reigning champion of Seoul’s underground hybrid fighting ring.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader, mentions of Unrequited!Hoseok x Reader, unrequited!Taehyung x reader.

Warnings/tags: Past abuse, Blood, Mafia!reader, Mafia!Namjoon, Older brother!Namjoon, DogHybrid!Jimin, fighting, slow burn, general angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, Alcoholism, hurt/comfort

Wordcount: 6.2k

authors note: Hey guys! I'm so stunned by the positive responses I've gotten from everyone~ I'm so glad that everyone loves IDCIIH so much. Also- I'm nearing finals week, It’s unlikely that this story will be updated until after my finals are over.

wine mom Seokjin and Namjoon are my favorite fight me on this. also, Healthy Jimin is my kink.

Song to play during this chapter: press your number ~ taemin

It didn’t surprise you; what was waiting when your alarm went off. Jimin stretched, eyes tired from where he had taken up shop curled around your feet. “Master Namjoon left a note on your door when he left a little while ago.” He said. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and looking like he hadn’t slept a wink.

Before washing up and getting ready for your classes (which started in a few hours) you opened your door to get the note. It was one of your brother's little quirks, it made you a little happy, knowing you where the only one he’d rather talk too in person than text.

Something came up, Seokjin will cook on Friday night. Sorry. Going with Suga to Busan, Be back WEDS, Love you. – RM

You sighed rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and tucking the note into one of the drawers by your vanity.

“What was it?” Jimin asked.

“The family dinner’s going to be on Friday instead, and Namjoon’s away in Busan today with one of his men.”

“Why is he going all the way to Busan?” Jimin had been too Busan once, a very long time ago with his old master for a small fight- too see if it was worth his while to extend his spheres of influence and open up a fighting house there. But it hadn’t been worth it- the pool of fighters too small to draw in a significant crowd. He remembers the drive thought, how they passed through farmland and how he watched the sky turn from night to day the closer they got to the sea.

“Probably something to do with guns if he’s bringing Yoongi.” You answer flopping back down on your bed, “I wish I had 5 more hours to sleep.”

“You could always skip class?” he said, you shook your head.

“If I don’t go I won't leave my bed today.” He takes his suppressants with water from the tap while you tear apart your closet searching for something to accompany the spring chill and rain that’s rolled in since yesterday.

He’s not surprised that his body feels so sluggish. He’s barely gotten any sleep today, maybe he could convince you to take a nap with him later- though with Namjoon gone today- it's probably little less than safe for him to be asleep.

There’s a little extra time today- so you pour both yourself and him a bowl of cereal and eat here instead of buying street food on the way to class.“You’re really tired today?” you ask slowly. Usually, you wouldn’t comment on it but he’s leaning over his bowl looking like he wants to sleep in his cereal.

“Yeah.” He says slowly. His ears twitching in a way that lets you know that he’s uncomfortable. For the life of you-you can’t imagine why. You had thought it would have gotten better as last night he slept on the end of your bed- though you suppose your nightmare would have interrupted his sleep. You’re so wrapped in your thoughts you miss the first part of what he says. “-To be safe so I didn’t sleep…”

“What?” you ask, looking up from where you’ve been pouring yourself a coffee. Jimin’s cheeks are flushed, and he’s looking up at you through his eyelashes in the same way he does when he’s worried he’s doing something he’s not supposed too.

“Someone could come in and hurt you when you sleep- so I’ve been staying awake at night to make sure nothing happens.” He says, not meeting your eyes.

“Jimin.” You say, your heartbreaking.

“I just wanted to keep you safe- and I didn’t want to give you any reason-” any reason to make you send me back you know he was about to say.

“Jimin, I’m at my safest here- you don’t need to protect me in this house.” you touch his hand on the white marble table. “I just need you to take care of yourself, you cant go days without sleep- it’s not healthy for you.” The grandfather clock in your living room chimes the hour indicating that you only have a half an hour to make the 15-minute walk to campus.

You sigh. Jimin looks up at you. You are almost standing in-between his legs as your fingers trace a design on the back of his hand. “We have class to go to now but I’ll cancel your suit fitting so that we can come straight back today- then you are going to sleep.” Jimin nods slowly, looking at your worried face shyly.

By the time Namjoon arrives Wednesday at midnight; you have both settled into a quiet rhythm of cohabitation. You learn quickly that Jimin prefers spending the night curled around your legs as opposed to the settee or his own bedroom. He moves his clothes into your closet which has so much empty space that you hardly notice.

You start your search for your gala dress- and you have several brought up on your laptop and are waiting to order them. You postpone the fitting for Jimin’s suit with the tailors until Friday afternoon and get back just in time for the dinner- no one is there yet besides Namjoon. who’s getting ready himself when Jimin leaves to take a shower. he was surprisingly fidgety at the suit fitting today; shuffling back and forth from foot to foot while the tailor Namjoon uses measured him. And you knew without asking that he was nervous about the family dinner. You assured him best you could; attempting to dissolve his worries.

You busy yourself in putting more effort into your usual appearance. After all family dinners are a rare occurrence, and you know from past experiences that the boys usually go out afterward. Most of the time you decline Resolving to stay behind with your brother and usually Yoongi. Because of that- they are usually dressed to the nines, and you use the family dinner as an excuse to showcase the more expensive part of your wardrobe. 3 different dresses are hung up on the hooks on the bare wall that you put in for this purpose. All black, but different brands; Vercase, Prada, and Gucci. You save that choice for last and instead put on your fluffy robe.

A quiet knock comes at the door; you’re sitting at your vanity dusting a healthy amount of blush onto your cheeks. Its Jimin, looking partially undone with his white t-shirt unbuttoned, you chuckle and stand to help him with the last few buttons. He’s not wearing an undershirt underneath it- and you smile slightly. For all his knowledge and his input into your personal life- there are something’s that still remain foreign to him. The black slacks fit his toned legs nicely, and you notice that in the last week he’s put on a little bit of weight. He looks so much more healthy than when you first met. The years of stress and the black eye circles are just starting to disappear from his face. He cleans up so nicely, you do your best to not let your hands linger when you're done with his buttons, hoping that he doesn't notice your blush.

“Hoseok’s here to see you,” he says slowly. And you gulp and do your best not to look startled. You follow him into the main room to see Hoseok standing with his back against your doorway. It’s not his first time in your room but somehow it feels more like an invasion than you’re used too.

“I just wanted to talk too you” he looks fine- unchanged since the last time you’ve both talked, but his eyes flicker to Jimin and you wonder for a second if Hoseok suspects he was listening in the other day. Jimin’s eyes flicker up to yours.

“Are you alright or should I wait for you before I go down?” his eyes flicker to Hoseok who bristles angrily at what Jimin suggests. of course, you’d be fine with Hoseok.

“She’s safe with me- go too your master.” He snaps, Jimin turns steely for a second and you want to reach out to him- to ask him to stay before he turns and leaves your room.

“That wasn’t kind,” you say to Hoseok, turning and walking back into your closet, studiously ignoring him while you settle back into your vanity. Several drawers are pouring with Jimin’s clothing. Hoseok notices this and picks up a pair of his track pants, before throwing them in the bin angrily.

“You’re letting him stay in your room.”

“Yes, he felt like it would make it easier to protect me,” you say brazenly, eyes flickering to meet his in the mirror. His tone is a little too accusatory for your liking.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure protecting you is the only thing on his mind.”

“And last time I checked it’s got nothing to do with you.” Hoseok fiddles with your dresses on the wall, looking back at you. and you are more than a little surprised to see him so sad. He inhales a shaky breath. “This really is a mess isn't it?” he gestures in between the two of you.

and you nod, “We’re supposed to be friends, Hoseok, I can handle you being a little jealous, but what you said the other day was a little out of line.”

“I’m sorry- I should have respected your decision, what you do with him isn’t any of my concern.”

“It’s alright,” you say, brushing on some eyeliner with careful precision.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day, it was out of line.” He says quietly, his long fingers have grabbed onto a strand of your neatly curled hair twining it around his fingers. “I’m still not used to seeing you with other people.”

“It’s been a long time Hoseok,” will you ever let it go? You want to ask, as you spin and meet him, he lets go of the strand of your hair, and you realize how close he’s standing.

“I just want things to go back to the way things were, I want to be your friend again- the way we were before anything between us happened.” You swallow back the lump in your through; Thinking back to your harsh words that were said so many months ago. It’s nearly been 2 years- and not once since that night have you broached the topic. If there was ever any flirty girlish part of you that wanted to be with Hoseok it’s gone, squelched out by the events of the last few months.

If there’s one thing that is so close to death so many times has taught you it’s what you need. And in that moment you are sure that Hoseok it’s it. And maybe Jimin isn’t- maybe no one is exactly what you need. But regardless, Hoseok has been hoping for something that will never come for far too long.

At this point, it was nearly cruelty.

“I want to be friends too.” You say slowly, and you sound as confident as you can. “I want to go back to the way we were before.” he embraces you quickly and quietly. And the hug is full of so many unshed emotions that his hands shake.

“I’m glad that we can finally talk about this.” He says against your hair.

“I am too” You look down at his feet. “I’ll see you down there,” you say as you wander over to your jewelry box. Intent on finally using some of the diamond studs that Namjoon gave you this Chrismas.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Hoseok says doing his best to make his statement casual, but you can't help but think that he say’s it like it might be his last chance. Even so the complement which would usually make you feel nothing, makes you feel awkward.

“Thanks.” You say, and he smiles softly before leaving. The door too your suite closes and when it does you put your head in your hands and sigh. You flick through the rolls and rolls of rings, the isles of necklaces. Some of the jewelry is from your mother, others have been handed down but most are from your brother (who just loves to spoil you with his blood money.)

You look around and realize that none of this, none of the anxiety you get when your brother disappears for days at a time, is worth the pretty little things in your closet, or the jewels in the box. No amount of riches is worth the feeling you get when the people you love come back with cuts that turn into scars. You’d rather have a mediocre existence than live in this big lonely house and have more money than you know what to do with.

Downstairs, no one has arrived yet- its only Jimin and Namjoon, who teeters slowly. Namjoon is already cracking open a bottle of wine and pouring it into a glass. “I have whiskey somewhere but y/n and Jin love this stuff.” Jimin makes a noise in the back of his throat. It’s the first time he and Namjoon have been alone since the car ride and Jimin has to admit he looks more like a tired businessman than a mafia boss.

Jimin is glad that you took the time after his suit fitting to buy him a less expensive suit for him. Namjoon looks expensive. His light blue velvet suit coat contrasts blends perfectly with the white shirt and dark blue pants he wears. Next to him in colors of black and white, Jimin feels almost bland.

“I’ve never had wine before,” Jimin admits softly. Namjoon’s eyes are wide, but they slide off of Jimin in a way that lets him know he’s realizing why he’s never had alcohol.

“That’s fine- there’s more than enough to share.” Says a voice from the doorway. This man is different than the others. Where most of the gang members have looked almost playfully rugged, like Hoseok, this man has angelic features and wide shoulders.

The black button-down shirt and the colorfully embroidered jacket are at odds with his warm skin and hair. Jimin thinks in the moment before he stoops to grab the bags laden with food from him, that he looks more like a supermodel than a gangster.

“I’m Seokjin.” The man says with a smile as Jimin helps him unload the food on to the counter. Some of them are still warm while others look ready to be cooked. The smile he gives Jimin as he helps is easy and elastic. “I’ve heard a lot about you Jimin.”

Jimin isn’t sure if it’s the man’s angelic expression or his kindness that makes his cheekbones spark with blush. But luckily for the both of them the front door thunders open, and all Jimin knows that Taehyung howling in delight as Hoseok and Jungkook carry him in on his broken leg, his cast sticking out from under a pair of dress shorts. Seokjin laughs a windshield wiper laugh as Yoongi mimes shooting all of them with Taehyung’s leg as the gun. Jimin smiles, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth to hide it as they laugh.

They deposit Taehyung on the kitchen counter. Instantly chatter ensues, someone grabs a bottle of whiskey. “You got any mixers boss? Jungkook asks, Namjoon nods his head in the direction of the mini bar. And the youngster disappears with Hoseok.

“Hyung- when is the food going to be ready?” Taehyung wines as Yoongi signs his cast with a sharpie, (doodling something that looks kind of like a scratchy bird) Seokjin twines an apron around his waist.

“Some of the veggies still have to cook, you could help me you know- might make it go faster.”

Taehyung wines and slumps over the countertop. “But that would be workkkk” Jungkook produces 3 glasses of something that looks suspiciously like absinthe. Seokjin moves to slap him on the shoulder with the back of a spatula. “You could always help and make it go faster you ungrateful little shit- if the lot of you weren’t such a wreck I’d let you use my kitchen.”

“How can you hit an invalid? You’re so mean!”

“’Scuse me.” Namjoon says, smiling warily, “but I think you’re forgetting who owns this house.”

“Irrelevant” Seokjin replies, “This is still my kitchen.” The easy banter is a sound that Jimin appreciates, and the smiles that stretch across all of their faces is almost lulling. How could these men be dangerous? Appearances were deceiving- Jimin knew that much But the easy atmosphere was already easing his anxiety away. He starts to feel less And less like he was waiting for one of them to ask something of him- to order him around or away.

You had assured him earlier that he would be expected to eat with them and that if any of them tried to talk down to him that he should tell you. You had also added that you didn’t think they would. Despite their profession, Namjoon’s inner circle weren’t the type to judge or mistreat anyone without provocation you had told him. At first, he had been worried- but now he was starting to see why he had no reason to be.

“Ah where is y/n I need some help cutting up the broccoli- I trust none of you with the knives,” Seokjin complained.

Taehyung turns to Jimin, “yeah where is my girlfriend?” half of the boys snort at this interpretation. Though Hoseok is one of the few who remains stoic.

“I turned you down last week Taehyung- and the week before that, and that.” Everyone turns to look at where you’ve appeared in the doorway.

Jimin has to reign in his heart with the way that it's beating frantically against his chest. Because damn it- you look like you’ve been made for him. With your hair in loose waves, and your black lace dress- a mischievous and seductive patter that curls around the shoulders and top. Your outfit would be nearly demure if it wasn’t for the way that it curled around your hips and chest, highlighting the very best of your features. The diamonds that glitter against your ears are not half as dazzling as the grin you send their way. The only pop of color on you is your lips- painted red to match the bottoms of your shoes.

“dammmnnnnn” Taehyung lets out, and Jimin has to stop and realize that his tail is wagging Namjoon has noticed Jimin’s behavior. But you distract him. Walking in-between the two of them to snag a wine glass from your brother.

“Pick your jaw off of the floor you dog.” Yoongi snaps, slapping Tae across the chest, his gaze drifting to Jimin a second after Jimin flinches, “sorry Jimin- I meant Tae.” He says in a rush. The uncomfortable situation is remedied by Jungkook who raises his mixed drink.

“Don’t you want to try it y/n?” you snort, plucking an already uncorked expensive bottle from the table before filling your empty glass.

“The last time I had one of your concoctions- I woke up on the other side of the city and found I had accidentally joined a girl gang.”

“Did you really?” Jimin asks, amusement thudding at the corners of his mouth. Your ruby smile wraps around the ring of the wineglass

“Unfortunately for them, I’m a one-woman gang-“ Namjoon scratches the back of his neck at the memory, trying to hide his grin in his wineglass.

“That certainly was a debacle.” You go to stand by Seokjin as the conversation shifts.

“Tell me how I can help.” You ask, and Seokjin hands you a spoon and you sets you stirring a sauce that still needs to thickening. Jungkook drags Jimin into a game with Taehyung and Hoseok that seems to be about slapping the other without being slapped and their laughter ripples off the high ceilings. All of them are enamored with Jimin’s quick reflexes.

He grasps the concepts of it easily- and quickly beats all of them. You toss a grin over your shoulder and catch Hoseok’s eye by accident but your smile doesn’t falter. You know he see’s you looking at the hybrid but you can’t tear your eyes away from the group of them. He gives you a disapproving look and turns. Then He’s back to his smiling self and you watch as that sunshine filled grin spreads to Jimin- it’s infectious.

You’re glad that for once Hoseok is treating Jimin more as one of your family- he is becoming apart of your little unit you realize, with every day he gets more comfortable and more warmed up. You wonder if after a few months he’ll even flinch when someone raises an arm too fast. You want that for him you realize. You want him to be comfortable and to erase the tension and suspicion that’s been put on his shoulders from years of abuse.

Your hand stops stirring. Seokjin casts a glance at you, his eyes dawning with a realization that you can’t place. He glances to Namjoon- who’s chatting to Yoongi completely oblivious too whats going on in his own house. “Jimin-ah.” He calls as their game comes to a finish. “Can you help y/n set the table?”

Things are surprisingly easy over dinner, with everyone enjoying the expensive wine from Namjoon’s personal cellar and the food that is warm and absolutely delicious. Jimin complements and thanks, Seokjin more than once as he attempts to try every dish. You tease him lightly- asking him if he’d like a larger plate so that he can fit everything. You sit directly to his left. Under the table, your leg accidentally brushes his and you both flinch back. The tableware is laced with gold and the spoons are so shiny that Jimin is worried about scratching them.

“So I hear that you could put any of us on the floor in a few seconds.” Taehyung grins at Jimin, his tone playful. If there’s any darkness in it or hidden meaning behind his words they are lost on Jimin. Jimin shrugs and appraises the group with a shrug.

“Probably” his eyes flicker to the youngest member at the end of the table. “Though I’ve only really fought Jungkook.” Jungkook grimaces; remembering how it felt to have been put on the floor no doubt.

“Just remember I’m better than all you motherfuckers.” He sips his drink defiantly. The youngest points a finger at the other men.

“Ah you know that’s not fair all of us have our own strengths-“ Hoseok admonishes.

“Everyone’s got their job.” You say, and across the table, Hoseok grins at you. Biting his tongue in a way that lets you know he’s got a biting reply but is holding back.

“What is your job? What is it that all you do in the gang?” Namjoon at the head of the table looks taken aback by Jimin’s sudden question. But with a quick nod and a sweeping gesture too Seokjin at his right, the man puts down his glass of wine.

“I guess I’m the medic- I fix most problems that aren’t major, and I handle our books, and make sure no money goes where it shouldn’t.”

“I’d be lost without my human calculator,” Namjoon says.

“It’s not my job if you break every piece of electronics that you touch” Seokjin rolls his eyes. It’s only been one dinner- but Jimin can see why Seokjin is Namjoon’s second. There is something about the man that is almost steadying, and Jimin decides that he likes him.

“That’s a little bit different than what I trade in.” Jungkook groans, and slaps Tae’s shoulder.

“You’re so dramatic hyung.”

“What do you trade in?” Jimin asks.

“Don’t indulge him.” You tell him, but Tae leans across the table, appraising Jimin over the edge of his gold-rimmed glasses,

“Mostly drugs” Taehyung winks, “but I also trade in secrets.” His grin is cocky and mischievous before he goes back to his food.

Yoongi stretches his back lacing his fingers behind his head. “I’m the weapons expert- it doesn’t matter what it is; shotgun, desert eagle, bazooka. If I can get it in my hand's nothing stands a chance.” Jimin shivered at how proud he sounded, proud of being a killer.

“What’s your longest kill shot now?” You ask idly. You don’t seem to be bothered by his calloused approach toward murder. Yoongi smirks knocking back his drink.

“950 yards last week.”

“No way…” you grin appreciatively.

“We should hit the range sometime- I hope you haven’t been sloppy.”

“You know I haven’t picked up a gun since our last training session.”

“Everyone needs to know how to defend themselves.” Jimin interrupts. And there is a little uptick in his pulse as he interrupts your banter. But no one tells him to keep his mouth shut or that he should leave the talking to the humans. They only nod along- Namjoon especially.

“I agree,” Jungkook says, gesturing at the table with a waspish movement. “You already know what I do, but I’m also an enforcer with Hoseok.” His eyes flash to Hoseok as they share a glance, “we make sure people pay their debts.” Directly across from you, Hoseok leans back, crossing his arms.

“My profession is a little more explosive than theirs. When Namjoon needs a distraction I provide it, whether that’s a fire or a bomb is up too Namjoon. I’m also a getaway driver.”

Namjoon leans back, smiling at his friends. “And a damn good one.” You snort.

“A damn good one that spends half his spare time doing doughnuts in abandoned parking lots.” though it might seem vapid, your grin lets them all know that you’re just teasing.

“Do you forget who taught you how to drive?” You feel warm and fuzzy, the wine makes your bones relax- makes you brave enough to tease him and reestablish your friendship so soon after your conversation.

“Yes- and you almost killed me doing it.”

“Everyone should know how to weave in and out of traffic.”

“Commuting to college isn’t drag racing. Hoseok.”

“What about other skills- what else can you do besides shoot and drive?” Jungkook asks his smile equally as teasing as yours.

“Jeeze when you put it like that we don’t sound like much at all,” Yoongi comments sarcastically.

Namjoon grins- “I like it, we could all handle being chopped down- ya need to stay humble.” Jimin can tell by the flush covering his master’s cheeks that he’s beginning to feel more than a little tipsy.

“You could too you know- walking in with that dress acting like you’re innocent,” Hoseok says, his eyes on yours, his smile is lopsided as he crosses his arms.

Besides him, Taehyung makes a noise of ascent. “It’s so unfair- you sure you won't let us take you out?”

“You’re either being fake or real with me and I can’t decide which one pisses me off more.” Your eyes narrow, and you teeter on the edge between joking and flirting.

“Thanks for narrowing it down for me sweetheart.”

“Keep talking, the more you do, the more I want to put you in your place.” Jimin had never seen you like this. As you leaned forward holding your glass of wine- looking exactly like the little devil everyone thought you where. Hoseok leaned in across from you giving you the smirk that must have gotten him laid time and time again.

“Oh you know I’d love you see you try.”

“Guys.” Namjoon said, looking about as comfortable as butter in a knife factory, “stop flirting with my sister before I’m convinced I need to separate you from your favorite part of your body.”

“Sorry boss” Taehyung smirked, his bandaged leg propped up on the chair next to him. “You know how we love to tease.” No one brought attention to the fact that Taehyung hadn’t been the one doing most of the flirting with you. The shrill ring of Tae’s cellphone knocked everyone out of conversation, he answered it smoothly, not bothering to get up from the dinner table. Everyone went quiet. After a moment he passed it onto Namjoon. Taehyung ran a finger along his lips. Sighing looking down at his food. He looked up, shaking his head at Jungkook across the table.

“Yes.” He said into the phone, you and Jimin looked on ominously. Namjoon made a noise of agreement and ran his fingers through his hair, standing. He hung up the phone after a second.

“The shipment?” Yoongi asked Namjoon nodded. Yoongi puts his napkin beside his drink.

“Our informants think that the X’s are going to try to hit our shipment within the hour.” Jimin watched you as you swirl your wine silently, your eyes downcast. He wonders if you know your brother's plans. If he ever confides in you about what the gang is doing. He probably should and probably does. But with the way that they talk to you sometimes- Jimin wonders how much you know. It is no doubt in an effort to keep you safe, but recent events have probably thrown that out the window.

“Set a trap or divert the shipment?” Jungkook asked Namjoon’s eyes flickered once to Jimin and you before he turned to Hoseok. Jimin remembered what he had said before- that he specialized in arson and explosives.

“Do you have enough time for both?”

Hoseok nodded. “We need to move now though.”

“Then what are we still doing here,” Yoongi says standing up from the table. Everyone else followed, the food forgotten. You ran your fingers through your hair as you listen to them plan the attack that would likely end in a loss of life. So much for your family dinner. Namjoon leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Don’t wait up.” You twiddled your wine glass in your hand and made a noncommittal noise finally getting up to follow them- though you only want to watch them go you stand in the doorway as You watch your brother get into a sleek black car with Yoongi, as Hoseok and Seokjin get into Seokjin’s car only with Hoseok in the front seat. Taehyung is calling someone to take him back to the hospital while his leg is propped up on a garden bench.

Hoseok rolls down the window and tosses Jungkook the keys for the motorcycle propped close too the steps. “Hurt her and you’re dead.” He says, before starting rolling up the window.

The compound was buzzing with movement, and you watched as lights from the apartment building flickered on. You watch your family leave with a sour feeling in your stomach that had nothing to do with the fancy wine you’ve drank. Jimin is hovering behind you- just close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. You slipped off your Louis Vuitton’s and sighed as your aching arches touched the floor cold floor. You wrap your arms around yourself as the spring chill invades the doorway.

He doesn’t speak until Tae is gone too, he sends you a jerky wave as the black limo pulls up and some low-level members help him in.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, you shook your head and downed the rest of your wine still looking into your driveway- watching it almost as if you thought Namjoon would pull back in and tell you that everyone else could handle it. “Come on.” He said grabbing your hand and tugging it gently to make you follow him. He stopped by the kitchen- grabbing the already uncorked bottles of wine that would go bad before heading up the stairs. He leads you not to your shared room but too the work out room and the deck. You looked out over the edge of the railing while he removed the cover of the hot tub. You don’t say anything until he starts to remove his suit jacket.

“Jimin.” You said, a note of warning in your voice, he ignores you and slips off his shoes and socks. Wordlessly, he holds out a hand for you, “the chlorine could ruin my dress.”

“Come on.”

“It's Vercarse.”

“You and I both know own 5 others exactly like it” You let him lead you into the knee-deep burbling water. The Jets making the hot water fizz as steam lifted off the surface. His white shirt gets soaked as he sinks into the warm water. It turns translucent as it clings to his toned chest and stomach. You hand him your empty wine glass and take the nearly full bottle from his grasp.

“I’m trusting you to make sure I don’t drown.” His grin is nearly feral with mischievousness, and you can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood, and his words are as sweet as ever.

“I’ll always keep your head above water.”

“I don’t know,” you grin, “you looked about ready to kill me after that suit fitting today.” He turns and sets the glass down on a stable surface.

“I’d never dream of it,” you make the move to sit close too him. There are no prying eyes here. No Namjoon to wonder why underneath the water you sling your legs over his; which are still clothed in soaking wet dress pants. No Hoseok to look at you with a questioning air when you take your hybrids hands in yours to run your fingers over his scarred knuckles that have finally healed.

The only light comes from the one beneath the pool, and in the darkness- it almost feels like he’s not be beholden to you at all. It almost feels like you’re just there- two ordinary people, enjoying company in sadness- with only the stars as witnesses.

Jimin tucks you into bed after drying off your dress and plugging in your phone- before he leaves you softly snoring. He disposes of the empty wine bottles in the trashcan in the kitchen. Someone’s been in to clear the table of the meal you barely shared. Jimin heard them earlier and recognized the scents enough to not be worried about who was in the house.

Outside the crickets chirp as the familiar hum of Namjoon’s car fills the driveway. He can hear The faint sound of the others arriving quietly too- at least they’re as quiet as they can be at nearly 3 in the morning- each going to their respective houses. Jimin hears him stumble against the doorframe. “Master Namjoon…” Jimin says, hovering in the doorway.

For the first time- Jimin understands why people call him Monster- he’s never met someone who had a knack for getting covered in quite that much blood. It’s everywhere, staining half his face and coloring his usually silver blond hair crimson, his white button down is torn in places and his fancy light blue velvet coat is matted and looks almost purple. Namjoon glances up at him. And Jimin sees his pupils are dilated- High? Drunk? Or bloodthirsty? Jimin doesn’t know.

“Is y/n…?” his eyes flicker back to the kitchen for a second. And Namjoon has the sense to look wary until Jimin shakes his head.

“She drank herself too sleep after you left.” Namjoon stumbles forward and Jimin catches him before he hits the ground.

“You’re not supposed to let her do that…” he slurs, Jimin starts to half carry half lead the older man up the stairs- recognizing the twinge of whiskey on his breath before he can check to see if any of the blood is his masters.

“I don’t think I could have stopped her if I tried.” His master’s room is heavily masculine- with modern minimalist edges except for a few old picture frames on a wall. Some of them are of a man and a woman that Jimin doesn’t recognize but more of them are of you. You looked adorable when you were young. He likes one photo especially- a picture of a child you holding a stuffed animal next to a teenage Namjoon- obviously won at a fair. His pause almost makes Namjoon fall face first onto the floor- Jimin narrowly avoids further staining the carpet with blood (though they’re already leaving footprints.

He leaves Namjoon under a stream of Luke warm water- not feeling vindictive enough to put him under cold before going to the house phone. He picks it up, listening to the dial tone for a moment before he realizes that he doesn’t know the number to call. He glances at his watch- and decides that its enough of an emergency- he presses the lowercase p and his watch rings once before a female voice answers.

“Hi um- this is Jimin calling from master Namjoon’s house,”

“I know sweaty.” The old woman drones annoyed- probably bothered that Jimin is calling so late.

“I-um, I don’t know the cleaners number and I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”

“What’s the nature of the mess?” She asks, and he glances at the carpet- picking out a bit of what can only be brain matter that fell from Namjoon’s clothing.

“Master Kim spilled a whole bottle of wine.”

“Cleaning staff will be there within the hour.” The old lady says as Jimin returns to the bathroom to see Namjoon passed out against the wall. His hair is pinned too his face and Jimin can see his roots from here. Standing above him- feeling lost and more than a little overwhelmed.

“Thank you,” he says into the speaker on his smartwatch, but the blinking numbers tell him that they’ve already hung up.

The Dress:

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hotmessharry · 7 years

Text

I'm Pregnant - Imagine

*Y/N's POV* Harry lay sprawled across my body, his chest resting between my split legs and his head resting on my chest, his recently cut hair tickling under my chin in such as way that I had to frequently flatten it down to reduce the irritation. Harry would bat my hand away each time, grumbling about how I was messing his hair up. It was a Sunday afternoon, the bright but cold winter light glinted between the clouds and through the window, casting odd shadows across the floor. Harry had been home for several weeks, working on his new music and resting following the completion of a long section of filming, but he had yet to really make much use of his time off, instead he chose to invade my personal space as often as he could and in any way that he could, from lying on top of me as I relaxed on the couch, to creeping into the shower as I had my face under the water and my back turned. He still hadn't spent any time with his family, a fact that Anne never failed to remind him of on her near daily phone calls: “When are you coming to see me Harry?” “Have you booked the train yet?” “You’re Gran is asking me when you're coming up, what should I tell her?” Each question was brushed off with a casual “I’ll do it soon mum” which was enough to satisfy her in the beginning but an excuse which was quickly wearing thin. Something about Harry’s entire demeanour was different, he would pass the almost daily calls from his mother to me, “You deal with her” he would say before sulking out of the room, and his overly touchy-feely needs towards me were becoming more extreme than normal. It was like he could barely stand to be alone. Harry exhaled a soft sigh from below me, letting his body relax further into mine as I realised my fingers were no longer batting his hair away, they were playing with the soft strand, tugging them gently and wrapping them around my finger before releasing them and repeating. His sigh was followed by a contented groan. “Harry what's wrong?” I asked gently, my fingers continuing their movement to try and coax him into talk, something he had been more than reluctant to do over the past couple of days, touching yes, hugging, kissing, sex, that was all fine, but talking was becoming more and more of a chore. “Nothing” he said quietly. “Don’t lie Harry, I know something’s wrong, why won't you just tell me?” I asked. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “It’s my mum… she’s” his sentence was broken by the obnoxious ring of the phone echoing through the house, pulling us both from the moment and making me jump slightly. “She’s calling the bloody house again” Harry grumbled, amending the ending to his unfinished sentence as he removed himself, reluctantly, from between my legs and padded across the room before scooping up the phone. “Hello?” He was quite for a moment as whoever was on the other end replied. I could already tell from the tension in his shoulders that the assumption that it was his mother was correct. “Yes she's here” he said, his eyes flickering to me momentarily before falling back towards the ground. He nodded once before thrusting the phone in my direction, leaving the room quickly as I answered. “Hello?” I asked. “Y/N, sweetheart it’s me” Anne chimed down the line, her voice, usually chipper, was lower and slower than usual, without the usual spark of energy it carried. “Hi Anne, how are you?” I asked, shuffling in my seat to readjust the pillow behind my back. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about something?” She said, disregarding my question. “Of course, what’s wrong?” “Has Harry been a bit off with you recently, like has be been acting any different around you or towards you?” She asked. Immediately my tension was sparked, it was true that Anne was now calling on a near daily basis, but her conversations, if they could even be called that, with Harry never lasted more than a few moments, and even when they did the talking was mostly conducted from Anne’s end of the line. “Yeah, I guess he has, he hasn’t been talking to me as much as usual but he is also being quite clingy. Has something happened?” I replied. “Has Harry told you anything, even mentioned what is bothering him?” She asked. “No he hasn't said a word, which is odd he usually tells me when something is wrong”. I had shifted so that I was now sitting up properly, with my feet placed firmly on the carpet and one of my elbows resting against my leg, my head propped in my hand. “I’m pregnant, Y/N”. It took several seconds before the magnitude of what Anne had just told me registered. Anne was pregnant, as 47, with her third child, Harry’s new either brother or sister. My stunned silence must have lasted a beat too long as she spoke again. “Y/N?” She asked. “Yeah, no, I’m still here, sorry. I just… I mean wow, congratulations” I stuttered, unsure what the appropriate response should be, support Harry in his now obvious anger at the situation, or be there for Anne in what should be a very exciting time for her. “I know it’s a bit of a shock, Robin and I just got talking about how people are having babies later and later now, and one thing led to another and here we are” she chirped, a hit of her old enthusiasm back in her voice. “How far along are you?” I asked. “About 8 weeks” she said. “Wow, this is big news Anne. How’s Gemma taken it?” I asked. “She was a little surprised which is no less than I expected, but then she was happy. She’s taken it better than Harry at least” she sighed. I hummed in agreement, Harry really wasn't taking it well at all. “I was hoping you would speak to him for me” she said. “I don’t know Anne, this seems like something that should be discussed by the two of you” I hesitated, shaking my head slightly before I realised that she couldn't see me. “Please Y/N, he won't listen, you know what he’s like. I was just hoping that you might be able to explain to him that this isn't such a bad thing, him being a big brother and all, I know he’ll love it, you’ve seen what he’s like with other children. Please just try, for me?”. It took a little more convincing before I finally agreed. The gratitude flowed from Anne in quick waves. “Congrats again Anne, this really is good news and I’m very happy for you both. Give my best to Robin” I said before we hung up. “I will sweetie, thank you again. Bye” she beamed before hanging up. I sighed as I hung up the phone as well before placing it on the coffee table in front of my and running my hands down my face. “So this is ‘really good news’ then is it?” Harry asked. I jumped to my feet and turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms folded tight across his chest and brows furrowed low. I wasn't sure how long he had been standing there but he’d clearly heard enough. “Well, isn’t it? Your mum’s pregnant Harry” “I’m well aware she’s pregnant” he spat. “Harry stop, this is good news, you’ll be a big brother” I coaxed but clearly to no avail as he continued to glower at me. “I don’t want to be a big brother, I’m fine with the way things are” he grumbled. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and frowned at him. “You’re jealous. You’re jealous cause you think that this is going to take some of the attention off you. That's it isn't it?” I challenged. I was a little surprised, it wasn’t a surprise to me that Harry was a jealous person, often I would catch him glaring across rooms at boys would had looked at me the ‘wrong way’, but to find him jealous of a baby that wasn't even born yet, who was barely even a person in his mothers womb, I wanted to laugh out loud. “That’s not it” he said, the underlying anger that he had been suppressing for the past couple of weeks beginning to drip into his voice. He began to turn away from me to head upstairs. “Then what is it then?!” I asked, my patience wearing thin with his indignant attitude. “I’M JEALOUS BECAUSE THEY HAVE A BABY AND WE DON’T!” He yelled, spinning back to face me. “They have had three babies and we haven’t had one Y/N, I want one!” He cried. I opened and closed my mouth like a goldfish. I wasn't surprised to find that Harry wanted children, it was something that I had suspected many times before, but never did I think his desire for one was as powerful as this. “Why have you never spoken to me about this before?” I asked gently. Harry’s guard was crumbling, his arms fell to his sides and his gaze softened. “’Cause I knew you’d say no, you’ve just finished Uni and you want to find a job and start your career, a baby would ruin that” he said. “You should have at least spoken to me about it” I said. He shook his head. “I knew you wouldn’t want one” he sighed. The corner of my lips twitched as I watched the defeated boy in front of me. I shook my head and walked towards him, taking both his hands in mine. “You're wrong” I said softly, my lips pulling up in to a smile as Harry gazed at me with a mixture of wonder and slight hesitation for fear this could all be too good to be true. “Would you like to make a baby with me Harry Styles?” ************ Hey everyone, first imagine in a while. I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think please! -Steph

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