#hes more into taking advantage of her than any of her personal details you know. like her as a person doesnt really. matter. who cares | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

underground-secret · 23 days

Text

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x F! reader

Description: When Dean gets a call from an "old friend" asking for help, old feelings resurface leaving for messy feelings and a complicated hunt.

Warnings: canon violence, feelings of unrequited love, angst, loving someone being difficult, corpses, crime scenes, cursing, mentions of racism, racist ghost truck?

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 9,251

Route 666

(Master list, Prev Ch, Next Chapter)

I lean against the expanse of the Impala, letting the bright sun shine over me. It was one of those cold but not cold days, where as long as the sun was hitting you it was perfectly right. Sam is next to me looking over the large map he has laid out on the hood of the car, trying to look for a way around a closed-off road.

I’m glad he knew what he was doing ‘cause my map and geography skills only went so far before I was lost.

Meanwhile, Dean was off to the side, his phone pressed to his ear his brows furrowed whoever he was talking to was clearly telling him something important and maybe shocking.

“Ok. I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just East of here,” Sam informs gaining my attention, “We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought.” I nod, taking advantage of his hunched-over figure to ruffle his hair, “Nice work, map man.” He snorts, rolling his eyes as he pushes my arm away playfully.

“Yeah. ‘Problem is, we’re not going to Pennsylvania” Dean points out, closing his phone and looking at it thoughtfully. I look at him confused, “We aren’t…?” He nods, wetting his lips, “I just got a call from an, uh, old friend. Her father was killed last night, think it might be our kind of thing.”

“What?” Sam vocalizes. “Yeah. Believe me, she never woulda called, never, if she didn’t need us” Dean clarifies. Without giving us any more information or even a chance to contemplate or counter his statement he gets in the car, “Come on, are you coming or not?”

The Impala cruises down the expanse of the road, a long beautifully green field on one side and a lake on the other. “By old friend you mean…?” Sam asks the question we were both undeniably thinking. “A friend that’s not new” Dean grumbles.

“Oh! Thanks, genius” I remark, he was being weird and that alone was not helping his case. “‘Said her name’s Cassie huh?” Sam said, trying a different angle, “You never mentioned her…”

“Didn’t I?” Dean remarks. He wasn't very good at hiding this one, the car falling silent in the wake of his stupid answer. He finally huffs, “Yeah, we went out.”

“You mean you dated somebody?” Sam asks with a snort, “For more than one night?”

“Oh come on Sammy we're all adults here, we’ve all dated before” I chime in with a smirk. He turns around in his seat, facing me with an expectant look, “Are we talking about the same person here? Dean doesn't date.” Sam exclaims and I push down the ache of that implication, “And aren’t you the least bit curious.”

“Oh no, I am,” I nod enthusiastically, laughing lightly, “I want all the details. I was just tryna be nice.”

He snickers, turning back to his brother, “You heard her, we want all the details.”

I swear Dean’s eye practically twitches, “Am I speaking a language you’re not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio, she was finishing up college. We went out for a coupla weeks.”

I want to ask how long ago this was, was it months before his dad disappeared or a year or more ago, but I hold back on my questioning. “And…?” Sam pushes. Dean shrugs slightly.

“Look, it’s terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I’m not seeing how it fits with what we do,” Sam reasons, “Which by the way, how does she know what we do?”

Dean doesn't answer again, silently shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The realization hits me like a brick, “Oh. My. God,” I lean forward in my seat almost getting choked out by my seatbelt, “You told her! You broke the number one hunting rule! You know, not telling anyone, ever!”

“More than that!” Sam adds, “It’s our big family rule. Number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half, I did nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a coupla times and you tell her everything?!” I try not to think about my own relationships both romantic and not that rarely ever made it past a couple of months before it ended, not only having to lie about being a hunter but a witch too. Dean stays silent, staring straight ahead, “Dean!” Sam yells.

“Yeah. Looks like,” he finally acknowledges. He continues to stare ahead, pressing his foot down harder on the gas pedal. Sam shakes his head, giving his brother his classic bitchface.

“Oh. He had it bad” I laugh leaning back in my seat, ignoring the sinking and stabbing feeling in my heart. I figured I’d have to keep doing so on this hunt.

The office was dark, the bright sunlight not able to stretch upon the large room not even with the help of glass doors. The place could really open a couple of blinds, let the light shine in.

An old white man with an interesting-looking tie, one of those Western ones with the jewel and black tether, talks to two people a man and a woman their backs towards us. And the way Dean pauses, staring at the woman it isn't hard to deduce she's Cassie. She and the older black gentlemen next to her seem to be having some sort of dispute with the old white guy.

Then suddenly both of the men walk away, clearly frustrated, leaving Cassie to stand there herself. She turns around swiftly, and almost like a perfectly curated romance movie she nearly hits Dean only inches separating the two. I didn't even realize he had moved forward in the time we've been standing here.

Just looking at her I could tell why Dean fell for her, she's beautiful more than that. She could be a model with her beautiful long dark curls framing her face, full lips colored red, and big brown eyes. She must have stepped out of a magazine, everything about her screamed perfect down to her perfectly shaped eyebrows and perfect nose. “Dean,” she says, her voice smooth despite the look of slight apprehension.

He nods and grins, “Hey Cassie.” And they just stare at each other. He's looking at her in a way I’ve never seen him look at anyone before even despite the tension that hung in the air, unspoken words from however long ago.

His eyes seem to glimmer, you’d have to be a fool not to see he still has feelings for her, that they never went away in the first place. And that it’s more than just any feelings, he loves her and that is a hard pill to swallow.

He clears his throat, breaking the trance they were both in, “This is my brother Sam. And my friend Y/N.” She smiles at each of us before her gaze reverts to Dean, not that I could blame her in the slightest.

“Sorry ‘bout your dad,” he says.

“Yeah. Me too,” she answers.

Her family home was beautiful and extraordinarily large, it was a bit disturbing. Though maybe that was because it reminded me of my home before moving to Kansas, or at least what I remember of it. We sat in the sitting room on vintage settees, another reminder of that home–my mother would quite like the look of this cozy room.

Cassie finally comes back adorning a tray of tea cups and a teapot along with the little bowl of sugar and a small pouring cup of milk, could she get any more perfect and wonderful? “My mothers in pretty bad shape. I’ve been staying with her. I wish she wouldn’t go off by herself. She’s been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about Dad,” she explains.

“Why?” Dean asks as she takes a seat across from us. He was watching her every move as if dedicating it to memory, I wonder if he’s thinking ‘She moves in the same manner she used to’ or maybe that it changed. Suddenly I was not so okay with sitting between the boys even though that's almost how we always sat when talking to someone on a hunt, as it made it harder for them to fight and made them slightly more comfortable with squishing into sofas with their large frames. But now, being in the middle I could easily watch how he looked at her, studied her.

She skillfully pours tea into each cup, “He was scared. He was seeing things.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him,” she responds carefully.

“A truck, did he see a driver?” I ask, diligently accepting the beautiful teacup she handed me. I take a careful sip of the black tea, of course she would know and pick the perfect tea for guests. Does she have any flaws?

“He didn’t talk about a driver,” she answers, “Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad’s car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big.”

Sam accepts his cup of tea, “Thanks. Now you’re sure this dent wasn’t there before?” And as predictable as Dean was he looked at his cup weirdly before depositing it back on the tray, that man was not a tea person he’d take a coffee or a beer any day. I think the only reason he drank the tea I gave him when he was sick was because he knew how desperate Sammy and I were.

“He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn’t a scratch on that thing,” she explains, “It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from Dad’s car…leading right to the edge, where he went over.” She swallows harshly, bowing her head, “One set of tracks. His.”

Dean’s face softens, eyes filling with sympathy, “The first was a friend of your father's?” She nods, “Best friend. Clayton Soames. They owned the car dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about Dad. He ‘lost control of his car.’”

I force my brain to rid itself of any thoughts of Dean and Cassie's relationship. This was like any other hunt, something weird is going on and we are here to help, nothing more.

It was weird, cars don't just drive off the road like that and then have newly made dents that match another vehicle. “Is there any reason you can think of as to why your father and his partner might've been targets? Competition?” I ask. She shakes her head, radiating certainty, “No.”

“And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?” Sam points out.

“When you say it aloud like that…,” she sighs, “listen, I’m a little skeptical about this…ghost stuff…or whatever it is you guys are into.”

Dean huffs, “Skeptical. If I remember, I think you said I was nuts.”

“That was then,” she bites back. Then they fall back into that thing where they just stare at each other, “I just know that I can’t explain what happened up there. So I called you,” she adds, directing her words only to him. I clear my throat, weary of the bubble they seem to have put around themselves, “You were right in calling” I reasoned softly, “It is very strange and on the off chance it isn’t anything supernatural then it was certainly a cover-up.”

Her perfect eyebrows furrow but before she can respond the sound of the front door opening catches all of our attention, a middle-aged white woman enters through and I assume it's her mother. She shared her mother's eye shape and her nose, but the rest of her she must have gotten from her father.

As if we had gotten caught we all rise from the sofa. Cassie goes over to her mother, taking her arm, “Mom. Where have you been I was so…” her mother cuts her off looking at us, “I had no idea you'd invited friends over.”

“Mom, this Dean, a…friend of mine from…college. ‘His brother Sam and friend Y/N.”

“Well, I won’t interrupt you” her mother smiles nervously.

“Mrs Robinson,” Dean says suddenly, “We’re sorry for your loss. We’d like to talk to you for a minute if you don’t mind.” And as if offended she recoils, “I’m really not up for that right now.”

The morning sun is dimmer today, perfect for the scene we were walking upon. The man Cassie was standing with yesterday, Jimmy, was the newest victim. He died in the same way as the others sometime late last night. Cassie was again arguing with the old white man from yesterday. As we approached I could hear his condescending voice, “Close the man road. The only road in and out of town? Accidents do happen Cassie, and that’s what they are. Accidents.”

We stand beside her, Dean speaking up immediately, “Did the cops check for additional denting on Jimmy’s car, see if it was pushed?”

Without missing a beat and without looking away from Cassie the man asks, “Who’s this?”

“Dean and Sam Winchester, Y/N L/N. Family friends. This is Mayor Harold Todd” She replies smoothly. This man went from just any old white guy to a powerful old white guy, even worse. And he had two first names, you never trust someone with two first names. Reluctantly Mayor Old Guy answers Dean’s initial question, “There’s one set of tire tracks. One. ‘Doesn’t point to foul play.”

Cassie scuffs, “Mayor, the police, and town officials take their cues from you. If you’re indifferent about…”

He cuts her off, “Indifferent!”

“Would you close the road if the victims were white?” she counters.

Oh. Could she get any more iconic?!

“You suggesting I’m racist Cassie?” He spits, “I’m the last person you should talk to like that.”

“And why is that?” She counters, stepping closer to him.

“Why don’t you ask your mother” he answers before walking away. My jaw drops, what the hell is going on in this town?

I huff, blowing a piece of hair out of my face. I really didn’t want to get dressed, for as much as I’ve been trying to ignore the whole Dean and Cassie situation I was feeling horrible.

I sit on the soft motel bed in nothing but my underwear and a nice white button-down, haven given up on dressing. I feel stupid. Incredibly stupid.

Maybe Sam’s words had gotten to me, maybe I had gotten my hopes up without even realizing it.

He loves someone else, and he’s had for a while. I always thought when you love someone those feelings don’t ever truly go away, there's always a part of you with them. They wind up crossing your mind and you wonder where things went wrong. But I guess I never considered this would also apply to Dean, which is cruel to believe within itself. Which is funny too, all these years I’ve spent loving him…But Sam was right he didn’t date so I guess I assumed he never fell for anyone during his countless one-night stands.

I know death is cruel but maybe love is tied with it. Because I feel like someone took my heart and ran with it, leaving me with this void in my chest and an ache so intense that it throbs in its place. It was stupid to think I had a chance to begin with. I knew not to believe I had one in the first place, but somewhere along the line I had completely forgotten about any of that. So much for listening to my past self, if I had maybe I wouldn't be feeling so damn bad.

But I couldn't be mad. Cassie was wonderful in every possible way and you don't need to know her for long to realize that. They seemed perfect for each other really. She was feisty and had no issue putting someone in their place, which I quite admired, and I know Dean could use that every now and then. If she was a jerk I’m sure I’d have no issue disliking her, but she wasn’t! She was impossible to dislike, and it would be horrible of me to hate her just because she harbors feelings for someone that I love or the fact that he loves her back. That wasn't her fault, it was neither of their faults.

Loving someone has to be the hardest thing one could do.

I get up from the bed and put on my skirt. I couldn't sit here forever, the boys would come knocking and I wouldn't have a good excuse as to why I’m in a mood. Quickly I check myself in the mirror, at least I didn’t cry which means I don't gotta redo my makeup, even if it was minimal to begin with.

How do you stop loving someone? I could use that answer.

I knew I loved him for a long time, too long. But I suppose I didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten, how much it had flourished and I had never expected that to be possible. I love him.

I love him and it hurts so much.

How many times did I have the opportunity to tell him? It had to be in the hundreds. Maybe it was better that I didn’t, he loves someone else and I should be happy for them. I am happy for him. He deserves to be loved and be able to love. Yes, I am happy.

I approach the two older men having lunch, focusing on the wet ground and the wholesomeness that is them eating on a pier. “Hi, sorry. Are you Ron Stubbins?” I ask, taking the lead. I needed to throw myself into the work, I needed the distraction. The older man nods looking at us confused, his black cap bobbing with his head. “You were friends with Jimmy Anderson?” Dean follows up.

“Who are you?” Ron responds with, sitting up straighter. He was sizing us up, skeptical of us, which he had every right to be. “We’re Mr. Anderson’s insurance company. We’re just here to dot ‘I’s’ and cross ‘T’s’,” Dean explains, flashing his badge.

“And they needed to send three of you?” He counters. I giggle, tilting my head slightly, “Would you prefer me leaving?” I ask sweetly. And as predictable as men can be he drags his eyes across my body before shaking his head, “No. No. That won’t be necessary.” I ignore the dirty feeling that washes over me and sticks to my bones like a new layer of skin, it was necessary to do that because now he won’t bother questioning us anymore on that topic.

“We were just wondering, had the deceased mentioned any unusual recent experiences?” Sam questions, getting back on topic. Reluctantly Ron looks away from me to look at the man who questioned him, “What do you mean, unusual?”

“Well visions, hallucinations” He elaborates.

“We’re working with local psychologists to broaden our questioning and research,” I explain, trying to clear the confusion from his face, “It’s all very standard.”

“What company did you say you were with?” Ron counters. Maybe he was more on guard than I thought. “All National Mutual” Dean answers smoothly, “Tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?”

“What the hell ‘you talking about?” Ron exclaims, “‘You even speaking English?”

Wow, what a lovely guy.

“Son this truck, a big scary monster-looking thing?” Ron's friend suddenly says.

“Yeah actually, I think so” Dean answers. The man hums to himself in thought, please let this interaction be useful. “You’ve heard of something like that?” I ask the man. “I have,” he nods, not bothering to elaborate.

“You have. Where?” Sam pushes.

“Not where,” he finally answers, “When. Back in the ‘60s, there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes, they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck.”

“They ever catch the guy?” I ask. He shrugs, “Never found him. Hell, not even sure they really looked. See there was a time, ‘this town wasn’t too friendly to all its citizens.”

“Thank you” Sam nods.

We walk away, heading back to the Impala. “Well, it seems like history is repeating itself,” I began, “From the lack of investigation and racism down to the–”

“Truck,” Dean says, finishing my sentence. “Keeps coming up doesn’t it?” Sam adds.

“You know, I was thinking. You heard of the Flying Dutchman?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, a ghost ship, infused with the Captian’s evil spirit. It was basically part of him” Sam answers, explaining the lore. Dean nods, “So what if we’re dealing with the same thing? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard’s ghost, re-enacting past crimes.”

“The victims have been black men” Sam continues the theory. I half-shrug, “I don't know. The town has to have more than a handful of black people, but it only seems to be going after specific people. It’s practically targeting those connected to Cassie and her family. I’m sure there’s some deeper link there.”

“That’s why I think it’s more than that,” Dean says.

“All right. Well, you work that angle, go talk to her,” Sam tells his brother specifically, clearly playing matchmaker. “Yeah, I will,” Dean agrees.

“Oh, and you might also wanna mention that other thing” Sam noted, a playful smile on his lips. Always the meddler. “What other thing?” Dean asks, either genuinely lost or faking it. “The serious, unfinished business?” Sam elaborates. I huff a laugh, “Yeah, seriously Dean it's so painfully obvious. Just talk to the girl.” It pained me to even suggest that, to motivate him in such a way but I want him to be happy, and if that means being with her then so be it.

Dean stops just as we reach the car, going obstinately silent. Sam huffs a laugh this time, “Dean, what is going on between you two?”

“All right, so maybe we were a little more involved than I said,” he finally admits. I give him a pointed look, “Yeah…that was obvious.”

He huffs, “A lot more. Maybe. And I told her our secret, about what we do. And I shouldn’t have.”

“Ah look man, everybody’s gotta open up to someone sometime,” Sam reasons, being a little too understanding compared to how we were only yesterday. “Yeah I don’t,” Dean argues, “It was stupid to get that close. I mean, look how it ended.”

I smile at him softly, hoping any sadness is concealed far behind my eyes, and I realize Sam is giving him the same look except he’s nearly beaming. “Would you both stop!” he shouts. But we don't because this is a side of Dean we’ve never seen before, and it is beautiful even if it's heartbreaking for me. “Someone blink or something!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

“You loved her,” I say softly, the gape in my chest deepening at the verbal declaration. Saying it aloud was so much worse. “Oh God,” he groans, turning to the Impala. “You still do!” I call after him.

“You were in love with her, but you dumped her,” Sam states, connecting the pieces. Dean goes silent, staring at the ground, then carefully glances at his brother before reverting his eyes. “Oh wow. She dumped you.”

I have to stop myself from taking in a sharp breath, there was a lot to this he wasn’t telling us. But why would she break up with him if she still has feelings?

“Get in the car” Dean demands, done being “emotional” and open, “Get in the car!”

Sam hands me my hot chocolate, but not even the sweet treat or the soft snow falling just outside can lift my mood. It makes me feel a little better but it does not fix my heart. Dean didn’t come back last night and I know it’s because he spent the night at Cassie’s. I’m happy they worked things out and hopefully had a wonderful night but again it does not fix my heart.

I held the cup tighter, welcoming the immense warmth it brought to my frozen hands as we stepped out of the small coffee shop. The air was crisp yet gentle as the light fluffy snowflakes descended onto us, the cold flakes collecting in my hair. A small smile graced my face, maybe it was making me feel better. I like the cold, preferred it even, I was cozy in my thick turtle neck and my favorite fleeced-lined jacket.

Sam and I walk in comfortable silence side by side, sipping from our cups and basking in the scenery of the unexpected snow. It was early May in Missouri, it really shouldn’t be snowing but I suppose if it could snow here a little in April then early May couldn't be that weird. Plus it was a light snow that likely wouldn't even stick. But the calming scenery is cut in half by an ambulance that speeds past us, sirens blaring. We share a questioning look but ultimately ignore it until two cop cars rush past us heading the same way. That we can’t ignore. With another shared look, we follow after the sirens.

I look out at the macabre scene, the yellow caution tape not having stopped me from investigating thanks to the use of a fake ID. The body had been bagged after countless photos were taken, but the blood of Mayor Todd still stains the streets. It was a gruesome scene, arguably worse than the others in this case his organs squished out like roadkill and, truthfully, that’s what he had become.

“L/N” Sam calls out from just a few feet behind me. I turned around swiftly, the snow whirling around me, Dean stood next to his brother. He came.

I walk over to the two boys, watching Dean’s clear expression of shock masked by annoyance, “‘You gonna ask me a bunch of questions too?” he asks. I look at him confused, “...no” I drag out slowly. His face seems to relax slightly, something unrecognizable passing in his eyes, “Good,” he nods.

“I already know you made up–made out” I add, his face drops, “Anyways, crime scene,” I point behind me.

“Every bone crushed. Internal organs turned to pudding,” Sam explains the case, catching his brother up, “The cops are all stumped, it’s like something ran him over.” The wind picks up again, swirling the snow in its own private storm, the cold will help with the case as it preserves the body longer. “Something like a truck?” Dean asks, gaining his footing in the case.

“Yeah, except of course there’s no tracks” I answer. He nods, rubbing a hand down his jaw and I have to force my eyes away from the movement, “What was the Mayor doing here anyway?”

“He owned the property. Bought it a few weeks ago” Sam says referring to the building site.

“But he’s white, doesn’t fit the pattern,” Dean points out. Sam nods, “Killings didn’t happen up on the road. That doesn’t fit either.”

I shove my hands into my pocket, taking a quick look back at the crime scene before turning back to the boys, “Then it seems like this case is one of revenge.”

I shuffle through the papers in front of me, glad that I was sent to do research at the town's main library rather than be at the newspaper office with the boys and Cassie. She was probably looking at him all sweetly and being a kind person, and I did not wish to see the loving way they looked at each other. And if avoiding that meant having my nose in dusty boxes of court records then that was okay.

I pull out my phone calling Sam directly instead of Dean, the phone rings a couple of times before he picks up, “Hi” I greet, “I got some info.”

The line goes quiet for a second before I hear his voice, “Alright you're on speaker.”

“Ok, so,” I start, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I look over the papers, “I have courthouse records here, and according to them Mr and Mrs Mayor bought an abandoned property. The previous owner was the Dorian family who owned it for, like, 150 years.”

“Dorian?” Dean repeats back. “Yes.”

His voice grows quieter but still in range enough for me to hear, “Didn’t you say the Dorian family used to own this paper?” he asks someone else in the room. “Along with everything else around here. Real pillars of the town,” Cassie answers. “Right, right” Dean responds followed by the clicking of keys.

“You got something there?” I ask, readjusting my phone.

“Think so” Sam mumbles, seemingly focused on whatever was happening over at the office.

“This Cyrus Dorian. He vanished in April of ‘63. The case was investigated but never solved. It was right around the time the string of murders was going on back then,” Dean informs, adding more information to what that man yesterday had told us.

“Well to add to that information, the Dorian place seemed to be in really bad shape when the Mayber bought it,” I add, “He bulldozed the place.”

“Mayor Todd knocked down the Dorian place?” Dean asks, presumably, Cassie. “It was a big deal” she answers, “One of the oldest houses left. He made the front page.” I huff a breath, everything connecting yet leaving so many questions at the same time. “You got a date, Y/N?” Dean calls back.

“Um,” I hum shuffling the papers around and reading over the words quickly, “‘3rd of last month.” The line goes quiet again the only sound ringing back being the sharp noise of fingers on a keyboard, “Mayor Todd bulldozed the Dorian family home on the 3rd,” Dean finally responds, “The first killing was the next day.”

Pouring the boiled water into the mug I take a quick look back, Dean kneels in front of the shaken-up Cassie rubbing her knee softly and looking at her with pure determination and adoration. I swallow roughly looking back at the mugs in front of me, nearly overspilling and burning myself.

This was not the time to grieve a love that never happened. Cassie called Dean afraid, having seen the black truck. We were here to help, I was making a soothing herbal tea for her and her mother to calm the nerves.

Finishing with the mugs I carefully carry them into the sitting room. Sam takes one from me, gently handing it to her mother. I hand the mug to Cassie, her shaky hands accepting and rattling the cup, Dean immediately moves to sit at her side but it does not stop his protectiveness if anything it amplifies it; he practically radiates it. “Maybe you should throw a couple of shots in here,” she says, half joking.

I huff a laugh, “Well while the effects of alcohol do have the capabilities of easing the central nervous system, when the effects wear off your body will be jolted back from its depressive state which would really only make you feel worse, more anxious as well as stressed.”

She gives me a half, almost awkward, smile before taking a sip from her mug. Did I say too much? Why didn’t someone stop me? Someone should’ve just cut me off, especially if I wasn’t helping.

“You didn’t see who was driving the truck,” Sam says suddenly, pulling the awkwardness out of the air. “It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone,” she explains, “Why didn’t it kill us?”

“Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first,” Dean answers. This would explain why at least one of the victims had seen it and truthfully thought they were going mad. “Mrs Robinson,” Sam began, “Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died.” Mrs Robinson doesn't answer, seemingly lost in her mind as she shakes. “Mom?” Cassie says carefully, worry laced in her voice.

The older Robinson shakes her head nervously, “Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress. You can’t be sure about what he was seeing.”

“Well after tonight I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck. What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Ok?” Dean snaps, “Your daughter could die. So if you know something now would be a really good time to tell us about it.”

“Dean…” Cassie warns. But her mother's face contorts in emotion, something in her breaking, “Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck.”

“Did he know who it belonged to?” Sam asks, taking a seat across from the woman. “He thought he did,” she answers cryptically. “Who was that?” Dean pushes. Her eyes get watery and she sinks into herself, “Cyrus. A man named Cyrus.”

My gaze flickers to the boys, we are all thinking the same thing, I look back at her, “By any chance was it Cyrus Dorian?” I ask carefully. Dean pulls out a newspaper from inside his coat, handing it to the woman. She doesn't shake her head or nod only replying with, “Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago.”

“How do you know he died, Mrs Robinson?” Dean asks softly, “The papers said he went missing. How do you know he died?”

She hesitates, her mouth agape like a fish out of water or in reality that of a person who got caught, “We were all very young,” she says, “I dated Cyrus a while, I was also seeing Martin…in secret of course. Interracial couples didn’t go over too well back then. When I broke it off with Cyrus and when he found out about Martin, I don’t know, he, changed. His hatred. His hatred was frightening.”

“The murder,” Sam voices.

Her voice wobbles, “They were rumors. People of color disappearing into some kind of truck. Nothing ‘ever done,” she swallows shifting in her seat, “Martin and a…Martin and I, we were gonna be, uh, married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope as we didn’t want the attention.” She pushes her short hair out of her face, stressed. “And what became of Cyrus?” I ask.

Endless tears fall down her cheeks, “The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church. There was a children’s choir practicing in there. They all died.” I suppress the gasp that wishes to leave my lips, the room seems to dim with the information. What was meant to be a beautiful day was soiled by the blood of innocents.

“Did the attacks stop after that?” Sam asks softly, careful of her fragile mindset.

A sob escapes from her chest, “No! There was one more. One night that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him terribly. But Martin, you see, Martin got loose. And he started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Dean pushes. She continues to cry, “This was forty years ago. He called on his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus’ body into the truck and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land and all three of them kept that secret all of these years.”

“And now all three are gone,” Sam acknowledges. This all confirms the theory of a vengeful spirit. “And so is Mayor Todd,” Dean adds, “Now he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist. Why would he say that?”

“He was a good man,” Mrs Robinson answers, “He was a young deputy back then investigating Cyrus’ disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he…he did nothing, because he also knew what Cyrus had done.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cassie asks, her voice hard yet full of emotion. I couldn't imagine what was going on in her head, to find out something like this–“I thought I was protecting them. And now there’s no one left to protect,” her mother reasons.

“Yes, there is” Dean counters, fiercely. His green eyes harden with determination as he looks at Cassie.

I sit on the cold hood of the Impala, gently kicking my legs back and forth watching Dean pace in front of me. Sam leans against the car next to me, his arms crossed as he too watches his brother, “Ah, my life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms…”

I look at him with an amused smile, “I have no idea what that last part is but it sounds fun!” That stops Dean in his tracks for just a half of a second, he points at us, “No it doesn’t. I saved him from a boring existence.”

“Yeah, occasionally I miss boring” Sam reasons. I nod enthusiastically, “Honestly, we have not had a normal day in like months. Kinda miss it.”

Dean brushes our light complaining off, “So this killer truck–”

“I miss conversations that didn’t start with ‘this killer truck’” Sam quips with a dramatic sigh. I failed to hold back my laughter, Dean laughs lightly and for a brief moment, things feel how they used to, “Well this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for 40 years.”

“So what woke it up?” Sam asks.

“The construction on his house. Or the destruction,” Dean points out.

“Right. Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless” Sam recalls. His brother hums a ‘yes’, nodding.

“Like that theater in Illinois, ya know?” Sam references, and I in fact had no idea what he was talking about. “And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus’ murder quiet and unsolved,” Dean adds, bringing it back to the case at hand.

“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood,” Sam acknowledges.

“Yeah, I guess. Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyway” Dean shrugs.

“Wait, does this mean we have to go swimming in that swamp?” I ask. I mean if we had to salt and burn the bones then we would need said bones which are in a swamp, how nice. Dean smiles at me, I know that look. “No” I warn, pointing at him like an animal that did something wrong. “You said it” he rationalizes.

“Noooo” I whine a pout on my lips, “Do I have to do it alone?”

His wicked smile deepens, “‘Course not, Sammy’s gonna be with you.”

Sam’s shoulders drop, “Man,” he sighs.

Suddenly a familiar figure approaches, her hands tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. Dean stands up straighter, “Hey.” She smiles sadly, “Hey. She’s asleep. Now what?”

“Well, you should stay put, look after her…and we’ll be back. Don’t leave the house,” Dean explains, looking at her in that way that hurts my heart. But she smiles, any worry melting off her face, “Don’t go getting all authoritative on me. I hate it.”

Dean glances back at us, Sam looks down grinning acting as if neither of us could hear the conversation. He turns back to Cassie mumbling something I can't quite make out but whatever it was must have been good because he slowly leans in to kiss her. I drop my head and gaze at the very interesting ground, trying my best to ignore the sound of their intensifying making out. A pang of jealousy, longing, and pain shoots through my chest. If the ground wanted to just open up and consume me now I wouldn’t complain, I’d even help it and just throw myself in it wouldn’t have to work very hard. Sam clears his throat, I look up but Dean just holds out a finger to wait as he brings Cassie even closer.

I drop my eyes again.

Loving someone never hurt so bad. Loving him never hurt so bad.

Was it wrong to love him? Was this always going to be my fate? To see him evermore with other girls, loving them more than he could ever love me.

“You two comin’ or what?” Dean asks. I look up once more and this time his lips aren’t on Cassie.

I tug on the chain again, making sure it's secure, my hands getting wet in the process. I wipe my icky hands off on my jeans as I back away, “Alright he’s good,” I call out to Sam who stands feet away from me, closer to the butt of the pickup Dean was driving. He gives a thumbs up to his brother who begins to move the car forward, the pickup moving slowly in the weight of the heavy truck and water pressure.

We had already gotten it up a lot, but it had gotten stuck on the side of the swamp so we had to readjust its hold to get it the rest of the way up.

The years in the water had diminished it. The old black truck was now more like a rust bucket, remains of the swamp water spilling out from the seams. “All right. A little more…little more,” Sam leads, “All right, stop.”

The engine shuts off and Dean heads to the Impala, he pulls it open rummaging through the various weapons. “Now I know what she sees in you” Sam declares with a snap of his finger, meaning he finally understood what that look in her eyes meant. “What?” Dean asks.

“Come on man, you can admit it. You’re still in love with her” Sam clarifies. I nod even though the implications hurt, “Plus it’s not like no one else knows. So the only person you’re hiding from is yourself.”

Dean looks up from the trunk, “Uhh, can we focus please.”

I purse my lips, “Yeah…focusing has never really been our strong suit…” A container of salt is pressed into my chest, “Hold that” Dean says swiftly.

His expression hardens, all jokes put to rest as he dishes out items, “Gas” he says first, handing the large container to his brother, “Flashlights,” he lists out next filling my empty hand with one.

“Ok, let’s get this done,” he quips, closing the trunk.

We trudge back over to the rusty truck, our flashlights leading our way across the grass. Dean places his hand on the handle and I must wonder how he isn’t grossed out by just the feeling of the flaked paint and rotting metal. He glances at us in a silent ‘you ready?’ We give a nod and he opens the door.

A decaying wet corpse falls out the door and onto the soft grass, a small gush of water following its lead. I leap back like a scared cat, clasping a hand to my mouth and nose the decomposition of the body as well as its marinating in swamp water left a putrid smell. One perhaps worse than anything I've ever smelt before which was saying something considering what I’ve hunted.

“All right let’s get to it,” Dean says. Sam pours the gasoline all over the body, careful not to get it close to us and I jump in with the salt, opening the little latchet to sprinkle the small white crystals over the open-mouthed corpse. The satisfying scratch and flick of a match sounds softly beside me in the quiet night followed by the drop of the matchstick on the body. In mere seconds the remains go up in flames, the warm glow of the fire reflecting on the truck just beside it. I hoped no one would come looking over here with the whirl of smoke twirling above us, the heat powerful enough for me to take another step back.

“Think that’ll do it?” Sam voices, staring down at the burning corpse. But his question is followed by the revving of an engine and two blinding lights pointed at us. Without looking in the direction I knew it was the ghost truck. “I guess not,” Dean quips.

“So burning the body had no effect on that thing?” the younger Winchester asks. “Sure it did. Now it’s really pissed,” Dean responds. I glare at him, “I don't know if this is the time for cool jokes.”

“But Cyrus’ ghost is gone, right Dean?” Sam asks, a hint of panic in his voice as the tuck stares us down. But his brother doesn't answer right away, instead, he starts to walk away, “Apparently not the part that’s fused with the truck.”

I go on my tip toes trying to peak into the truck, maybe we missed something like a severed piece of him that didn’t spill out but before I can vocalize this Sam is calling out to his brother, “Where are you going?” I turn around, catching up to the boys, “Goin’ for a little ride,” Dean answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What?!” Sam and I exclaim in unison, “That’s a horrible idea!” I add. But he ignores our concern, “Gonna lead that thing away. That busted piece of crap, you gotta burn it.”

“How the hell are we supposed to burn a truck, Dean?” Sam asks, voice raising in volume. But being the determined man he is he shrugs, “I don’t know. Figure something out.” He rounds the car, opening the driver's door, “At least let one of us come with you, this is horribly dangerous,” I try to reason.

His eyes move up and down my face, before he settles on my eyes once more, “‘Exactly why you’re not comin’ with.” Before I can come up with a retort on how stubborn he is he settles himself into the car, closing the door behind him. I look to Sam for any support on this but he just stares at the car muttering, “Figure some–something–”

I rack my brain for ideas because Dean wasn’t going to listen and would rather be all hot and stubborn than be reasonable, “An explosion?” I suggest. Sam shakes his head, “No, that wouldn’t work. Parts would go everywhere and everything has to burn.”

I huff, frustrated, “I hate when you’re right.”

Dean reverses the Impala and takes off, the engine revering. As predictable as possible the ghost truck roars after him. I try to rack my brain for more ideas, even if we could suddenly light a truck on fire it would take too long for it to burn completely, “Sam, please tell me you got some idea rolling around in there.” He doesn't answer, lost in concentration with his bottom lip between his teeth.

My phone suddenly rings in my pocket, I pull it out swiftly seeing Dean’s name glowing. I flip it open bringing it to my ear, “You okay?” I say immediately. “Uh…yeah,” He says but I remain not convinced, “what are we doing?”

I look at Sam, panicking slightly, “Um, Sam what are we doing?”

He pulls out his phone, “You gotta give me a minute.” He presses his phone to his ear, “He says to give him a minute, I think he’s callin’ someone.”

“I don’t have a minute!” He half yells. “Dude, I don't know!” I panic, “Just…just don’t die, okay?”

“Trying here sweetheart.” I look back at Sam who has stepped away, I give him a hand motion of ‘please hurry up.’ He nods, coming closer to feed me info, “Ask him where he is.” I pull my phone away from my ear putting him on speaker instead, “Okay, Dean where the hell are you?”

“In the middle of nowhere with a killer truck on my ass!” he exclaims, “It’s like it knows I put the torch to Cyrus.”

“Listen to me, this is important” Sam orders, calmly, “I have to know exactly where you are.” Seemingly taking his advice he goes quiet for a beat, “Decatur Road, about two miles off the highway.”

“Ok. Headed East?” Sam follows up.

“Yes!”

A rattle and a bang followed by skitting noise sounds from the phone followed by cursing, “You son of a bitch!”

“Sam!” I yell, begging him to hurry up. “Ok, uhhh, turn right! Up ahead, turn right.” Again the line falls silent, “You make the turn?” Sam questions softly. My heart beats faster with each silent moment that passes. “Yeah, I made the turn!” Dean yells, “You need to move this thing along a little faster.”

“All right, you see a road up ahead?” Sam asks.

“No!... Wait. No, yes, I see it.”

“Ok turn left.”

“Wha..?” Dean half says before he goes quiet again the only sound coming from the line being more screeching and shuffled movement. “All right, now what? He finally responds.

“You need to go seven-tenths of a mile and then stop,” Sam explains. I looked at him strangely, noticing he wasn’t on the phone anymore, but what the hell was he talking about? “Stop?” Dean voices.

“Exactly seven-tenths Dean” Sam repeats.

“God, I hope you know what you’re talking about,” I tell the man beside me. “Me too” he mumbles over the sound of his brother repeating the words ‘seven-tenths.’ I look at him my mouth agape, “You wha–”

“Dean, you still there?” He cuts me off, focusing on his brother again. “Yeah,” Dean responds.

“What’s happening over there?” I ask, not knowing was killing me. “It’s just staring at me,” he answers carefully, “what do I do?”

“Just what you’re doing, bringing it to you,” Sam replies.

“Wha–” Dean began before cutting himself off, the line going quiet for the umpteenth time, “Come on. Come on,” he mumbled quietly but just loud enough for the phone to pick it up. My heart thumps in my chest, anticipation and fear running through my veins as well as something else from those two stupid words–something had to be wrong with me to find that hot now of all times.

The line is silent, for one beat, then another, then another…I grip my phone tighter, “Dean? Dean, are you there? ‘You okay?”

“Where’d it go?” he responds with a mix of shock and confusion. “Dean, you’re where the church was,” Sam explains. “What church!” he freaks.

“The place Cyrus burned down. Murdered all those kids,” Sam clarifies.

“There’s not a whole lot left,” Dean responds.

“Church ground is hallowed ground, whether the church is still there or not. Evil spirits cross over hallowed ground, and sometimes they’re destroyed, so I figured, maybe, that would get rid of it,” Sam explains. I hit his arm, “That was a hunch?!”

Dean adds in with the lecturing, “Maybe? Maybe!! What if you were wrong?!”

“Huh,” Sam hums, “Honestly, that thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

I glare at him sharply, hitting his arm again as I say, “You’re too sassy for your own good.” He laughs, a boyish grin on his face.

I wait in the back, Sam in the driver seat for Dean to say his goodbyes. I liked the back seat, more now than ever because being in the front would mean being able to see out the side mirror and watch Dean kiss the woman he loves and say a goodbye I was sure he didn’t want.

Life was being really unfair and uncool.

I bury my nose in my new book, it would be better to just escape into this world than have to deal with my feelings here in the real world. My feelings in the real world were not fun, they were depressing and hurt…a lot. But no amount of ink on paper formed into beautifully crafted words could fill the gaping hole in my heart, still, I tried as there was nothing else to do.

What is worse is knowing there will never be a chance for me to be loved by him, at least not in the way I do, because there will always be a place in his heart for her. He’ll think of her all the time, dream about her, and perhaps see her in the breeze. His heart belongs to her, and possibly always has.

I needed to accept that. The sooner I did the quicker the pain would go away. I couldn't go on believing I had a chance I needed to huff the flame out now.

No more hope. No more love. We’re friends, always have been, and always will be. That will have to be enough. I couldn’t love him anymore, not if it meant feeling this much pain. I wouldn’t accept his touches anymore for they gave me more hope than I’d like to admit.

No. I was wrong.

Worse of all is knowing that I can’t just stop loving him. Let it be the Gods' fault or the stars or whatever it is I’m meant to believe in but my heart has long been his and always will be. I could never love someone the way I love him, I wasn’t capable of that. Let it be that our love was written in the star's constellations that it was undecided by me or him for my love had to transcend the binds of that nonsense.

I loved him and he did not love me and maybe it was that which I had to accept because to stop loving him would mean to stop my heart from beating. Though even then I suspect not even the afterlife could keep me from my eternal love. And maybe that was pathetic or stupid, especially since he did not care for me in such a way, but it was the truth and no one has ever claimed truth to be a beautiful thing.

I’m brought back to reality with a bump. When did we leave and start driving? I look out the window, we had already made it to the highway…I look at the boys, but both seem fine. Ok then.

“I like her,” Sam says, and suddenly I wish to be lost back in the state I was in moments ago. I would love not to hear or be a part of this conversation. “Yeah,” Dean replies, seemingly just to get his brother to stop.

“You meet someone like her, doesn’t it make you wonder if it’s worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?” Sam asks innocently perhaps trying to get him to understand what he had felt with his girlfriend. But something flickers in his face and suddenly he’s making eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, his eyes written in apology as if it just hit him now what all of this was doing to me. It was that puppy dog look.

I smile sadly at him, giving him a curt nod in a silent ‘it’s okay.’ His gaze flickers back to the road.

Dean leans forward pulling sunglasses from the glove box, he puts them on carefully ignoring his brothers' initial question, “Why don’t you wake me up when it’s my turn to drive?” He slouches down in his seat with a sigh. I shake my head, roll my eyes, and go back to my book.

We were leaving Missouri and all would be well, or as well as they could be.

110 notes · View notes

gigidragonbbxxx · 2 months

Text

The Dark Side of Loass + motivation

I was on my daily reddit scroll while sipping my morning coffee when I saw something extremely disgusting on my homepage.

It was a manifestation success story by a man who claimed to have manifested his "perfect" gf - the kicker? She's underaged and he is a fully grown man.

The post has been deleted but the original poster's account is still up, as is his comment history. In his comments he details how he essentially used SATS and shot a message to someone he saw in discord. Apparently she is 15, lives with him due to an abusive situation, and yes they are s******y active. Apparently he treats her very well (he even mentioned bringing her to school YUCK) and buys her a lot of stuff and she's happy.

Let me make this clear:

a girl in an abusive home situation is not "saved" by an adult man taking advantage of it in the guise of "improving" her life situation while subjecting her to doing physical things she cannot consent to because she is not a damn adult.

I did some digging and it was not very long until I saw his first-ever comment about it and it was worse than I thought. I was trying to give the benefit of the doubt like maybe he visualized for a perfect gf and he didn't know she was a minor. Well, that says more about me than anything bc yes I found out that he had specified that he wanted her underaged. He literally says in the comment "specifcs that could get me in trouble". He made a lot of comments about her body, etc. and quite literally said something along the lines of "I'm her savior and shes my obsessed loving gf". Keep in mind...one of the titles this man used (he posted twice in diff subreddits) was "I manifested a s** s****e". So. Yup. He's a whole p*do.

I will not be sharing links as I don't want to give that horrible man any more traction but if you read all that and said to yourself, but Gigi whats that got to do with the dark side of the law of assumption? and why would you say there's a dark side to it?

The truth is that the law isn't dark at all, the evil part of the law is the people who use it for evil.

This is why good things can happen to horrible people.

This is why you see villains win.

They may have an amazing self-concept OR they just are under the assumption that NO MATTER HOW HORRIBLE THEY ARE THEY GET WHAT THEY WANT EVEN IF ITS FUCKED UP AND MORALLY TWISTED.

It's why you see nepo babies who aren't talented get shit handed to them - THEY EXPECT IT BECAUSE OF WHAT? WHO. THEY. ARE. SO CHANGE YOUR INNER SELF. EMBODY THAT CONFIDENCE.

This is why I wanted to share that story with you, it is to motivate you: if you know you're a better person than that horrible man, WHY CAN'T YOU HAVE EVERYTHING YOU WANT TOO?

Shouldn't you deserve even more for being good?

Stop thinking you don't deserve things bc guess what? People who are genuinely criminals are out here manifesting - so stay on your zoom and FOCUS. SATURATE. DISCIPLINE. COMMIT.

and let's all collectively agree to pray for that girl. I'm honestly gonna affirm that she gets saved and ends up in a situation where she is protected, loved, and away from predators.

Do not let evil win. Use it to remind yourself that the law is about BELIEF not FEELING.

with a heavy heart, xx, gigi

#law of assumption #loass #loassblog #loassumption #manifestation #affirm and persist #affirmations #neville goddard #self concept #saturation #affirm #affirmdaily #affirmyourreality #affirmyourlife #master manifestor #manifesting #manifesting sp #gigiwrites

130 notes · View notes

reveluving · 1 year

Note

Can you do one where Batmom loves doing ballet? Maybe with her in the ballroom dancing, and the kids come in. Cassandra immediately goes to join her and the boys want to try so batmom and cass try to teach them? And then at the end Bruce sneaks in and watches then fondly?

P.S. I love your work :)

a/n: to whomever sent this request last year (+ a couple of others), I am so sorry for only doing this now lol BUT! y'all know I love a fluffy batfam moment! 💗💗💗 changed it up a bit and also, thank you so much!!

warnings: fluffy fluff! (ballerina!cass !!!)

check out my batmom m.list !

Cass is an expert of many things, but your absolute favourite has to be her love for ballet!

It was no surprise how much she's incorporated her ballet knowledge into her fighting style—not to the point where anyone could see the similarities between Cass and Orphan, but just enough to give her certain advantages that the rest didn't have.

The first time Cass gave you the invitation to her recital was when she stopped by the café as usual one fine afternoon.

You had expected a form for a trip that needed your permission but no, it was so. much. better.

Not only was Cass' name handwritten in gold ink, but she was going solo for that matter?

You immediately tackled her into the biggest, most bone-crushing hug you could muster. Nothing Cass couldn't handle, though, in fact, she reciprocated your own happiness, grinning and giggling as you wouldn't stop gushing about how proud you were and how you needed to call Bruce, even if it was still office hours.

And you did just that!

Bruce thankfully didn't have any pressing matter when you rang him up, picking up the phone in one hand and idly checking some reports with the other. He stopped caring for the papers in hand though, not when he could hear how excited you sounded.

"We're invited to Cass' first recital next month!" You squealed, the soft of giggles of your not-so-little girl didn't go amiss on the line, "You have to clear your schedule."

Bruce grinned, both at the news and your sudden seriousness. You didn't have to tell him and you knew it, for he immediately wrote the date on a piece of paper to be passed to his assistant later on.

Cass also took the opportunity to share the news with the rest of the family, with all of their congrats and compliments ranging from Alfred and Damian's detailed praises for her appreciation in such fine art, to Dick's chaotic but meaningful cheers in all caps lock, with a side of triple fire emojis.

All in all, it was almost overwhelming for her—no matter how subtle Bruce tried to be in moving the old, almost depressing paintings out of the manor's ballroom after learning about her hobby, or how you'd bring over a single chair in the middle of the room to watch her new move without hesitation, or how Alfred made sure the manor's ballroom was always squeaky clean for her own use, she would be in awe of how fate brought her here.

A place where she not only fought for the safety of others, but also a place where she could finally make a name for herself the way she wanted.

Despite your protests, Cass helped you around the café that day, too happy to just sit down when she could channel that energy by lending a hand. You were thankful for the extra pair of hands though, for you wanted nothing more than to celebrate with her at home.

It was only fitting to bring her to the ballroom, the person praising her now was Alfred, who had came in with tea to pair with the extra cookies you brought from the café.

There was really no other way to channel your own joy other than to dance with her—from pirouettes to a grand jeté together. You learned from the best after all, how could you ever say no when she once shyly offered to teach you how to properly plie once upon a time?

With the classical music paired with Alfred's claps and the three of you laughing, it wouldn't take long for the rest of your family, besides Bruce, to investigate as soon as they're home. Some readily came with gifts, others were ready to properly congratulate Cass as texting did little to no justice. But seeing how much fun you were having, they believe it was best to at least wait till the music ended.

But ever the perceptive child, Cass was quick to notice the newcomers and immediately waved at them. They all huddled around her, with Cass growing flustered by the sheer attention she was getting in one day. She did somewhat expect a positive reaction, but not to this extend, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

You and Alfred watched the sight fondly, your smiles growing bigger when one of them had asked her to teach them a thing or two. And just like chain reaction, almost everyone was trying it out. It was hilarious, to say the least, seeing them, ranging from tall, buff, serious and just almost out of place, glancing at one another as they sought the girl's approval for their plie.

"I wasn't aware of a party." You sucked in a breath, the unexpected arrival of your husband taking you by surprise, let alone when his arms wove around your waist and then kissed you on the crown of your head. You leaned into him, caressing the back of his hand before letting his intertwine his fingers with yours.

"It's only fair," You sighed, not wanting to tear your eyes away from the tooth-rotting moment before you. You felt Bruce's chest vibrate on occasion, no doubt amused to see some making it a competition to see who was best, "Our girl deserves it."

Our girl.

As if on command, Bruce's hand lightly brushed over your tummy. You didn't stop him, only to gasp when he proceeded to tickle you and shared a laugh. You threw your head to the side, giving him the opportunity to nuzzle into your neck and be in your own world just as your children was.

To say Cass was in heaven was an understatement, and though her life started rough, she had always thanked the universe for shining her to the path that actually mattered to her most.

With the people she was meant to be with.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

782 notes · View notes

penny00dreadful · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Part 3

The F-slur is mentioned here but only mentioned, not used to attack or demean.

“I don’t have a wife. I have… I have a husband.”

Future-Eddie slapped him on the shoulder. “Hell yeah you do.”

“They legalise it? They-” Robin looked over at her future self, her eyes glossy. “W- they can get married?”

“Yeah.” Future-Robin squeezed Steve and Robin closer. “Yeah. They can get married. Just in a couple of places to start but then country-wide.”

Nancy nodded along as though this was all tactical information useful for defeating Vecna. “Is anyone else going to come through?”

Future-Eddie shrugged. “Not sure. I think Robin and I were zapped here because our past and future selves were in the same geographical location when there was a pulse. So, sorry to say, Nance, but you’re definitely not about to pop in.”

“Why? Where am I?”

“Still on a plane back from Alaska last I heard.”

“What on earth was I doing in Alaska?”

“Spy shit.” The two time travellers said in unison.

Nancy uncharacteristically stumbled in surprise. “Spy shit? Seriously?”

“Well, personally I believe you’re an international 007, Agent Wheeler, but most of the rest think it’s just plain old boring investigative journalism.” His future counterpart clearly hadn’t lost any theatricality with time.

In fact it seemed to have gotten worse as he waved his arms around. “You’re like, the top dog at it, dude. Literally so good at it that barely anyone knows your name which you definitely use to your advantage. You’re super cagey on details.

“But this time around, you were in Korea when shit hit the fan. Again, don’t know what you were doing there but I did hear Pyongyang mentioned once so you were only a jump away from Kamchatka when Ellie felt a disturbance in the force so you volunteered to go see if it was the Ruskies again, but no dice. Completely filled in with concrete. We have no idea how you got there so quickly but my money is on spy shit.”

Nancy stared at him open-mouthed as he spoke.

“So… So I do it? I make it? I succeed?”

“More than succeed.”

“And,” Nancy bit her lip, like she didn’t really want to ask the question but she was burning to know nonetheless. “The whole… marriage and kids thing?”

Future-Eddie glanced toward Steve, occupied by Future-Robin who was trying to distract him from the conversation and Eddie’s heart sank.

“Nance, don’t take this the wrong way but I don’t think you ever wanted that. I think you were told to want that, as a woman, but it was never you. You don’t have any kids, you’re not married and I don’t think you ever want to be.”

Nancy looked almost relieved at the information and Eddie was so confused.

He still had a thousand questions firing around his head so he decided to latch onto something mentioned earlier.

“Who’s Cassie?”

Future-Eddie smiled softly. “She’s my youngest.”

Eddie choked on thin air. “Kid?!”

“Yeah.”

“Your youngest kid is my age?”

“God, dude. Don’t remind me. You’ll make me feel so old.”

“You are old.”

His future self shoved his arm. “Watch it, whippersnapper.”

“Who’re your other kids?”

“Here, let me show you.” He pulled a slab of something out of his pocket before shaking his head and pulling his wallet out instead. “I think a phone would be a bit too much, so we’ll do the wallet.”

Eddie blinked. “Right.” Like he knew whatever the fuck the guy was on about.

Future-Eddie pulled some photos loose and in the pile Eddie caught sight of a hairy muscular thigh and a torso littered in old scars stretched obscenely out on a bed and dressed in black lace before the photo was swiftly snatched out of sight and Future-Eddie stuffed it down his pants.

“Woah, whoops! You don’t need to be seeing that!”

“Eddie!” Future-Robin called, staring at him wide eyed. “Oh my god, you keep that photo in your wallet?!”

“It was an anniversary gift!”

“He’s going to rip you a new asshole once he finds out.”

“God.” Future-Eddie breathed. “I hope so.”

Eddie knew his face must be lobster red. From what he had just seen of his future husband, he was hot, metal as shit with those scars and willing to do things like… that?! He’d hit the damn jackpot.

If only he’d seen his face.

“Moving on!” Future-Eddie called brightly. “My girls.” He held out a photo of three teenagers backstage at some kind of concert. It looked like they were laughing at something that had just happened behind the camera, their backs to the stage. They all looked wildly different from each other.

“They’re older now, obviously, but this photo… It’s my favourite. Rhea, Poppy and Cassie." He pointed at each of them respectively

The girl on the left looked to be the oldest, blonde and short with glasses, dressed in oversized flannels and baggy ripped jeans. Her mouth was wide open in what must have been a cackle, nearly bent double with one hand on her sister's shoulder, keeping her balance.

The girl in the middle was taller, her hair was dyed a dark purple colour with two piercings over her black painted lips, dressed in flowing black lace. She had both hands up as if she’d just been hiding behind them, her eyes wide and incredulous, seeming to only really let out a giggle.

The third was a similar height to the girl in the middle, black haired and freckled, dressed in bright pastel colours with a cast on her arm. She was half hiding her face behind her hair, turned towards her sisters but her smile was so wide her eyes all but disappeared.

They all looked so happy together.

Holy shit.

He only ever had Wayne and now… well, in the future he has a husband and three daughters (holyshitholyshitholyshit), he’d built a family.

“Pretty unbelievable, right?” Future-Eddie smiled across at him, warm and content.

“Just wait ‘till you find out what he does for work!” Future-Robin shouted at him from up ahead.

Work? Eddie had never had a job before and everything in his future seemed so perfect, maybe this was the downer. God he hoped it wasn’t some corporate bullshit.

“What do you do for work?”

Future-Eddie blushed which was very fucking odd and scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m retired.” He shrugged.

“Eddie. You’re not going to tell him?”

“How can I tell him? Look at him! He’s having the worst week of his life! He’s being hunted by a town full of evangelical nutjobs, you think he’ll believe me if I tell him I have two Grammys and a Tony?!”

“Okay, pause.” Eddie put his hand to his future self’s chest, stopping them both. “I’m gonna need you to run that by me again.”

Because no fuckin’ way, man.

Nuh-uh.

Not a chance it meant what he thought it meant.

Not him.

Not some little rat goblin from rural Indiana.

“Two Grammys.”

Future-Eddie nodded. “Two Grammys and a Tony.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose before scoffing. “Why a Tony?”

“It’s called branching out, dude. Don’t gatekeep, it’s not a good look.”

Future-Robin grimaced from up ahead. “Sorry, he’s sensitive.”

“Yes, I’m sensitive, Rob! Lloyd Webber can suck my dick!” He grumbled and muttered in a way that was clearly supposed to be an imitation, “Not built for writing a broadway musical my asshole.”

“So…”

“So.”

“You’re… we’re like, famous?”

Future-Eddie shrugged. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“With two Grammys.”

“We would have more if we didn’t get banned.” He muttered again, clearly not supposed to be overheard.

Eddie just stared. “Dude! How the hell do you get banned from the Grammys?”

Future-Robin faltered in her steps ahead, stuttering in the middle of her answer to Robin about her work as a translator in Geneva.

His future self started to walk again, trying to brush him off. “Uh… You know what? It’s a long story, I don’t think we should-”

Eddie caught up. “No, no. This is my potential future right? I should know, maybe I can avoid it?”

Future-Eddie raised his hand to his jaw again, almost unconsciously, like those words hit him on multiple levels.

“Some things can’t be avoided, I don’t think.” He sighed heavily. “Alright. I got outed. Publicly. It wasn’t pretty. And it wasn’t just me, my husband got outed too. We called a blackmailer's bluff and they followed through.”

Eddie shook his head, disbelieving. “They banned you because you got outed?”

“No… not exactly. Okay, listen. I was in a really dark place at the time and I was so, so angry and you know what we’re like when we’re angry. It was incredibly controversial at the time and still is, kinda. Like a black stain on the band's past but I wouldn’t take it back if I could, you understand me?

“When I wrote it I was feeling super toxic and bitter and I’m not excusing it because it was so personal but the younger generation have picked it up again and they’re seeing it like it was meant to be seen. Like it’s about having to hide and live in fear all the time and how stressful and unfair it is and-”

Eddie sped up his steps just a little so he could look at his future self. “What did you do?”

“I…” Future-Eddie twisted at his wedding band. “I released a song called ‘Faggot’ and it’s exactly as painful as you think.”

Eddie sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Listen, I don’t really know how this whole divergent paths thing will work, how much of my life you will or won’t experience after this. But everything I went through, everything, made me who I am today. It’s going to be really hard and it really fucking sucks sometimes. But it got me my girls. It got me my husband. I wouldn’t give it up for anything, you understand me?”

He looked back down at the ground, contemplating. Even though he’d just heard of some truly awful shit that might happen to him at some point, he couldn’t help agreeing with his future self. He had the girls. They seemed happy. He had a husband and he seemed truly content with him, even if Steve’s shadow was still overhanging. But he didn’t really know that for sure. He wanted to know about who he was married to, even if he didn’t want to know who.

“Tell me about him?”

Future-Eddie’s face split into a wide grin. “I thought you’d never ask. He’s the biggest fucking dork I know. The sweetest guy in the world, kindergarten teacher, little league coach… he sees everything. Self sacrificial streak a mile wide, giving me grey hairs.” He laughed.

“Sounds like a normie.”

“The normiest. It’s adorable.”

“Eddie!” Future-Robin called, waving him over from up ahead. “I need you, c’mere.”

“That’s sweet, baby. But it would never work between us.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ, do you have an off switch?”

Future-Eddie’s grin turned feral. “I-”

“No!” She held up her hand. “Stop. Just come here, fucking hell.”

Eddie watched his own future counterpart practically skip over to the others, throwing his arms around both Robins and Nancy while his mind spun like a record without the needle down.

Fuckin’ time travel, man. What were the odds? But what were the odds of an alternate dimension and demon bats and demon dogs and just general demon fuckery?

And he was fucking married? What the shit. Like he’d pretty much resigned himself to short term secret shameful relationships or quick encounters in whatever club bathroom he ended up at in the city.

Some kind of life of settling down, with kids no less, was not something he’d ever dare believe…

“So.”

Eddie looked over. Steve was walking beside him, staying remarkably steady despite his wounds.

“So.”

He smiled at him but it was a little strained at the edges. “You have a husband.”

“I have a husband.”

And it was only really then that it hit him. Those words. Those words felt so… fantastic to say.

It wasn’t just the fact that he’d come out.

It was the fact that the words ‘I have a husband.’ meant that he had a husband. Someone who loved him unconditionally. Someone who stuck with his eccentricities and his trash panda tendencies. His parents were a terrible example for marriage and he knew, he knew that he would never allow himself to end up that way.

So this had to be it.

This had to be real.

“I don’t think I’d mind a husband.”

Eddie stopped dead.

Steve turned to look at him, a small smirk on his face. He strode two steps in front, continuing to walk backwards, keeping pace before placing a finger under Eddie’s chin and pushing his jaw back up. He hadn’t even realised it was hanging open.

“But… but you’re…”

"Yeah, I'm attracted to girls, I can hide if I want to and have an easy life. But boys are an option for me too. Don’t tell me you think I should play it safe because society tells me to. I thought you’d be better than that.” Steve slowed to keep pace with him again, knocking him with his shoulder and the barest hint of that smug smile on his face.

“Wh- I- I am. I am better than that. I’m sorry I just didn’t expect- you don’t-”

“I don’t look queer? Or act queer?”

“No! No, I didn’t mean…”

But he did mean that. He had thought that. And his shit had now been completely rocked because of it.

His jaw had fallen open again, he just realised. He snapped it closed and his mouth felt so fucking dry. “I think you’d make a good husband.”

“Are you asking?” Steve quirked an eyebrow at him and flashed his teeth with a grin.

Jesus H. Christ he was so pretty.

Fucking hell. Was this what it was like to be on the end of the Harrington charm? God, he was in so much trouble now.

And Steve was still grinning at him, like a cocky little bastard. “I don’t think anyone would want me as a husband anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I’m lost. Who the fuck would ever pass you up for a husband?”

Steve shrugged, a little more subdued than he was before. Eddie only barely caught the glance in Nancy’s direction.

“Wheeler’s loss.”

“No, I mean I get it. I have a lot of baggage and I feel like these bites aren’t going to just smoothe over. What happens then? What’s my spouse gonna do with me once I don’t have my looks anymore, you know?”

“Fuck your looks man, that’s not why people get married. That’s not why I’d get married.”

“It’s why my parents got married.”

“And you wanna have a marriage like theirs?”

“No! God, no. Never.”

“Exactly. So why do you think you’d allow yourself to get tied down to someone who only cares what you look like?”

“Maybe that’s the only reason they’d have me.” Steve grinned as if what he was saying was just fact. “Like I said, I’ve got baggage.”

Eddie shook his head. “We’ve all got baggage, man. I’m not trying to like, invalidate yours or whatever, but everyone has their shit. Yeah your shit is fucking intense, I mean look around, but that won’t matter to the right person. They might have their own. Might not be alternate dimension time travel shit but could be something similar. Maybe you’ll marry a veteran or a refugee. Or maybe you’ll marry someone who’s never experienced anything worse than a paper cut and when they stub their toe they only say ‘oh dear’. Relationships… marriage is a partnership, their baggage, your baggage, it’s there to be shared. It wouldn’t matter to me. I’ll take on my husbands shit and I’ll marry a man who’ll take on mine too. I know I will. I’m sure of it.”

Steve was staring at him like he had six heads.

Fantastic.

After he’d just spilled himself out of his mouth and everything.

But he wasn’t gonna back down.

It’s what he believed in his heart of hearts.

“I just-” Steve started. “I’ve never heard anyone describe it like that.”

“Like what?” To him, it just seemed like common sense.

“Like a partnership. You know like people always say relationships are commitment and dedication and selflessness.”

“Well yeah, they are but it has to go both ways. You can’t have one side putting in all that effort.”

“Partnership.” Steve muttered quietly, considering. “It has to be equal, right?”

“Yeah, now you’re getting it. It has to be equal.”

Steve’s smile was softer now, to go right along with his eyes. “You’re gonna make someone a really good husband one day, Eddie.”

Fuck, wasn’t that just a cupids arrow straight to the heart. And now Steve was looking at him all tender and it was driving him insane.

“You gotta at least cook me a nice dinner first before asking for my hand, there, Stevie.”

Steve shrugged. “Okay. What do you like?”

“Wha- I… What do I like?”

“What do you like to eat?”

Wait.

His mind was blank. He should really be able to improv his way out of this but his head was completely empty.

“Italian, I guess?”

Steve’s grin almost turned conspiratorial. He reached up and lightly tugged at one of Eddie’s curls. “Fuck, you’re perfect, aren’t you?”

“I’m on the run from the law at the moment, sweetheart.”

“Not for much longer if I have anything to say about it.”

They were interrupted by raised voices ahead of them. There was a brief moment of panic before he and Steve realised it was just the two time travellers bickering loudly as the trees started to thin and houses began to come into view.

“Well, why can’t we remember any of this then?” Future-Robin asked.

“Because it hasn’t happened to us in our past. It’s happening to us in our present. And their present. How can we remember something that hasn’t happened yet? Because it’s happening now. To four different people. Their timeline has already diverged from ours just by us turning up. This isn't our story anymore, it's theirs.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Future-Eddie waved his hand at her. “Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey.”

Future-Robin reached out and swatted him over the head. “You’re such a dork!”

“Hey!” He shoved her. “I only got into sci-fi because of you. Before you I was blissfully existing in a fantasy only realm.”

“Yeah.” She shoved him back. “You’re fucking welcome.”

They kept pushing and prodding at each other before it descended into chaos, devolving into some kind of childish slap war until eventually she had him in a headlock.

“Aaagh, Stevie! Help me!”

Steve just blinked at the two of them, probably trying to figure out how he was supposed to corral two adults who were nearly triple his age.

“So in the future, you and Robin seem to have some kind of… friendship?”

“Friendship?” Future-Eddie squawked. “No friendship here. She’s my soulmate by proxy. My sworn fuckin’ enemy.” From his bent over position he managed to grab her behind the knees and haul her over his shoulder.

“Barbarian!”

“Buckley, my tabletop wife, you know I’m a bard.”

“Would you two shut the fuck up?!” Nancy hissed. “You’re gonna get us eaten.”

Future-Robin was let back onto her feet, quietly.

“Sorry.”

It was objectively hilarious, watching two grown adults who could technically be their grandparents mutter their apologies as if they’d just been chastised by the school principal.

It was even funnier watching them punch each other in the arm as soon as Nancy’s back was turned.

“We’re here.” Nancy said, staring out at the houses. “C’mon.” Without a backwards glance, she took off running.

“Nan-!” Robin lowered her volume as they all chased after her. “Nancy!”

By the time Eddie and Steve had followed them through the front door, the rest of them were disappearing upstairs.

“Why didn’t you tell us this earlier?” Nancy was asking, holding what looked like a diary.

“Would you have believed us? You need to see evidence for yourself, you know that.” His future counterpart answered.

“What did I miss?” Eddie wheezed, placing his hands on his knees.

Fuck, he needed to give up smoking.

“It’s 1983.” Robin answered, patting his back.

“Is this more time-travel fuckery?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Future Eddie and Robin spoke at the same time.

“The Upside-Down is stuck in 1983. The day Will Byers went missing.” Nancy clarified.

“Right. Okay. 1983. Cool.” Eddie gave a thumbs up, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He glanced around. “Hey, where’s-”

He was abruptly cut off as the entire house around them shook, sending him tumbling back into the hallway. The sounds of photo frames and Nancy’s knick knacks crashing to the ground surrounded him but underneath it all his blood ran cold when he heard a pained shout from downstairs.

“Steve?!” He called out, panicked, trying to get to his feet but being defeated by his own severe lack of athleticism and the incessant shaking of the very earth beneath him.

He crawled towards the stairs, thankful that the shaking had stopped by the time he reached the first step.

He flew down them, nearly landing square on his ass again before catching sight of Steve, leaning heavily up against the wall and clutching his sides.

“Steve! Are you okay?” There were red patches starting to bloom under the makeshift bandages around his waist and he hissed in pain, as Eddie took hold of his arms, pressing his forehead into Eddie’s shoulder.

“I just… I just need a minute.”

There was the sound of something ripping beside him.

“Shit. Things move fast in this timeline, don’t they?”

Eddie turned his head and froze, staring wide eyed at the third figure standing next to them.

Part 1 Part 3

I'm thinking one more part for this auspicious anniversary/time travel fic. I'll update the posts with links and the AO3 link too.

Thanks everyone for your sweet comments and tag requests! Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. 🖤

Tags: @epiclazersharkshark, @estrellami-1, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @addelyin

641 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 2 years

Note

Can you please write about aster harry and y/n going on their vacation. They're just having such a good time under the sun and being in love. And she looks so soft in her summer dresses and he can't stop loving on her

You mentioned in one of the Aster extra chapters that Harry and Y/N were leaving for a vacation. How do you think would they spend their time together on a vacation?

Cockwarming with aster Harry 🥵🥵

wordcount: 17.5k+

—————

"Wait right here for me, 'kay? I'll grab our bags and be right back."

Harry pressed a quick kiss to the top of (Y/N)'s head before disappearing into the airport rush, not even giving her a second to argue or ask if he wanted help. But, she couldn't lie and say she wasn't grateful for the reprieve and chance to sit down with space to breathe. The flight that landed them in Barcelona had been long with all the delays and extra hours spent awaiting an open terminal, and the fact the plane was packed to the brim with tourists taking advantage of the long weekend.

It felt like a breath of fresh air when she and Harry finally spilled out into the tunnel and entered the stuffy airport. At least she could stretch her legs and the only person touching her was Harry. So, even as much as she felt guilty watching him venture into the crowd to get to baggage claim, she didn't really want to leave the little bench he had deposited her at now that she had more than a couple feet of space.

Checking the time on her phone, (Y/N) sighed at the time change. She'd never traveled this far from home, and these differences were starting to nag at her. The worst of it all was that she didn't know exactly where everything was—the hotel, restaurants in town, any convenience stores, even where to park if they went to any attractions—and that for the duration of their trip, they would have to rely on Ubers and taxis to get them around. Though Harry took on the brunt of the planning and let her know about those little details and humored her line of 'what ifs'—what if she forgot shampoo? What if she forgot swimsuit bottoms? What if the restaurant they wanted to go to was closed? What if? What if? What if?—, she still felt pangs of anxiety when she remembered just how far from home she was.

A buzz from her phone made her jump in her spot, a notification from Sarah lighting up the screen. Swiping open the message, a photo of Evie with her eyes big and cheeks puffed greeted (Y/N), tugging a smile onto her lips.

Sarah

Evie wants to know how the flight was! you didn't get sick right??

(Y/N) saved the photo, excited to show Harry when he made it back with their bags before typing out a reply. Sarah had been a wonderful listener when (Y/N) had ranted about her worries the day before, the plane ride being one of the biggest factors that made her stomach tight and head hurt. But, she'd done her part and talked (Y/N) down as best she could and promised to check in with her around the landing time and would be supplying an endless stream of Evie pictures as a distraction while she was tasked with cat sitting for the week.

After hitting send on her message, (Y/N) peered over her phone in search of Harry. He was easy to spot with the vast amount of ink tattooed onto his bared arms, eyes shaded by a pair of round, black sunglasses, curls of hair hanging loose to his shoulders. His lip ring glinted in the light, accentuating the hard line of his mouth as he made his way through the crowd, being less than accommodating when someone tried cut him off. The tense of his jaw only shifted as he chewed on his gum, having grabbed the stick during the flight to help with the way his ears popped at the altitude. If it wasn't for her big white and baby pink duffle bag slipped over his shoulder, even (Y/N) would have been intimidated.

And, of course, the smile that split his lips once he caught sight of her.

He didn't look so mean then. Not at all.

"Ready?" Harry asked once he was close enough, the pair of black suitcases he was pulling coming to a stop behind him.

"Mhm," (Y/N) hummed, stretching her legs as she stood from her spot, "We still need to call an Uber though, right?"

Harry shook his head, hiking her bag up his shoulder though she was more than capable of taking it from him now. "Ordered one while I was waiting for your bag to come around."

"Oh," she chirped, feeling the tense of her shoulders dissipate. Of course he was prepared and ready, she didn't know why she doubted him in the first place. "Thank you."

A smile grew on Harry's lips as he shook his head before gesturing for her to follow him towards the pickup stations out front. "Sarah text you yet?"

(Y/N) jumped up at the reminder of the photo on her phone. "She did, and she sent me this picture of Evie! Look!" she bubbled, pulling her phone out and showing off the puffy-cheeked kitten she knew Harry missed immensely already. A pout formed on Harry's lips as he fawned over the picture of his cat—just the reaction she had been hoping for.

"You're gonna have to send me that, lovebug," Harry told her, his murmured voice coming out as a coo.

"We should've brought her with us," (Y/N) said, taking a moment to pass along the photograph while she was thinking about it.

Beside her, Harry reached out an arm, stopping her from moving forward as a large family cut across right in front of them. "Be careful, love," Harry started, his hand running down the length of her arm before lacing his fingers between hers while they waited. "I don't know about that, though," he continued, answering her proposal, "I don't think the hotel staff would really appreciate cleaning up after her."

"I'd clean up after her," she pouted, looking up at him though he kept his eyes forward as he guided them through the airport, "They wouldn't even know she was there."

A breathy laugh left his lips as he glanced down at her for a second, lashes fluttering behind his sunglasses. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

A quiet smile formed on (Y/N)'s lips as she kept close to him. The mention of a next time for anything involving Harry always make her heart feel a little off beat; that idea of a future, even in such vague terms always did her in.

Stepping out of the airport, the sun was warm as it fell over her skin. The airport had been cold, the air-conditioning turned up to the max, but now not a trace of it lingered on (Y/N)'s skin. The sun felt different here in Barcelona, she was convinced. She couldn't help herself as she looked up to the sky, spotting the fluffs of clouds that littered the blue expanse. Feeling the sun's rays paint over her cheeks only made her smile bigger.

Maybe it was the fact she was away from all things school, and work, and stress, but this had to have been the most excited (Y/N) had been in a long time. She couldn't remember the last time she took a vacation, especially when she was with her parents (they typically liked to go off without her when she was growing up, not wanting to have to worry about her while they relaxed, they told her). And now, being here with Harry was almost enough to make her feel as through she could sprout wings and bounce among the clouds above them.

Absently, (Y/N) felt herself be pulled in a different direction with the help of Harry's hand. A quiet breath of a laugh sounded from beside her as she stumbled to follow him, but she couldn't find it in her to be embarrassed. She was too happy, to enamored at just the idea she was in a different country, to worry about acting silly.

Just when she felt tears beginning to collect in the corners of her eyes from the way she had to squint if she wanted to continue her game of finding shapes in the clouds, a pair of dark sunglasses was put in front of her eyes. The middle piece slid up the bridge of her nose before a tattooed hand delicately latched it around her ears.

"You're making me nervous with the way you're looking at the sun, baby," Harry explained through a smile.

(Y/N) dropped her attention from the sky to find Harry's eyes now bare, the green seemingly extra bright given the sepia tones that now coated her vision. He didn't look nervous with the way he smiled at her, the curl crooked with only a single dimple denting his cheek.

"Sorry," she murmured instinctively, her own mouth curving into a quiet smile as she gazed up at him.

"No need to be sorry," he told her, brushing his finger over her nose as he pushed up her sunglasses, "Y'look cute in m'sunglasses."

Maybe it was the sun beating down from above, but (Y/N)'s cheeks immediately felt a bout of warmth bubble under the surface. "Thank you, H."

His smile only grew at her quiet gratitude. "C'mon," he beckoned to her, nodding his head down the pickup area that was congested with other tourists like them, "I think that's our car down there."

Following after Harry, (Y/N) felt like an excited puppy. She loved exploring new things with him, and this was no exception. She trusted without a doubt that wherever it was that he decided to take her would be wonderful, as he never settled for anything less when she was involved.

Cuddling up in the backseat of their Uber, (Y/N) didn't mind the way Harry threw his arm around her shoulders or smeared a kiss on the full of her sun-warmed cheek before he muttered the address of their resort to the driver.

Maybe the warmth of the Barcelona air that relaxed her body, or maybe it was the man beside her, but (Y/N) hadn't ever felt more comfortable in her own skin.

"Happy anniversary," Harry whispered in her ear, his lip ring glinting off the shell before he pressed a kiss just below her lobe.

The beaming smile on her face served to bunch her cheeks up enough that her borrowed glasses were jostled as the frames rested on her warm cheeks. "Happy anniversary."

Yeah, the sun was great, but it had nothing on her Harry.

—————

"Look, H! We have a balcony!"

(Y/N) couldn't help herself as she bubbled about the suite they had booked for the duration of their stay. Dropping her duffle bag she had to pry from Harry's grip as he argued that it was his job to carry her things, she ran off to the double French doors the led to the fenced in terrace that branched off from their room. A small patio furniture set complete with sun loungers and a glass table fit with rose shaped coasters awaited her outside. The stucco walls were a roasted orange color, the black wrought-iron railing standing out starkly against the sepia tones. (Y/N) bounced on her heels as she came up to the edge, fingers wrapping around the twisting iron that fenced her in from the streets below.

The view was immaculate, but she couldn't have expected anything less—not with the way Harry had been boasting that he had pulled out all the stops for their anniversary trip. He hadn't wanted to spoil her by showing her photos provided by the hotel's website, but he had told her it was the prettiest view he could imagine (aside from her smiling at him, of course), and she was not disappointed.

Barcelona was a coastal city, no more than twenty minutes from the shore, which was presented to her in the distance. The beach breeze whistled through the city in gentle gusts ushered in by the white-capped waves she could see crashing in on the sandy beach. She could already imagine herself in one of the new bikinis she had packed (her first ever two piece swimsuits!), an orange and white swirled umbrella staked into the sand to shield her from catching too much sun, with Harry at her side, smiling at her with even more warmth.

"What do y'think, hm? Does it live up to your expectation?" Harry murmured behind her, his presence making her jump as she hadn't heard him join her on the terrace.

A breathy laugh was washed over her bare shoulder, exposed by the thin strap of her tank top, as Harry caged his arms around her. His hands landed on the railing on either side of her own, rings clinking against the iron. (Y/N) didn't hesitate as she instinctively sunk into his chest, her back meeting the blocks of muscle that made up his abdomen.

"It's so pretty, Harry," she murmured, awe coating her voice, "I don't know how you were able to book this. I hope it wasn't too expensive."

"Don't worry about that, 'kay?" he told her, nudging her shoulder gently. She already knew what he was going to say next, but it still made her feel a bit fluttery as she heard it: "Y'deserve the best; nothing's too much for me when it comes to you."

She knew it was cheesy, she really did. And it didn't completely erase all her financial worries, but, with this view in front of her and the delicate kisses Harry dotted across the back of her shoulder, she was willing to let those troubles melt away. She could worry some when she went back to real life.

"There we go," Harry encouraged, having caught the way she all but melted into his chest, "You're supposed to have fun this trip, so that's all you're allowed to worry about. I'll take care of the rest, yeah?"

Though she had a response queued up in her head, the entire train of though was ran off track as soon as Harry smeared a line of kisses along the slope of her neck. She wanted to keep her eyes on the view, remember as many details of it as she could, but she couldn't help the way her eyes fluttered shut. Her hands she had wrapped around the railing abandoned post only to lay atop Harry's, fingers curling around his fists with a wiggle to fit them in the gaps between his own.

His smile could be felt loud and clear on the sensitive skin of her throat, long curls sweeping across her skin. "Yeah, baby?"

"Yeah," she sighed, not entirely remembering what exactly she was agreeing, too. It couldn't be too bad if it was Harry's idea, though, that much she knew.

Flipping his hands under hers, Harry properly laced their fingers together before bringing their bundled arms to wrap around (Y/N)'s waist in a hug. "Such a sweetheart, you are," he praised against her skin, the words sinking into her pores and filling her arteries.

After giving her one last squeeze of a hug around her middle, Harry began unraveling himself from around her, though his spell on (Y/N) took its time to wear off. She was still in her dreamy daze when he began tugging her back into the shelter of their suite.

"C'mon, we need to unpack," Harry beckoned to her, leading her away from the breathtaking view.

Even the thought of unpacking their luggage sounded like a dream when Harry said it.

—————

(Y/N) couldn't contain her awe as she looked behind her at the basilica she and Harry had just finished touring through. Even unfinished, the church dominated the bustling street it was planted right in the middle of. It looked as though it didn't belong in this plot of land, the energy too modern and fast-paced for the grand La Sagrada Familia basilica. The towering spires reached high enough that (Y/N) wouldn't be surprised that the very tips could reach the clouds of heaven. The tall structures created large shadows that moved like the arms on a clock around the land it claimed, engulfing areas in cool shade in accordance to the orbit of the sun. The interior of the space was something (Y/N) couldn't believe could be created, let alone made with the amount of detail that followed the legacy of the artist that conceptualized it centuries ago (that was something she learned during the tour, of course). She could without a doubt say she'd never been anywhere like this before; she couldn't wait to tell Sarah and show her all the pictures she took.

"Stay close, angel," Harry murmured, slipping his hand out from hers only to wrap his arm around her waist. She was tucked to his side as she snapped one more photo of the cathedral, catching the grandeur of the building despite the view of the McDonald's arches blinking just behind the structure.

That was the strangest part, (Y/N) decided. While the church controlled every inch of space it was planted on as if it had grown roots and wretched itself inside the earth as much as it had in the sky with it's spires, it was oddly out of place. Everything was too real around it, taking the basilica out of the era it had been designed for, and transporting it to the present with a McDonald's flanking it and a tourist-appealing tattoo parlor that advertised for a ten dollar tattoo special (Harry had rolled his eyes at that one when they walked past, murmuring something about business and art and quality. (Y/N) didn't catch much she could just tell he was grumpy over it).

"Wasn't that so pretty, Harry?" (Y/N) asked, beaming up at him as she grabbed for his hand that wrapped itself around her waist.

He didn't put up a fight as she laced their fingers together, Harry's lips quirking into a smile as he nodded his head. Though his attention was faced forward as he guided them to their next destination for the morning, he spared a glance down at her, "Super pretty. The ceiling was... I don't even know what to call it, I can't believe it was real."

"I know! It felt like the inside of a dream, or a drawing or something—it shouldn't be real."

"And, the stained glass—"

"The stained glass!"

Harry let out a laugh at her bubbled response, her enthusiasm influencing the way she practically bounced with every step towards the brunch spot they had agreed on for the morning. She couldn't help it, really. The biblical scenes depicted in the delicate shards of glass, bathing each step they took through the rows and rows of pews tinted in bright hues brought to life by the sun. There was no way real-life could hold a candle to what she'd seen in only three days since arriving in Barcelona.

She stayed close to Harry's side as he took them to the tapas restaurant that held a brunch special on mornings like these, surely there to appeal to silly tourists like her. Around them, she watched as locals went about their day as if there wasn't the most grand of buildings sitting just across the way from where they stood on their phones, tourists trying to figure out how to get back to their hotel with club clothing cinched to their bodies (even as the exact opposite of a morning person, (Y/N) couldn't believe people were still making that walk back this late in the morning), and others that seemed to be celebrating anything and everything, like she and Harry were.

Even this walk through the orange tinted streets, devisions of houses and apartments broken up only by the most gorgeous of walkways that invited patrons to go down the cobblestones, bright splashes of green plants directing them further down the path. Though the morning was still relatively quiet the further they strayed from the tourist center, the energy buzzing about the space was enough to keep (Y/N) bubbling under her skin. The lack of patrons aside from a few early risers like them, taking advantage of the quiet, helped (Y/N) feel bold enough to spin out of Harry's hold. Her arms were outstretched to her sides, hair fluttering around her face from the braid they escaped from, as she twirled in front of him. She couldn't help the way her eyes shuttered closed with a broad smile on her lips.

"Isn't this the most wonderful da—"

Before she had a chance to finish her bubbling exclamation (the same one she'd shared at least once a day since they touched down in Spain), Harry abruptly bundled her close to his chest again.

"Hold on, baby." His grip was firm as he twirled her back into his arms, just before he made a quick shift in their direction, hiding her in a small alcove under a line of hanging potted plants.

"What?" She hadn't meant to embarrass him, if that's what upset him...

"Angel, I can't believe y'can't feel it," Harry let out with a strained laugh. She watched as his eyes dropped below her collarbones and to the large white linen shirt she was wearing as a dress.

Her eyes widened as she noticed the top two buttons had somehow unfastened, the fabric now bowed open with the lace of her creamy bralette on full display. Even the gold heart charm pinned between the cups was exposed enough to glint in the light of the sun. With the disruption of her twirling and open arms, (Y/N) wouldn't be surprised if Harry had stopped her because her breasts were completely showing, the sheer lace doing her no favors in concealing her nipples. Her skin grew incredibly warm, the heat crawling up her neck and bubbling behind her cheeks.

"Oh."

"Yeah 'oh', silly," he let out on a quiet laugh.

Harry's hands dropped from around her waist, coming up to button up the top two—now offensive—buttons of her shirt. The tips of his fingers made brief grazes across her skin. Despite the warmth heating her skin, (Y/N) felt a layer of goosebumps prickle over her form. Harry's hands stuttered as he finished his job; despite the dark sunglasses covering his eyes, (Y/N) was almost one hundred percent sure that his pupils were dilated behind the lens.

"Sorry," she whispered as he adjusted the fit of her makeshift dress, tugging at the hem and playing with the skewed collar.

"Don't be sorry, baby. I had no problem with that view," a lopsided smile quirked his lips, "jus' didn't think you'd appreciate everyone else seeing all of that."

"Thank you," she smiled. Rising to the tips of her toes, (Y/N) planted a kiss just at the corner of Harry's crooked lips, brushing the sliver of his lip ring.

Turning his head, Harry made a point to catch her in a real kiss. Of course this wasn't the time or place, but (Y/N) couldn't help but indulge in the way he traced the seam of her lips with the point of his tongue. If not for the rumble that came from her stomach, reminding Harry she hadn't had more than one of the pastries for breakfast he picked up for her while she was still getting ready, she'd guess he would have found a way to linger in that alcove for another ten minutes.

"C'mon," he beckoned to her, reaching out his hand of glittery rings and painted nails, "Gotta get y'fed, then we can get distracted."

Now much more reserved, (Y/N) readily tucked herself into Harry's side. Their steps fell in line as he directed them back on course for their brunch spot.

"You know," Harry murmured just for her to hear as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "I didn't know y'packed that set."

That heat that had just barely drained from behind her cheeks made a reappearance. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

A hum sounded from above her, his smile clear as the tip of his nose grazed the crown of her head.

"I'll still act surprised later, angel, don't worry."

—————

(Y/N) couldn't help the slight roll of her eyes behind the pastel pink lenses that shaded her eyes. Harry had insisted on carrying everything out of the Uber they had taken to the beach, not allowing her to help with a single item. She was left to wait in the spot he had claimed for them under a yellow umbrella staked into the sand, the pair of them early enough to catch a prime spot before the masses came in.

"Harry—"

"No, darling, I want you to relax." That was the same argument he'd used since they got out of the Uber and the boot was popped only for Harry to weigh himself down with every beach bag and tote they packed. More than one trip was needed, too. "Have y'put any sunscreen on yet?"

"No, I haven't because I've been waiting for you."

Peering at her over the frames of his sunglasses, Harry gave her a very unimpressed look though she could see the quirk of his lips he was fighting off. "Well," he started, dropping the netted bag full of their beach towels onto the sand, "'m here now, so no more waiting. I don't want y'to burn."

Though (Y/N) hadn't been lying when she said she had been waiting on Harry, that was only half of her truth. Underneath her coverup—a fluttery white dress cinched at her waist—was a bikini. (Y/N)'s first bikini.

Growing up, two piece swimsuits were not allowed for (Y/N) under her parents orders, though they rarely ever let her go swimming anyway. Just before they'd left for vacation, Sarah had accompanied (Y/N) on a last minute shopping trip to get a few things she needed which ended with (Y/N) being talked into buying a trio of swimsuits she could barely picture herself in.

They were pretty—each of them shades of pink and cream, featuring small designs that lived in her comfort zone—but nothing could completely save (Y/N) from the anxiety that came with the scraps of fabric. It was different, she decided, when she was shopping for lingerie or anything that would be just for Harry. Here, there were clusters of people beginning to form, having had the same idea as the two of them to get there early enough for a good spot, and she was supposed to prance around in a slightly more functional version of her underwear.

But she liked what she had brought. This particular one she had hiding under her dress was a clean white color with strawberries dotted over the fabric, a red heart piecing together the cups of her top and stationed at the hips of her bottoms. It was cute, Sarah had told her it was very (Y/N), even. When she had snuck away to get dressed in the bathroom, she had felt pretty in the suit—like herself. But that was when she was alone with only the prospect of Harry walking in on her who had seen her in much more indecent circumstances.

Out in the Spanish sunshine, sand sticking to her toes, (Y/N) didn't know if she had the confidence to shed her coverup. Maybe she could hide under their umbrella and watch out for Harry in the water, instead. She did make sure to bring a book, incase...

"Can practically hear y'thinking from here, darling," Harry muttered as he unrolled their towels before flattening them onto the dunes, "What's got you all scrunched up, hm?"

Automatically, (Y/N) shook her head. Strands of hair that had escaped the twist on the back of her head fluttered around her at the motion, seemingly reaffirming that she wasn't scrunched up, as Harry had said.

"Nothing," she told him, shuffling out the way as Harry snapped out her towel to lay just beside his.

"Doesn't seem like nothing if its got y'making your nervous face," he pressed, voice casual as if she should know exactly what her nervous face was.

"I don't have a nervous face," she argued, a pout puffing out her lips.

Harry let out a huff of a laugh at her words. "Yes y'do, darling. So tell me what you're thinking, yeah? Let me know how I can help you."

Though she didn't plan on completely dropping the topic of her nervous face (she knew she was an open book, never having been very good at blocking her emotions from filling her face, but she didn't think it was that bad), (Y/N) was no match against Harry's doting tone. Especially not when he made a gentle show of shielding her from the world around them as he crowded around her, gentle hands on her hips and eyes trained on her.

"C'mon, angel," Harry tried again, reaching up to push his sunglasses up into his hair, "Y'can tell me."

"I don't know," she started, voice barely louder than a murmur, "I'm just nervous."

"About what? You're supposed to be happy on our holiday, what happened?"

(Y/N) floundered for words, trying to make her anxiety sound as serious as it felt to her despite the explanation sounding silly when said out loud. "It's my swimsuit."

"Okay," Harry nodded, his hands on her hips squeezing for a beat as the plastic hearts pressed into (Y/N)'s skin. "What's wrong with it?"

"I've never really worn a two-piece before." Though she knew Harry wasn't one to judge her with even her most fine-tuned insecurities, the jumbled words still managed to bring a warmth to her cheeks.

A beat passed as Harry processed what she told him, his brows pulling together the same way they always did when he had to decipher the best way to care for her in any situation. His eyes grazed down her body before he matched her own again.

"Do y'not feel... pretty in it?" he asked carefully.

A gentle shrug rocked (Y/N)'s shoulders. "I mean, yeah I do, but I don't know. It's my favorite one I bought, but there's people. It's not a big deal wearing certain things in front of you, but it's not just you right now. I don't think I really thought about that when I brought it."

She was able to watch as her words sunk in for Harry, realization pulling his brows apart as if he knew exactly how to navigate this conversation now. Tugging her closer to him, Harry wrapped his arms around her waist, her body now flush against his in the protective hold.

"Y'don't have to take off your coverup if y'don't want to, love," he reassured her, "We can lay under our umbrella all day if y'wanted. But, I think y'would be sad with yourself if y'did that, and didn't show off since this one is your favorite."

(Y/N) could only manage a shrug in response. It was her favorite, but still. "Maybe. It's just weird knowing people can look at all of me."

"Well, not all of you, I'd hope," Harry joked, getting a small smile from her as she shook her head. When she didn't brighten up as much as he had hoped, Harry dropped his head to press a discreet kiss to the full of her cheek. "(Y/N), love," he continued, "I jus' want y'to be comfortable, alright? We'll come back out here a few more times, so if today isn't the day y'want to show off, that's alright. We'll try again next time. I'll be there the whole time, okay?"

(Y/N)'s comfort zone consisted of the arms wrapped around her waist and the dress covering her form, that much she knew. Her easy option would be to just nod her head, tell Harry that today wasn't the day and she planned on lounging under their umbrella with her book while he played in the waves. But, as she had grown to learn over the almost year (only three days away until their anniversary!) that's passed, Harry was the biggest and best support system she could have when trying something new. Just knowing he was behind her in whatever she chose, made her want to go bold.

The warm sand sinking around her toes, the sound of the waves crashing mere yards from her, and the vivid tones painting the beach all around her made for the perfect setting for (Y/N) to pretend to be someone else—a different version of herself that didn't listen to the distant nagging she heard in the back of her mind through her mother's voice. If she tried hard enough, maybe she could replace it with Harry's encouraging tone.

Swallowing, (Y/N) nodded her head as she tried her best to steel her nerves. "I want to try today, I think."

"Yeah?" Harry beamed at her, eyes creasing from the width of his smile. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," she affirmed, "I, at least, want you to see, so I'm going to try."

Harry's smile only waned in favor of puckering his lips and pressing them into the soft of her cheek, just barely grazing the corner of her mouth. "'M proud of you, angel."

His praise sunk into her skin and warmed her more than the sun could ever hope to, the round of her cheek making way for her own curling smile. "Will you help me get my dress off?"

She felt his responding hum more than she could feel it as he grazed the tip of his nose across the height of her cheekbone. "I was hoping you'd ask."

A bubbling laugh finally broke through (Y/N)'s chest as she pushed him away. "We're in public, Harry."

He only shook his head before he turned her around in his arms, telling her to hush. He made quick work of the tie cinching her dress together, the bow unravelling. Just as (Y/N) went to push the straps off her shoulders, intending to drop the bodice and slip the dress down her body, Harry was already ahead of her. His gentle fingertips grazed her skin as he pushed down the straps and helped her shed the dress down her form, his touch catching on the round of her shoulders and the flare of her hips.

As more and more of her body was revealed, the most she had ever shown in public, (Y/N) felt the urge to wrap her arms around herself and cover every bit of exposed skin she could. Goosebumps prickled over her as she fought off the urge, reminding herself of Harry's encouragement over the nagging of her mother's voice. Once the dress had pooled at her feet in a bundle of white, she took a shaky step out. Instinctively, she reached down with a bend of her hips to grab for the garment to stow it away in one of their bags for the time being.

(Y/N) guessed she should have expected to feel Harry's fingers pluck at the waistband of her bottoms before letting them snap against the full of her hips, but the feel still gave her a shock that had her standing stock straight with her free hand shielding her hip.

"Harry!" she scolded him, cheeks burning as she spotted a family nearby beginning to set up camp.

Putting his hands up in surrender, Harry gave her his signature lopsided smile. "Jus' wasn't expecting this, angel, that's all. Couldn't help myself." The dimples in his cheek made him seem a lot more innocent than he really was though it still did enough to get (Y/N) to soften. "'M very happy y'decided to try today."

With his eyes trailing down her form before he managed to slip his sunglasses back down to perch on the bridge of his nose, (Y/N) knew exactly what he was trying to tell her without spelling it out loud for all to hear. Packing away her dress, she grabbed for the bottle of sunscreen tucked at the bottom of the tote.

"I get to help with that, too, right?" Harry asked, his shirt joining her dress in the bag as he pulled it over his head. His eyes dropped to the sunblock in her hand with a little too playful of a smile.

"You're so annoying," she settled on, shaking her head though her complaint softened through her smile.

(Y/N) didn't wait for him before she started applying the cream to her arms and stomach, getting all the areas she could reach while Harry did the same. They were quiet, (Y/N) finally soaking in the fact she was on a beach in Spain for her anniversary, in a two-piece for the first time with the love of her life. Even if he was trying to get a rise out of her, she couldn't believe how happy the thought of being here with him made her.

"Don't forget your tattoo, love," he told her, tapping at her side where just the barest hint of her flower tattoo peeked out of her top.

"Oh, thank you," she murmured, concentrating on covering the leaflet with the cream.

Feeling throughly slicked and smelling of zinc, she turned her attention to Harry as he wiped his hands across his abdomen. The black ink of his tattoos shone under the rays of light that peeked across the barrier of their umbrella shade, sparkling with the help of the sunblock. Seeing him like this, black swim shorts showing off the length of his legs and strength of his thighs, chest bare and hair pulled back, (Y/N) realized she couldn't really blame Harry for getting a little handsy earlier. Standing only a foot away from him half-stripped down, she felt her own urge to trace over his body.

"Did you want help getting your back or anything?" (Y/N) peeped, already stepping forward with full intention of getting her hands on some part of him.

"Would you, angel?" Harry passed off the tube of sunblock without a second thought, (Y/N)'s plan falling perfectly into place.

Biting back a bright smile, (Y/N) all but bounced into position behind Harry. Lathering her hands the sunblock, she reached up to the tip of her toes and swiped her hands down his shoulder blades. Goosebumps raised immediately on Harry's back at the cool temperature of the cream as she massaged it in. His tattoos were animated as he did his own part of applying the sunblock to his arms and chest, reaching down and coating his legs as best he could without disturbing her. The contours of his muscles moved under her palms as she worked it in his skin, fingertips digging lightly into each line and cut as she indulged herself in the runs.

Even when there was no more white cast shining over his skin, (Y/N) couldn't help herself as she was too distracted with the fun she was having to stop caressing her hands over his skin. The details of his tattoos were glistening under the sun, now familiar linework coming alive as he moved, the ink shimmering with the help of the suncream. The gaps between each piece of art were filled with tan skin, dotted with freckles and moles she'd traced when Harry was above her, thighs around his hips.

Why would she stop now, when she could feel his muscles liquifying under her touch, going soft as he allowed her to play and touch as much as she wanted.

"Having fun back there?" Harry asked, a snicker to his tone that brought a warm rush of blood to bubble behind (Y/N)'s cheeks.

"Hm?" she sounded, her hands stilling over his skin.

The laugh he let out caused his back to shake under her hands just before Harry reached around and grabbed for her wrist, "C'mere, cutie." He pulled her around to his front with the gentle grip on her wrist, (Y/N) stumbling in the sand as she followed. "Y'make me laugh," he told her when she came to face him.

His fingers formed gentle restraints around her wrists as he tugged her close. (Y/N) sheepishly looked up at him through the frame of her lashes. "In a good way, right?" she peeped.

A grin stretched over his cheeks in a quiet response. "Always a good way, silly," he murmured, flicking his gaze to the tube still clutched in her hand, "Done with that?"

"I think so," (Y/N) started, barely getting through it before Harry was releasing his hold on her wrists in favor of grabbing for the bottle.

She watched as he flipped the cap open before squeezing out just enough of the sunblock to form a small dollop on his fingers. He abandoned the bottle to fall on top of her pink beach towel under their feet before he murmured for (Y/N) to close her eyes. Just after fluttering her eyelids shut, Harry brought his cream coated fingers to her face. She jolted back at the temperature, drawing a breathy laugh from Harry's lips.

Instinctively, (Y/N) blindly reached her hands out and caught a hold of his biceps so she could tell where he was, as if the grip would steady her through her temporary blindness. The paths of his fingers over her cheeks, tracing along her jaw, and drawing a high line over her cheekbones brought a quiet smile to (Y/N)'s lips despite how hard she tried to school her features.

"What now?" Harry asked, smile evident in his tone as he dotted the cream along the delicate skin of her undereyes.

"Nothing, " she shyly giggled, "just wasn't expecting this."

"Can't have y'burning up, can I?" he countered, brushing his fingers down the bridge of her nose, "Jus' because you're m'lovebug, I don't think you'd like looking like a ladybug already, hm?"

Another peal of laughter fell from (Y/N)'s lips as she listened to Harry's musings. "No, doesn't sound fun at all," she agreed, feeling the loss of his warmth as his fingers were lifted from her skin.

She only lingered on that loss for a moment before Harry ducked down, the tip of his nose skimming hers before he pressed a sweet kiss to her lips. Though she still felt a touch of her well-acquainted self-consciousness, knowing that everyone around them could peek in on their intimate moment, she succeeded in pushing those worries to the back of her mind for the time being. A smile even managed to weave its way across her mouth.

"Ready to come play with me?" Harry crooned against her mouth, a lingering kiss being planted on her lips before he reluctantly pulled away.

(Y/N) canted her head as she looked up at him, the corners of her lips turning down in a delicate frown. "Did you already do your face?"

She wanted to do that part.

A quiet laugh fluttered between them as Harry's features bloomed into a smile. "I did, yeah, when y'were busy doing 'nothing' behind me," he teased, reaching for her hand to lace his fingers through, "I'll let y'reapply for me later, yeah?"

Mumbling a quiet okay, (Y/N) nodded her head with a short smile making its way on her mouth. Satisfied with her answer, Harry tugged her along with him towards the shoreline, their shoes kicked off by the small camp they made. Soon enough, the warm sand under her feel turned into wet mush that had her footprints lingering in the expanse.

The same white-capped waves she had spotted from their hotel room, tall and arching, were reduced to ripples by the time they slide across the surface of the shore. Harry lead her further and further out, keeping her close as more and more of their early morning companions joined the fray of the waves.

(Y/N)'s first touch of the water was enough to have her jolting back, a quiet gasp stealing the air from her lungs. "Oh, gosh," she rushed out, looking up at Harry as if to verify he felt the same things.

Instead, she found a beaming smile on his lips, a teasing curl right at the edges. "Cold, angel?"

"Very," she bubbled, the length of her arm stretched out as she danced away from the edge of the stretching wave though she kept her grip on Harry's hand.

"Come back here, silly," he smiled, tugging on her hand gently as the tide rolled back, "Gotta get used to it now if y'want to swim with me."

She couldn't help the way the mention of swimming caused her to bring her lip between her teeth. When they had planned out a few of the 'must-do's' for this holiday, as soon as a beach day appeared on the list at Harry's request, she had shared with him the fact she'd never really learned how to swim. Growing up, she didn't spend lots of time in the water, even during the summer, her parents not seeing much use for it as she had other things to focus on—like prep for the upcoming school year, or tidying the house through the day while they were away at work, or doing nothing fun in general—so she was never put in lessons or went swimming enough to teach herself.

Harry had of course taken the information in stride as he did every other detail he learned about her upbringing, and promised to do his part to help her have fun and feel comfortable in the ocean with him. She figured this was part of her lesson, getting used to the water temperature and wading out further than just up to her ankles submerged in the saltwater.

"C'mere, angel—I've got you, remember?"

Through the pink lens of her sunglasses, Harry was draped in the loving hue of a rose from her perspective. The tan of his inked skin gleamed under the sun, stray splashes of the waves hitting his feet reached up as far as his thighs, adding more dots of light to be refracted across the shore. Though his eyes were concealed by the help of his own sunnies, (Y/N) could clearly imagine the crystalline green that hid behind the lenses, the hue she knew well and could pinpoint on a colorwheel from memory. The same color that looked through her and inside of her for the most brave parts of herself so he could help draw them out. Just as he was doing now.

If he was going to hold up his end of the promise—his vow to be there to teach her and help her out of her comfort zone when it came to the water—she would stick to hers and try. Taking anxious steps, (Y/N) tiptoed through the freezing water before she pasted herself to his side, planning on leeching some of his warmth. Harry murmured something into her hair as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head while he hooked his arm around her shoulders. (Y/N) was half sure he heard something about her being his brave girl.

"Not so cold anymore, right?" he asked her as he tugged her further into the waves, the water reaching as far as her hips when the tide ran high.

"Kind of," she pouted, still unaccustomed to the temperature if the goosebumps on her skin had anything to say about it.

"Don't be so pouty, darling. This is fun, I promise," he smiled down at her, squeezing as her hip just as it was submerged under the saltwater.

Squeals and giggling screams from kids beginning to frolic in the upcoming waves sounded in her ears, the beach starting to fill with chatter as the sun traced its path in the sky and brought bright beams across the city. Peering over her shoulder, she found their camp was now only one of many; families building castles in the sand with couples having the same idea of lathering their partners in suncream though she figured they looked a lot less PG than she hoped she and Harry had. She even spotted someone competing with the waves as he ran through them with a small foam board held to his chest as he rode it back to the shore.

This was fun, she knew that, this whole beach thing. She just needed to get to the fun part.

The water worked against them as Harry waded them further out, resistance pushing against her thighs though she tried her best to work through it to keep up with him. After a few more feet, (Y/N) found she didn't really want to push any further if the height of the waves approaching them was anything to go by. The water had reached just under her breasts anyway, wetting the material of her top and going as high as her collarbones if the waves stayed strong as they broke.

"C-Can we stop here, please, H?" she rushed out, feeling her voice raise a pitch she hadn't intended to.

Looking down at her, where the water only rose just above the mid of his abdomen, she saw his brows raise just enough over the frames of his sunglasses as he saw where the water hit on her body. "Yeah, we can stop, angel," he reassured her, orbiting around her through the seafoam covered water to stand in front of her, "How are you feeling?"

His hands were especially warm as he grabbed for her hips, his thumbs tracing the heart motifs tying the scraps of her bikini together. "Good," she peeped, trying her best to loosen her smile though she could feel the tight set of her features.

The give of the ocean floor under her feet made her more nervous than anything. One minute it was right here, solid under her feet, toes even sinking into the sand, and a moment later it was gone, as if she had broken the last bit under her weight and was now seconds away from floating aimlessly through the expanse of water. She feared if they had gone any further, not only would she had become submerged if a rowdy wave crashed over her, but she would eventually wade a little too far and have nothing to keep her upright.

Even though the dark lens of his sunglasses, (Y/N) could tell he didn't quite buy her perky answer. "Yeah? Y'feel alright being this far out?" Harry pressed again, waiting for the word then he would take her back to shore in a heartbeat.

"Yeah," she chirped, wishing she had picked a darker set of sunnies so she could hide behind them just as he was. She wouldn't be quite as easy to read if he couldn't see her eyes.

His gaze lingered over her for another beat, the heat of his eyes felt even if she couldn't see the exact path he took over her skin. The waves lapped around them while Harry's grip on her hips tightened. He drew closer with a tentative step, the sand under her feet sinking some as he crowded around her.

"Can I hold you, angel?" he murmured to her, sinking down to her level in the water until she was face to face with his shaded eyes, "I think 'm getting nervous so far out. I don't want to lose you."

Relief pushed through her veins as she gave a quick nod in response. At least now she wouldn't have to sheepishly ask if he would hold her the more scared she became that she would eventually just sink into the ocean floor under their feet—no matter how irrational she knew that fear was. Plus, if Harry was getting nervous, she wanted to help any way she could.

"Yes, please," she bubbled off before she wrapped her legs around his waist under the water with her arms looping around his neck.

With her chest flush against his and her head fit just along the curve of his neck in a water-logged hug, she felt her breathing finally come easy again since wading out in the water. Harry knitted his fingers together at the small of her back as he held her weightless form with the help of the water, his lips dropping a short kiss to the bare of her shoulder. She was practically sat in his lap with the way he was crouched under the waterline to share her height, the elastic waist of his shorts printing into the soft insides of her thighs. The rogue strands of hair that escaped from the clip twisted through the back of her head, floated through the seafoam touched water.

In his arms, the water finally seemed to warm to the right temperature, the goosebumps leaving her skin as she relaxed in his hold. "Are you still nervous, H?" she murmured, the bubbling waves becoming the soundtrack as she spoke only for him to hear.

A gentle shake of his head had his own curling pieces of hair drifting through the water as if in search of her own strands. "Much better, love, thank you," he told her, turning his head jsut enough to press a kiss to the soft of her neck.

(Y/N) stayed just where she was, clinging to Harry's form as she kept up the guise of being there for him as he needed her, the waves lapping around them in quiet crashes. The sounds swirling around her—the waves, Harry's breathing, other beachgoers babbling and laughing away—might have even put her to sleep if she dared allow her eyes to shut while feeling this weightless.

Just as she began to even entertain the idea, allowing Harry to hold her as she napped in the ocean, a larger wave made its way towards them, not breaking until just before it rammed into Harry's back and consequently (Y/N)'s face tucked into his shoulder. Harry spun off balance for a moment, twirling her around in the water with the splashes of water dripping off the lenses of her glasses.

She sputtered around the water that had made it into her mouth, salt landing on her tongue and wetting her nose enough to have her shaking her head as if to rid the water from her skin like a dog.

"Oh, no, angel," Harry murmured, shifting his hold on her to tug her away from his shoulder, careful hands sneaking under her sunglasses to help clean the water from her lashes and clear her vision.

After frantically pushing her hair away from her face, (Y/N) was able to blink her eyes open, expecting to find Harry with a devastated look on his face that she knew she would have if she had seen him get assaulted by a wave like that.

Instead, she was greeted with him biting back a grin, dimples threatening to dip into his cheeks.

"Don't laugh at me," (Y/N) whined, sheepishly already burying herself back against his chest. A heat bubbled behind her cheeks that thankfully would at least warm the water left splashed across her skin.

"'M not laughin—"

"Yes, you are," she argued, feeling her own resolve begin to break when she heard the smile in his voice. It was hard to be upset with him when she knew he was happy.

Adjusting his hold on her, Harry pulled her away from his chest, rearing himself back just enough to get a view of her pouting face. He didn't even try to hide the smile on his face now that he had been caught. "You should've seen yourself, darling," he started, dipping his head down and skimming the tip of his nose against hers as if a puppy's kiss was enough to earn forgiveness, "Y'looked so cute, that's all. Couldn't be all serious when y'were all sputtery."

"You're so mean to me," she complained, all grit lost on the way through her smiling mouth.

"Oh, I am, am I?" he countered, his smile going lopsided as he crowed around her, his grip steeled around her so she could get away.

"Mhm. Didn't even help me when I almost drowned."

Harry reared back, an expression on his face that had (Y/N) expecting him to reach up and clutch his imaginary pearls (he'd left his strand up at the hotel that he was planning to wear for their anniversary dinner in a couple of days). "Did I not wipe your eyes, y'little brat?"

"Maybe," she said, throwing away the comment as if it wasn't a big deal. Her facade wasn't very believable through her beaming smile, but she was having too much fun to stop now. "I'm surprised you even had time to do that since you were too busy laughing at me."

(Y/N) took note of the way his grip loosened on her just enough that she floated back into the water, more of the seafoam finding its way between their chests while Harry formed his own response with raised brows.

"'S not my fault y'looked—"

"Like this?" she asked, bubbling through laughter as she took advantage of the resevoir collecting between them and splashing Harry right in the face the same way she had been.

Droplets formed on the lenses of his sunglasses while bits of the foam stuck to his cheeks before sliding down his neck. Bringing a hand up, Harry wiped away the offending liquid, going too quiet for (Y/N) to feel safe from retaliation.

She giggled against his chest, still clinging to him despite the fact she was sure he was going to give that attack back to her just as bad, if not worse.

"I was only joking when I called you a brat, but I guess I was, right, wasn't I?" he teased, (Y/N) keeping her eyes trained on his hand as he brought back to the surface of the water.

"But, now we're even, right?" She peered up at him with a stiff smile, trying her best to not laugh at the way a bubble of foam had made a home in one of his dimples.

"I don't think so, darling. I think y'got me much worse."

"But, Harry—"

In one swift motion, he unbarred his remaining arm from around her waist and had her spun around in the direction of the shore with a push towards the sand.

"I'll give you a head start before I finish this game y'started, angel," he told her through a playful grin, the threat of a massive splash in her direction coming in the form of a flick of his hand against the surface.

"I was only playing, H," she giggled out as she floated away from him.

"I wouldn't waste your head start, angel. Get out of here before y'only have five seconds instead of ten."

The single raise of his brow above the frames of his glasses had her clumsily running through the water to get away from him.

She knew Harry would take no time in catching up with her, and there was no actual danger in being caught by her boyfriend, but she still felt that adrenaline pumping through her veins. Without even realizing, she had finally joined in on the squealing fun all of the families, and couples, and groups of friends around them had started. The thought made her grin broaden across her lips, even when she could hear the sound of Harry's splashing getting close behind her.

Even when he slammed into her (gently still, of course, never one to take their playing too far), sending them both falling into the water, bubbling seafoam, salt and all, she couldn't help the beaming smile that took home on her features.

—————

"Happy Anniversary, love."

(Y/N) couldn't help the smile that curled her lips as she tried to swipe her lipgloss over her mouth. Harry had insisted on being her 'quiet' audience for the night, watching as she applied her makeup from his view stationed on the ledge of the bathtub. The spot gave him the perfect view into the mirror, catching each of the faces she made as she swiped powders and creams across her face, blending and patting as she went. Until, that view apparently was no longer enough as he abandoned his post and took a much more favorable spot just behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist. For a while, he had stuck to his promise of being quiet, knowing she was still a bit sleepy from the nap she took after their morning of exploration, but as soon as he found his voice, he hadn't had it in himself to refrain from mentioning the importance of the date for more than five minutes at a time.

This well wish came accompanied by a dotted kiss to the cuff of her shoulder, the skin exposed by the cut of her dress.

"Thank you, H," she told him through her smile. She found his eyes in the mirror, gaze shaded by the wisps of his lashes and the coat of inky liner drawn across his waterline. The clear green of his eyes were bright against the shadows, making it hard to pull away from his gaze. Even with the heat lingering behind her cheeks, she managed to follow through on the quip that had pinged in her head: "I almost forgot what today was, if you hadn't said anything."

Harry had greeted her with the sentiment when she woke and hadn't relented on relaying the news since. He seemed more excited about today than he had been for his own birthday. She couldn't help but tease him just a little over his inability to quit mentioning the date.

Her remark had earned a pout puffed across his lips that was reflected in the mirror as he pulled away from where he kissed at her shoulder. "Hey," he whined, "'m jus' excited. Why're y'making fun of me, hm?"

"I'm not," (Y/N) bubbled off in a rush, turning in his arms with her tube of lip gloss left behind on the counter. He looked down at her with a point that made her regret her teasing enough so that she reached up to settle her hands on his cheeks, palms warming his skin, "I think it's sweet, I promise. I'm excited, and it makes me happy that you are, too. I was only playing."

When Harry didn't immediately answer, she worried she really had dulled his mood with her joking, taking away some of the excitement he'd been festering. Just as she started running her thumbs across the height of his cheekbones, nails tickling the long lashes that lined the bottom of his eye, Harry slowly melted into a softened smile.

"I know, darling," he crooned to her, his arms around her waist looping into a protective cradle, "I was playing, too, 's alright."

"You're not upset?" Canting her head to the side, she looked up at him with eyes she could feel rounding out.

"No, no," he shook his head, ducking down just enough to nudge his nose against hers in a puppy's kiss, ""We're jus' having fun, that's all."

A quiet 'kay, left her lips before (Y/N) tipped her chin and pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss. He smiled into the contact, only a small curl that (Y/N) swore she could taste the happiness from. It was Harry that took control of the kiss, only allowing her to linger over his mouth for long enough to smear the clear gloss that coated her lips across his own. Then, he dotted a small peck on her pout one more time before pulling away.

"Is there anything else y'need to do, or are y'ready to go, angel?" Harry murmured, eyes scanning over her features. He lingered over her cheekbones, the sweeps of baby sweet blush and glimmering highlight on the planes being his favorite parts of her routine.

"I think I'm ready, I just need my shoes and bag." The skirt of her dress fluttered around her thighs as she bounced in her spot, hands dropping from Harry's cheeks to settle on his shoulders.

Harry raised his brows as he began to lead her out of the bathroom, taking her into the living area of the suite where her chosen shoes for the night were already sitting by the loveseat. "Did y'want any help with the ties, or do y'have it?"

Eyeing the laces that laid limply next to the heeled sandals she had found during her final shopping trip with Sarah before leaving for Spain, (Y/N) made a point to drag Harry along with her to the loveseat. "I think I want help. I kept getting everything tangled up when I was practicing at home."

A lopsided smile covered his features as he let out a breathy laugh though he followed her dutifully. Once she was sat on the cushion of the love seat, her blush hued dress fluttering around her legs. Fitting her feet into the soles of her shoes, Harry waited until he was given the go ahead to start lacing up the long pieces of sparkling ribbon that were meant to cross up over (Y/N)'s calf. He made careful work with the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he crissed and crossed the opposite ends of the ribbon until he hit just the midpoint of her calf. That was when he made the impossible task of tying the perfect bow look like easy work.

After giving a once over of his work, he flicked his eyes up to (Y/N), his uneven smile only widening when he saw her already looking at him instead of the lengths of ribbon going up her leg. Raising his brows and tipping his chin, he tried to direct her attention back to her shoes.

"This what y'were thinking? Or did y'want the bow in the back?"

(Y/N) was quick to shake her head at any mention of a revision to his technique. "No, no, I like it like this. I want everyone to see the bow when we're out."

"Yeah?" he smiled, already reaching for the next leg's set of restraints, "I did alright?"

"It's perfect, H," she bubbled, curling her back just enough to match his face from where he crouched at her feet. She wanted to catch him before he was too concentrated to focus on anything other than his task. "Kissy, please?"

"Kissy?" Harry repeated, eyes bright against the black of his liner, "Haven't heard that one in a while."

Before (Y/N) could worry it was silly to bring back something she remembered saying especially well one of the first nights she spent the night at his house, Harry had granted her wish and taken her lips in his. This time, she could tell he wanted to get lost in her the same way she wanted him, the constant attention and affection they were able to hand out to one another since exiting their real lives on this vacation making it hard to go too long without at least a touch or a taste of one another.

Despite the reservations for dinner that he had reminded her of on more than one occasion today, it was Harry that started edging a little further, his hand on her ankle taking a careful path up the length of her leg. His lips were slotted against hers as he worked, the full of her bottom lip tucked between his two as he sucked and kissed at the pillow. Tipping and tilting his head, (Y/N) allowed him to control the range of the kiss, going whatever direction he needed from her to get the most pleasure for the both of them. Absently, his palm pressed against he cuff of her knee, fingertips spanning far enough that the hem of her dress was pushed up by his black-painted fingers.

It was only when she felt the trace of his tongue edging to flit inside her mouth and his hand grazing towards the soft inside of her thigh under her dress, that (Y/N) had to find her voice of reason. "The reservations," she reminded him, voice all but swallowed by him as he didn't dare pull away.

Harry lagged as what she said finally sunk in. The line of his shoulders fell as his kissing slowed. "One more, angel," he murmured, not waiting for a response before he drew her in for another short kiss.

Pulling away only after nudging his nose against hers in an effort to maintain contact with her while he caught his breath, Harry resumed the task at hand reluctantly. The hand that had edged its way up her leg and threatened to push the fabric of her dress aside and whatever flimsy excuse for fabric she was passing off as panties for the night, retraced its steps back down here leg and ended at her ankle where the ribbon lay in wait.

This time, Harry seemed to take his time, reveling in each brush of his fingertips against her skin, lingering over every touch. He smoothed each crossing of fabric, ensuring no wrinkles or weaves interrupted the line of the ribbon. The bow once again came together perfectly over the mid of her shin, matching the other flawlessly. But, Harry didn't release his hold on her ankle, not until he pressed a kiss just above where the bow sat on her skin.

"Thank you, Harry," she smiled at him as he helped her stand from the loveseat, hem of her dress fluttering around her thighs.

Lacing their fingers together, Harry reached for her bag with his other hand, continuing the tradition he had started this holiday of holding everything for her when she would allow it. That was how there were now at least one hundred pictures of she and Harry at various spots across Barcelona, a small, pale pink purse in his hand in each one. He'd joked more than once that at least the accessory matched his nails, as both his ring and pinky fingers were painted with the same hue.

"You're welcome, darling," he smiled, chancing a press of his lips against hers in a much more restrained kiss though (Y/N) still felt a phantom touch of his hand up her leg. "Let me know if they start feeling loose, or anything, yeah?"

"Okay," she peeped, feeling her skin heat even as he pulled away and began leading her out of their suite and out on the Barcelona streets to get to the restaurant for the night.

The air was still warm despite the fact the sun had gone down almost an hour prior as they stepped out onto the pathways that guided pedestrians through the city. The paths had become familiar in the last week they'd spent blending in with the local life as much as they could, (Y/N) beginning to even recognize faces when they went out in the morning for breakfast. This place had began to feel like a different version of home—a much less stressful and warmer version of home, but still enough so that she'd become more comfortable in her skin the longer they stayed here.

Once the marigold colored awning that covered the patio area of the restaurant they had reservations at for the night came into view, (Y/N) spotted sparkling bottles of wine and the near constant rotation of bright Sangria and apple-crisp Sidra shared among the table. She hadn't been brave enough yet to order a drink while they'd been here, but maybe tonight that would change that. She was feeling loose enough already, maybe that would be enough for (Y/N) to finally try the Sangria she'd seen littered with pineapple chunks and orange slices, berries swirling through the bottom of every glass.

"You said that they take passports as a good form of ID, right?" she asked, peering up at Harry as he guided them through the throngs of people joining them on the pedestrian way.

"Mhm," he hummed, his eyes trained in front of them as a long line of what seemed to be a new batch of tourists filed through the street, "Why?"

"I think I want to get a drink tonight," (Y/N) told him quietly, cuddling closer to his side.

"Yeah?" he sounded, a large smile spreading across his lips as he looked down at her, "What did y'want to get tonight?"

"The Sangria looks good, right?" As Harry had been the one to help refine her taste and show her what she liked and taught her what she would want to avoid, she couldn't help but seek out that approval from him.

His smile only broadened at her choice, his attention falling ahead once more once the crowd cleared some and he could escort her across to the open door of the restaurant. Another line awaited them, but Harry didn't seem to worry any as his gaze was immediately fixed on (Y/N) once more.

"You're gonna love that, baby. 'S sweet without making y'sick like those drinks y'got with Sarah that one time," he explained, sounding more excited than she was over the choice of drink for the night.

"Will you share the first one with me, just in case? I don't know how strong it is, so I don't want to have too much."

Tucked away at the end of the line, (Y/N) didn't worry any as Harry dipped his head down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. If anyone saw anyway, they'd only think for a moment about the lovely couple waiting by the checkin table, their love blending in perfectly with the honey-thick sweetness that had clung to (Y/N)'s skin since they arrived in this city.

"Yeah, we can share, love. I'll even let y'have the strawberry they put on the rim."

Though it was a little silly, it was those tiny little things that Harry did and said to her that had made her feel so loved for the last year of her life. He never teased her and indulged her endlessly in many things she knew others would have lost patience over. Looking up at him with his eyeliner so perfect, even more tattoos littering his skin than when they had met, and the natural ringlets of his hair framing his face, her heart felt so full she worried it would burst out of her chest if only to get a chance to hug Harry all on its own.

And this was all only after a single year together.

"Harry?" she asked as they moved up in line, Harry's attention pressed forward at the host checking in and seating everyone.

"Hm?"

"Happy anniversary."

The bright smile that spread across his face and pressed his dimples deep into his cheeks was enough to make (Y/N) feel like a teenager in love.

"Happy anniversary, angel."

—————

(Y/N) hated waking up early anyway, but there was something especially hurtful when waking up on the last full day of their holiday with the sun just barely peeking over the horizon. It was only made worse when she cracked her eyes open enough to see more than the glare of the sun through the open terrace doors, that she was alone in bed, Harry's spot ruffled and empty.

Though she tried to urge herself back to sleep, Harry having planned on this being the day where they traversed through town one last time, stopping at any of the little shops they'd been interested in but hadn't had a chance to browse at, and hopefully ending the night on the beach to watch the sunset. There was nothing urgent calling to them today, so she wanted to sleep and relax for a little longer—which was exactly what this vacation was for. But, when all her attempts only managed to draw her into the half-dream land where everything was a little too real to be soothing enough to fall into a deep sleep, (Y/N) relented with a huff.

Sitting up in bed, the puffs of the hotel comforter fell to her waist in a white pool. Harry's shirt she'd slept in had gone askew in the night, falling off of her shoulder and sitting halfway up her stomach until she sat up straight. With a stretch and sleep-hooded eyes, (Y/N) tried to find where Harry had run off to. The shower wasn't running, and it wasn't like him to leave her to pick up breakfast, especially not without waking her up first. He had to be here somewhere.

Just as she was about to make the drastic decision of leaving the warm cocoon of blankets on the bed, going off to hopefully find him in the living area carved out in their suite, she heard the most wonderful voice to wake up to.

"(Y/N), angel, are y'awake?"

Harry's voice filtered in from the balcony, backed by the faint soundtrack of ocean waves rolling in from the shore. Though it still took great effort to unravel herself from the covers, (Y/N) felt incredibly light as she padded her way out onto the terrace. Peeking out, she found Harry laid out on one of the loungers stationed on the patio, a quilt she recognized as one that had been thrown over the back of the loveseat in the living area was now draped over his lap. His hair was still in the messy ringlets they had fallen into after their joint shower the night before, long and grazing his shoulders.

"There y'are," he smiled at her, beckoning to her with open arms. (Y/N) practically skipped to his position, making a home in his lap while Harry stretched the quilt over both of them once she settled. With her on his chest and her thighs astride his hips, his arms wrapped around her waist under the blanket, Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I was jus' about to go wake y'up myself, started missing y'too much."

"Sorry," she mumbled into his neck, feeling her body melt into his. Everything around her—the emerging sun, the sound of the waves, the solid warmth of Harry's chest underneath her—urged her to loosen her muscles and bask in the moment. She wished she could stay right here forever.

"Don't have to be sorry, cutie. 'S not your fault I need y'so much," he smiled into her hair, another kiss being pressed to the crown of her head before she felt him turn and squish his cheek against the same spot.

A sleepy smile made its way on her face, one she hoped he would be able to feel against the column of his throat. "I don't want to leave, Harry. Can we stay?"

A hum rumbled his chest underneath her own, his throat bobbing. "I think we could do that," he mused, "Don't know how I'd keep tattooing back home if we lived here, but I'd figure something out."

"Yay," she quietly cheered, her heart thumping at the fact he was willing to indulge her over something so silly.

"You've had fun, though, baby? Good holiday?" he asked her, his arms tightening around her form as he sunk deeper into the lounger, bringing his knees up behind her into a cradle.

With the new position, (Y/N) lifted herself form the home she made against his neck, her chest pressed to his as she folded her arms along the line of his pecs. Resting her chin on her folded arms, (Y/N) looked to him with affection seeping through her sleepy gaze.

"Really, really good, H. I had so much fun with you," she murmured, basking under the attention he doled out to her in the form of bright green eyes and strong arms wrapped around her form.

"We should do this again then, yeah?" he whispered to her, a crooked smile molding his features.

(Y/N) immediately brightened at the idea of going on another getaway with him like this; days of nothing to worry about but how much more love her heart could take before it might burst. "Can we?" she bubbled, wiggling some in his lap.

"Jus' tell me where, and I'll make it happen, baby," he promised to her.

Before (Y/N) could formulate any kind of response around the fluttering of her heart, Harry further distracted her as his grip shifted. His arms that had been around her waist flitted over her body, palms tracing her sides before he settled them on her cheeks. He cradled her face gently in his grip, (Y/N)'s mouth falling into a petite gape as he brought her close to him. Harry met her halfway, pressing his lips to hers in a firm kiss.

This was the only proper way to wake up, (Y/N) decided as she lent into his kiss. Harry was the perfect guide, being the one that controlled where they went with this kiss, (Y/N) only having to lay there and pliantly go along with what he decided for them. Her hands that had been bundled between their chests drifted to grab at his shoulders, tufts of his shirt becoming entangled in her grip. Slotting their lips together, (Y/N) was allowed a taste of the same mouth she had dreamt of through the night. Despite the fact she had some of him almost every day (it would have been every single day if not for the fact she sometimes was too tired to do anymore than cuddle after their full days), she couldn't seem to have enough of him. How was she supposed to go back to real life where she couldn't just pull Harry away to come back to their villa and make out with him until her heart's content?

Just as much as (Y/N) couldn't get enough of him, Harry's want for her was clear as he kept her mouth sealed to his as he tilted and turned his head to draw her deeper and deeper into the contact. It wasn't until the tip of his nose skimmed the apple of her cheek as he turned his head that (Y/N) felt the first pass of his tongue over her bottom lip. The breathy moan that left her mouth was Harry's cue to keep going, to kiss her harder and love her more.

When she felt the first slide of his tongue over hers, (Y/N) couldn't help the way she wiggled in his lap, hips rolling over his. Harry sucked a breath in through his teeth, a hiss escaping his throat as she pushed her bottom back against he bulge of his cock. Though her core pressed primarily against the bottom of Harry's stomach, the blocks of muscles felt through the hem of her top and the one stretched over his middle, she could tell he skipped wearing boxers under his sweats with the way the head of his cock nudged at the full of her rear.

"Harry—"

"I know, angel, I know," he mumbled against her kiss, "Can't help myself; you're too pretty on m'lap letting me kiss you, 's not fair."

(Y/N) was drawn into his lips once more after he finished his whispering to her, the taste of his affection lingering on his tongue as he brushed it across hers. Knowing that he was worked up, the evidence of which sitting just behind her, (Y/N) felt breathless now with every smear of his lips over her own. Though it had only been less than twelve hours since they had been in a similar position, the suite bed showing the details with the ruffled sheets and her panties littering the floor, she couldn't help the pull in her tummy at the idea of going again with him.

"Sit up for me, angel," he told her, breaking away from her kiss with a breathless voice. His hands that acted as anchors on either side of her face dropped to the curve of her waist, steadying her as she shakily sat up on his lap.

Her lips were kiss-swollen and eyes glossy, that much (Y/N) knew as she gazed down at him, already missing his mouth. Just as she was about to whine over as much, Harry shifted under her, his hands keeping her steady as he moved to lay with his cock under her soft, bare core, the weight of which pressed into her budding clit. Her eyes fluttered involuntarily, lashes tangling as she felt a moan work its way through her chest. The breathy whine fell from her lips in a quiet call of his name, mixing with the sound of the waves as Barcelona slowly awoke around over their terrace.

Settling her hands flat against Harry's stomach, (Y/N) fought to keep her eyes from hooding even as she felt her pussy split open as Harry grew harder underneath her. There was something about when they played in the morning that made her especially sensitive, close before she even had a grasp of just how tight the coil in her tummy had grown.

"Should we—we're outside," she stumbled out, her fingertips gently denting into his skin through his shirt.

"I know, angel," he crooned, his hands on her waist squeezing in a gentle hold, "'s alright, though, yeah? Already comfy and everything, don't need to move."

"You don't think anyone is gonna see us?" she peeped out, beginning to feel a bit exposed now that she could hear the beginning of footsteps as tourists like them flocked to the beach for the sunrise, just as she'd heard for the last two weeks. They weren't the only ones awake anymore.

Harry shook his head, lush curls haloing his head as they splayed across the lounger. "Jus' us up here," he soothed her, "We'll need to be a little quiet, won't we?"

Part of staying in one of the villas towards the top of the building, allowed for much more privacy in terms of neighbors, something (Y/N) didn't realize she was so grateful for until then. As much as she felt out of her element out in the open air, bare pussy pressed against Harry's cock, and the city waking around them, she didn't want to leave this moment. The draw of her love washed under the buttery glow of the rising sun was stronger than the need to burrow under the sheets with him. It couldn't be much worse than having sex with the terrace doors open like they had been every night, anyway.

"Is it okay if we stay out here, angel?" he murmured to her, grabbing her attention again, "You know I won't stop you if y'want to take me inside."

"Yeah, yeah," she bubbled off with a nod, feeling a different kind of fire in her tummy now that she was decided, hands fisting at the fabric of his shirt under her palms, "I want to stay here, please."

The satisfied grin that molded his features made a heat settle behind (Y/N)'s cheeks, knowing exactly what he had to be thinking behind the receding green of his eyes that made way for blown pupils. "Think you'll be able to stay quiet then?"

"I might—" (Y/N) cut herself off just as Harry rolled his hips upwards underneath her, her words choking off into a breathless moan. The ridge of his head had pressed perfectly into her clit, pushing a shudder down her spine and the coil in her stomach to ribbon into a tight bow. If he wasn't careful, a couple more rolls of his hips like that, and she'll be coming apart from nothing other than some well-placed grinds into her softness.

"Y'might what, darling?" Harry asked, sounding a little too satisfied to be fair considering how close to the edge (Y/N) was lingering.

"Need help," she swallowed, "staying quiet." She willed herself to stay upright though all she wanted was to press herself against his chest again.

"I can do that for you," he mused, dropping his eyes down her form until he found the split in of her legs where his hips laid between, "I need y'to do something for me first, though."

The eager nod she gave him had her sleep-mussed hair fluttering around her face.

"Take me out, yeah?" he told her, hooded eyes flicking up to her face for just a moment before returning to where she was straddling him, "'M ready for you, angel, jus' need y'to let me inside."

Shifting over him, (Y/N) followed his instructions with eager hands, fingers fumbling as she pulled at the waist of his sweats. The elastic band gave way to her grabbing fingers quickly, more of his skin exposed with every tug. The thatch of trimmed hair at his base was the first part revealed just before she pulled his pants down enough that his cock bobbed against the flat of his stomach. The first bit of precum bubbled at his slit, pearling in the morning sunlight. If not for the sensitivity aching between her thighs, she would have argued for a moment to fit in him her mouth. She would have to save that for tonight instead.

Goosebumps raised over his skin when (Y/N) wrapped her fist around his shaft, the vein on the underside throbbing at the contact. A quiet hiss fell from Harry's lips as he watched her, doing his part in bundling her shirt up against her waist as she hovered above him.

"Ready for me, love?" he asked her, sounding strained as he kept his eyes fixed on her pussy.

"Uh-huh," she affirmed, feeling breathless with just a touch of his head against her clit, wetness seeping from her that threatened to drip onto the grey sweats she'd just pulled down.

He was quiet as he fit his bottom lip between his teeth, his grip on her waist steadying her as she sunk her hips down over his length. The heat of his gaze was pinned directly where he disappeared inside her, a slick sound filling the air between them as he popped inside. (Y/N) felt that lingering self-conscious heat fill her cheeks at the prospect of someone overhearing, but that thought was brushed aside just as she felt the curve of Harry's prick brush agains the soft-spongy bit of her fluttering walls. Her spine stiffened at the graze, her insides clenching around him involuntarily.

"Fuck," Harry murmured, the curse coming out on a breath that that pulled from his lungs, "N-Need help, love?"

His hands on her waist pulsed as if to remind her he was still there, but (Y/N) shook her head, her hand settling on the flat of his stomach as he bottomed out inside her. Her clit was pressed tightly against the base of his cock, the dark curls trimmed around the base ground gently into the bud as she gave a slight roll of her hips. Her walls became a snug home around his length, stretching and fluttering at the feel of every ridge and vein.

Her focus then shifted to keeping quiet as the rest of the world faded around her, having to remind herself that it isn't just the two of them in the terracotta hued city of Barcelona. No, she had to remember that she couldn't moan and whine for him as she usually did, no matter how much she wanted to.

Looking down at Harry, that focus took the backseat as she took in the way he looked up at her with his hooded green eyes and the part of his lips. He looked breathless already just watching her, soaking in the fact she had sunk herself down on his lap, soft thighs cushioning his hips that only paled in comparison to the snug, soft walls hugging his cock.

"Look so pretty, baby," he praised her, voice a low rumble, "So fucking pretty sitting on m'cock."

She keened at the compliment, giving her first real roll of her hips over his. A quiet smile took over her face, eyes falling closed, as she rolled her neck back with her features facing the sky. "Thank you," she peeped, aware of her volume.

A breathy laugh sounded from under her, though it was quickly cut off as she lifted herself from his length before sinking back down. Bringing her hand to her mouth, (Y/N) muffled the moan that fell from her lips, only a whine seeping through.

"Fuck, do it again, angel. Start bouncing on me." Harry's encouragement crashed over her like the waves sounding behind her, wrapping her in a kind of warmth that still sent a shiver down her spine.

That was all she needed to hear before she started her rhythm, straining her thighs as she rode him on the terrace in Barcelona. Her breathing came in coordinating pants, as if with every drop of her hips the length of his prick pushed the air out of her. Her clit was smeared against the base of his cock every time he bottomed out inside her, her walls pulsing with every touch and grind. She kept her hand stationed over her mouth, a rudimentary lid to cover every moan that seeped from her chest, while the other stayed steady on his chest to give her leverage.

"Y-You're so deep, H," she peeped, voice muffled though she was unable to keep the words from tumbling off her tongue.

The satisfied smile that Harry directed towards the sky, hooded eyes gazing at her with silken lust, she knew she heard exactly what she said no matter how muffled. "Yeah, love? Am I here?"

His hand that had been stationed at her waist, helping keep the hem of her top from falling over the view of where they were joined, shifted over the soft of her stomach. As she bounced atop his lap, his thighs a cradle behind her, Harry pressed his hand against her tummy, eyes dark and pupils blown as he watched the trail of his hand.

When he pressed at just the right moment, her clit pressed tightly against him and his cock deep inside her, she could feel the pressure coming from the outside. A loud moan she had no hope of concealing fell from her lips, eyelids melting to a close. "H-Harry," she whined, knowing she should feel embarrassed at her volume but not having the mind to compute anything other than the pleasure rushing through her veins.

(Y/N) could feel his thighs tense from behind her, his cock twitching against her snug walls. He was close, too, she could tell. The flush that worked its way up his chest had just begun to seep into his neck, coloring the inked roses on his skin the same rosy hue. A vein bulged in his neck as he strained to keep himself quiet and in control.

"C'mere, c'mere," he beckoned to her, his arms coming to loop around her waist as he tugged her down, "Are y'close, baby?"

Nodding her head with a whine of uh-huh, uh-huh, she clumsily fell into his chest, desperate to feel more of him. She made a home in the curve of his throat, fitting her face against it as she fought to muffle her noises against the skin. The bouncing of her hips was reduced to lingering rolls and grinds, her clit perpetually pressed against the base of his cock with every push. Her now free hands took advantage of the skewed hem of his top, fitting themselves underneath it in an effort to touch his bare skin she had missed in their clothed state.

From the new position, Harry took over as he thrust his hips upwards, pushing his length through her fluttering walls. He barely reared back with every pull, but with every short thrust (Y/N) swore his head nudged deeper and deeper. His breath came in heavy pants above her, the air warm like the sun's rays that had begun to beat down over them as the morning came to fruition.

"Oh, gosh, Harry," (Y/N) whined when he gave a particularly long grind against her, both his cock pressing into her soft walls and his base smearing over her clit. Absently, her nails sunk into the blocks of muscle that made up his stomach, denting the flesh. Her thighs grew shaky as they were folded on either side of him, her muscles tensing and releasing.

Harry jolted underneath her, his hips stuttering as his prick twitched inside her. His arms wrapped around her waist were tight, keeping her atop him despite the rocks of his hips. "Wh-Where do y'want m'cum, angel?"

(Y/N) felt his voice—the wavering of his tone and bob of his throat—more than she heard him with the way her face was pressed into his neck and his chest was flush against hers. "In-Inside, please."

A mumbled curse made its way out of Harry's mouth as he took in her response, his hips starting a new, faster rhythm. "Need y'to cum with me then, 'kay? Not gonna finish inside y'unless you're with me."

"I'm so close, H, I-I can't wait," she whined, eyes squeezing shut with her lashes fluttering against his skin.

"Ye-Yes, y'can," he told her, voice deep and rumbling, "One more minute, then we can cum together. Jus' hang on for on-one more minute, baby, then I'll cum inside you like y'want."

Though she wasn't sure how she was going to do it, (Y/N) nodded her head against his neck, promising to hold off until she was ready for no other reason than to please him. The closer and closer she was brought to the edge with every roll against her clit and push of his cock through her snug walls, (Y/N) had to remind herself to hold off, that if he wasn't at the edge with her, she couldn't be there. Her muscles grew tight as she urged herself to keep the ribbon in her tummy from unraveling. Her breathing grew strained as she was forced to pace herself, though she unable to think of anything other than the pleasure prickling through her system. The more she concentrated on staving off, (Y/N) found herself losing herself in the pleasure of Harry all around her—even he press of his chest as he breathed and the bars of his arms around her waist were becoming aphrodisiacs.

"Hang on, (Y/N), jus' a little longer. I can feel y'tightening up, jus' wait for me," he interrupted her, his words being gritted out through a locked jaw.

"I can't, I can't," she shook her head, feeling the ribbon in her tummy begin to tighten into a familiar bow that wasn't a good sign if he was farther off than her.

"You can, do you hear me?" A particularly hard thrust of his hips punctuation his words. "Jus' one more second, baby. Be good for me."

(Y/N) wanted to answer him, tell him she was going to be good for him just like she always was, that she loved him, but every sentiment died in her throat as he ground himself against her. The roll of his hips pushed the head of his cock against her farthest walls, her insides clenching around him just as she was sure he wanted.

"Kiss me, angel," Harry murmured, already slipping one of his hands through the back of her hair and pulling her up to face him.

The second he smeared his lips against her, (Y/N) felt her body melt, unable to keep the handle on the shaky control she had curated. A moan of his name was pushed against his mouth that Harry happily swallowed, tasting her affection on his tongue. She unraveled around him slowly at first, her control slipping and slipping through her grasp until she felt Harry's own body tense underneath her.

He joined her in falling over the edge with a breathy moan into her mouth, his own dropping into a gape as his eyes stayed clenched shut. (Y/N) pressed her forehead against his, her breathing coming out stunted as she forced herself to stay quiet as she came around him. The feel of Harry cumming—warm ropes painting her fluttering walls, seeping put from around him as he continued the stilted grinds of his hips—only spurred her on, her hips matching his in gentle rolls.

"Harry," she whispered, nose nudging his as she urged him to kiss her again.

Through the blinding warmth that both shocked and released her muscles, she felt a point of clarity as Harry pressed his lips to hers. The sliver of his lip piercing was enough to anchor her to the moment as she slowly began her descent back to earth, finally catching the slick sounds that were coming from their terrace with every rock of Harry's hips. Aftershocks riddled her body as she waited for Harry to float down with her, the first sign coming when he managed to press his lips against hers in a clumsy kiss just as the final spurt of his cum finished inside her.

His breathing came in heavy passes through his nose as he kissed her, lips slick against hers. "I love you, (Y/N)," he told her, the sticky sweet sentiment sweeping over her mouth and warming their kiss.

Pulling away, (Y/N) searched for Harry's hooded eyes, the green in them slowly returning, "I love you, too. So much, H."

A slow smile spread over his kiss-swollen lips then, the sound of their love being soundtracked by the ocean waves and the city beginning to bustle just below their balcony. (Y/N) fell back against his chest, his neck becoming her pillow as she cuddled against him, still finding her way out of the haze she found herself in this morning. Harry, having unlaced his fingers from her hair, reached towards the quilt that had laid forgotten just behind (Y/N)'s bottom, pulling it over them as they cuddled under the morning sun.

Silence settled over them, Harry occasionally pressing his lips to the top of her head.

"Feeling good, baby?" he asked her, voice even for the first time since she crawled on his lap.

"Really good," she smiled, chancing a delicate kiss against the column of his throat, "Are you happy?"

A quiet laugh filtered through the strands of hair he had buried his nose into. "'M really happy, angel."

Her hands that still sat under his shirt drifted, her fingers massaging over the skin she knew she had dug her nails into in the heat of the moment. She could feel Harry's smile against the crown of her head as he shifted underneath her, seemingly beginning to sit up. For a moment, (Y/N) felt a blurt of panic at the movements.

"Wait, wait," she stopped him, her hands on his abdomen gently pushing him to stay laying down on the lounger.

"What's wrong, angel? I was only taking y'inside to clean up," he explained, (Y/N) able to hear the concern in his voice and picture the furrow in his brow she knew would be pinching his features if she peeked.

"Can I... Can we stay like this for a minute? I don't want to leave yet." Her murmured request was so quiet, she worried he wouldn't hear her. Despite the way she could feel his cum beginning to seep out of her, his softening cock making way for their mixed wetness to leak, she didn't want to get up and ruin the magic of their final, pure morning on holiday.

Harry's response lagged for just a moment before she felt his arms tighten around her and his lips once again kissing at the top of her head. "Okay," he relented, his audible smile now replacing the concern, "We'll stay right here, yeah?"

He settled underneath her, allowing her to sink into him with the length of his cock keeping her full in a way she didn't realize could be so comforting even without lust addling her brain. With his arms around her, she didn't feel a lick of the same self-consciousness she knew would be plaguing her if they were in a similar situation back home, his hold protecting her from more than she was sure he realized. (Y/N)'s eyes fluttered closed as she cuddled into him, taking in everything that made this moment so perfect. She didn't want to forget a single moment of this.

"Darling?" Harry murmured, breaking her from the half-sleep state she had begun to fall into.

"Hm?"

"When we go home," he started, sincerity running underneath his tone, "how would you feel about looking for a place with me?"

A furrow pinched at her brow as she processed his words. "Do you and Mitch not like your house anymore?"

A laugh rumbled his chest and shook her from where she laid atop him. "Will y'look at me for a second, baby? I know you're warm, but I need to see you."

He was right, she was warm, which made the task of unpeeling herself from his chest a harrowing one as far as (Y/N) was concerned. Her brows were still pinched in a furrow as she looked at him, stationing her hands on the flat of his chest muscles while he looked at her with clear green eyes.

"The house isn't the problem, angel," he told her, "but, our lease is up in a few months, and we've talked about whether or not to renew. I told him I wasn't sure, because I was wondering if you would want to move in with me. Find our own place and everything."

(Y/N) felt herself grow speechless as she realized what he had initially asked. He wanted to live with her; he was willing to give up having his best friend as his roommate, and instead take on a new home with her. He'd thought about this long enough that he'd even told Mitch he wasn't completely on board with signing the lease again.

"You want to live with me?"

"I do." Harry's certainty never wavered.

Maybe it was silly (she was sitting on his lap, cock still inside her on the balcony of their hotel room), but (Y/N) couldn't help the sheen of tears that gathered in her eyes.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, dropping down to his chest and looping her arms around his neck.

A smattering of kisses was delivered to his face—chin, cheeks, forehead, and nose all feeling her love. Peals of laughter fell from his lips as he took in all of her affection. "Does this mean you're saying yes?"

"Of course it does!" she bubbled off, pressing her lips to his in an innocent peck, "You want to live with me!"

Another round of laughter was breathed against her kissing lips as it worked its way out of Harry's chest. "I do," he repeated, "Tired of taking y'back to that apartment. I jus' want to take y'home with me every night."

The blooming grin on (Y/N)'s features kept her cheeks warm and eyes creased as she pulled back just enough to look at him again. "We'll start looking when we get back home?"

"If that's what y'want."

Taking him in, clean of his dark eyeliner but still as heartbreakingly pretty as the first time they met, (Y/N) couldn't even attempt to regulate her heartbeat. His words back at his mom's house were recalled in that moment as he glowed under the buttery rays of the sun: his plan was to move in with her, then he wanted to propose. (Y/N) didn't even think before her answer came tumbling out though her smile.

"I do."

—————

this has been in the making for SOOOOOO long this vacation moment was first brought up in one of the first blurbs I did for aster and im so happy I finally got around to putting it together like I wanted!! thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! please lmk if you have any requests or ideas of your own!

1K notes · View notes

paulsbrokenaglass-beatles · 4 months

Text

"In early 1962, I was approached in the shop by a couple and their very young-looking daughter who nervously asked to see Mr Epstein. Brian was in London for the whole week so I ushered them through to Brian’s office. The girl was called Jennifer and she was a pretty little thing of about 16 or 17. The father spoke first. 'Well, it’s like this. We don’t want to bother anyone.’ The mother cut in, 'Our Jennifer is five months pregnant and the father is one of your Beatles - John,’ she said emphatically. The girl winced and I began to feel desperately sorry for her. The mother continued, 'It’s not right. She was only young when she went with him and I know it takes two but we reckon she were taken advantage of. She’s going to miss out on her exams and we’ve no money to take care of someone else’s baby. We want to see this John pays up in full for this baby’s upkeep. Our Jennifer says she is determined to keep the baby and we will give it a home of course.’ […] Brian rang in every day, and when he called that afternoon I broke the sorry story to him. He sounded very upset for the girl but he asked me, 'Do you believe them?’ I said that I did. There was an awful, lonely sadness in the girl’s eyes that said more than any of the mother’s angry accusations. Two days later, he was back and we discussed the matter in detail. The Beatles were at a crucial stage in their development and Brian was clearly concerned about the threat of a scandal and the effect it might have on their budding careers. The early '60s were very different days from the liberated times that so quickly followed. Brian arranged for the family to come back in and see him personally. He sent a car for them and we met them together. This time the mother was more subdued. Brian was very charming and he expressed enormous concern for the girl’s wellbeing. He apologised on John’s behalf and tried to let Jennifer down gently about the chances of renewing their relationship. Then he said, 'As the Beatles’ manager, I am responsible and I have no intention of shirking my responsibilities. I think it is in everyone’s interests for us to strike an agreement that takes care of the situation.’ Brian agreed to pay £250 and so much a week maintenance for the baby until it was 16. […] Afterwards, Brian was quite upset. 'That poor young girl,’ he said. 'Isn’t it sad that sex always seems to have such an ugly side to it? That family could have been smashed apart by this. Do you think we have put them back together again?’ 'You’re sure they were telling the truth, then, Brian?’ I asked. He looked shocked. He had taken every word they had said at face value and believed them completely. 'Alistair,’ he said imperiously, 'I can’t believe you can even think a family would put themselves through that sort of ordeal unless they were being completely honest. And not a word about all of this to John. He has enough to concentrate on. This whole affair is between you and I. The subject is now closed.’ But Brian said afterwards that what had perturbed him the most was the young girl, Jennifer. She looked a real little waif in her school uniform. Brian wondered what on earth she would have done if her parents and he had not taken charge of the situation. I said, 'Brian, some parents would have kicked her straight out of the door.’ He put his hand to his head in surprise. 'How awful!’ he said, and I could see that he meant it.

Alistair Taylor, With the Beatles

#alistair taylor #beatles #john lennon #brian epstein

134 notes · View notes

jingsyuans · 9 months

Text

…preview for baby au fic -> jing yuan/reader

notes: relationship still relatively unestablished at this point, but reader has moved in with jing yuan. to help with writing the story, your baby has been named ‘Ami’.

˚　✦. 　 ★ ˚ . ✦　˚　. ★⋆.

You’d known something was amiss, but you could only figure out so much on your own. It wasn’t until Yanqing came home, his expression twisted and bitter as he was escorted by fellow Cloud Knights that you finally learned everything Jing Yuan had been hiding from you.

Of course you knew he was hiding something. The Luofu is normally peaceful, but with the sudden infection of a Stellaron digging into the ship’s roots and the denizens taking advantage of it, peaceful days are thoroughly interrupted, as well as the routine that’s been made by you and the General. This was his job, after all, and when tragedy struck, you were both aware that he is one of the first to handle such tragedy. To keep it from spreading out and infecting the other citizens on the ship, Jing Yuan is expected to solve the issue headfirst. It is something he has plenty of experience in, so you have no reason to doubt him and no reason to complain when he spares you the details whenever you ask.

He’s just doing his duty, his job. But you met Jing Yuan in an era of relative peace, which makes this part of his life uncharted territory. You’re not sure how to react. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to- if the relationship between him and you really warranted your concern. Perhaps it was none of your business.

But you worried all the same. Anxiety wracking your head and heart equally, wanting to know more and do more for Jing Yuan because you’re here and you can- yet too afraid to interrupt the fragility of your relationship, you kept quiet. You were silent as you watched everything from the sidelines, hoping that one day, it would be over- and one day, things would be the way they once were.

That was a selfish thing to want.

Jing Yuan had already given you so much- he gave you and your little girl a home full of trust and safety. Why would you dare ask for more? That was the ugly thought that planted in your head once Yanqing returned and told you everything.

It did little to soothe your heart, seeing Yanqing look so defeated and worn down- not only from battle, but from disobeying Jing Yuan and getting caught red handed. You can only focus on one thing at a time, so while you may want to seek Jing Yuan out and beg him to stay away from the dangers he was plunging into, you focused on Yanqing first. He is still just a boy, and he needs someone to help bandage his wounds and soothe him over when he’s feeling uncertain. You’re happy to be that person for Yanqing.

After that, there is only waiting. Bouncing your baby, shushing her when she cries, making dinner when the time arrives. Urging Yanqing to eat, bouncing Ami again, settling her down for her nap. Waiting. Realizing you haven’t seen Yanqing, calling his name and searching the rooms, he isn’t anywhere. He must have fled when you were putting Ami in her crib. Alone. Waiting. Walking up and down the halls of the house, checking in with the Knights that patrolled outside the yard. Nothing. Waiting.

The tick of time is especially cruel during this period, knowing so little and being powerless to whatever was happening beyond your sight. The night passed you sleeplessly as you realized you may never see Jing Yuan again. You’d never come to think of this possibility before, even when the Stellaron first came and things had begun to change. You never dared to think it would get this bad, the future this uncertain.

Who would you be once he was gone? Would you be anyone at all? Would you still live in this house, because papers and law bound the two of you together? But that wasn’t all there was to it. Your relationship was so much more than that, and yet so little. If Jing Yuan passed, you could only see yourself moving back to your little apartment. You didn’t have any right to stay here in the ghost of his life. It’s not yours. He’s not yours.

#previews #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hsr x reader #reader insert #jing yuan reader insert #baby au

274 notes · View notes

tornrose24 · 3 months

Text

I’ve been rewatching The Ghost and Molly McGee and have concluded watching season 1. These are my thoughts and observations:

-I love how Scratch slowly warms up to Molly across the season and it is easier to catch when you watch the episodes in order. From going to a complete jerk, to valuing her friendship, to caring about how she views him, to not wanting to lose her.

-I also love how this show’s art style is like a storybook come to life in every shot.

-It makes even more sense as to why Scratch haunts Adia’s old home. Todd’s soul gravitated to the one place in Brighton that held happy memories for him, where life had yet to turn him into an anxious, fearful adult. It was a safe space for him, and he was mad when a family managed to move in and invade it. Especially Molly specifically moving into his personal room/the safest spot in the house for him.

-Molly and Scratch are BOTH horrible liars. It’s funny how similar they are in that detail, and it’s even funnier if they call each other out on it.

-Scratch is an absolute asshole to a lot of people and enjoys seeing them suffer during this season, but I think that partly stems from a ‘I was/am miserable so I like seeing others suffer.’

-I’d say Molly’s worst episode is the Snow Day episode (not listening to what everyone else wants to do) and Scratch’s worst episode is the Internship episode (taking advantage of an intern to do basic, unhelpful tasks and being a bigger asshole than usual).

-Molly nearly dies 4 times (the machine during ‘Friend off,’ was willing to catch hypothermia in order to have fun in the snow, was almost hit by the truck, and was nearly sliced in half by Jinx).

-Scratch, Mr. ‘So afraid of dying that I never lived a day’…. Gets trampled by animals, eats poison berries, gets hit by a tour bus, gets blended by the machine from ‘Friend off,’ and is sliced in half by Jinx among all the possible things that WOULD have killed him in this season if he hadn’t been a ghost at the time.

-In ‘Very Hungry Ghost’ Scratch doesn’t get to eat any of the food intended for the ghosts. Because he wasn’t fully a ghost, that feast was not meant to be eaten by him.

-I admit I have yet to catch Scratch’s ‘nervous habit of scratching his arm’ during these episodes.

-There’s a recurring theme of the adult characters regaining their passion for something they once loved in a few episodes.

-However I also appreciate showing very realistic struggles, like financial concerns and how you can’t magically restore your community and town to its glory days without some effort put into it.

-Libby’s mom can be seen as an early cameo during ‘The (Un)natural.’ Of course, she would be there for her daughter ^_^

-I’m not a huge fan of the Christmas episode (never rewatched it until now) but GOD do I love the pink sky they use against the Christmas decorations and snow.

-In Pete’s news article in ‘Twin Trouble’, it mentions that other city planners mysteriously disappeared. However, I don’t think the show EVER addressed that, because such a story fascinated me and made me wonder if there was more to Brighton than meets the eye.

-There was a wasted opportunity in not discussing who or WHAT The Chairman was. Was this mystery meant for season 3?

-Scratch mentioning that he is dead throughout the show hits differently now that we know its quite the opposite. So does seeing him having to do mandatory things for the ghost world that he technically shouldn’t NEED to be doing at that moment.

-So does his interactions with Geoff. Oh boy.

-Was Scratch specifically assigned to scare Brighton? What about the other ghosts from there, like the Tugbottom siblings? Howlin Harriet? Sonia? Why don’t we see them doing their job as much as Scratch has to?

-The sheer irony of Scratch believing that he didn’t have any fears in ‘Scaring is Caring’ only for fear to be the reason WHY he was a ghost to begin with. Once again, there’s a hell of a difference between ‘Scratch as a human being afraid of everything’ and ‘Scratch as a ghost being afraid of losing Molly and would do anything to save her.’

-No seriously, it gets to a point where Scratch risks his existence to save Molly in this season and in the next one-if he had been human, he would have been willing to die for her.

-‘All Night Plight’ is an episode I hadn’t rewatched until recently. And it hits a LOT differently this time around. Molly wanted to form a forever memory with Libby and Scratch by seeing that comet and she managed to win over Scratch who went above and beyond to ensure that was possible. While that memory is now somewhere hidden in Scratch’s mind as a living person, this episode likely was one of the events needed to push him into becoming someone who would take chances and embrace life upon coming back to life.

-Considering the number of times Molly almost dies, it would have been one thing if Scratch didn’t take it too well if he failed to save Molly. But if he learned that he was the one who had the chance to come back to life and not her? Yeah, that would have seriously wrecked his mental state.

-That moment when you realize that it was TWO souls hovering on the edge between life and death that changed everything in the Ghost World. Also I could be wrong, but I caught that Molly AND Scratch both have a brighter glow compared to most other ghosts in the Ghost World. Was this stealth foreshadowing, or just a coincidence?

-Scratch’s declaration that knowing Molly was the highlight of his afterlife. That moment when you realize Molly brought him joy after years of being miserable as both a ghost and as a human. This girl reached out to him and was able to get him to open up when no one else did. This girl who is showing him how to truly live once more. This girl who he openly declares to be his friend no matter what others will think.

-When I see Wraith!Molly hugging Libby and Scratch, I just wonder ‘WHY DOES MOLLY HAVE 3 ARMS?!’

-As good as this show is, a lot of folks who watch these Disney Channel shows are likely used to the more story-oriented shows. While the ‘slice of life’ style for TGAMM did pay off, the slow pace and length it took for the episodes to release likely worked against it and I could see why it didn’t attract more viewers at the time.

Stuff relating to Todd:

-Scratch possesses people a lot in this show, but especially in season 1. I’m reminded of someone who talked about the wraith theory on YouTube and he had this guess that Scratch might someday possess Todd and then realize something is different this time. I think that having Scratch use the possession trick so often was building up to that one moment in the last episode because it WAS a matter of time until he possessed Todd.

-As I said in a previous post, I caught Todd in the stands during The (Un)Natural, which was his ACTUAL debut episode. It was easy to miss the first time, but its a noticeable establishing character moment since he’s the only audience member who is visibly NOT happy despite that the team is winning.

-Molly stopping at Todd’s house during the song montage in the bandshell episode hits a lot differently now after the series finale. But then I laughed when she smacked him in the face with a flyer upon stopping by the house a second time in the same episode.

-We have confirmation that Scratch (as Todd) knew the mayor when they were kids and that is a tale I’m very curious about.

-I caught Todd in the audience during ‘Citizen McGee’ when the mayor bestows the honor of being mayor for a day to Molly. I admit a cynical side of me thinks that this is how he actually remembers her name in the last episode…. But at the same time he was so on auto-pilot during that time that he likely wouldn’t pay much attention or remember those events that well. (Plus, you can’t be expected to remember someone’s name once all the time). I refuse to believe that he remembered this event and that Scratch’s memories were what actually triggered the name.

-Todd’s actual lines are very limited (I don’t think he gets many in season 2 compared to this one). While Dana Snyder was voicing him, Snyder lowered his voice so much that it’s really hard to tell that he’s the one voicing Todd. I keep putting my ear to my computer to listen, but Todd barely sounds like Dana. I think they did this on purpose to avoid making it too obvious that Todd IS Scratch. (And that’s probably why he doesn’t talk as much in season 2…. Until the last episode of course).

-The Internship seems to double as foreshadowing, and not just because Todd appears or that his ‘junk’ held some very crucial clues. Molly believes that the pawnshop is where happy memories go to die while Weird Larry assures her that it’s where memories can be reborn into something new. So… is the pawnshop a metaphor for Scratch’s own depression causing his ‘death’ and how he’ll be resurrected into a happier person?

#the ghost and molly mcgee #the ghost and molly mcgee spoilers #i'll need a break before i rewatch all of season 2 #molly mcgee #scratch the ghost #todd mortenson

54 notes · View notes

bajablastwrites · 2 years

Note

Okay, I know there’s only going to be a solid 50% chance of you actually doing this request but I’m willing to take the chance because I can’t shake the feeling that you’re the perfect person to give this ask to. How would Saiki react to a s/o that suffers from… not exactly intrusive thoughts…but still thoughts that randomly pop into her head that’s straight out of a horror movie? Like they can never open the front door normally without randomly picturing someone stabbing them as they open it.

What do you mean it’s not normal?

TW: somewhat detailed description of gore

Saiki x fem reader

Authors Note: you’re right anon! I am the right person because I too have questionable, graphic, horrendous, disgusting and extremely detailed thoughts like this. (I had unrestricted access to the internet as a kid and my morbid curiosity always wins when it comes to graphic content, builds character and I don’t regret it👍🏼) I was originally going to just go with just the questionable thoughts but it turned into a completely different thing so… oops. Hope you still like it tho!

—————————————————————————————

so I’m going too assume you also had unrestricted access to the internet and your thoughts really show it with how gory and graphic your imagination is. It concerns Kusuo a little bit since they just pop up during the most normal and mundane tasks.

Or sometimes you’ll just space out and your mind wanders to that one gore video from you saw on online one day that was filmed by the Mexican cartel, with quality so shit it might as well have been filmed with a microwave.

Now Kusuo doesn’t think you’re a bad person at all, just because your morbid curiosity has you stare at a dead body for a bit doesn’t mean you’ll want to recreate them. You’re no sicko after all.

But it always catches him off guard because he never knows when it’s going to happen, especially if they involve you. You had the most detailed scenario on what would happen if the person behind you pushed you down the schools stairs or shoved you over the railing and your only thoughts afterwards was “damn that’d suck real bad.” Which concerned him even more. What do you mean “that’d suck real bad.” It’ll be more than just sucking really bad. Man’s was flabbergasted.

He’s followed you home and used his clairvoyance on you on multiple occasions because you’d randomly have thoughts of offing yourself— like a “if I had to” scenario. You had everything from how you’d do it, down to even the contact info of company who’ll clean up any blood or other biohazards left behind. Like how or why do you know the contact info for a clean up crew?

Now that he knows you and you know about his powers, he now intervenes on your graphic thoughts if they involve you.

I feel like he also has a morbid curiosity as well so he’ll also be weirdly fascinated with things like gore to a mild extent. But if your thoughts involve you he’ll be quick to interrupt your thoughts by saying something like “stop it.” That’s probably the only time he’ll get a little upset with you and your graphic thoughts. He knows you can’t control your thoughts but like, can you not think about those things happening to you, please?? He doesn’t care about your thoughts unless they involve you getting hurt or dying in someway because he cares about you, will he tell you that? Absolutely not!

You’re still his favorite person even if he won’t admit it to you or himself.

A weird advantage of your dark and gory thoughts is that you also have some useful medical knowledge as well. You know where important arteries are located and such.

But back on topic, Kusuo likes to have you around when he’s with Toritsuka. Man’s was scared of you after Kusuo asked you what the worst way to kill someone would be and you gave the description of the worst Mexican cartel gore video to exist. (If you know, you know)

“Just out of curiosity. What’s the most creative and painful way to kill a person?” Kusuo asked as you began to sort through all the horrendous and atrocious things you’ve seen. “I mean you want them to be awake you’ll have to drug them with adrenaline. For maximum pain use dulled knives or machetes to chop off the hands and feet, maybe skin them too— it’ll take a lot of work because the blades are dull but they’ll feel everything and be awake for it all. It’ll get pretty bloody though.” You said as you had a vivid memory of the atrocity you’ve seen on the place you call the internet. “Good to know.” He patted your shoulder, satisfied with your answer. What he saw you visualize was less satisfying to him though.

Toritsuka fears you just as much as he fears Saiki. To add to your fear factor, your guardian spirit is either a mortician or a critical care surgeon. Man’s starts sweating when he’s partnered with you during any cooking assignment— or when you have any sharp or pointed object in your hand. Kusuo can’t help but feel proud that you can put the fear of god in him just by holding a pen or pencil, even if you don’t mean to.

Speaking of scaring people, you used scare Kaido when he first met you. You know how he was first scared of Aren when he first met him, it was like that with you as well. He’s not scared of you anymore— or at least not as much as he used to be. You still make him a little nervous though. In his head he sees you as Dark Reunion’s ultimate weapon that was created to defeat him, but ended up becoming a failed experiment and rebelled against them to fight by his side.

Now you and Aren get along really well. He really likes you, he likes to ask you “hypothetical” questions. So you both look very sus, since he’s making questionable scenarios and you have answers for said questionable scenarios. They mostly involve ways to help or get people to the hospital in time if said scenarios were to happen, so it’s oddly wholesome. Kusuo is always nearby because (he’s salty) you guys look like you’re planning a murder and he can’t have you guys getting arrested— it’ll draw too much attention to his class. It’s not that he cares about you guys! (He doesn’t want Aren taking away his only favorite person)

Your aura is somewhat unsettling at the start according to Aiura, like there’s a layer of dark purple clouds or fog surrounding you but once you get passed them it’s a warm and golden aura. Good people work behind the scenes after all.

Speaking of good people Hairo also likes you, man respects you even. He knows how to stop heavy bleeding, what to do if someone has a seizure, breaks a bone, etc.

Teruhashi thought what you were saying was either bullshit or saying it to impress Kusuo since he’s always with you. (I love Teruhashi, but I like slandering her a little bit more) She made the most elaborate scenario in her head about you wanting to be a nurse or doctor in order to get close to Kusuo and be able give him a “physical” (Kusuo didn’t appreciate that visual and wanted to go back to your gory thoughts afterwards) she tried to learn random facts about the body to try to get Kusuo’s attention but you always add more details or facts because you just simply know more (it’s that mortician/surgeon guardian spirit watching over you I swear) you add in extra information in ways that is easy to understand too. So she kinda just gave up because she can’t memorize all that shit to try and out perform you.

Despite your gory and graphic thoughts Kusuo still likes you, wouldn’t change a thing about you— well if he could have you stop making up scenarios where you die or get severely hurt he would, but that’s about it! Loves you just the way you are.

#saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki x reader #saiki x reader #kusuo x reader #saiki k hcs #saiki k headcanons #saiki headcanons #the disastrous life of saiki k.

1K notes · View notes

itsscatballou · 1 year

Text

Justified - Chapter 7

A Negan Series

Chapter 6 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 1

Warnings: smut - detailed and implied. Language. 18+ only.

A/n - Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me on this journey! There's one more little wrap up to this series coming (Daryl reunion, anyone?), but this piece feels good to finally finish. As always, feedback is welcome!

Her days bedridden passed lazily and slowly. Negan woke her with long, sensual kisses each morning before leaving her for most of the day.

She read to pass the time, sometimes reading aloud to Negan when he joined her again in the evenings. She liked making use of her vocal muscles, any way to release some of the energy that was returning to her more each day. He liked the sound of her voice, never really paying much attention to the subject of her reading. She noticed this, of course, and began sneaking in some smutty romance to see if he’d notice.

He did.

The IV and the pain of her wound still prevented much physical activity, but they found plenty of ways to work around that. The more time they spent together, the more they seemed to crave it.

In her moments alone, she found herself thinking of Daryl and did her best to push the thoughts away. Often unsuccessful, she sat in self-loathing, remembering the person she was with him. In the months they’d shared, they’d easily fallen into a rhythm of teamwork. Their runs together took longer than any other runs, not only because they enjoyed the time with one another, or because they liked to take advantage of the alone time with stolen kisses (and often more than that). Neither would openly admit it to the other, but they both brought with them a list for others in the community. Items Tara would request, or something that might make Carl smile, or a snack or drink Daryl had overheard Rosita reminiscing about. Anything one of their family would enjoy having. They both loved watching the faces of their people light up when they saw their treats. Both she and Daryl had figured out the other was doing the same thing, but neither wanted to call attention to it. It was an unspoken quest they were both happy to be part of.

On the days they were working apart, sometimes with schedules so opposite they’d only see each other in passing, they had developed a secret code to signal the other for a secret rendezvous. A hideous turquoise and zebra print scarf - found in the bottom of a closet in the room they shared in the Grimes’s Alexandria home - spotted tied around a post, or tree, or car mirror, meant they’d find the other waiting for them at their claimed spot in the woods. It was a small clearing, wildflowers blooming across it in the spring, bordered on one edge by a large, downed tree that was great for sitting, but more importantly hid them from view from anyone who might be wandering from the community. They’d return home together half an hour later, smiling conspicuously, their clothes in disarray and often picking leaves and twigs off each other, before separating again to the tasks they’d been assigned. It was good. He was good, and she was good. They were happy.

The thought of returning to that now left her heart torn in two; she longed for it, for him to look at her in that trusting, happy way; and she knew without doubt that she could never have that again. When Daryl learned what she’d done, who she’d become…she imagined his face, what would simmer in his eyes when he looked at her, and she couldn’t bear it. Pushing the image deep within herself, she’d pick up another book and force herself to focus on the words.

She couldn’t deny that things had changed here in the Sanctuary. The people were mostly the same, though many of the Saviors she’d come to know would send her gifts and cards to wish her a speedy recovery, many stopping by to say hello and offer help. The place seemed brighter, somehow. Lighter. Like everyone was breathing easier. Even Negan seemed to have softened some. He was brooding less, and his jokes not so dark. It was nothing like Alexandria had been, but she couldn’t deny it felt… comfortable. Happy, even.

She almost kissed the doctor on the mouth when he informed her that her infection had cleared up and she could stop the IVs and begin light activity to strengthen her leg.

Negan turned his grin toward her as the doctor left the room. “So, would you like a walk outside or a shower?” he asked her, knowing both were on the top of her list of things to do first. She slowly stood, taking his outstretched hand and limping toward him.

It took a frustratingly long time to reach him. Finally in front of him, she lifted to her tiptoes, putting most weight on her good leg to do so, and planted her lips firmly against his. When he returned her kiss, she began unbuckling the belt of his pants. “I can think of something else I’d like first,” she mumbled against his mouth.

He pulled away to look her in the eye. “Are you sure?”

“The doctor said light activity was good for me,” she replied seductively.

He lifted her off the floor and she wrapped her legs around him and returned her lips to his.

“Not the bed,” she said against his mouth when he started moving her backwards. She’d spent too much time in that bed lately. He pivoted and instead made his way to the couch with her. He sat, her straddling his lap, and their kisses got more heated. Their tongues in a playful dance, her occasionally biting his lip in the way that drove him crazy. She felt his growing erection pressing into her core from within his jeans.

She made her way to his neck, sucking and kissing the tender spots, eliciting deep growls of pleasure from him.

She slowly moved to put her knees on the floor before him, careful not to flex her thigh too much, and finished the job of undoing his belt. She looked up at him with sultry eyes, biting her lip as she worked on his jeans, the heat in his eyes immediately making her wet between her thighs.

His jeans undone, his member sprung free of its cage, and she felt a tingle deep between her legs. The thick shaft, hard as a rock, beckoned for her to consume it. She conceded to its call, taking his tip into her mouth and flicking it with her tongue. She varied between a light suck and massaging it with her tongue, and raising her eyes, watched as he held her eye contact with every gasp she drew from him. She moved her mouth further down his length, working her tongue underneath his shaft. His head rolled back as she took him as far into her mouth as she could, coughing when he reached her gag reflex. Her hands moved to the area of shaft that remained exposed as she worked him up and down with her mouth, massaging and pumping him. Continuing with her mouth pumping and her hands massaging, she heard his moans and sharp breaths, and knew he didn’t have much further to go before he found release.

She withdrew from him, carefully and timidly standing, and met his eyes as she slowly dropped her pajama shorts to the floor. Stepping out of them, she pulled her shirt over her head and threw it haphazardly in the direction of the bed. Now bare before him, he could not help but reach out and touch her. She let him trace her shape with his hands from her hips to her breasts, where he cupped each in one hand. She moved to straddle him while he massaged her, and lowered herself until she felt his hardness pressed against her. She raised just slightly, enough to place his tip at her entrance, and she paused there. She leaned in, kissing him passionately. She began rocking her hips back and forth, feeling his slick tip rub up and down her center. She moved her mouth to his neck again, continuing the movement of her hips. She wanted him inside her, but not yet. She leaned back to look in his eyes as she continued teasing him and saw a plead in his eyes. He made to push into her, and she pushed his abdomen back down, preventing him.

“Y/n,” he moaned out, the plead moving from his eyes to his voice.

Her lips curled upward in a devious smile, she savored the power she held over him.

“Y/n,” this time a deeper growl, laced with demand.

She grinned wickedly at him, then holding his cock with her hand, moved him to her entrance and lowered herself onto him, fully sheathing him in her tight warmth. She leaned further away from him as she rolled her hips, savoring the way he filled her. He gripped her hips, steadying her with each roll. Negan began pumping up into her, finding her rhythm and matching it. They held eye contact as they rhythmically moved together. She picked up the pace and he groaned as his eyes rolled back in his head. She moved her hand between her legs, but he pushed it aside to replace it with one of his own. She felt her orgasm building as she continued to ride him, feeling him hit every wall within her, while he rubbed her clit in circles. As her moans grew louder and her eyes closed, she felt him pump up into her more vigorously. She shattered, leaning into him and crying out. When he was sure she’d ridden out her high, Negan lifted her and placing her on her back on the floor, quickly pumped back into her. He worked her fiercely, removing his cock almost completely from her and then pounding back in. Out and in, out and in, grunting with each insertion. She couldn’t stop herself from crying out in pleasure at every pump. A second orgasm was now verging on release. His pumps became more frantic, animalistic and he shoved in and out of her, her hands gripping the hair on the back of his head, and she gasped as her second release exploded through her. He followed immediately, erupting within her with a cry of his own. He stilled as he finished, pumped into her a few short times as she rode out her high, and then collapsed on the floor beside her, both panting.

“Fuck, y/n,” Negan said in a breathless voice.

The floodgates opened; they could not seem to get enough of each other after that. Not half an hour later, they were at it again in the shower. Her energy depleted quickly in her recovering state. Following the shower, she climbed back into bed, exhausted and sore. She smiled as she drifted into sleep. She awoke to Negan between her legs again, eager and demanding. After dinner, she did attempt a walk outside, but couldn’t get down more than three stairs before having Negan help her back to his room. Her leg throbbing from all the movement, the doctor gave her something strong for the pain. She slept a fitful sleep, dreaming of Daryl throughout the night.

-------

As she continued to recover, she did not return to her own room. There was no mention of it from either of them. The sex didn’t slow. They found themselves hungrily attaching to each other with every spare minute Negan could find. It did not matter where they were, and soon she was sure he’d had her in every room of the Sanctuary, and even places that weren’t rooms. Each day she got stronger and able to walk further, until finally she was limping around the border gates unsupported.

She was finishing one of those such walks, heading back toward the stairwell entrance where Negan had disappeared - giving her a suggestive nod to follow him inside - when she saw it. It was a brief flash of color in the corner of her eye, causing her to look again. Just another walker chained to the fence, she turned to walk to the door and froze. That was just another walker, but what it was wearing stopped her heart. She slowly turned to look again, hoping she imagined it. She hadn’t.

Draped around the walker’s decaying neck was the familiar black, white, and turquoise scarf.

She scanned the perimeter, panic rising in her. He couldn’t be here; it would be so stupid to come back here. A flash from the corner of a rundown building caught her attention, she squinted to see a figure half hidden there, rotating a small mirror to catch the sun. She moved closer to the fence, and the man stepped out from the building. Aaron. She relaxed a little, selfishly grateful it was not Daryl putting his life in danger. She shook her head at him as if to say, not now. She tapped her wrist where a watch would be, and held up three fingers, then shifted them into a circle. Thirty minutes, she willed him to understand. He nodded and disappeared completely behind the building.

Thirty minutes later, she was hobbling away from a disappointed Negan through the gates and toward the buildings across the street from the Sanctuary. He had been expecting a hot and heavy round in the stairs with her when she told him she’d seen something suspicious in the town. She suspected just a loose walker but wanted to check it out. He protested, but she’d made a solid argument for needing to get her sea legs back. She needed the practice. As she veered left, heading toward an alley two buildings away from where she’d seen Aaron, she heard light footsteps behind her. She grinned to herself as she picked up her pace and ducked around the building. She moved as quickly as she could around buildings, down alleys, seemingly lost and wandering, until she found the cracked door of the building Aaron had been hiding behind. She was met with stairs, and took them to the first landing, where she found another door cracked open. She had just stepped through it when she heard the outside door squeak open behind her.

She located Aaron in the second room on the right and as quickly as possible whispered “We are not alone. Speak carefully.”

Aaron squinted and blinked at her as he processed what she’d said. She began the conversation in a hushed voice, “What are you doing here? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Because that is what will happen if they find you sneaking around out here.”

“Are you okay?” he replied. “Some Saviors came looking for Daryl, said he’d run away. We wanted to see if you were still here, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You shouldn’t have come here. Don’t let them see you when you leave.” She turned to leave.

“Come with me,” Aaron said. She halted and turned to face him again.

“Why would I?” she asked coldly.

“Why would you stay here? These people… Negan…,” Aaron searched for the words, “you’re better than this. Better than them. You belong with us.”

She scoffed. “I’m right where I should be.”

Aaron searched her face, and she softened it a little. She had quickly liked Aaron; he was such a genuine person. “I’m not going back with you,” she said, more gently this time.

As she turned again to leave, Aaron grabbed her by the arm. Their eyes met, and she saw fierce warning in them. “We’re going to fight, Y/N. Soon. We will not hesitate to take down anyone on his side. You should come back.”

“Aaron,” she gave her own warning, “You can’t fight him. Numbers are not on your side, and you’ve lost enough people. Don’t lose more for no reason.”

She pulled her arm from his grip and made for the door. When she got to the threshold and saw no one in the hall, she turned to Aaron one more time, with a plea in her eye.

“Give me a couple of days. To talk to him, try to convince him to negotiate with Rick. I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Aaron gave her one short nod. She left.

-------

She found Negan and Dwight talking in low voices in the courtyard when she came through the gate. She should have guessed that little weasel was the one following her, now giving a full report of what he’d heard from her meeting with Aaron. Negan gave an order and Dwight nodded and disappeared inside the building, leaving her limping toward Negan alone.

“I don’t see any walker blood on you,” Negan said, giving her a once over.

“I don’t appreciate you having me followed. Especially not by him,” she replied, jerking her chin in the direction Dwight had gone.

“I don’t like being lied to,” he replied shortly.

“What did he tell you?”

“That we’re going to war,” he replied as he moved to the door and held it open, indicating she should join him inside. She saw a couple of guys hanging around a few feet past the entrance. She stopped as she entered the building, and faced Negan as he entered behind her.

“You don’t have to go to war, Negan,” she said, sincerity flooding her voice. “You could meet with Rick, find a solution that works for all of us to keep the peace. Work out a trade deal with him. Not everything has to be a fight.”

“This does.”

“Negan,” she touched his arm, “aren’t you tired of this? Aren’t you tired of losing our people?” The term struck her as odd – our people. But they were her people, too. They had become her people. She knew the guys here, knew their families, where they’d come from and what they’d been through. She’d spent months getting to know them, and she even liked a good number of them. “He kills our guys, you kill his, is it going to go on and on forever?”

“No, I am not tired, and no it will not go on and on forever. We are going to end this, for real this time.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t just make that decision; you can’t just ignore other options because you and Rick aren’t done measuring your dicks. We’ve lost too many people already.”

Negan looked at the guys standing nearby, who had not even tried to hide that they were eavesdropping. When they saw him looking at them, they immediately found themselves needed somewhere else.

“In private,” Negan looked at her, furious, “you can say whatever the hell you want to me, but you question me in front of my guys again,” he looked pointedly where the men had been standing, then moved in close to her as he said “I will shut. your. shit. down. Are we clear?”

She did not break his stare.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, move your ass. You have an assembly to join.”

She entered the large warehouse area and proceeded down the stairs to join the large group of Saviors and workers gathered there. She noticed the two guys who’d heard her conversation with Negan gathered with a group of other guys, talking lowly and watching her as she passed them. Telling them what she’d said to Negan, no doubt. One thing about the Saviors, she could count on them all to be busybodies and gossips.

Negan began from his place on the platform above the assembly, briefly explaining that Rick and his “merry band” were planning on coming for them, and it was time to put an end to them. She waited patiently, watching the crowd as they began whispering and grumbling amongst themselves. The mood of the room shifted - the dissatisfaction was almost tangible. Those busybodies had done fast work.

She raised her hand, willing herself not to shake, not to show the overwhelming sense of fear she felt. This is what she’d been working toward for months.

Negan saw her hand, his eyes found hers, and he could have burned holes into her with the look behind them.

“I am not currently taking questions,” he said curtly. Everyone turned to see who he was speaking to.

“I don’t have a question,” she said, her voice miraculously unshaken. “More of a statement – I think we should take a vote.”

“A vote?” he answered in surprise.

“Yes. You and Rick have been at each other for months now. He’s killed way more of our people than we have of his. We should vote if we want to continue fighting him.”

“We don’t vote here,” Negan said, at a near laugh. “In case you are confused, this has never been, and never will be a democracy. If I say you are going to fight, you are going to fight.”

“Why are we even doing this? They don’t have a food source, they don’t have any weapons, we already took those. They aren’t really giving us anything. This is about nothing but you and your pride. He doesn’t want to keep kissing your ass, and you’re pissed off about it. If you won’t let us vote, then I won’t sit by and watch these people, my friends, die for your sick games and your pride.”

She could hear the murmurs growing in volume around her, felt the tension as everyone waited to see what Negan would do.

“You know where the door is,” he said as he gestured behind him. “No one is forcing anyone to stay here. But if you want to continue living the lovely, easy life you’ve seemed to grow accustomed to, you will fall. in. line.” Each word of his dripping with rage and threat.

“I’m not being unreasonable, Negan,” she pressed, “I just want you to consider less drastic options. I just want the bloodshed to end.”

Negan stared at her, rage nearly visibly radiating from him. Low agreements began filling the room.

After what felt like several minutes of a hate-filled staring contest, she began pushing through the crowd toward the exit.

“I can’t be part of it,” she said as she passed under his perch on the bridge, “I can’t watch you get us all killed.”

She left the building and began walking toward the vehicles parked outside. She heard the doors open behind her and turning, saw three women rushing toward her. “We want to go with you!” Tanya all but yelled at her as Negan’s remaining wives caught up to her.

They hadn’t made it to a vehicle yet when the doors opened again, and men began trickling out - a few at first, then more and more -all heading for their own bikes and trucks and muttering and griping. By the time the wives had loaded into the old SUV she pointed them to, the yard was filled with what looked like every Savior from the assembly, all preparing their own vehicles.

She did not try to hide her grin as she drove through the gates of the Sanctuary, and watched as the yard emptied behind her, following. She was almost giddy - it had worked so perfectly.

-------

No one was there when Rick and the small army he had gathered came to take Negan. They rounded each corner confused, finding every hall, every room, completely empty. Even the workers had abandoned the place, gathering supplies and food, first.

They found Negan sitting alone in his room, sipping his whiskey on his couch. He put up no fight as Rick tied him up and brought him back to Alexandria, locking him in the cell Morgan had built.

#the walking dead imagine #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead x reader #negan fic #negan imagine #the walking dead negan #negan smut #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd negan #negan x reader #negan x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader

192 notes · View notes