#now it's seven hours again which is very inconvenient

[isaksbestpillow]

Daylight saving time in a country where it's either always dark or always light depending on the season makes very little sense but here we go again 🤷🏼‍♀️

#i prefer summer time because gome difference to japan is only six hours then #now it's seven hours again which is very inconvenient #because of that i'm nervous that if finland abolishes daylight saving time we're gonna pick winter time and then i'll be stuck with that #time difference

[stvrrlightts]

levi ackerman nsfw!

levi ackerman hated many things. but at the top of that list was tardiness

"eren hurry up"

y/n hated being late. she was known for always being early for literally everything, eren however, was the exact opposite.

"im coming, im coming" he yelled

the pair arrived twenty minutes later than they were supposed too. which was very inconvenient concerning today the survey corps were going outside of the walls.

the mission was nothing too serious but they needed their titan and his keeper.

y/n was ordered to take care of eren after the female titan incident. they have been inseparable ever since.

"you're late"

y/n knew the captain would be unhappy with their late-coming but she hoped that he would let it slide considering the girl is usually an hour early.

"my apologies sir, eren was refusing to get up this morning" eren complained about having to take the blame even though it was his fault. "it won't happen again" y/n finished with a smile.

levi however, was not amused. he tutted at you, which was something y/n had never see him do before, and turned his attention to eren. the shorter man spoke with a sour expression

"y/n is your keeper, not your mother jeager. this will not happen again" his voice was stern. levi turned to face you, still talking to eren "if it does, i will come over there and wake you myself"

y/n was confused. why was he looking at her?

"y/n come to my office later. i need to have a word about this."

________

why does he need to speak with me? she pondered to herself

a loud growling sound appeared from behind the daydreaming girl. a seven foot titan that was about to eat y/n for lunch.

y/n quickly snapped out of her dream and turned around. the titan was ready to grab her but it was too late and was already falling to the ground. behind it was levi

"first being late and now this" levi shook his head. "you better come to my office later y/n, or your punishment will be even worse"

punishment?

________

todays mission was rather uneventful. they only spotted a handful of titans, most of which were killed rather easily considering they were rather small. but there was still one thing that y/n just couldn't get off her mind.

punishment?

after changing out of uniform back into some more comfortable clothes. y/n finally gathered the courage to make her way to the captains office.

y/n hoped it would just be the usual run laps around the yard all day or clean the captain office from top till bottom, but    y/n had a feeling it was gonna be different this time.

she took a deep breath and knocked on the door "captain? you wanted to see me?" the door swung open leaving y/n started

"get in"

she nodded and entered the exceptionally clean office. she figured that cleaning levis office couldn't be the punishment considering there wasn't a single spec of dust to be seen.

to be completely honest with you, y/n didn't know what to expect. she was terrified. levi closed the door behind y/n and locked it. y/n audibly gulped. a million thoughts ran through her mind.

is he going to beat me?  y/ns heart began to race. or worse? levi turned to face her

"how are you feeling y/n"

y/n didn't know if she should lie or not. "im good" she replied looking down at her feet. y/n was an awful liar.

levi walked towards the terrified girl. his face was enticing yet terrifying. levi pushed y/n into his leather armchair.

y/ns breath was caught in her throat. he placed a finger underneath her chin and lifted her face up, forcing eye contact.

"i said how are you feeling y/n?"

it felt as if levi was staring into her soul. y/n took a moment to answer. giving the captain time to study her face. brushing his rough hands over her rosy cheeks

"im scared"

levi let out a quiet laugh. "don't be scared sweetheart" y/ns chest tightened "if you do as your told and take your punishment like a good girl then you have nothing to be scared of" y/ns shoulders started to tense. she was starting to become less scared and more curious. what was going to happen?

"close your eyes"

y/n did as she was told hesitantly. levi placed his hands onto her chest and slowly began unbuttoning her shirt. y/n finally understood what was happening. y/n was no longer scared. her shirt was not completely off but her eyes were still closed. levi ran his hands over y/ns bare skin. y/n melted into his touch.

levi moved his hands down to the waist of her skirt. y/n bucked her hips letting him remove it. he placed his hands onto y/ns thighs and whispered into her ear "are you ready for your punishment now sweetheart?"

y/n nodded a little faster than intended. levi liked how needy she was starting to become.

he pressed his lips onto hers, gently slipping his tongue into her mouth. the kisses start to become more lustful as his hands move up y/ns thighs to her underwear. levi removed his lips from

y/ns. she whined in detest.

he slowly removed her panties and before kneeling on the ground he spoke "don't you dare cum until i tell you to" y/n nodded in reply paying more attention to the thought of him eating her out than what he was saying.

levi got to the floor and spread y/ns legs. she was dripping already and he had barely even touched her. levi loved it. he was throbbing.

he slowly pushed a finger inside of y/n. she gasped but nodded telling him it was okay. he slowly pumped his finger inside of her while placing soft kisses along her inner thighs. y/n let out a few quiet moans but it wasn't enough to satisfy levi.

he slowly added another finger and began to speed up. y/n was definitely louder now but the captain still wasn't content. levi moved his mouth to y/ns clit, still fingering her. y/n was in heaven. moans were spilling from her mouth and a tightening feeling in her stomach began to form.

"levi" she moaned realising all over his hands and mouth.

levi stopped what he was doing and stood up. he looked amused. "you didn't do as you were told" he said. "what?" y/n was confused. levi shook his head "i told you not to cum" y/n looked down. "I'm sorry" levi smirked

"you will be"

levi yanked y/n from the seat and bent her over. he quickly removed his belt and his trousers. without any warning he slammed his cock into y/n as hard as he could.

y/n cried out, she had barely came down from her high and he was already fucking her hard enough to hurt. levi groaned smacking her behind leaving a nice read handprint. he imagined how good she felt but it wasn't nearly as good as the real thing.

y/n was practically crying from the overstimulation and was really to cum again. "levi please" she yelled. levi caved into her please. "its okay sweetheart" he said, slamming into her even faster than before.

"finish for me baby" they both climaxed at the same time. levi slowly pulled his cock out and turned y/n back around. he kissed her neck gently.

"don't misbehave next time sweetheart."

word count: 1298

im more active on wattpad @ stvrrlightts 🩷

#attack on titan smut #smut #levi ackerman #levi x reader #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut

[turtleybeachin]

Burnout in the Devildom: Satan's Chapter

(re-post to share entire fic on tumblr)

Pairing: Satan x GN MC Rating: G Word Count: 1.7k Tags: Fluff, Comfort, Satan too in his head, implied romantic interest but platonic actions

You’ve been working hard in the Devildom. Classes are intense, especially when it feels like you’re having to play catch-up just to have basic understandings of things everyone else knows innately. Add to that living with seven avatars of sin who can’t go more than six hours without some sort of catastrophe, and somehow you’re always dragged into the middle of their chaos to sort things out and be their big sibling despite being the actual baby of the entire world?

You’re exhausted. The sort of exhaustion that does not just go away after a good night’s rest and an eye mask and a glass of human-world wine. The sort of exhaustion that starts sapping the life out of everything you do, everything you touch, until you feel like you’re just going through the motions and always one inconvenience away from a complete meltdown.

SATAN:

He knows that sometimes, everyone sucks. You can love someone and still absolutely be unable to stand them. 

It's new to see that on you, though. You're usually the one who is too chipper, too willing to deal with everyone's drama.

Since when were you the one with the short fuse and the If-Looks-Could-Kill glare? 

Not to say it isn't refreshingly honest of you. The fact it took you this long to admit Mammon's an idiot or to make an adorable little human-growl and slam your glass down at the dinner table when his brothers devolved into yet another argument is impressive. 

But it's also wrong. Because it isn't you. Your wrath is as suspicious and unnatural as Lucifer's humility; sure, it exists, but if he's showing it then something monumental has occurred.

So after dinner when you retreat to your room instead of joining the family movie night, he excuses himself to 'do some studying'. But it isn't the library or his room he ends up in; no, he stands outside your bedroom door and knocks twice.

And you nearly ignore it, because it's movie night, they should all be busy, and why can they never take a hint? But it's just two knocks and silence, no shouting or shuffling or cooing or growling, no jiggling of your doorknob or shouldering into the door. Which means it's one of two demons, and neither Satan nor Lucifer tend to take being ignored for an answer. 

But at least they are also the least likely to harass you, the most willing to listen and accept your request to be left alone.

Opening the door, you find Satan waiting with one of his practiced patient smiles. It shifts at the sight of you though, a little furrow digging between his brows, his narrowing eyes, the slant of his mouth tipping to the left.

"Who was it this time?" he asks in lieu of a greeting, because of course one of his brothers has done something again. He can feel your simmering frustration like a little bead in the back of his throat, tiny and hot and tightly contained.

But you shake your head at the same time as you shrug, a jumble of nobody and everybody your unspoken reply. It's not anyone else, it's just you, you try to explain. This happens sometimes, it's fine, you just don't have the energy to deal with them right now. You'd prefer to be alone. It's nothing personal, you just need some space.

He understands that, too. He insists you text him should you change your mind, and wishes you a pleasant evening, and retires to do what he'd initially lied about doing. 

He studies. He has plenty of tomes about human behavior penned by demons, humans, and even a very few penned by angels. 

It's a matter of narrowing things down based on circumstances and other behaviors:  you've been irritable, you've been shutting people out socially, your appetite has changed, your focus has diminished, you've been separated from other humans for a bit now, you haven't been getting any sunlight...

There are a few things it could be, then, but there is one unfortunate universal truth:  there is no single absolute cure for these feelings. There is no one thing to do or eat or change that will fix it, there is no magical phrase that will turn the situation around. All that can be done are little balms for the ache along the way.

It's frustrating, and yet, it's somehow inspiring. Perhaps reassuring. Is it selfish of him to think he sees a bit of himself in your struggle? Is it cruel to find you even more fascinating as he realizes that you have been warring with your own mind all this time that you've been fighting your way through the Devildom? 

Life truly isn't like books, is it? At least, not like the uplifting fantastical ones. Some battles must be fought alone, even if that derails the romantic subplot.

But you, MC, are not alone. And he has favors aplenty to call in, both here and in the human world.

By the time the weekend rolls in, you're happily taking advantage of a day with no meetings, parties, plans or meal prep scheduled by curling yourself into bed and refusing to get up at a 'decent hour'. You know it won't actually help much, but the idea of staying in bed for half a day and just dozing off and on sounds sublime.

So of course your plans are derailed by two sharp knocks at your door.

You ignore them, hoping Satan will take the hint, but the next two knocks are harder and spaced farther apart. Your door might not survive a third round. Hoping that it will get you some peace, you call out that you're still in bed.

"Perfect." Your door swings open to reveal one impeccably-dressed Avatar of Wrath with a box propped on his hip. He swivels and enters, your door shutting behind him again. 

He sets the box on a chair, toes off his shoes, and carefully drapes his jacket along the back of the seat. He looks to you on your bed, and for a moment you're not entirely sure you know what he's planning. Especially when he grabs some sort of rectangular box from his big box and approaches you.

And climbs onto your bed.

And steps over you to brush some of the vines and leaves from your wall, standing there on your mattress as he mumbles to himself. You realize it's some sort of spell, his aura flickering gently around him briefly, and then he's attaching his wood-framed rectangle to your wall above you and stepping off the bottom of your bed to take a power cord you hadn't previously noticed to a nearby outlet.

"Satan?" you finally prompt, bewildered and bemused. And then blinded as the box lights up, bright but warm.

He's smirking at you, pleased with himself and clearly quite proud of his work. "A sunlamp," he says, and then shows off his research by explaining to you (a human, who is very aware of human needs) that humans can actually be negatively impacted by lack of exposure to the sun's rays, that apparently humans are not so different from plants, that you require that specific type of light to regulate all manner of things from vitamin levels to hormones to blood flow.

And that brings him to his second thoroughly-researched gift:  a delicate little oval that has little cat ears and a little tail. Which is cute, you have to admit, but a bizarre choice of décor. 

"Ocean breeze, cedar forest, or vanilla and peppermint?" he prompts as he fusses to find a good spot on top of your shelves for his little surprise. Whichever you choose, a moment later that scent gently fills your room. The human olfactory sense is apparently very closely tied to emotions, and therefore familiar scents can invoke feelings of comfort and safety, he explains. He was not entirely sure what home might smell like for you, but he did research common human-world scent profiles and preferences and created this sampling. 

If there's a different scent you would like to make this home feel more like your home, however, please let him know. The risk of surprise is a poor choice, but don't let that discourage you from making a request.

He pauses then, standing before his box and staring into it. He also read the importance of connection, of not withdrawing as you've been doing.

What he wants to do is approach you and tell you how much he admires you, how you are the first person to make him feel seen for himself instead of as Lucifer's brother, Lucifer's other half, Lucifer's wrath, Lucifer's. He wants to tell you how being in your presence numbs his ire and warms his heart, and how the way you look at him and smile is more precious than a newborn kitten's first meow. He wants to insist you spend your day with him, let him read to you or take you out looking for cats, until you forget all your problems.

But saying those words is so hard. Lucifer's punishments might be legendary in their brutality, but nothing is as terrifying as putting his heart into your hands with the risk you may find it lacking, might give it back, might set it aside.

So he retrieves a small stack of books instead, turning to you with his practiced smile to present his offerings directly this time. One of the books is quite familiar to you-- a favorite you had told him about when he asked months ago for recommendations. Another is a classic, one of those 'everyone should read it' books that you'd never quite managed to get to reading. And one is an author you recognize only thanks to Satan, a demon author of some small fame.

"I find when reality gets tedious, it can be a comfort to slip away to another world for a time." He taps a finger on your favorite book and tips his head with a pleasant smile. An unspoken cue to start there.

The lamp will turn itself off after fifteen minutes. Should you wish to change the fragrance, tap the cat between its ears once." He picks up his empty box, slips on his shoes, and slides one arm through his jacket before he makes his way out, his work here done.

Mostly. He pauses outside your door to murmur a quick curse so as to keep his meddlesome brothers from pestering you. And as he walks away, he pulls out his D.D.D. to text you:  Let me know your thoughts as you read.

Which seems a silly thing to say, when he gave you your favorite book that you've already read. Curious, you open the cover and adjust yourself in bed, only to be stopped by an elegant note written on the blank page.

A reminder that you are never alone, even when you lock yourself away. And as you flip through the pages, you find underlined passages and notes in margins, commentary from Satan on the scene or little notes meant for you as he identifies with characters or sees you in them. 

And even as you lose yourself in a happily ever after within your imagination, you are constantly reminded that you are loved exactly as you are in this messy reality. 

#obey me satan #omswd satan #obey me satan fluff #omswd satan fluff #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #my writing #omswd fluff #obey me fluff

[riemmetric]

Some thoughts about storytelling and TV shows.

I'm going through a stressful time right now (for happy reasons, though!) and so I've fallen a little bit in a habit of watching random episodes of various shows I'm interested in before bed. Because I'm impatient and my brain goes a million kilometers per hour, I can't help but read IMDB pages and look at tumblr gifs, so a lot of the stuff I watched is already "spoiled" for me (in quotations marks because these are called spoilers, but they don't always stop me from watching a a show or take away from my enjoyment of it).

This post contains spoilers.

I watched Sports Night in the last two weeks because of Aaron Sorkin's writing and it made me think about how much the constraints coming for the network producing the show influence the story. The show was marketed as a comedy, even featured a laugh track in the first season, the episodes were only 20 minutes, and it didn't survive past the second season. The ratings were just not good. There are plenty of interesting themes in this show that I felt were only superficially explored and I blame it on all of the factors I listed. We didn't get a deep dive into Dan's mental health issues, because it wouldn't have been very funny. We didn't get any closure on the Dana and Casey situation, because the show ended prematurely. There was very little debate about the importance of sports and sports journalists, because the episodes were only 20 minutes, and they also had to contain jokes and relationship drama and an obligatory heartfelt monologue at the end. I'm so, so happy that Sorkin remade this idea into The Newsroom, a much more serious show, with a bigger budget, the ability to say fuck and a timeline that feels complete. It was an idea so good it was worth a second try and it paid off. It made me think about all the ideas I wasn't skilled enough to make happen, it made me think about all my past projects that deserve a second chance and it made me at peace with the concept of reusing writing that I love in new ways. Nothing is ever truly lost.

I watched a few episodes of The Good Wife because of Josh Charles and Matt Czuchry (only Matt was not enough to convince me to watch a seven season legal drama). I found them interesting, compelling, and I love they way they were filmed and colored (they remind me of Suits and The Newsroom, which both aired around the same era of television; some parallels to think about here). But I couldn't help myself and I read the IMDB page of the show, which told me Josh Charles' character dies in the middle of season 5. I watched that episode (minus epsilon, plus epsilon, which is a fun way for me of saying I also watched the episode before and after) and I liked how the story portrayed the sudden death of an important person in the characters' lives, the grief and the dissonance that come with going through a life altering event before lunch and having to continue the rest of the day among people who have no idea what just happened. It's a good piece of writing and in real life death does happen at inconvenient times, it does make you ask why over and over again with no answers to be had, so the death of a beloved character in the middle of a season is anything but unrealistic. But I couldn't help wondering. Did it really happen because the writers thought it was an important story to be told, or did it happen because Josh Charles wanted to leave the show? (I haven't gone to investigate this thought). Was the story the most important thing considered here, or was simply a contract, a real life issue, dictating the story, taking it in a different direction that was originally planned? It made me think about how fickle of a medium TV is, about all the different ways in which parts of the story have to be sacrificed. It made me think about the different ways in which writers have to adaptable, about how in TV you are sometimes forced to kill your darlings instead of it being just good advice. And it made think about the fascinating process of writing a story with the help of a community, all these different people - actors, directors, editors - contributing to the story. It's not the writer at their desk controlling everything, it's a different beast entirely, a beast with many hearts.

#on writing #writerblr #writeblr #i'm putting it in these tags because it is very much an analysis of storytelling #on storytelling #sports night #the good wife #thoughts

[99liv3s]

Hello, I've taken a liking to the Personal Birth Clinic you have going on there and would like to give it a shot.

Name: Charlie Eorez

Eye color: Deep blue

Hair: shoulder length blond

Body: Fair skin and around 5'5 in height, has hips not really ideal for childbirth so it can be difficult especially with her tight pussy

Personality: A sweet person that doesn't like to inconvenience people with her problems; signed up as an annonymous surrogate and vocal during birth due to not handling pain well

p.s. (if its fine either there can be some birth denial or just give a difficult birth)

"AAAAAGGGHH!!" Charlie Eorez screamed out as she was wheeled into the birthing room, panting heavily and moaning loudly! She had been in active labor for seven hours, and each hour had grown steadily worse! Her sweat ridden, shoulder length blonde hair covered her face as she cried loudly, holding her large baby bump! Several nurses hoisted her out of the wheelchair and walked her over to the bed! Charlie howled in pain during the trip, feeling gravity add its pressure to the already intense pain she felt in her pelvis! "OOOOWWWW!!" Charlie screamed again, tears leaking from her deep blue eyes as she thrashed around in pain, while the nurses made final preparations for the birth of this baby! "Hey, it's alright," the doctor said to her over her loud cries! "You're doing well!" "It won't be long until you bring this baby into the world!"

Charlie was not the most ideal build for having a baby, with somewhat narrow hips and a small vagina, but sweet, tender Charlie had signed up to be an anonymous surrogate, wishing to give the joy of parenthood to a family that could not have kids of their own, and had been determined to fulfill that role, even when several medical professionals told her it would be risky and difficult. After several months of waiting, she was summoned to the clinic where she was artificially inseminated with a young couple's baby, to carry for them! Eight and a half months later, following a very successful and pleasant pregnancy, Charlie had gone into unexpected labor and had rushed back to the clinic in a panic, mostly caused by the pain! She had waddled around in the waiting room, grimacing and whimpering, trying not to inconvenience anyone, until eventually she began crying out loudly, and someone was then finally able to move her into a room where she could labor more comfortably!

As she continued to thrash around on the bed, moaning, it seemed Charlie could not find a comfortable position at all! At 9 centimeters dilated, she was in the transition phase, where the pain was unbearable, but she could not push yet! Her fair skin covered only by a thin hospital gown, Charlie shrieked as a new wave of pains washed over her! "AAAAAHHHHH!" "HELP ME!" "HELP ME, I GOTTA PUSH!" she screamed, her legs trembling in pain! At a nod from the doctor, two nurses pulled Charlie's legs wide apart and held them, exposing her tiny vagina for everyone in the room to see! One look told the doctor that she was almost fully dilated, and he proceeded to put on his gloves. "Oooooooohhhh!" "Uuuuuuggghhh!" Charlie trilled as the pain continued nonstop, despite being between contractions! "Ok, I'm gonna perform one more check down here, ok??" The doctor asked kindly, to which Charlie nodded, panting and moaning in tandem. "Let me know when you feel another contraction and you can give a little push, alright?" The doctor felt around on Charlie's lower belly and around her vagina, and she let out a sharp cry of pain! "AAAHHHOOWWWW, IT HURTS!!" Charlie screamed, and the doctor nodded! "Little push, yes just like that," he said gently over Charlie's screams. She was involuntarily pushing, her body wishing to do nothing else!

"AAAAAAHHHHHH OH GOD GET IT OUT OOOOHHHHH!" Charlie bellowed as she continued to give birth! A small teardrop bulge had appeared in her vagina and now she was having trouble getting it to move! "PLEASE, IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HUUUURTSSS!" "You're doing fine, Charlie, but you need to push harder!" The doctor said kindly but sternly! "I CAAAN'T," the laboring girl cried, tears and sweat falling down her face! "I know this hurts, but you're right there!" The doctor assured her. "You're so close!" "You can do it!" "You can get this baby out, and then a very lucky couple will have a new baby, thanks to you!" Charlie nodded, then gathered her strength and bore down, causing the small bulge in her vagina to turn into a large, small melon sized head! "AAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEE!" Charlie screamed as the baby's head pushed her pussy open! "OOOOHHH, IT BUUUURRRNNSSS!" "Yes, that means it's almost out," the doctor answered. "It's crowning, doctor," a nurse said as Charlie whined loudly! "Alright, give me another good push, and we'll see this baby enter the world!" "AAAAAAAHHHHHH HHHAHH HAAHH AAHHH OOOOHHHHH!" After several more screams, Charlie felt the baby leave her body as the room was filled with the loud cries of a newborn! "It's a girl!" The doctor announced! "A healthy baby 6 pound girl!" "Well done, Charlie, you did it!" Charlie smiled as she lay on the pillow, panting for breath!

(Your character rolled a 2 = single baby birth)

[manyfucks]

14. which of your muses second guesses themselves the most? why? and 15. do any of your muses have trouble falling asleep / staying asleep? <333

multimuse meme - accepting. do any of your muses have trouble falling asleep / staying asleep?

muses who can't sleep + why sweeney todd, grief tyrion lannister, fate of the realm and alcohol kathryn janeway, duty, also probably had too much caffeine kim wexler, too much work not enough time malcolm tucker, has whatever brain rot thatcher had that meant she only slept 4 hours eve of eden, she spents 2 hours staring at the ceiling, thinkin house, he's solving it (the universe) muses who sleep well hilda spellman, honk shoo mimimimi robert dubois, he has one really inconvenient nightmare every now and again marcellus wallace, he's busy and needs his sleep datak tarr, he ruined your family and he sleeps like a baby. hogs the bed charles xavier, mostly gertrude robinson, starts dreaming to solve more cases madame thenardier, passed out drunk and very tired from madaming andromeda tonks, passed out drunk and very tired from raising her grandson grunkle stan, sleeps & dreams of money mimimimimuses who don't sleep - lilith, archaic demon who doesnt sleep - seven of nine, alien tech puts her in 'regeneration cycle' - alfie solomons, too much redbull, he will never sleep again

which of your muses second guesses themselves the most? why?

i am starting to realise that my muses are not generally 'second-guessing' types. most of them are ego-maniacs and completely devoted to their own goals, whatever those may be. under the cut because this got long!

i have a genre of character who second-guess their perceptions often - alfie solomons second guesses what he knows constantly because he's brilliant but paranoid, and is not afraid to change allegiances or flip the world on its head. but he does not doubt himself. house fluctuates between self-loathing and arrogance/hubris, but he does not doubt his mind. lilith doubts the reality of what she can impose (specifically when she is under the yolk of the dark lord), but she is dogged and determined to the very end. tyrion lannister similarly can doubt the things he thought were certain, so that he can see more clearly. of the characters listed, he is the one who doubts himself the most, out of resentment that was once from others, and is now in him. kim wexler has a crisis of confidence in who she has become, but when she figures out what the right thing to do, she pursues that no matter any consequences also. to compare her to someone else who goes through a similar experience but for the worse, sweeney todd was a fairly unassuming, sweet person - a traumatic event unmoors him from his life, and he commits wholly to a new life (over a period of time) that he cannot be dissuaded from. any of the complicated feelings of grief, he can sublimate into rage and revenge. the effect it takes on him, hollowing him out, is the same - but he does everything he can to avoid dealing with the tragic, mature feelings that will make him feel uncertain. instead he becomes extremely certain: the world has been bad, and now he will do as the world showed him. people who doubt themselves the most would be: robert dubois: he has been a man with a single purpose all of his life, and now that this is complicated by prison, and by being a father, he finds himself increasingly unsure of what he should do. most of his mission in TSS he spends, half-in and half-out, doubting if he is only a man like his father, or if he can be more, and better. in fact, he's certain of it - his self-doubt is a softening of his idea that he is hopelessly destructive, a cruelty to others lest they try to visit cruelty upon him. i think upon arriving back to america, he would be emboldened enough to try to take on the task of being a good father like he never had, something he actively pushed away for fear of how hopeless it felt.

eve of eden: eve's entire story is about doubt. doubting god, doubting the world, doubting herself. she's been given everything - almost. that last inch of unexplored land festers away at her. i don't think she was easily led (though that was a part of it) i think she was someone who could not help but pull at threads. if the seams of the world come undone, that's a tragedy. but she'd do it again. as i write her (my canon for her is that she and adam are undying and forever roam the earth, even though their children age and die) she is extremely self-doubting, fighting her urge to pick at things with the knowledge that she has ruined things by doing so. she fights her instinct at every turn, and it is this self-denial that contributes to her misery. because, inevitably, she will one day pull at the string again. she will one day see the serpent's bounty and respond without words, respond by wanting to bite into it.

seven of nine is reckoning with having individuality, when this has never before been the case. she's a mess of self-doubt. she's going between the values and way of being she has always known to something more 'flawed'. while she can be incredibly sure of her actions, she has never had that same security in herself as an individual. it comes slowly over a few years, and continues after voyager. once voyager lands, i think seven is truly feeling alone - voyager was a small community of people who absolutely relied upon and needed one another, with a written code of behaviour. the real world would challenge her even more, but i see her eventually buildiing up confidence once again - she remains as someone who is self-doubting, because that is part of the nature of humanity as she has learned it.

kathryn janeway is someone who has taken on the role of a captain fulltime, navigating her crew for seven years through drama and alien hjinks. she has a few breakdowns adn bouts of depressions, exacerbated by self douubt because she simply has taken on too much. usually she is incredibly confident and driven, but the souls of her crew weigh heavily on her - constantly, and without breaks. she makes friends with people around her, she has romantic interests in people off of the ship, but her ideas about authority isolate her from others. she is a Doubter, she doubts if she's good enough for the impossible task put to her.

charles xavier is someone who has a relationship with doubt a little similar to kathryn janeway - he worries if he is good enough to lead mutants. but, he has a strong idea of what mutants should be, formed in opposition to what magneto believes. he is someone with a healthier relationship to self-doubt. while it bites at him, he can see the joy and bittersweet experience of seeing something come to pass that confounds him, or someone showing a new side to themself that he feels he 'should' have caught. he is confident, but he is able to examine himself and his place in relations to others critically, and grow with circumstances.

some of my most confident muses are: malcolm tucker is someone who lunges at his next move with infamous ferocity. but in his final moment, he sees stops talking, the very thing thaht has kept him in power for so long, always moving to the next disaster to prevent or manage into subission and irrelevance. i think his last line is him giving up on it all, truly retiring - but while it's painful, it's not because of disillusionment. he never felt politics was anything but a vicious game to maybe have some good effects through harsh toil. he just knows he will no longer be a part of it. aunt hilda: hilda doubts her place often, but she's got a palpable determination. when lifes trials (mainly zelda) kill her and stick her in the cain pit, she crawls out every time. things don't often go right for hilda, but when they go wrong, she digs her heels in harder to doing what's good for her. the chuurch excommunicates her? ok! she'll go get that job she wanted. the high priest inappropriately propositions her? ok she killed him. in a crisis, hilda never doubts herself, even if she seems a little fragile or gentle in her demeanour.

#headcanons. #clearly i found this a little Too Engaging if anything #thank you so much for the ask!!! #widowshill

[raybyanothername]

Aah there is a lot I want to ask for. For now: 16. QQ - ST:VOY. <3

Oh~ That's a good one!

QQ is my running document for Quantum Quirks, which is my Q2-centric fic. Eventually, one day, it will also be Q/Icheb, but right now they're both adjusting to earth in a post-canon world. Janeway is long suffering. The Federation has hypocrites getting in everyone's way. O'Brien appears and is awesome.

The document is very sparse right now so I don't have any good snippets to share that aren't already posted. I *will* say that despite being at nearly 30k, the fic is still in its first 'arc.' Eventually it'll incorporate even more TNG and Deep Space Nine characters and lore. It's a very long term project.

Naomi is meant to pop up in the next chapter, but it's being frustrating. Eventually the muses will provide though! Or I'll scrap it entirely and start again...

Here's a favorite scene, from chapter 12, because writing Tuvok with Icheb brought me great joy and wanted to share.

-.-.-

"Icheb. This is not the day or hour of our scheduled communication." Tuvok's voice was neither warm nor cold. It was simply neutral, same as his expression.

"Is this moment inconvenient?" Icheb asked, mirroring the arched brow that rose on Tuvok's face.

"It is not," Tuvok waited for Icheb to continue. His eyebrow arched further when Icheb struggle to speak. "Is something wrong, Icheb? You are not prone to spontaneity and your silence is... disconcerting."

Shifting in his seat in front of the communication terminal. He glanced towards Seven's door, lips pursing. "Captain Janeway told Q that dreams are a way to process emotions. Do they have any other function?"

"Dreams do not have a set function. Their purpose and meaning vary dependent not just on the species experiencing them, but on the culture of the individual."

Icheb frowned, "The interpretation of dreams is entirely subjective then?"

"Yes," Tuvok inclined his head, "May I inquire as to the reason for your questions?" Icheb shifted again and Tuvok straightened, almost imperceptibly. "On last we spoke, we had discussed your difficulty transitioning to sleep versus regeneration."

Shoulders slumping, Icheb narrowed his eyes on the controls of the terminal. He rubbed absently at his arm, startling as his hand made contact with bare skin. His shirt had only short sleeves and he had not yet retrieved a sweater from his wardrobe.

"You appear distressed," Tuvok commented and Icheb blushed. His hand dropped to his lap and his fingers twisted together as Tuvok hummed, "As I recall, you said that sleeping was not as restful as regeneration."

"It's not," Icheb frowned, nose wrinkling. Tuvok arched a brow again. Icheb huffed, "I know I can't regenerate like I use to, but it's still better than sleep. It's... calming."

"Without a cortical node, your 'regeneration' is now merely a method of meditation. While it may help center you and organize your thoughts, it is not a replacement for sleep."

Tuvok's gaze was now pointed. Focused. Icheb sighed, meeting his sharp eyes with his own, "I am sleeping, Tuvok. It is simply... less pleasant."

"Your dreams are causing you discomfort," Tuvok stated. He didn't blink until Icheb nodded slowly. "Do you wish to discuss them?"

"They're normally not..." Icheb trailed off, ducking his head. He didn't look at Tuvok as he said, "I didn't like them, before, but they're different now. I don't know what that means."

If he were speaking to anyone else, Icheb expected they might ask him to clarify. Tuvok did not pry. He understood that if Icheb wanted to share, he would.

Instead, the vulcan merely inclined his head forward slightly, "It is my understanding that dreams change regularly. In my own experience, the same dream repeated has been a sign of emotional imbalance."

"So dreams can reflect our emotional state? What we're feeling?" Icheb's head snapped up, eyes fluttering as his cheeks pinked.

Once more, the eyebrow arched. Icheb blushed brighter.

"Are you embarrassed by the emotions that you believe your dreams may reflect?" Tuvok asked and Icheb pursed his lips. He nodded mutely. "Shame is not logical, Icheb. You have no control over what you dream about. Nor can you control your emotions, only how you respond to them."

It was several moments before Icheb nodded, swallowing thickly, "I don't understand why the dreams have changed now though."

"Changes, dreams or otherwise, are often a reaction to something," Tuvok reminded him. The silence stretched, but Tuvok didn't let it linger this time. "I understand there was an incident recently. With Q."

"We had an argument," Icheb rubbed at his arm again, head ducking low, "I did not control my response to my emotions well."

"You are young, and still learning," Tuvok said. "My reason for bringing it up is not to discuss your response, but to ask if you believe it is connected. Did the events that transpired between yourself and Q a few days ago change something between the two of you?"

Icheb wished desperately to be wearing a sweater. Not for warmth, but to hide the fact that his whole body was now rising in temperature once again. His skin growing red. Eyes widening, he opened his mouth to say something, but no words were forthcoming.

"By your reaction, I can only assume that the answer is yes," Tuvok's lips curved just slightly upward. The barest of twitches.

#ray answers #ask game #ray rambles #star trek voyager

[chanoyu-to-wa]

Nampō Roku, Book 7 (73):  the Utensils Exchanged Between Nambō Sōkei and Rikyū in the Time Before His Seppuku.

73) [Ri]kyū, [in the months] before his death, was already resigned to its inevitability¹.  And so, for whatever reason, he undertook to send a missive to this monk²:  “the reality of this world is all evanescence and mutability³.  Now the places where we live are so far apart that even to think about visiting each other -- we cannot do as our hearts would have us do⁴.

    “Be that all as it may, these utensils are my personal treasures.  Yet even so, I am giving them [to you]⁵:”

〽 Nadekata-enza [ナデ肩圓座]⁶

    (this is said to be [the chaire that Rikyū used at] Kitano⁷);

〽 hoya [ホヤ]⁸;

〽 a take-zutsu [竹筒] made by Lord [Ri]kyū⁹,

     on which he inscribed [the name] Sui-mō [吹毛] with his own brush¹⁰.

    After having received the [above] communication, this monk sent back the following reply [by the returning messenger]:  “in all things we both have the same mind” -- [accompanied by] these [two] utensils from this side¹¹:

〽 suzume no kō-bako [雀ノ香バコ]¹²;

〽 a chashaku that had been made by this monk¹³ --

these two things were sent off [to him]¹⁴.

    As his last hour approached, while he was preparing one [final] portion of tea [for himself], the utensils -- according to what [I] heard in the stories shared by people -- included the suzume no kō-bako and Nambō chashaku¹⁵.  Even though he was always considerate, yet at this [time], [it did not really surprise me to hear that] he should have been even more so¹⁶!  Even under these [most distressing of] circumstances, [his] mind was not agitated; and [he] held those two things in his hands until the very hour of his death had arrived:  this is [a demonstration of] the intimacy between master and disciple¹⁷!  [His gesture] far surpassed my most cherished hopes¹⁸!

    Now [having heard this story], [prostrating myself] below his memorial tablet, [my] tears flow on without end¹⁹.

    Also in that letter, [he] transmitted to this monk the whole Way of Tea, without any omissions:  [when he was done] there was nothing else [to teach]²⁰.  But since the children are still immature, what will be the final result -- will [the true Way of Tea] disappear, or not²¹?  If someone with the necessary resolve happens to show himself, if he is one who is committed to embarking on the True Path, then I would humbly like to suggest that he might [find room to] train himself in the Shū-un-an²²! 〚[Because] [Ri]kyū is in the other world, mistakes are even more of an inconvenience [since he is no longer here to offer his corrections] -- this [I am] always repeating over and over²³.〛 It is so that [you] would understand this, that [I] have written this down again and again and again²⁴.

_________________________

◎ Though the language indicates that this entry was at least rewritten during the late seventeenth century, if any parts of Book Seven can actually be traced back to Nambō Sōkei, it is fragments of entries such as this.  Indeed, given the fact that Tachibana Jitsuzan obviously took the six volume Rikyū chanoyu sho [利休茶湯書] (published in 1680) as his model*, there must have been something -- some actual memorandum or words of leave-taking written by Sōkei on the morning of the day when he was intending to following Rikyū into death, that he locked in his wooden chest along with his other papers before quitting the Shū-un-an for the last time -- that lead Jitsuzan to decide to expand his collection to seven books, and then frame Book Seven as just that sort of epilogue (even though he had obviously already intended to include the rest of the material found in Sōkei’s wooden chest, things that could not be easily incorporated into any of the earlier books, in that final book as well).  Nevertheless, Sōkei’s lamentations, as they are represented in this text, are excessively melodramatic (especially given that Sōkei was a very important monk) -- and they read as if copied word, for word, from one of the Kabuki tragedies that were all the rage from the end of the seventeenth century.

    As with most of the other entries in Book Seven, there are minor differences between the several versions of this text, the majority of which appear to be later modifications (in other words, the changes appear in the toku-shu shahon [特殊写本] and genpon [原本] versions of the text, both of which were created during the nineteenth century as a result of the prolonged study of the Enkaku-ji manuscript by the Enkaku-ji scholars), intended to make the original easier to understand†.

    Though it might be difficult to speculate on the motives of people from several hundred years ago, the purpose of this entry, as it now stands, appears to be to set up Nambō Sōkei as much more intimately involved with Rikyū than otherwise might seem to have been the case (since information regarding his acting as Rikyū’s unofficial steward is circumstantial at best).  That said, the author or editor (who may have been Tachibana Jitsuzan himself) was clearly unaware of the other accounts of the hours before Rikyū’s death that were recorded by actual participants in the drama, which cast many details of the most pathetic and moving elements of this story‡ into doubt -- and so damages the credibility not only of this entry, but of the Nampō Roku itself. __________ *For the benefit of those who are unfamiliar with the story, during one of their journeys between the Fukuoka-han [福岡藩], in northern Kyūshū, and the shōgun’s court in Edo (in fulfillment of their obligations under the sankin-kōtai system wherein the daimyō and their principal ministers were forced to divide their time between the administration of their domains and their attendance on the shōgun’s court in Edo), Tachibana Jitsuzan and his lord Kuroda Tsunamasa stopped in Kyōto to rest; and on that occasion Jitsuzan was shown a copy of the recently-published Rikyū chanoyu sho by one of its editors (who was also one of Jitsuzan’s friends from the days when they had studied chanoyu with Sen no Sōtan in Kyōto); and during a discussion of this collection, he was also informed that additional material was still archived in the Shū-un-an, in the Nanshū-ji in Sakai.  As the party would pass through Ōsaka on the way to Edo, Jitsuzan asked for Tsunamasa’s permission to take a detour through Sakai, so that he could inspect the Shū-un-an cache of documents for himself.  The copy that he made of the chest’s contents was subsequently edited into the collection now known as the Nampō Roku.

†While the majority of the changes are extremely minor, and have no impact on the meaning, one sentence was added (perhaps originally as an interlineal kaki-ire) to the toku-shu shahon text that is found in none of the earlier sources (see footnote 23).  Because it is helpful to an understanding of the whole, I chose to include this sentence in the above translation -- enclosed, as always, in doubled brackets.

‡For example, Rikyū’s sending of the Nadekata-enza to Sōkei (his own records indicate that he used that chaire on the morning of his death; while others document the confiscation of this chaire from Rikyū’s residence immediately after his death was confirmed -- with the house and all of its outbuildings pulled down on Hideyoshi’s orders immediately thereafter); his use of Sōkei’s chashaku during his final chanoyu (while the actual facts indicate that he used the chashaku now known as Namida [泪], which he carved in the morning hours of the day he was ordered to die, to match the nade-kata enza chaire when placed on the Haneda-bon that Rikyū had ordered for it; and which he sent off to Furuta Sōshitsu immediately after the chanoyu was finished, with Oribe giving it the name by which it is known); and then Rikyū’s sitting lost in thought while clutching the ruri-suzume kōgō and Sōkei’s chashaku to his bosom is not only overly Kabuki-esque, but argues against the time available.

    Dawn on April 21 occurs just before 5:00 AM in that part of Japan, and Rikyū would have woken just before dawn, so he could clean his 4.5-mat room and lay a fire in the ro in preparation for the drawing of water at dawn.  After that he would have begun carving the chashaku (as a way to cleanse his mind).  Since seppuku committed on the orders of one’s lord was usually performed at noon, and preceded by a ritual bath in cold water (long enough to lower the body temperature so that the sense of pain would be numbed, and bleeding would be moderated), it would seem that Rikyū began his last chanoyu around 9:00 AM (the usual hour of the morning gathering), and which probably lasted a little over an hour (since he was intending to use the small unryū-gama, the ro-gama would have been removed, and replaced with the unryū-gama shortly before he began).  After he finished, he would have washed all of the utensils and sent those that belonged to him off to his close friends, before going in to bathe.  This does not leave much time for him to be sitting lost in thought.

    And, indeed, the Sen family very quickly seized on just these details to denounce the account (as soon as they became known), and thereby the whole Nampō Roku, as a fraud (the earlier Rikyū chanoyu sho did not suffer that fate because its contents had been carefully selected to agree with the Sen family’s teachings -- this is why much yet remained in Nambō Sōkei’s wooden chest that had not been used in the preparation of the published collection).  While entry 73 appears to have been concocted to make Sōkei appear to have been on especially intimate terms with Rikyū (by someone who had no real understanding of the relationship between the two men), these emendations to what may have been an authentic memorandum of Sōkei’s (logically written on the day of his own suicide) ultimately did more damage to the Nampō Roku than could ever have been imagined.

¹Kyū, nakunari-mae yori yorozu kaku-go mo ari-keru ni ya　[休、死去前ヨリヨロヅ覺悟モアリケルニヤ].

    Nakunari-mae yori [死去前より] means from (a certain period of) time before his death.

    Rikyū was well aware of what the likely outcome of the rising antipathy between himself and Hideyoshi* was likely to be months before he received the actual order to commit seppuku.

    Yorozu kaku-go ari-keru ni [よろず覚悟ありける] means to be mentally prepared or resigned (kaku-go [覺悟]) for the possibility (ari-keru [ありける]) of everything (yorozu [よろず]) going wrong, for the situation to degenerate to the point where Rikyū’s fortunes would collapse totally.

    The particle ya [や], which concludes this statement, suggests something like “isn’t it so?” or “wasn’t that likely?”  In other words, Rikyū was sufficiently politically astute that he would have recognized the danger into which his opposition to Hideyoshi’s plans placed himself (and his house and associates), even though he was determined to continue his protestations against the invasion.

    It is actually unclear when this exchange occurred -- though within a matter of days of Rikyū’s seppuku seems improbable.  My guess is that it took place during the month-long house arrest that was imposed on Rikyū following the affair with the Kidō-no-bokuseki [虛堂の墨跡]† (that is mentioned more fully in the first sub-note).  The period just before his death would have been very busy, since Rikyū would have had to put his affairs in order in such a way that his wishes could not be undone by Hideyoshi afterward (in the case of his utensil collection, by distributing them to persons of such standing -- such as Furuta Sōshitsu or Hosokawa Tadaoki -- that the gifts would not be challenged, or subjected to confiscation). __________ *It appears that Rikyū, along with many of the influential citizens of Sakai, were opposed to Hideyoshi’s invasion of Korea.  In Rikyū’s case, Hideyoshi’s mounting displeasure was first made clear by his being placed under house arrest between the twenty-third of the Ninth Month and the twenty-sixth day of the Tenth Month of Tenshō 18 (1590), over the rather trivial matter of Rikyū’s privately showing one of Hideyoshi's scrolls to the monk Kokei, on the morning of the latter’s departure into Hideyoshi-mandated exile to Kyūshū.

    The Korean expatriate populations in Japan, and the centers to which those refugees gravitated, were divided into two camps.  The one, centered on Hakata, were radicalized and revolutionary, and wanted to encourage Hideyoshi’s invasion primarily because they believed that it would destabilize the Josen government and allow for a coup (to restore the class-limited popular sovereignty that had existed between the end of the Goryeo dynasty and the ultimate installation of Seojo as king in 1455) -- the idea that was hatched during his stay in Hakozaki (in 1587) was that Hideyoshi would invade Korea and use that as a stepping stone toward the ultimate goal of having himself crowned emperor of China.  Indeed, several of Hideyoshi’s most important spies on the continent counted among the leading citizens of Hakata.

    The other group -- we might call them pacifists, who were resigned, at least, to a continuation of the status quo -- were drawn toward Sakai; and it was the citizens of Sakai who most vociferously opposed Hideyoshi’s plans.  This so angered Hideyoshi that, when his first invasion was declared a failure, he decided to take out his spleen on Sakai -- decimating its population, destroying its defenses (so thoroughly that archaeologists still cannot accurately delineate the location of Sakai’s moat and walls), and absorbing the former city-state into the Japanese nation.  Many of the names closely associated with the evolution of chanoyu met their demise during that assault (even if Furuta Sōshitsu, who was charged by Hideyoshi with overseeing the action, was apparently not especially concerned with its execution).

    This difference in their basic philosophies is what underlay the the perpetual friction between the two Korean city-states in Japan.

†Xūtáng Zhìyú [虛堂智愚; 1185 ~ 1269] was a Chán monk during the Southern Song dyanasty.  He was from Xiàngshān [象山], on the coast just south of where the East China Sea meets the Yellow Sea.  Several Japanese monks traveled to China to train with him, and returned to Japan with his writings (most of which seem to be poems that are written in an unorthodox manner).  He is known as Kidō Chigu in Japan.

    The scroll shown above is the work that Rikyū displayed for Kokei, thereby gaining Hideyoshi's wrath -- during the sixteenth century it was the custom to remount scrolls when they changed hands, and the remounting of this scroll (like many of those in Hideyoshi's collection) was being handled by Rikyū.  This scroll is almost never seen today, so the above file was actually made from a screen capture, of an occasion when it was shown.

²Kono-bō ga kata [h]e, nan-to-naku shosatsu ari　[コノ坊ガ方ヘ、何トナク書札アリ].

    Kono-bō ga kata [h]e [この坊が方へ] means (Rikyū sent a letter) to Nambō Sōkei.

    Nan-to-naku shosatsu [何となく書札あり]:  nan-to-naku [何となく] means for some reason or other, unexpected, without knowing why (something was done); shosatsu [書札] means a missive or communication.  In other words, a messenger suddenly appeared at the Shū-un-an as if out of the blue, bearing a document addressed to Sōkei.

    While Nambō Sōkei seems to have acted as a sort of unofficial steward for Rikyū in Sakai after he assumed his duties as a member of Hideyoshi’s household, once the Sakai family compound was moved to Mozuno, it appears that Sōkei rarely heard from Rikyū (because, since Mozuno was too far from the Nanshu-ji for Sōkei to visit easily, or on a moment’s notice, he was forced to conclude his efforts to assist Rikyū with the running of his household in Sakai)*.  It was during this time -- perhaps during the fall of 1590 -- that Sōkei unexpectedly received a missive from Rikyū. __________ *The move occurred sometime in 1589, at which time Rikyū was becoming increasingly busy (as one of Hideyoshi’s closest attendants and personal advisors during the siege of Odawara), and increasingly troubled (on account of his deepening internal conflict over Hideyoshi’s future plans regarding the invasion of the continent -- since he knew that was where Hideyoshi’s attention would turn once the matter of Odawara was resolved).

³Seken no mu-jō henka-no-tei nado arite　[世間ノ無常變化ノテイナドアリテ].

    Seken no mu-jō [世間の無常] means the impermanence of the world.

    Henka no tei [變化の躰] means everything is in a state of change.

    In other words, as Rikyū's relationship with Hideyoshi degenerated further and further, it began to impact his relationship with Hideyoshi’s other courtiers -- and ultimately with the world in general.

⁴Ima ha i-dokoro mo hedatari, tabi-tabi no sankai mo kokoro ni makasezu　[今ハ居所モヘダヽリ、度〻ノ參會モ心ニマカセズ].

    Ima ha i-dokoro mo hedatari [今は居所も隔たり] means now the places where we live are so far apart.

    Tabi-tabi no sankai mo [度々の参会も] means and even to visit each other from time to time.

    Kokoro ni makasezu [心に任せず] means we cannot do as our hearts would have us to do.

    In other words, were Rikyū to suddenly go off to Sakai (at the time when he was under house arrest), it would cause even more trouble, since people would say he was plotting something.  (Sakai, at this time, was still considered to be something of a foreign country -- though the divisions were breaking down:  when Nobunaga wanted to visit Sakai in 1577, it required days of intense negotiations, and he was forbidden to bring his army anywhere near the city-state’s perimeter wall, and his attendants were strictly limited to 18 men; but Rikyū‘s seppuku was overseen by Hideyoshi’s personal guards, one of whom was appointed to be Rikyū’s second, yet this troop entered the city apparently without hindrance or objection.)

⁵Sareba kono dōgu ha tenaretaru-hizō zo-kashi-tote okuraruru [サレバコノ道具ハ手馴タル秘藏ゾカシトテヲクラルヽ].

    Sareba [然れば] means therefore, thus, if that is so, if that is the case, and so forth.

    Kono dōgu ha tenaretaru-hizō [この道��は手馴れたる秘藏]:  tenareru [手馴れる] means things like “to become intimate with,” “to get familiar with;” hizō [秘藏] means a treasure.  The implication is that these utensils are Rikyū’s special favorites.

    Zo-kashi-tote [ぞかしとて]:  zo-kashi [ぞかし] means “that’s how it is,” “it’s just like that;” -tote [とて] means even if, even though.  In other words, “even though that’s how it is (that these utensils are, indeed, my favorites....)”  This adds emphasis to Rikyū’s statement that these are his favorite utensils.

    Okurareru [贈られる] means sending something off as a gift.

    In other words, Rikyū is saying that even though these utensils are his special treasures -- which he avers to be a fact (though why this was necessary, in light of the purported closeness of the two men, is unclear) -- he nevertheless is sending them to Sōkei as a gift.

    Here Shibayama’s version is a little different:  sareba koso kono-dōgu ha tenaretaru-hizō zo-kashi, dōgu no teburi ni miyo-tote san-shu okuraruru [サレバコソ此道具ハ手馴タル秘藏ゾカシ、道具ノ手ブリニ見ヨトテ三種送ラルヽ].

    Sareba-koso [然ればこそ] means for that very reason, that is exactly why (referring to the way Rikyū’s world is falling apart, and may well engulf him and his house in total ruin).

    Kono-dōgu ha tenaretaru-hizō zo-kashi [この道具は手馴れたる秘蔵ぞかし], as above, means it is a fact that these utensils are (Rikyū’s) special favorites.

    Dōgu no teburi ni miyo-tote [道具の手風に見よとて] means look carefully at the way these utensils are used, and even so...

    San-shu okararuru [三種送られる] means ...these three things will be sent off (to you).

    Here (we must remember that this version was written several decades after the Enkaku-ji text) Rikyū clearly links the reason for the gift to the fact that his situation is so precarious that, even though these things are so precious to him, he is giving them to Sōkei to protect them from Hideyoshi’s wrath.

    And he also seems to be cautioning Sōkei to be careful with regard to how they are used -- that they should be used “correctly” (though whether this is an admonition to always keep kane-wari in mind, or a warning not to use them in inappropriate settings, is unclear).

⁶Nadekata-enza　[ナデ肩圓座].

    This Nadekata-enza* chaire is shown below.  It was originally one of Jōō’s treasures, and it was Jōō who ordered the large Haneda-bon [羽田盆]† with a red-lacquered rim, to be made for this chaire.  Jōō gave or sold this chaire to Tennōji-ya Sōkyū, and Sōkyū presented it to Hideyoshi.  While still the property of Hideyoshi, it was given to Rikyū to use (in theory, when serving tea to Hideyoshi’s guests in his official capacity of Hideyoshi’s representative).  It was never owned by him outright (as several of the commentators claim).

     Rikyū had a smaller Haneda-bon made for the chaire, that was painted black (without any other color).

    Today the chaire is usually displayed on Jōō’s larger tray (which is the one that is suitable for use when serving tea with the daisu)†.

    Rikyū used this chaire when preparing tea on the morning of his seppuku.  After he was dead, this chaire was immediately confiscated by Hideyoshi’s agents, and returned to Hideyoshi’s collection -- from where it passed into the hands of the Tokugawa family after the demise of his house. ___________ *Nadekata-enza [撫肩圓座] is a descriptive term.  Nadekata [撫肩] means sloping or rounded shoulders (as those of an old man), and an enza [圓座] is a round seat (some call it a cushion, though it is made of coiled rice-straw roping, with a covering of bamboo sheaths on the side on which the person sits).

    Today this chaire is usually called the Rikyū enza-katatsuki [利休圓座肩衝], or just Rikyū-enza [利休圓座].

†I cannot ever recall seeing the original of the chaire-bon made by Rikyū, though many copies exist.  Possibly it was confiscated together with the chaire, and destroyed once they were shown to Hideyoshi.

⁷Kitano to iu-iu　[北野ト云〻].

     This is interpreted as being a reference to the fact that this chaire was used during the Kitano ō-cha-no-e [北野大茶ノ會], that began on the first day of the Tenth Month of Tenshō 15 (1587).

    That said, in the toku-shu shahon version of the text, Kitano to iu-iu has been moved to the next line -- that is, it seems to indicate that the hoya was the one used at the Kitano ō-cha-no-e (though there is no reason to give any credence to this assertion).  Tanaka Senshō, meanwhile, states that some have interpreted Kitano [北野] to be the “poetic name” of the Nadekata-enza chaire (which, again, is neither substantiated by any contemporaneous documents, including the many mentions of this chaire in Rikyū’s own kaiki -- nor by the fact that the concept of “poetic names” like this were the creation of Kobori Masakazu, and so such a name would be highly anachronistic for the sixteenth century).

⁸Hoya　[ホヤ].

    This refers to the “original” hoya, made of Byzantine cloisonné, that is shown below.  Far from being an incense burner, it appears that this piece was actually made as a Nestorian Christian reliquary in the shape of a miniature ciborium.

    Rikyū is said to have used the hoya during his final chanoyu, on the morning of the day on which he was ordered to commit seppuku, along with a kiji-tsurube and the small unryū-gama (which he suspended over the ro on a bamboo jizai) in his 4.5-mat room.

⁹Kyū-kō-saku no take-zutsu　[休公作ノ竹筒].

    The take-zutsu made by Rikyū that is mentioned in this entry is otherwise unknown:  possibly it was removed from the Shū-un-an along with Sōkei’s other utensils when knowledge of his suicide was revealed to the administrators of the Nanshū-ji; but there is no record of where it (or any of the other objects) may have gone. 

    The above take-zutsu was made by Hideyoshi, and displayed in his chaseki on the first day of the Kitano ō-cha-no-e, which opened on the first day of the Tenth Month of Tenshō 15 (coincidentally, November 1, 1587) -- according to an inscription that Rikyū wrote in lacquer on the back of this hanaire.  This flower container was apparently inspired by the model, created by Rikyū, that is the subject of this line*; and like the one that he gave to Sōkei*, this hanaire is an oki-zutsu [置き筒] -- that is, it was intended to be stood on the floor of the toko, resting on an usu-ita, rather than hung on the wall (or elsewhere)†.

    While this must have been an interesting hanaire, to be sure, it seems odd that Rikyū would have stated that it was one of his most treasured possessions -- since he had made it himself, and so it could be easily replaced -- since even if he liked it very much, bamboo hanaire (like everything made of bamboo and unpainted wood) were used only until they began to discolor. ___________ *We can understand that the hanaire in question was a simple cylinder because Sōkei was able to turn it around -- so that the side on which Rikyū had written the name he gave to the vase, and drawn his kaō, were visible to the guests (rather than facing toward the wall as Rikyū intended).  Rotating the take-zutsu in this way would only be possible if it were a shakuhachi-giri.

    Furthermore, prior to 1590 all bamboo hanaire were oki-zutsu -- that is, they were made to be displayed on the floor of the toko (see the next sub-note).

    And also, the name Suimō [吹毛] is another name for the monk’s hossu [払子], which (in its most basic form) consists of a short length of bamboo with a tassel of hair from a horse’s tail affixed to one end.  The inclusion of the root portion of the bamboo clum on the bottom of the take-zutsu visually suggests this object.  See the next footnote for additional details.

†The idea of hanging up bamboo flower containers seems to have been introduced by two of the hanaire that Rikyū created for this specific purpose (the ichi-jū-giri [一重切] Onjō-ji [園城寺], replaced mid-gathering by a second ichi-jū-giri known as Odawara [小田原] because the first one had begun to leak badly; and the ni-jū-giri [二重切] Yo-naga [よなか]) during the siege of Odawara -- while the take-zutsu known as Shakuhachi [尺八] was intended to be stood on the floor as usual).

    As has been explained elsewhere, these three bamboo flower containers were crafted out of the three pieces of Nira-yama [韮山] bamboo that Hōjō Ujimasa had sent to Hideyoshi (as a humorous “thank present” for the three bales of straw that Hideyoshi had sent to the castle as a sarcastic “visitor’s gift”).  The three hanaire were intended to be used together during a flower-arranging competition that Hideyoshi hosted for his generals while they were awaiting word from the miners that the walls of the castle had been breached.  The ichi-jū-giri was hung on the back wall of the toko, the ni-jū-giri was hung on the toko-bashira, and the shakuhachi-giri [尺八切], was placed on an usu-ita on the floor of the toko.  The flowers that would be used were placed in the ni-jū-giri to keep them fresh (flowers from trees in the upper level, and grassy flowers in the lower).

    Each contestant approached the toko, studied the two bamboo vases and the selection of flowers briefly, and then created an arrangement in his hand, which he slipped into the hanaire that he had decided to use.  After viewing it himself, he moved out of the way and Hideyoshi approached the toko, and pronounced his judgement of the arrangement.  Then all of the others inspected the arrangement as well.  The flowers were then removed, the ni-jū-giri refilled with fresh flowers, and so the next contestant took his turn.

    While this was going on, Rikyū served tea to the participants.

    The reason why the ni-jū-giri was hung on the toko-bashira was because it was not part of the competition.  Hanging it there kept the selection of flowers close at hand and, because its sections were filled with water, it also kept the flowers fresh (since the competition was expected to last until the next morning -- when the army could begin their invasion).  Normally, a kake-hanaire was hung either on the back wall of the toko, on the minor pillar on the outer-wall-side of the toko, or on the bokuseki-mado.  The idea was that the flowers should always arch toward the temae-za -- oriented as if they were leaning into the room from the garden.  To suspend the kake-hanaire on the toko-bashira was a serious mistake (since the flowers would then be arching away from the temae-za).  

    The hook on the toko-bashira was not for the flowers, but for a hanging oil-lamp at night gatherings (since the signature and name-seals of the monk responsible for the kakemono was located on the side of the composition closest to the toko-bashira, and the oil lamp was oriented so that it would throw its light onto the name).  The scroll itself was inspected by the light of a te-shoku [手燭] -- a hand-held candlestick (held, quite naturally, by the long handle, so that the flame could be brought close to the kakemono -- though some modern schools teach their followers to do the opposite).  At the beginning of the gathering the last guest would take a seat near the toko and hold the candlestick while the other guests approached and inspected the kakemono.  The long handle of the te-shoku allowed him to sit to one side, so that his body would not obscure the scroll.

¹⁰Ji-hitsu ni Suimō to kaki-tsuke ari　[自筆ニ吹毛ト書付アリ].

    Ji-hitsu ni [自筆に] means that the inscription was written by Rikyū’s own brush (that is, written by his own hand).

    Suimō [吹毛], which was the moniker that Rikyū gave to this take-zutsu, is an alternate name for the hossu [払子] (below) -- a wand-like implement, made of bamboo or carved wood, to which a long tassel made from the hairs of a horse’s tail is attached.

    Monks originally used this implement to chase away insects without hurting them; but (since it was often a costly object) it came to be used as a sort of badge of authority by high-ranking monks, with the hossu often participating in their lectures as a sort of prop (the monk manipulating it or using it to strike the lecturn to underscore their main points).  While awarding poetic names to utensils was something that did not become common until the Edo period (the avalanche really began with Kobori Masakazu), there were earlier precedents -- many of the “first generation” of named tea utensils being associated with the retired shōgun Yoshimasa, for example -- particularly when the appearance of an object clearly invited the comparison.  The presence of the rootlets on the lower end of this hanaire visually suggested a hossu, making this a representative example.

    Entry 25 in Book Seven of the Nampō Roku also refers to the Suimō hanaire, and its connection with Nambō Sōkei.  There we read:

    “And again, with respect to the Suimō [吹毛] take-zutsu [竹筒] that had been made by [Ri]kyū, [I] decided to change the [location of the] kan [クヮン = 鐶]. This undertaking was my own foolish idea.

   “While [Ri]kyū’s own choice should not be ignored, after [this hanaire] came into [my] possession, [I observed that] the two characters “Suimō” [吹毛], as well as Rikyū’s kaō, were in every way so like the bokuseki of the great monks [that they] should be revered and appreciated in the same way.  As a result [I came to feel that] hanging [this hanaire] so that [the writing] was toward the plaster wall would be reprehensible – [if only]  because of the danger that the [take-]zutsu might develop a crack [due to dampness].  [I] always worried about that when using Suimō.

   “[Finally, I attached a new kan, so that] the characters and kaō were in the front, [yet] turned [to the side] by one third, when it was brought out [and displayed in the toko].  Of course [I] also left Rikyū’s kan untouched – so that, depending on the occasion, [the take-zutsu] could also be hung from the original kan*.”

    The above account should be taken with a grain of salt, however, because there is no evidence that take-zutsu were ever suspended in the toko prior to Hideyoshi’s all-night flower-arranging competition during the siege of Odawara†.  Yet if the Suimō hanaire was indeed the inspiration for Hideyoshi’s monumental oki-zutsu (which was shown in the previous footnote), as could be expected, then there would have been no reason for Rikyū to attach a kan so that it could be hung up.  Indeed, given his disinclination to do anything more elaborate than what was needed, if Rikyū did decide to hang this take-zutsu, he would have simply carved a hole for the hook on the back side.

    As for hanging, it only became customary for the hanaire to be routinely suspended on the back wall of the toko during the Edo period -- so the toko would not look so empty during the goza‡.  Because carving an appropriate hole for the hook is difficult -- and carries some risk to the take-zutsu** -- when dealing with an antique bamboo hanaire, or one made by a famous person (particularly when he was not the person who was preparing the vase to be hung up), the safer approach was to drill a small hole in the side, and install a metal kan [鐶] (a small iron ring, like those used to hang up ceramic hanaire, an example of which is shown below).

    The sidewall of the hanaire was sandwiched between the two small washers, with all three holes (those in the two washers, and the hole drilled in the side of the hanaire) aligned, and the pins were pushed through from the outside, and then secured by being bent at right angles on the inside of the container, to hold the kan in place.

    A shakuhachi-giri (made by Enshū), with a kan affixed to its side, is shown below.

    Because at least parts of the kan assembly were usually made of iron (which will rust when used for such purposes), the kan was usually inserted just before the gathering, and then removed afterward (and replaced with a new one the next time).  For this reason, the host typically kept a number of kan assemblies on hand, just in case they would be needed (because, in Rikyū’s period and before, the kan had to be specially ordered from a local metal worker -- since, at that time, there were no professional craftsmen who were solely occupied in producing things for chanoyu).

    On one occasion, when Hideyoshi visited Rikyū for chanoyu in his small room, Rikyū invited him to arrange the chabana.  Hideyoshi arranged white chrysanthemums in the basket that was sitting on the floor of the toko (this was the same basket that is shown above).  Later several eminent monks joined the gathering, and so Rikyū attached a kan of this sort to the back of the basket, and lifted it up to the hook that was affixed to the bokuseki-mado, so that Hideyoshi could move his seat into the toko to make room for the monks. ___________ *The reader may refer to the post entitled Nampō Roku, Book 7 (25c):  Rikyū’s Criticism of Nambō Sōkei’s Way of Displaying the “Suimō” [吹毛] Hanaire for additional information, since it discusses this particular hanaire in greater detail.

    The URL for that post is:

https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/690603677200891904/namp%C5%8D-roku-book-7-25c-riky%C5%ABs-criticism-of

†The original reason for always using hanaire made of bamboo as oki-zutsu seems to have been that, because bamboo naturally grows up from the earth, this kind of container should seem to be rooted in the floor of the toko.

‡The original rule was that the flowers were supposed to be displayed at the same altitude as that at which they had been cut by the host (flowers for this purpose were usually grown in a corner of the kitchen garden -- since the chabana was supposed to be a manifestation of the moment).  Thus, if the host had to reach up to cut the flower, it was displayed in a kake-hanaire; and if he had to reach down to cut the flower (which seems to have been more common by far), it was supposed to be displayed in an oki-hanaire.  Later other sorts of rules were concocted (usually as a way to excuse a violation of the original rule by someone of high rank); but this simple, logical idea was the original rule.

    Since the inter-city kitchen garden usually did not provide sufficient space for large trees, most of the flowers available to him for chabana would have been blooming fairly close to the ground.  This is why, when we survey the surviving kaiki, we find that references to oki-hanaire far outnumber those to kake-hanaire -- before the advent of the Edo period.  (During the Edo period, the rule was forgotten or ignored, so that flowers blooming near the ground were frequently arranged in a kake-hanaire -- even by masters of the like of Kobori Enshū.)

￭ The point of this sub-note bears repeating:  the original idea was that the chabana should be absolutely of the moment.  Even bringing flowers from down the street -- let alone from the far-off mountains -- is wrong, because the flowers always reflect the climatic conditions where they grew.  Most natural plants bloom for a span of about two weeks.  So it is within the two week period, as it exists in the immediate vicinity of the tearoom, that they can be used for chanoyu.  Flowers grown in a greenhouse, or those brought from the mountains, have nothing to do with the local conditions surrounding the tearoom where the gathering is taking place.  The flowers must reflect the very moment of the chakai; and if the host does not have anything blooming in his garden, then a chabana should not be displayed at all.  This was Rikyū’s idea.

**Carving a large hole in the back of the hanaire was dangerous, since it could lead to the vase suddenly cracking.  While this was not an issue when the vase was being carved by the host, when he wished to hang up an antique hanaire (or one that had been made to stand on the floor by a famous person), drilling a small hole through which the kan could be attached was much safer.

    This practice first appeared during the Edo period, since in the sixteenth century things like bamboo flower containers were used only when they were new -- as soon as the bamboo became moldy, discolored, or started to smell bad, it was thrown away and replaced by a new one.

¹¹Migi no tōri tamawari-shi hodo ni, kono-bō mo sono henji ni, nani-goto mo onaji kokoro ni koso soe to mōshite, kono-kata no dōgu 　[右ノ通玉ハリシホドニ、此坊モ其返事ニ、何事モ同ジ心ニコソ候ヘト申テ、コノ方ノ道具].

    Migi no tōri [右の通り] means as mentioned heretofore (referring to the list of three utensils that Rikyū sent to Sōkei, accompanying his letter).

    Tamawari-shi hodo ni [給わりしほどに] means “with respect to everything that I was given....”

    Kono-bō mo sono henji ni [この坊もその返事に] means “(I) also, along with my answer (to Rikyū’s letter)....”

    Nani-goto mo onaji-gokoro ni koso sōroe to mōshite [何事も同じ心にこそ候えと申して] means “because, (I) say that in everything, we act according to the same mind....”

    Kono-kata no dōgu [この方の道具] means “(some of) this side’s* utensils (were also sent to Rikyū as a thank offering).”

    Shibayama’s text changes the final phrase slightly:  kono-kata yori dogu mata ni-shoku [コノ方ヨリ道具又二色], which means “from this side, two varieties of utensils (were sent to Rikyū).” ___________ *I.e., my own -- utensils belonging to Nambō Sōkei.  Because Rikyū sent several utensils to him, he wanted to respond in kind.

¹²Suzume no kō-bako　[雀ノ香バコ].

    This is referring to Rikyū’s treasured ruri-suzume [瑠璃雀], that had once been part of the Higashiyama collection (together with a red-lacquered guri-guri kōgō*).  There is no evidence to suggest that it was ever owned by Nambō Sōkei while Rikyū was alive.

    According to the kaiki in Book Two, Rikyū owned, and used, this kōgō on no less than thirty occasions during that tea year (1586 ~ 1587)†.  For the author of this entry to therefore suggest that it was only presented to Rikyū in the autumn of 1590 implies that not only did the author know little about Rikyū and his circumstances (before the last months of his life), but that he did not even bother to read the earlier books of the collection before tossing this document into Sōkei’s wooden chest. ___________ *When used during the appreciation of incense, the lacquered kōgō held the pieces of kyara, while the ceramic container was employed as a taki-gara-ire [炷空入] -- a receptacle into which the burned-out cinders of the kyara (fused to the ginyō on which they had been heated in the incense burner) were discarded once they were exhausted.

    As a result, since the incense utensils were usually arranged as a set on a tray that was displayed on the chigai-dana in the shoin, these pieces were usually collected in complementary pairs:  in this instance, the lacquered kōgō has a carved arabesque design reminiscent of morning-glory vines, while the ceramic taki-gara-ire is shaped like a sparrow (both of which are natural images associated with early morning).  Rikyū’s guri-guri kōgō [グリグリ香合], with which the ruri-suzume had been paired by Yoshimasa, is shown above.

    As with chashaku becoming separated from the chaire for which they were made, these two objects were separated during the Edo period when the conventions of those earlier days had been lost to the fog of time and forgetfulness.

†It is not mentioned in the Rikyū hyakkai-ki [利休百會記] -- but, then again, no kōgō are mentioned in the notes describing any of the chakai in that kaiki -- despite the fact that one must have been used during the sumi-temae on every one of those occasions.

¹³Kono-bō ga saku no chashaku　[コノ坊ガ作ノ茶杓].

    This means that the chashaku was one made by Nambō Sōkei himself.  

    However, this whole idea illustrates the that the ignorance of the chajin of the Edo period with respect to the chashaku was complete -- since it was never a case of simply using any random chashaku with any given chaire, or selecting one based on its poetic name as is done today (and Sōkei, given his close association with Rikyū, would have understood this thoroughly).  In order to make a chashaku, the chaire for which it was being made had to be present in front of the person who was carving the chashaku, so he could adjust its length and width, and the position of its node (if it had one) accordingly.  The rule was that the chashaku (when resting on top of the chaire) was not supposed to cross the kane with which the chaire was enclosed*.

    In the case of a chashaku used for bon-date, the bend in the bowl was supposed to touch the face of the tray in line with the far end of the chaire’s foot, while the tip of the bowl was to be in line with the back side of the chaire; and the handle was supposed to project 4- or 5-bu beyond the front edge of the tray.  The width of the bowl was determined by the length of the scoop end, since the correct amount of tea was supposed to be transferred into the chawan using three scoops only†.  As the Nadekata-enza chaire belonged to Hideyoshi, and was only on loan to Rikyū, it would have been unthinkable that Rikyū would send it to Nambō Sōkei, so that Sōkei could carve a chashaku for it.

    While the above chashaku lacks a node‡, other chashaku that were made by Sōkei include the node -- sometimes near the end of the handle end, and sometimes at the center of balance (which, because the scoop end is usually wider, is closer to the scoop end than in the exact middle of the chashaku).

    That said, it is a fiction that Rikyū used Sōkei’s chashaku when making tea for the last time.  This is because, in the first place, Rikyū preferred to use a new chashaku; and, secondly, because the chashaku had to be made to match the chaire with which it would be used.

    The last time Rikyū made tea, on the morning of his death, he used the Nadekata-enza chaire (shown above under footnote 6), and for that chaire, for use on this occasion, he carved a chashaku which he subsequently sent to Furuta Sōshitsu, as a memento -- Oribe named this chashaku Namida [泪], and it is the chashaku shown below.

    Because Rikyū performed bon-date on this occasion, the chashaku was made to rest beside the Nadekata-enza on the chaire-bon (which was a plain black-lacquered Haneda-bon -- it resembled the tray that Jōō had made for it, but it was smaller -- 2-sun larger than the chaire on all four sides). ___________ *The kane were derived from the folds and edges of the shiki-shi [敷き紙], as shown below.

    Since the chaire was placed so that its side was at the outer edge of the shiki-shi (regardless of if it were on the right or the left side of the mat), the meaning was that, when resting on the chaire, the chashaku should not project beyond the confines of the shiki-shi (since the original purpose of the shiki-shi was to prevent matcha from falling onto the mat).

†Technically, the rule was that the three scoops of tea were not supposed to be equal.  Rather, the first was supposed to be a little less than full, and the last a little more than full.  That said, the middle of the three would represent the normal capacity of the scoop, and this was the determining factor when deciding upon its width.

    When preparing a bowl of koicha that would be shared by two people, Rikyū said to use five scoops of matcha (the first three as above, with the final two essentially equal to the last of the three).

    Rikyū always preferred to serve the shōkyaku an individual bowl of koicha.  The other guests were served in groups of two, which would allow them to share their bowl of tea without its cooling too much by the time the second person took their turn.

‡Chashaku without a node were usually intended to reproduce the effect of an ivory chashaku.  That said, it is important for the modern reader to keep in mind that the modern schools’ teachings, regarding the kind of chashaku that one should use in different temae, did not exist during Rikyū’s period.  So, while Rikyū performed bon-date with the Nadekata-enza chaire resting on a square chaire-bon, the chashaku that he carved to accompany that chaire during that temae has a node near the middle of the handle.  For Rikyū (and a majority of the chajin of his generation), the important thing was that the chashaku should “match” the chaire (referring to the relationship between the two as described in the teachings of kane-wari).  The rules saying, for example, that a chashaku with the node near the end of the handle should be used with a karamono-chaire that was not accompanied by a tray, or that a chashaku without a node should be used during bon-date -- such fixed ideas did not exist prior to the codification of chanoyu that took place over the course of the Edo period.

¹⁴Migi ni-shu okurikeru ni　[右二種ヲクリケルニ].

    Sōkei is saying that he sent the above two utensils to Rikyū along with his reply letter (probably intending them to be a thank-gift for the treasures he had received).

    This implies that this exchange of letters took place some time before Rikyū had been ordered to commit seppuku, since if his death were imminent, return gifts (particularly of the precious kōgō, which had come from the Higashiyama collection) would have been out of place -- since it would be sending them to their probable destruction.

¹⁵Shi-ki ni oyobite, ippuku no cha wo taterare-shi-toki no dōgu wo hito no katari tsutaete kiki-shi ni, suzume no kō-bako, Nambō chashaku to iu-iu　[死期ニ及ビテ、一服ノ茶ヲ立ラレシ時ノ道具ヲ人ノ語ツタへテキヽシニ、雀ノ香バコ、南坊茶杓ト云〻].

    Shi-ki ni oyobite [死期に及びて] means as (Rikyū’s) last hour approached....

    Ippuku no cha wo taterare-shi-toki [一服の茶をたてられし時] means while (he) was preparing a single bowl of tea*....

    Cha wo taterare-shi-toki no dōgu wo hito no katari tsutaete kiki-shi ni [茶をたてられし時の道具を人の語伝えて聞きしに] means “while (he) was preparing tea (for the last time), the utensils -- according to what was heard in the stories shared by people....”

    Suzume no kō-bako, Nambō chashaku to iu-iu [雀の香箱、南坊茶杓と云々] means “... -- were said to (include) the suzume no kō-bako (and) the Nambō chashaku.”

    The argument that he used these things† -- especially the Nambō chashaku -- simply does not agree with other accounts of Rikyū’s final chanoyu‡. __________ *The formula ippuku no cha [一服の茶], “one portion of tea,” was used to indicate the service of koicha; and it seems most likely that Rikyū performed his usual koicha-temae, with a bowl of usucha prepared (using the tea remaining in the chaire) during the temae.  Of course he drank both bowls of tea himself, since there were no guests.  (Some -- possibly romanticized -- accounts have Hideyoshi suddenly showing up to remonstrate with Rikyū, and attempt to coerce him into withdrawing his opposition to the invasion; and these invariably have Hideyoshi drinking a bowl of tea as well.  But we must remember that Rikyū had been sent back to Sakai to perform the deed; and while Hideyoshi could certainly have made his way to Sakai, it would have been difficult for him to do so in such a way that he would not attract the attention of the population.)

†Since Rikyū used the kiji-tsurube on that occasion, it is very possible that he used the suzume-kōgō as well, since he typically used this piece to “seal” the lid of the tsurube when it was being used as the mizusashi.  However, he could habitually do so because this kōgō had been among his possessions for many years, rather than because Nambō Sōkei had given it to him days (or months) before.  (As was mentioned above, Rikyū used the ruri-suzume kōgō at least 30 times during the 1586~7 tea year; and since that was long before his troubles began in the autumn of 1590, the story contained in this narrative simply does not hold together.)

    The kiji-tsurube was originally used to convey water from the well to the mizuya (it was not a “well-bucket,” as some have characterized it; the well-bucket was emptied into the tsurube, two tsurube were balanced on opposite ends of a shoulder pole, and so the water was carried to the mizuya).  When used as the mizusashi -- particularly when chanoyu was not going to take place at dawn -- the original practice had been to seal the lids by passing a paper tape completely around the tsurube.  This helped to keep the lids from warping, which kept dust from entering through the hole (and it also kept other people from opening the tsurube and interfering with its contents as well).  After preparing it in this way, the tsurube was carried out to the utensil mat, and lowered into place from a squatting position, where it remained untouched throughout the shoza.

    At the beginning of the goza, the host used a small knife to slice through the paper tape, which allowed the movable lid to be slid open.  Hideyoshi, however, objected to the presence of the knife, so after 1582 Rikyū began to devise other ways of keeping the lid closed -- and one approach that pleased him was to place the ruri-suzume kōgō on the movable lid.  The weight was sufficient to help keep the lid from warping to the point where it would open; and the fact that this kōgō was made of non-porous pottery meant that it, and the incense it contained, were safe from the moisture that was present in the lid.

    Rikyū used the ruri-suzume all year round -- both with the furo, and with the ro.  The fact that the kōgō was made of fairly high-fired ceramic meant that it was both impervious to the fragrance of the incense, and could be rinsed with water later to remove any lingering traces of it.  (So byakudan or jin-kō could be used one day, and neri-kō the next, without any danger of one kind of incense cross-contaminating the next.)

‡Such as that, immediately after he finished, he sent the chashaku to Furuta Sōshitsu as a memento of his final tea.  Oribe made a lacquered tsutsu for this chashaku with a small window cut in the front (so that the node in the handle was visible), and placed that on his Butsu-dan, in lieu of a memorial tablet for Rikyū.

    The Namida [泪] chashaku, as Oribe named it, is (according to its measurements) the chashaku that Rikyū made to accompany the Nadekata-enza chaire when used on the black lacquered Haneda-bon that Rikyū had ordered for it.

¹⁶Hi-goro no shinsetsu nareba kaku zo aru-beki nare-domo　[日ゴロノ深切ナレバカクゾアルベキナレドモ].

    Hi-goro no shinsetsu nareba [日頃の深切なれば] means since (Rikyū) was usually considerate....

    Kaku zo aru-beki nare-domo [かくぞあるべきなれども] means ...yet in this particular matter (it was not surprising that) he should have been even more so.

¹⁷Toki ni torite, kokoro-isogawashiku mo aran ni, ka no ni-shu shi-ki made te ni fure-tamau shi-tei no shitashimi　[時ニ取テ、心イソガハシクモアランニ、カノ二種死期マデ手ニフレ玉フ師弟ノシタシミ].

    Toki ni torite [時に取りて] means depending on the case, under the circumstances.

    Kokoro-isogawashiku mo aran ni [心忙わしくもあらんに]:  kokoro-isogawashiku [心忙わしく] means to be agitated in one’s mind, flustered; aran ni [有らんに] means there is not.

    In other words, even though Rikyū was now literally confronting his own mortality, he was not agitated or troubled in his mind.

    Ka no ni-shu [かの二種] means those two things -- the suzume-no-kōgō and Sōkei’s handmade chashaku.

    Shi-ki made te ni fure-tamau [死期まで手に触れ給う] means until the hour of his death, he held (them) in his hands.

    Shi-tei no shitashimi [師弟の親しみ] means (this gesture is revelatory of) the intimacy between master and disciple.

¹⁸Hon-kai shi-goku　[本懷至極].

    Hon-kai [本懷] means one’s long-cherished desire.

    Shi-goku [至極] means to go beyond, exceed.

    In other words, Sōkei is saying that the fact that Rikyū held these two objects in his hands up to the hour of his death far surpassed Sōkei’s wildest desire that they would be meaningful for -- that they would convey Sōkei’s true feelings to -- Rikyū.

¹⁹Ima ni oite hai-ka ni namida wo moyōsu-nomi nari　[今ニ於テ脾下ニ淚ヲ催スノミ也].

    Ima ni oite [今において] means now, in the present, at this moment.

    Hai [脾] (which means the spleen), as found in the Sadō ko-ten zen-shū [茶道古典全集] edition of the Enkaku-ji manuscript, is a miswriting of the kanji hai [牌].  Whether this is how it is written in the Enkaku-ji manuscript, or the mistake occurred when setting the type for the printed edition, is not clear.

    Hai-ka ni namida wo moyōsu nomi nari [牌下に淚を催すのみなり]:  hai [牌] is referring to an i-hai [位牌], a Buddhist memorial tablet (a black-lacquered object that somewhat resembles a stick of ink, with the person’s death-name, along with the dates of his birth and death, written on it in gilded kanji:  it is usually stood up on the Butsu-dan to received the prayers offered for the rebirth of the deceased person in a situation that will enable them to attain nirvāṇa at the end of their next lifetime); hai-ka ni [牌下に] means beneath, or immediately in front of, (Rikyū’s) memorial tablet (the image is that Sōkei is bowing down until his forehead touches the floor, and then unable, or unwilling, to kneel upright he remains in that position); namida wo moyōsu nomi nari [淚を催すのみなり] means only (my) tears flow (that is, Sōkei is unable to even mouth the words of his prayer; he has been overcome with unstoppable tears).

    In other words, in response to being informed that Rikyū held Sōkei’s two gifts in his hands (with the implication that he was thinking back over the years of their intimate association -- from the autumn of 1573* to their parting in 1589†) until it was time for him to prepare himself for death‡, Sōkei was moved to tears.

    This information would only have reached him days, if not months or even years, after the fact, perhaps in the course of gossip about Rikyū’s end.  And though he then sat in front of his Butsu-dan, in the hopes of easing Rikyū’s karma through his prayers, all he could do was collapse on the floor and sob. __________ *It was at that time, in the middle of the Ninth Month of the First Year of Tenshō (1593) that Sōkei first wrote to Rikyū, asking for an explanation of the material preserved in Book Five of the Nampō Roku.

    It appears that Rikyū, though known to have been among Jōō's senior disciples, had been living under a cloud, ignored by the tea world at large (as a result of his having had a “corrupting influence” on Jōō’s ideas with ideas that he brought back from the continent, that resulted in the complete reworking of Jōō’s teachings, and the creation of the small room, in the spring and summer of 1555).  Sōkei seems to have been the first member of Jōō’s elite disciples to reach out to him; and it was that gesture that slowly restored Rikyū’s reputation among his contemporaries -- though some, like Imai Sōkyū never quite forgave him.

†It seems that Rikyū removed his Sakai household to Mozuno (originally an area of marshy ground outside the walls that surrounded Sakai, the reclamation of which had been subsidized by Rikyū:  the incorporation of this parcel increased the land available within the walled and moated city-state significantly) sometime during 1589.

    Between 1582 or 1583 (when Rikyū entered Hideyoshi’s household) and the move to Mozuno, Sōkei seems to have acted as Rikyū’s unofficial steward (during the long periods when his duties forced him to be absent from Sakai) -- (importantly) sending Rikyū various utensils and other things from his treasure-house upon his request, access to which would have been off-limits even to the household staff.  This, as much as anything, shows the level of trust that Rikyū reposed in Sōkei, since it involved handing over the keys to his treasure-house to the monk.  (Usually it was a man’s wife who was charged with the responsibility for managing the finances of the household, and undertaking tasks such as this, and it is this and the related passages in the Nampō Roku that have lead scholars to conclude that she died sometime before 1582 -- which is not to say that Shōan's mother Sō-on was anything more, to Rikyū, than Hideyoshi’s appointed manager for the residence in Kyōto, and Hideyoshi’s in-house spy.)

    However, on account of his age (though Sōkei’s age is not known, he appears to have been at least several years older than Rikyū, and possibly as much as a decade), and the fact that his residence was the Shū-un-an, where he was obligated to sleep (the Shū-un-an was a 15 minute walk, at most, from the site of Rikyū’s Ima-ichi property; but it was on the opposite side of the city-state from Mozuno, which was located between Sakai proper and Ōsaka), Sōkei was forced to resign this office following the move.  It appears that between then and the autumn of 1590 (when Rikyū’s month-long house-arrest signaled to the world that relations between Rikyū and Hideyoshi were deteriorating rapidly), Sōkei rarely heard from Rikyū (who was, quite naturally, increasingly busy managing Hideyoshi’s private business in the run up to the siege of Odawara).  Thus, the sudden appearance of a messenger, bearing a letter and gifts, seems to have disquieted Sōkei -- while also leading him to understand the annihilation of Rikyū and his house that was in the offing.

‡Usually by bathing, and then donning a white “death kimono.”

    Whether Rikyū went through the motions of cutting open his belly, or simply bent over and stuck out his neck (so it could be severed by the swordsman second provided by Hideyoshi), is debated by scholars (though the consensus seems to support the later interpretation of the death scene).

²⁰Ka no tayori ni mo, cha no ichi-dō kono-bō ni nokorazu tsutae oki-sōrō hoka ta-ji nashi　[カノ消息ニモ、茶ノ一道コノ坊ニ不殘傳ヘ置候外他事ナシ].

    Tayori [消息]* means a missive, letter, correspondence.  Ka no tayori ni mo [かの消息にも], then, would mean “also in that letter....”  This is generally understood to be a reference to Rikyū's letter (mentioned at the beginning of this entry) -- some speculate that the reference is to a part of the text that has not been quoted here.

    Ichi-dō [一道]:  in Buddhist thought, this would refer to the only path to salvation; but here it is probably being used in the usual Edo period way to mean the whole of an art, the entire canon of the discipline’s teachings.

    Cha no ichi-dō kono-bō ni nokorazu tsutae oki-sōrō [茶の一道この坊に殘らず傳え置き候う] means “with respect to this Way of Tea, to this monk, without any omissions, everything was transmitted.”

    Hoka ta-ji nashi [外他事なし] means there was nothing else (left to teach).

    In other words, Sōkei is saying that to him was transmitted everything that Rikyū had to teach; and that no detail had been omitted or hidden from him†.  This, at least in part, had been the purpose of Rikyū’s letter.

    This final passage is the most suspect part of the entry.  Perhaps it was inserted to establish the authority of the teachings showcased in the Nampō Roku?  Or to turn the tea public away from the Sen family? __________ *Today this kanji compound is more commonly pronounced shōsoku [消息], and used to mean things like news, information.  Historically, however, it appears that the meaning of missive, letter, was more common.

†One way this has been read is that, in his letter, written during his period of house arrest as visions of his own end began to darken his life, Rikyū decided to set down the whole body of his understanding of chanoyu, and sent this collection of teachings off to Sōkei -- and it is to this that Sōkei is now making reference.  This, in other words, would have made Nambō Sōkei the ultimate authority on the authentic version of Rikyū’s teachings.

    If we carefully study Rikyū’s densho (indeed, if we just focus on the Nambō-ate no densho [南坊宛の傳書]), we can get an idea of what this written version of his teachings may have looked like.  But, in so far as Nambō Sōkei is concerned, since Rikyū had already done that in 1574 (which is when the Nambō-ate no densho was written) -- with additions circa 1582~3 (the Tsuri-dana no densho [釣棚の傳書]), and 1586 (the Shin-no-dai-temmoku, onaji daisu no densho [眞の臺天目、同臺子の事の傳書] -- which discusses the gokushin temae) -- there was really nothing left for Rikyū to write to Sōkei at this point in time.  Perhaps the author of this entry (whether it was Jitsuzan, or someone else) had heard about, or even caught a glimpse of, the densho dedicated to Sōkei (the text of the 1574 Nambō-ate no densho, had been included -- as Book One, Two, Three and part of Book Four, in the Rikyū chanoyu sho, so Jitsuzan would probably have recognized the 1574 densho when he saw it), and used this way to explain the existence of this densho in Sōkei’s wooden chest?

²¹Kodomo mo imada mijuku nareba, sue-zue no koto wo botsuka-nashi　[子共モイマダ未熟ナレバ、末〻ノコトヲボツカナシ].

    Kodomo mo imada mijuku nareba [子共も今だ未熟なれば]:  kodomo [子共] (which means child) seems to be referring to the students of chanoyu (in general); mo imada mijuku nareba [も今だ未熟なれば] if (the child) is still immature.  In other words, Sōkei appears to be doubting (or, perhaps, deprecating) his contemporaries’ knowledge and understanding (albeit in a manner more appropriately dated to the Edo period than to his own time)*.

    Sue-zue no koto [末々のこと] means what will happen in the end, what will happen in the distant future; it could also refer specificially to the behavior of future generations of chajin.

    Botsu ka nashi [没かなし] implies doubt over what will happen (in the future)†.

    In other words, because the person or people who will be responsible for passing on these teaching to future generations is/are still “immature‡,” it is uncertain how chanoyu will fare in the distant future.

    Here Shibayama’s version changes the final phrase:  kodomo mo imada mijuku nareba, sue-zue no koto obotsuka-nashi [子共モイマダ未熟ナレバ、末〻ノコト無覺束]

    Sue-zue no koto obotsuka-nashi [末々のこと覺束なし] means (I) don't know what will happen in the distant future; or, (the prospects for) the distant future are almost hopeless**.

    By increasing the negativity, this version makes the future prospects of chanoyu even more doubtful.. __________ *Some commentators, however, take this to specifically mean Nambō Sōkei’s children.  Or -- since there is no indication that he was ever married or had fathered children elsewhere -- as a figurative reference to his disciples.

    Unfortunately, there is no evidence that Sōkei taught any students, either.  Indeed, this was his big sin:  after spending a lifetime collecting the teachings of Jōō and Rikyū, rather than passing them on to his contemporaries, he hoarded them, locked them into a wooden chest leaving them to molder rather than spread out in the world.

    Perhaps, in some small way, this blog has sought to rectify Sōkei’s failings.

†More literally, “will it fail (botsu ka [没か]), or not (nashi [なし]).”

    Botsu also means to disappear or die out.

‡Mijuku [未熟], as it is being used here, means immature in the sense of not well trained, or have not fully mastered the practice of chanoyu.  The idea, however, is more applicable to the system of study that prevailed in the Edo period, than to what was the norm in Rikyū’s and Sōkei’s day.

    This can be understood by comparing the Nambō-ate no densho to any modern chanoyu textbook.  In Rikyū’s day, the general format of a temae was established, with each person free to fill in the details in accordance with his own personality (it should be remembered that Rikyū espoused the idea that a person should employ only one basic temae, whether he was using a common chaire or chawan or doing bon-date or the dai-temmoku-temae, though with minor accommodations made accordingly) -- and the Nambō-ate no densho explains these basic formats in all the usual settings.  In the modern temae, of course, every tiny detail is fixed and immutable -- nothing should be decided by the individual who is performing the temae.

**About this word obotsuka-nashi [無覺束 = 覺束なし], Shibayama writes:

obotsuka-nai ha zoku-go nari, kokoro moto-nashi, tashika nari to omowarenu no inari, sunawachi fu-an to iu inari

[無覺束ハ俗語ナリ、心モトナシ、タシカナリト思ハレヌノ意ナリ、即チ不安ト云フ意ナリ].

     This means obotsuka-nai is a slang term; it means something that doesn’t make you feel confident.  In other words, it means to be anxious (about the distant future).

²²Kokorozashi-aru-mono mo dekaseba, shin-dō ni iru-mono araba, Shū-un-an ni shugyō-seyo to mōshi-oki nari　[志アル者モ出來セバ、眞道ニ入ル者アラバ、集雲菴ニ修行セヨト申置也].

    Kokorozashi-aru-mono [志ある者] means a man of resolve; someone who is fully motivated to do something.  Kokorozashi-aru-mono mo dekaseba [志ある者も出来せば] means “if someone possibly has the necessary resolve (to master chanoyu)....”

    Shin-dō ni iru-mono araba [眞道に入る者あらば] means “(or,) if there is anyone who wishes to enter the True Way (of chanoyu)....”

    Shū-un-an ni shugyō-seyo to mōshi-oki nari [集雲庵に修行せよ、と申し置きなり] means “then he may pursue his training at the Shū-un-an -- with all humility, this is what I would like to say.”

    This seems completely out of character for Nambō Sōkei, who is not known to have had any disciples -- and whom, we must not forget, locked this and the rest of his papers in his wooden chest immediately after this would have been written, and then went off to put an end to himself in the mountains.

    Or perhaps he was extending this invitation to anyone who was interested in making use of the Shū-un-an for such purposes (since it will shortly be without a resident monk).  Though, again, soon after writing this it was locked away, therefore nobody would see it -- perhaps ever.  Things put into a chest that was subsequently locked were not intended to be examined by other people later, even if the original owner of the chest was dead.  So the invitation seems to be rather insincere -- assuming, of course, that Sōkei really wrote it.

    Furthermore, the Shū-un-an was not really Sōkei’s personal property.  So, if the current resident died without having agreed to pass it on to another monk (as had been the case when Giō* passed it on to Nambō Sōkei shortly before Giō’s own death in 1522), the property would revert to the control of the Nanshū-ji (as it did in this case).  The temple did not assign another monk to live there, however, once it became known that Sōkei had deliberately brought about his own death (by walking into the mountains at night, and then apparently stepping off the edge of a cliff).

    Shibayama Fugen’s toku-shu shahon shortens this sentence (by removing the second phrase) to kokorozashi-aru-mono dekaseba, Shū-un-an ni shugyō seyo [志アル者モ出來セバ、集雲菴ニ修行セヨ].

    Which means “if there is someone with the necessary resolve, pursue your training in the Shū-un-an.”  Which reads rather like a want-ad. __________ *Giō Jōtei [岐翁紹禎, 1428? ~ 1522?], the illegitimate son of the great Ikkyū Sōjun [一休宗純; 1394 ~ 1481].  He built the Shū-un-an, between the main gate of the Nan-shū-ji and its outer gate, and gave the hermitage its name.

²³Kyū ga naki-yo ni mo higa-koto ha aru-majiki yoshi kure-gure hi-goro mōshi-oki nari　[休ガナキ世ニモヒガコトハ有間敷由吳〻日頃申置也].

    This sentence is found only in Shibayama Fugen’s toku-shu shahon version of the text.

    Kyū ga naki-yo ni mo [休が無き世にも] means “as Rikyū is in the world of the dead....”

    Higa-koto ha aru-majiki yoshi [僻事は有るまじき由] means “this is why mistakes are unsuitable.”  That is, we must be especially diligent, so we not fall into error.

    Kure-gure hi-goro mōshi-oki nari [呉々日頃申し置きなり] means “over and over again (I) always say this (to you).”

    Nambō Sōkei laments Rikyū’s loss, because this means that he is no longer here to correct our mistakes* and misapprehensions; and he is always reminding the others -- the readers of this entry -- of this.  Because Rikyū is no longer here, we must be especially diligent in our studies, to understand fully what we are to do, how we are to do it -- and why it should be done that way.  And then we must diligently police our own doings, constantly, so that we will not inadvertently commit a mistake -- and neither allow ourselves to be distracted or influenced by the doings of others into falling into something that is a mistake according to Rikyū’s orthodox teachings. __________ *These mistakes are not things like turning the dai-temmoku in the wrong direction, or forgetting to open the mizusashi at the proper time.

    Higa-koto [僻事] implies some kind of misunderstanding at a very fundamental level (so its most common use seems to be in cases relating to morality).  In chanoyu, it would be something like an ignorance of, or a fundimental misunderstanding of, the teachings of kane-wari, or how it should be applied to the utensils that one is planning on using.  If one is ignorant of these things, then an accidentally successful arrangement will be as wrong as an unsuccessful one -- because one has no idea whatsoever what one is doing.  And when the error occurs in the teacher’s practice, the ignorance can rapidly spread throughout the world like a disease.

    An example:  a certain school has been behind the publishing of the vast majority of full-color books that contain beautiful photographs of arrangements (though often the publishing houses appear to have no connection with that school at all).  Now while the photos illustrate that school’s particular approach (without ever saying so), the arrangements that they show are often contrary to the classical teachings (and so the teachings preserved in some of the other schools).  Yet the photos are so seductive that even fairly high-ranking teachers from those other schools begin to question what they were taught, because in the photos we clearly see something that is undoubtedly correct (because it has been made available in this way without comment -- which implies that this is the usual, general way that things are done, rather than something peculiar to one specific school).  So the teachers from the other schools begin to change the way they do things, in order to match the photos -- and then go off and belittle those small schools that refuse to be influenced as country bumpkins who just don’t know what is going on.

²⁴Sono kokoro-e-subeki yoshi wo kure-gure kakare-shi nari　[其心得スベキ由ヲクレ〰ト被書シ也].

    Sono kokoro-e-subeki yoshi [その心得すべき由] means this is the reason why you should (endeavor to) understand this.

    Kure-gure to kakare-shi nari [呉々と書かれしなり] means this is why it is written down again and again and again.

    This final block of comments are not the contents of a letter that Sōkei sent back to Rikyū along with his two gifts (as some scholars seem to understand them), but appear to be addressed directly to the reader himself.

==============================================

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[tobesobri]

Firstly, I apologize for how late this is and I know nobody is going to read this right now because it’s currently 11 PM BUT I still wanted to get this up on halloween and so here we are. 

A very long (31k words) smutty halloween fic with one bed, a ghost, enemies to lovers, and an unsolved murder case. (I’m sorry that there’s also very little editing)

He lifted his mouth after a moment. “I was right.”

He was positive she’d look just as dazed even if she did comprehend what he was saying. So, he chuckled, quickly explaining himself after guiding his lips to her ear.

“You’re cute when you come too.”

She shut her eyes again, laying her head back with her mouth open as she struggled to get enough oxygen in. “You’re welcome to be reminded of that any time you like.”

“Is that an invitation?”

She nodded without a single breath of hesitation. “Any time.” She reiterated.

“What about when you’re alone in your office?” He kissed his way down her neck, lips lingering on her pulse for a moment longer. Then he trailed his way back up to her ear, glancing at her face while he whispered, “Because I’ve thought about all the ways we can make your desk useful countless times.”

“Are you saying my desk is useless?”

He chuckled, his breath fanning out pieces of her hair which he quickly fixed, tucking it behind her ear as he then placed both hands on either side of her face and his forehead on hers, staring at her swollen lips while he spoke. “I think it’d be better utilized if I was fucking you on top of it.”

He wasn’t sure why his final breaking point had been what it was, but he was getting way too much pleasure out of fantasizing strangling her for the past ten miles—and then doing the same to their boss for putting him in this situation in the first place—that he was having to white-knuckle the steering wheel on their way through Maryland just to hold himself back.

“Can you just,” his grip tightened more, if that was even possible, “just pick a fucking song.” 

Maybe he should have lost his shit back at the start of this mess, when she was forced upon him, but twenty-six hours ago it had just been a minor inconvenience. Just a blip in all his plans that he had no choice but to accommodate for. 

Plus, he’d also been actively drinking his first pumpkin spice latte of the season and their boss could’ve have gotten away with murder right in front of him and it wouldn’t have bothered Harry.

However, perhaps worse than murder, his boss had decided at the very last minute to stick YN with him for the whopping six-hour trip to Lexington, VA to do research for a story they had both fought over. He knew it hadn’t been a random coincidence. Or that his boss suddenly had a change of heart. No. YN had made one last desperate attempt to snatch the story out from under him and, instead, ruined both of their weekend plans. 

And he was determined to make sure hers ended up worse than his—although, so far, he wasn’t doing nearly a good enough job of that. Every insult and glare he threw at her since they began their trip she’d just deflected and then came back with something even worse for him. 

Like when he’d told her that the Cheetos she’d brought with her were going to give her bad breath. She just shrugged and told him all the one-night stands he had were going to give him chlamydia. Then ate another Cheeto.

So, after that, he shut his mouth and stewed in his anger for a few miles until he had a clear enough head to come up with other ways to ruin her weekend. But he was beginning to fear she was just unbreakable and he was a fucking piece of tissue paper that was being ripped to shreds each of the twenty-seven times—yes, he was counting—she abruptly changed the damn song.

“I didn’t have time to make a playlist,” her excuse made Harry’s blood boil and then to make matters worse, she changed the song for the twenty-eighth time, “so I don’t know what to listen to.”

Harry spoke through gritted teeth as he seriously struggled to stop himself from swerving and hitting a light pole on her side of the car. Unfortunately for him, he’d opted out of buying the insurance for his rental, so that option was off the table. “You really don’t want me to remind you of why you didn’t have any time.” 

She sighed and finally set her phone down, letting Michael Jackson actually get to the chorus of Thriller for once. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, Harry, for the billionth time already.”

“No, of course not. You just meant to take the job from me after I’d already rented my car, booked my air bnb, packed my bags, did my preliminary research, and planned out my entire route and itinerary.”

She shuddered. “Don’t say that word.”

He glanced over at her like she was crazy. Which she was. Because that was the part where she was supposed to be apologizing to him and instead she was complaining about his word choices. 

Strangling her was becoming a very viable option now.

“What fucking word? Itinerary?”

“Yes that word. I don’t like it.”

“What else am I supposed to say then?”

She threw her hands up as if she was the one who was rightfully annoyed and then crossed them around herself as she actually sifted through her brain for a good synonym. It just annoyed him even more when her eyes widened the tiniest bit and he noticed the edge of her lips lift into one of her stupid, satisfied smiles.

“Schedule. You could’ve said schedule.”

He rolled his eyes. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you care more about whether or not my word choice is personally offensive to you than apologizing for what you tried to do to me.”

“Oh my god,” she scrunched up her face at how big of a baby he was being right now, “don’t be so dramatic, Harry.”

He grumbled half under his breath, “It’s true though.”

She was the one rolling her eyes this time. “Yeah, I do care about how personally offensive I find your word choice, it’s why I never read your pieces.”

He realized then he really should have left it alone when she clearly was way past the point of apologizing to him—probably because she’d already apologized approximately fifty times. He was still mad though and now, on top of everything, she’d just taken an iron dagger right through his heart and it made him even angrier that he cared so much about whether or not she was reading his work. He didn’t always read hers either. 

“Yeah well at least I don’t overuse the word ‘literally.’”

“At least I write at my age level! You write like an old man! Fucking itinerary!” She sat back against her seat in a huff, quickly realizing she was getting way too heated but she really couldn’t help it when she was around him, he always brought out the worst in her and she was sure she had the same effect on him.

She considered the three-hour drive they still had ahead of them and brought her temper down a notch.

It didn’t last long when Harry opened his mouth again. “You realize saying I write like an old man just proves that you do actually read my writing.”

She ignored that because frankly she was done arguing over something so fucking stupid. “You know what, Harry? I already apologized to you a million times. I didn’t mean to crash your fucking five-star vacation to murder town. I told you how badly I wanted this story when it first came up. I called fucking dibs and you still got it over me, so, yeah, I tried to take it from you. Get over it. We’re stuck together now and trust me, I don’t like it anymore than you do.”

He was quiet then, and for most of the rest of the trip, really. They only spoke if it was necessary to communicate. Like when he needed to stop in Harrisonburg to go pee at a gas station and she begrudgingly asked him to buy her another bag of cheetos and a coke.

It was just getting dark when they finally arrived in Lexington, both still giving the other the silent treatment—though the tension between them had simmered—as Harry pulled into the driveway of the little bungalow he’d rented. And it was just that—little. As she stared at the house through the passenger window, she couldn’t see any possible way there was more than one bedroom in there. Unless the house got bigger in the back and she just couldn’t see it through the overgrowth of trees. Just as she turned to ask Harry about it, however, he was already out of the car and mumbling something about a security number.

Rolling her eyes, she unbuckled her seatbelt and followed him to the front door, leaving their suitcases behind until they’d checked the house out first. She stood behind him on the small front porch as he punched in a code on the bright red door that she assumed replaced a ley to make renting easier. The house from the outside was cute, like a little white cottage surrounded by all sorts of plant life and plenty of room between them and the neighboring houses, given them some privacy in case she did, in fact, end up viciously murdering Harry before their trip ended. 

“Do I get to know the code?” She asked as she followed him through the front door and into what appeared to be the living room. 

“No.” He quickly answered, flipping on a light switch as he walked further into the house and she shut the door behind her. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized the house did not actually get any bigger in the back. The living room bled into the kitchen and there was just two doors to the right of the living room. The first was the bathroom, which was made clear when Harry swung the door open and switched on the light. And then with nothing but hope for a hidden second bedroom, she checked behind the second door. Flipping on the light, all her hopes dwindled down to nothing.

“Is there only one room?”

“It was just supposed to be me here, remember?”

“You couldn’t have booked something else once you found out I was coming?”

He shook his head and shut the bathroom door. “Too late to cancel, I wouldn’t have gotten any of my money back.” He spoke nonchalantly, completely unbothered by the situation.

She glanced inside the room again as Harry ventured into the small kitchen. The bedroom was also pretty small with just one queen-sized bed taking up most of the space, a small five-drawer dresser, floor-length mirror on the wall opposite the door that both opened up the space and showed her exactly what six hours of sitting in a car had done to her dark circles. There were also two nightstands with lamps that appeared as if they’d been stolen from a grandma’s house. Or maybe this was somebody’s grandma’s place that they were now renting out. 

Turning the light off in the bedroom, she shut the door behind her as she joined Harry in the kitchen. “So where do I sleep?”

Harry twisted around, having been investigating the fridge which appeared to be mostly empty besides a few unopened bottles of soda and water. “I’m sure there’s a hotel somewhere in town.”

Closing the fridge, he leaned against the peninsula counter opposite her, not even a hint of a playful smile on his face. “You can use the wifi and get a ride or whatever. But I paid for this place so…”

“It’s almost dark out,” she reminded him. They were literally here to investigate an unsolved murder case and he was… kicking her out? 

He just shrugged, “Better be quick then. I’m gonna go get my things.” Stepping out of the kitchen and around her, she watched him the entire time, waiting for some kind of punchline or… anything, really. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“I can’t even get a ride?” She asked before he made it out the front door.

“I’ve been driving all day.” 

“Why didn’t you just drop me off at a hotel first then?”

He finally turned to face her, grabbing the doorknob as he did. “Why did you just assume you get free room and board? You invited yourself, remember?” And with that, he was out the door. 

She could not believe he was being completely fucking serious. 

She glanced around the living room. She supposed she could make the couch work. It was only a few nights, anyway. Maybe if she offered to split the costs, he’d let her stay. His words did still annoyingly sting the backs of her eyes, though. It was stupid to react that way, she knew that, but him bringing up that up again just emphasized the fact that he clearly did not want her around and it made her feel like shit. It made her want to just go home and never talk to him again, in fact. But that wasn’t really a logical option.

She made use of her time alone to check out the local hotels just in case. But then quickly realized he hadn’t given her the wifi code and there was practically no service. So that was a bust. She shoved her phone back into her pocket and really hoped he wasn’t actually going to be that cruel. They didn’t always get along, sure, but she’d never just kick him to the curb like that no matter how irritated she was at him.

As she stood in the middle of the living room, not sure if she should also retrieve her things from his car, her worries quickly shifted when she felt something touch her shoulder. Almost like someone had just tapped her from behind. She whirled around to nothing, though. Taking a couple steps away, her eyes darted around as if maybe she’d find someone hiding somewhere. This was a rental house after all, anything was possible.

“Is someone there?” She asked, and the silence that followed only made matters worse. 

Maybe she didn’t want to stay here after all.

Or maybe being alone in a car with Harry for six hours had really driven her crazy.

Moments later, she was jumping and whirling around agian for an entirely different reason as Harry came barreling through the front door with his suitcase and pillows in tow. He kicked the door shut with his foot and the froze as his eyes met hers.

“Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

She wanted to tell him it was because she might have just done exactly that. But it would only give him more fuel to torture her with, so she calmed down and forgot about it. “What if I give you money, can I stay here then?” 

Rolling his eyes, he huffed as he carried his things toward the bedroom. “I wasn’t being serious, YN.”

Now she was confused. “Kinda seemed like you were.”

He stopped short, not far from her now, possibly only a few feet away as he met her gaze again. “Guess I can’t be offended you think I’m really the type of person to do something like that.”

“Then why…?”

He shrugged. “Makes me feel better being mean to you right now.” Then he stalked off to the bedroom and she let out a deep breath that she’d almost been scared to do ever since she’d felt that tap on her shoulder.

She still wasn’t sure she was comfortable having to sleep on the couch after that, but it was better than trying to get a hotel by herself at this time of night in a small town she’d never stepped foot into before.

After all, it was way more plausible that she’d just been imagining things anyway.

Harry emerged from the bedroom then, leaning on the doorframe. “Are you gonna get your stuff or just stand there all night?”

She blinked a couple times and then took off without another word, or even meeting his gaze. He might not have been being serious about making her leave, but there was no way she’d be getting anything but the couch all weekend. It would definitely do immense damage to her back and neck by the time they left, but she wasn’t about to impose on him any further, especially when she already knew what kind of answer he would give if she asked to share the bed.

It would probably sound something like, hell fucking no, are you insane? In his deep accented voice that would either annoy her or make her cower, there was really no telling. 

She shoved thoughts of Harry and whatever the hell had tapped on her shoulder from her mind as she grabbed her suitcase, makeup bag, and purse, making her way back in after shutting up his rental car. The biggest pitfall of the whole weekend was that she hadn’t thought to bring any pillows or blankets, assuming those would just be provided with a bed. Maybe there was a linen closet she could borrow from, she hoped.

While Harry was unpacking in the bedroom, she took up root in the living room, toeing out of her boots first before opening her suitcase up just so she could locate her pajamas and toothbrush and then zipped it shut, tucking all her things neatly into the far empty corner next to the fireplace. At least she had a pretty decent TV above the mantle place, and she didn’t remember seeing one in Harry’s room. There was one plus.

She escaped into the bathroom to change and brush her teeth quickly, emerging five minutes later in her shorts and t-shirt that she’d also packed assuming she’d have a blanket to keep her warm.

Glancing in the bedroom as she passed, she spotted Harry lounging on the bed, engulfed in his phone, possibly overlooking his stupid itinerary for tomorrow. She’d agreed, when they’d first discussed their division of labor, that they’d follow his lead since he had already planned everything out anyway. She didn’t really like that he made it sound like she was just going to be his practical assistant, but back then she was just glad to be involved in the story. Now, however, it gave her a bitter taste on the back of her tongue. She wanted them to be equally involved, split everything fifty-fifty. But that was also something that felt like imposing and was the furthest thing from what she wanted.

Sighing, she sought out any cupboard that could possibly house a blanket, and if she was really lucky, a spare pillow or two. The pillows on the couch were not only made of that terrible, scratchy, grandma-floral fabric, but they appeared to also actually be older than she was. However, with the lack of storage space, she just came up short. Not even the small cabinet in the bathroom had anything useful. 

She gave up when she heard footsteps and headed for the couch, attempting to locate the remote while Harry wandered into the kitchen without saying a word. She kept her eye on him, though, peaking over her shoulder after she clicked on the TV, watching as he sat at the small, circular dining table that was tucked up under a window. It’d probably have a nice view in the morning, letting sunlight in. But right now, as the curtains were drawn, she couldn’t think of anything besides seeing a ghost pop up outside. Shuddering, she spied on Harry for a moment longer as he scrawled in a notebook before she took to finding a cable station that would suffice her need to forget all the unfortunate circumstances her weekend would entail.

However, every time she switched the channel, she was met with static after static. What was the point of the TV if it didn’t even work?

“You can only use the HDMI cable. I didn’t think it would matter since…” Harry’s voice startled her and when she turned, he was standing behind her. And no, he didn’t need to finish that sentence because she already knew how it would end. It wouldn’t have mattered because Harry was supposed to be here alone this weekend. 

“It’s fine.” She mumbled, flipping the TV off and setting the remote back down where she’d found it on the coffee table. It was also, like the rest of the house, small and compact. In fact, she had begun to fear for her legs as well as her back and neck once she’d finally sat on the couch and realized it was more… loveseat-sized and not nearly long enough for her. It was her only option, though, so she’d have to deal. Maybe tomorrow, in the daylight, she could find a hotel. 

“Here.” Turning back to him, she found him holding out a folded piece of paper to her and after she took it from him, he ventured back to the dining table without another word. The paper didn’t really need an explanation though because when she flipped it over, she found he’d written out both the wifi password and the house code. At least she could entertain herself on her laptop, she supposed. 

After punching the password into her phone, she set the paper on the table beside the remote, saving it for later when Harry eventually went to bed. She didn’t exactly want him to know she was rewatching Criminal Minds again for the billionth time.

He cleared his throat after a moment of her checking her email and she turned to meet his gaze. “Are you, um, hungry or anything?”

She thought for a moment. They hadn’t gotten dinner, but the Cheetos she’d eaten toward the end of the trip gave her heartburn, so, no she wasn’t really all that hungry. Shaking her head, she turned back to her phone. “I’m fine. If you want something though…”

“I might go out and get something and drive around the town for a little bit. I wanted to see some of the places before we go tomorrow.”

She glanced down at herself, realizing she’d have to change back into her clothes if she went with him. And she did want to go, mostly because she was still too freaked out to be staying in this house all by herself. Also because she was just as curious about the town as he was.

“You don’t have to go, though, I won’t be that long.”

She weighed the cumbersome task of changing back into her clothes against the possibility of staying by herself with a potential ghost and quickly stood, leaving her phone on the table as she went for her suitcase in the corner.

“Just give me a minute to change back into my clothes.” As she grabbed the jeans and flannel shirt she’d worn on the trip down, she suddenly considered the idea that maybe Harry wanted to go by himself. And that maybe she was just imposing again.

With her clothes in hand, she turned to find him gathering his things, putting his wallet into his back pocket and clipping his keys to one of his belt loops. She had always, shamefully, enjoyed watching Harry do things. He was far too attractive for one, almost to a ridiculous amount, so everything he did was attractive even if it was the most mundane thing ever. Like once, in the office, she couldn’t take her eyes off him as she watched him making coffee in the break room while she waited impatiently to use the machine next. Then there was just the fact that he was so quiet sometimes. She always wanted to know what he was thinking about while he did those things. How he always seemed so calm and peaceful and how he went from that to how he often behaved around her. She couldn’t even remember at this point why they didn’t like each other much, but to be fair, YN didn’t really get along with too many people. She preferred keeping to herself and never really let anyone all that close. So, even though they argued more than anything, Harry was one of the only coworkers she actually spoke to outside of just work matters. 

Probably because he unfortunately knew too much about her and so she might as well be his friend. If they could be considered friends. She wasn’t sure. But he knew all about her current obsessions, knew how she liked her coffee, knew she hated carrots and mushrooms with a burning passion, and he knew all the shitty details about her ex-boyfriend. Amongst way too many other things. She didn’t like people knowing things about her, but Harry never made her feel like she regretted sharing pieces of her with him, so she allowed it. Most of the time. When they kind of got along. 

Blinking back to reality, she found him staring at her, his eyebrows furrowed. “Did you say something?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. “Nevermind… I’ll wait in the car.” Then he was on his way out before she could insist he repeat what he’d said or demand to know if it was actually okay that she went with him. 

As soon as he shut the door behind him, though, she let both things go and started changing her clothes there in the living room. She really wasn’t all that concerned about Harry potentially walking back in, since he’d already seen her in a bathing suit at their company’s annual beach barbecue. It was just the fact that it wasn’t something he needed to see, nor did she imagine he wanted to. But since he wasn’t in the house at all, she figured it was fine and if he decided to barge back in knowing full well she was changing her clothes, that would then be his own problem if he saw bits and pieces he didn’t want to see.     

Luckily, she got back into her clothes without any incidents and left her pajamas in a pile on the couch for later. She grabbed her phone and her little crossbody bag and made her way out to the car.

He was on his phone with the heat on when she joined him, half expecting him to just have left her and relieved that he hadn’t. Mostly because she would have gotten herself locked out since she didn’t commit the house code to memory yet.

“There’s this diner…” Harry began as he put the car into gear and backed out of the driveway, his eyes secretly scanning her face as he turned his head over his shoulder to look out the windows and make sure the road was clear. “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but if you want a coffee or something…”

“That’s fine.” She mumbled, buckling in her seatbelt while he took off down the road. 

They were quiet for a while, and Harry flipped through radio stations until he found something that wasn’t just pure static. It wasn’t music she’d normally listen to, sounding mostly like popular fifties and sixties tunes, but it was nice. It matched the neighborhood they were staying in, which seemed to be mostly older couples in their little cottage homes. There were surely some families, but the size of the homes seemed to cater to people without children. And none of the houses were identical, which was also nice coming from New York where things quickly lost all their character. She was far removed from her small town roots, but she didn’t mind the nostalgia the town brought up. Harry was from a smaller town too, she knew that, but not quite the same. His family never really struggled for money and his parents had a nice house. That hadn’t been quite the same experience she’d had.

“So where is it that we’re going first tomorrow?” She finally asked when Harry turned onto a new road, one that appeared to be a main street leading out of their cute little neighborhood and into the central hub of the town.

“Thought we’d start at the police station. I already called ahead and asked about looking at their files, so they’re expecting us.”

She nodded even though she was sure he couldn’t see her. She had done her own research into the case beforehand too, of course, but since she hadn’t been assigned it, she hadn’t gone as far as planning anything out like he had. So, maybe it was best that he take the lead. It’d make things easier. And then she could find ways to make herself useful as they went. It was always better having two sets of eyes on investigations than just one, anyway. Although, she was sure Harry would disagree considering she was the very last person he wanted to be spending the weekend with. Even if he was currently being tame. She blamed it on the fact that it was almost eight o’clock at night and he’d been driving all day. The energy he stored up for making her life hell had all been depleted by now.

When he parked outside the diner, which was most definitely the exact definition of a diner, she swallowed every bit of her pride. “I am sorry about all this, Harry.” She looked over at him while he stared down at his lap. Listening, but not daring a single second to meet her eyes. “But also thankful because you didn’t have to agree. Lenny would have listened to you over me if you complained. To be honest, as soon as I found out you also wanted this story, I knew I wasn’t getting it. He… he never lets me do much.”

He scrunched up his face. “If that’s true, then why did he agree to sending you with me?”

She swallowed hard. “I may have… guilt-tripped him into it.”

He finally looked up at her incredulously. “What did you say?”

She blinked slowly. “I, um…” Before she could explain, however, there was a knock on her window that had them both jumping out of their seats. Looking over and up, she found a man, possibly in his mid-thirties, smiling at her. Cautiously, she rolled her window down only a couple of inches. “Can I help you?”

The man glanced over at Harry. “Oh, my bad.” He laughed then and she quickly realized he’d been drinking from the scent on his breath. And also the very obvious bottle of something in his hand. And beyond the cup she also saw that he wasn’t alone. Two other men, one who seemed the same age and another a bit younger, stood behind him. All three, she assumed, drunk. “We just saw you, didn’t see your boyfriend over there.”

She glanced quickly at Harry, shaking her head, “Oh, he’s not… we’re not—“ She stammered, laughing it off in a huff and then slightly regretting that decision when the man’s smile deepened.

“Is that so?” He asked and it kind of gave her the creeps a bit. He wasn’t hideous or inherently creepy-looking. But she was someplace new and it was dark out and YN didn’t necessarily enjoy people she didn’t know talking to her. Especially while they were drunk.

Harry cleared his throat then, leaning over to her side slightly, “Can we help you with something?”

The man just barely paid Harry any mind before locking his eyes back on YN. “No, just wanted to say hi… are y’all new in town?” And then his eyes most definitely made their way down to YN’s chest and Harry’s hand balled into a fist.

“No.” Harry answered before she could. “And if you don’t mind, we were in the middle of something.”

The man cocked an eyebrow, glancing between both of them before talking only to YN. “Thought he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

YN’s hand quickly went to the switches on her door, “You all have a good night.” She could not have rolled up her window faster. And it took them a moment, and a few menacing looks, but the men did eventually leave, and YN and Harry sat in silence as they watched through the mirrors as the three of them piled into a beat up, old truck and eventually drove off. 

“That was weird.”

“Yeah, uh, next time some creepy men come up to the window, don’t talk to them.” Harry advised.

YN rolled her eyes, still watching the truck as they peeled out of the parking lot. “They were just harmless drunks.” Then she undid her seatbelt and grabbed her purse off the floor. “Let’s go.”

She had decided, after all, to order something to eat. Maybe it was the adrenaline of being spooked for a second time that night that worked up an appetite, but she downed an entire plate of waffles and two cups of coffee.

“Thought you weren’t hungry?” Harry asked from across the booth, his half-eaten burger and fries going cold since he had been too busy flipping through the local paper he’d grabbed from the box outside the diner before they went in. 

She shrugged, sitting back in her seat and watching him curiously while he read through the opinion pieces. There wasn’t much she found to be all that interesting in the newspapers anymore that she couldn’t read online, but for some reason, Harry still enjoyed them. The ones in New York were possibly more entertaining than that in Lexington, Virginia, but she had a feeling it really didn’t bother him. She supposed he preferred it to being forced to have a conversation with her.

The waitress, Lucy, reappeared then. “Can I get you some more coffee?” She waved the glass pot she had in hand, only about half full at this point. YN considered it, but then also considered the possibility of not sleeping tonight in a house where there may or may not be a ghost and decided against another cup.

“No, I’m alright, thank you.”

The waitress nodded politely, “No problem. Can’t I get you anything else, then? A box?” She pointedly asked Harry and he finally looked up from the newspaper to shake his head.

Just before she turned to leave, Harry stopped her. “Actually, um… do you know anything about the murders that happened here a few years ago?”

YN kind of wanted to smack him for asking her that, but she was also way too curious herself and thankful that he’d been the one to bring it up and not her. She had been on a couple trips herself for work and knew some of the most helpful people were waitresses. They tended to know everybody and everybody’s secrets, too.

The waitress frowned, though. “Don’t think I’d be of much help. I’ve only been in town for a little over three months. Jackie, though… um, another waitress, she works mornings, she knows all about them… if that’s what you’re in town for.”

Harry nodded, “Thank you, that was actually extremely helpful.”

Lucy just nodded, smiling softly at both of them before making her way to her other tables. 

YN rolled her eyes and Harry most definitely noticed. “What?”

She just shook her head and let it go, not really up for some petty argument with him at the moment.

But Harry had other plans. Plans that involved getting under her skin, right where he liked to be at all times. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

She lifted her eyes back to his and instead found his stupid little smirk. “And why exactly would I be jealous?”

He shrugged. “You won’t tell me what that look was for, so I just have to assume. You do like to bring up all the girls I’ve slept with all the time.”

“Yeah because I think it’s gross, not because I’m jealous of them.” She folded her arms across her chest and watched as his eyes ventured there, but never thought anything of it as she went on. “And now I just think you have an even bigger ego than you let on if you think that I’d actually be interested in you.”

She was, in fact, quite interested in him. But Harry was… he was just in a slightly different world than her. A world she could never get into no matter how hard she tried. Her boss gave him all the promotions, almost anything he ever wanted. Harry could afford to live in a nicer part of the city. On top of that, he was just… very clearly not interested in her that way. If the type of girls he brought home were any indication besides the fact that they barely even tolerated each other.

“Ouch.” He feigned offense, acting as if she hadn’t said much worse to him in the past twenty-four hours alone. 

Again, she rolled her eyes. “Yeah like you’re bothered by that.”

“Maybe I am.”

“You can pick up any random girl you want, you don’t have to concern yourself over whether or not I’m interested in you.”

He studied her for a moment, tilted his head to the side slightly, then averted his eyes to the table while he thought about something. Possibly a witty comeback, she thought. Although, that’s not exactly what came out of his mouth next. 

“Maybe my ego would just like to know if you are.”

She scoffed then. “Yeah as if your ego will never recover from the knowledge that I’m not interested.”

He met her eyes suddenly, narrowing his own curiously. “Why did you say it like that?”

“What are you talking about?”

He opened his mouth to explain, but the words got caught. He wanted to know why she thought she’d be any different. Why she emphasized herself like she had. He didn’t hate her by any means. He actually kind of liked her, maybe more than he should sometimes, but the arguing was just… comfortable. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed listening to what she had to say, even if it was something incredibly personally offensive to him. So, he really had no idea why she thought he wouldn’t be concerned with whether or not she was interested. Especially since he’d just more or less flat-out asked. But it seemed as if it was all just a joke to her and he supposed he couldn’t blame her for seeing it that way. They were almost never not messing with one another.

She sighed and pulled him from his thoughts. “Are you ready to go? The coffee’s gonna wear off and I’d rather crash back at the house than in your car.”

“Might be a more comfortable place to sleep than that couch.”

She froze because it was the first time he’d even mentioned the sleeping arrangements. She’d been sure he hadn’t even thought anything of it, nor did he care or have any reason to care about it. He’d paid for the bed after all. 

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, picking out enough bills to cover their meals and the tip before placing the money on the table, underneath the bottle of syrup. She watched as he stood and pulled his jacket on, not saying another word about the couch or anything else.

And as she sat in the passenger seat again, she realized he was probably right about it. It was quite a bit more comfortable than the couch.

Harry drove first to the police department, just so he could figure out where it was without having to use his phone’s GPS. Then he drove around to one of the houses that had been a crime scene. The first house was still empty and it was very obvious no one had lived there in a long time. All the grass and weeds were overgrown, where the windows once were was now covered by planks of wood. And then there was the graffiti. Most noticeably, the bold letters that read, “Cyprus is guilty.” Both of them knew Cyprus referred to James Cyprus, who was the lead sheriff in town. Although neither of them had really considered him to be a suspect, there could potentially be something buried that they’d have to dog up. It was definitely something they’d wanted to look into.

The second house had someone living in it now. It wasn’t often that someone would purchase a house in which a brutal murder occurred, but they probably got a good deal on it. Harry watched that house the longest, parked with his lights off across the street, just trying to see if he could make out who was living there. If he could find them and ask them if they knew anything.

“Do you always stake out people’s houses?”

Harry shrugged. “When those people moved into a house where an entire family was murdered? Yeah. I’m a bit interested.”

She sighed, not really against the stake out itself. But mostly because she could feel the crash coming on and she wanted to go back and get some sleep. The trip had drained her and not even two cups of coffee was good enough.

Just then, though, a young woman emerged from the front door and both Harry and YN crouched in their seats, trying not to be seen as the woman walked down the length of her driveway with a trash bag in tow. Both watched her closely, picking up on all her features so they’d be able to recognize her if they saw her in the daylight. She knew Harry was right because YN was also quite curious even if they were being slightly invasive.

“I wonder if whoever Jackie is would know who she is.” Harry nodded toward the woman as she made her way back inside the house.

“Figured you’d be up bright and early to go bother that poor waitress.”

Harry just ignored that comment and continued to watch the house. Not necessarily for any other signs of life, but to map out exactly how the killer had gotten in. The details were never released to the public, but neither house seemed to be all that damaged as if the killer had broken in. Sure, they could have fixed it by now, but even at the abandoned house, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Every window had been replaced with wood and the front door had seemed more-or-less in tact. 

The last stop was further out than he’d realized, far from any civilization in an open field. When his GPS told him to turn down a dirt road, he pulled doff to the side of the main street instead.

“You’re not taking me out here to kill me, are you?” She teased, although when he peered over her at her, he noticed the way she wearily glanced around at their surroundings. She’d been a bit uneasy all night, he thought, but right now, with that hallowed look on her face, he felt bad about driving out to the real middle of nowhere.

Instead of making a U-turn, however, he looked out his window and tried to calm her nerves. Knowing that discussing the case would, oddly, do the trick. “When I was researching, I found out that they had found a body buried out here about six months before. Well not here exactly but… back in there a little ways.” He nodded toward the dirt road that made even him a little spooked. “They never linked it to the case because it wasn’t the killer’s MO. He killed two families, and left them in their beds. But,” he paused, glancing over at her to make sure she was still listening and no longer as scared as she’d just been, even if she hid it from him. And she was, in fact, listening, and watching him instead of their desolate surroundings. “But I found this article someone had written that tried to connect the buried victim to the others.”

“Really?” 

He nodded. “Well, you know how both families had fifteen-year-old daughters who both walked to school and both reported to the sheriff about some man in a mask they’d seen following them? And how most people think that the killer went after them in particular and just killed everyone else while he was at it?” She nodded, having read about all of that. “Well,” he continued, “The body that was buried out here was also a fifteen-year-old girl. It could just be a coincidence and not related, but I personally think it was his first kill.”

“Hm.” She hummed, wondering how deep he’d dug to find that bit of information. And how convincing he was going to have to be tomorrow at the police station in order to see both the case they were on and the one of this other poor girl who may or may not even be related.

“Is that all you have to say?”

She met his gaze. “You took me out here to the middle of nowhere at night to tell me about a girl who was buried over there. I’m just trying to keep my dinner down.”

“Thought you weren’t scared of anything?” He reminded her of something she constantly told him all the time. It wasn’t often she investigated a murder for a story, but she did tend to investigate things that would probably freak out a normal person. And, usually, she wasn’t all that scared.

But now she was thinking about whether or not there had actually been a ghost at their air bib and then Harry was unloading all of this on top of her too. There was only so much spooky shit she could handle in one night.

“I’m not… scared I just… think you could’ve told me all of this back at the house.”

He chuckled softly, but then put the car in gear and finally made that U-turn. “You’re cute when you’re scared.” He teased.

“And you make me want to bury you out in the woods when you’re being a jackass.”

“How exactly am I being a jackass? I just paid you a compliment, did I not?”

“Yeah a backhanded one, maybe.” She grumbled and it only made him laugh again.

It was quiet between them while he drove back toward the lights of the town, back toward their air bnb, and then finally he spoke again, softly enough as to not startle her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that might freak you out… I’ve never seen you scared of anything before though, in my defense.”

“It’s fine. Maybe just save going out into desolate fields for the daytime.”

They both went their separate ways once they were safely inside the house again. She changed back into her pajamas while he sprawled on the bed and got lost on his phone again, surely going to stay that way most of the night and then fall asleep in his clothes. 

She pulled her coat from her suitcase and made herself up a very sad little bed on the couch, not even bothering with Netflix because she was too exhausted. She shut off all the lights and made herself as comfortable as she could manage, attempting to curl her entire body up under her coat but not exactly being successful. After a while, though, it didn’t matter. She stopped shivering so much and finally relaxed enough to fall asleep.

There was no light when she woke several hours later, but it was the eerily type of quiet in the house that let her know it was well past midnight. She wasn’t sure what had woken her exactly, but she glanced over at Harry’s door to find it closed and then tried to ignore the pit in her stomach that formed as she thought about that stupid tap on her shoulder. 

And then she realized she was a lot warmer than she had been when she went to sleep. Along with that, her legs were stretched out and still covered by something, definitely not her coat. Glancing down, she found herself covered in a blanket, her coat neatly folded over the back of the couch. Had Harry…?

She really hoped it was him and not the ghost. She hoped there wasn’t a ghost at all, actually, and that it had all been in her head. Nothing weird had happened since that, so she let herself believe Harry had done something nice for her for once. 

Sure, he’d grab her coffee if he was already picking up an order from Starbucks. And he sometimes remembered to wish her Happy Birthday. But that was about it. Not that he was obligated to do anything else. Not that she really did anything all that nice for him, either. But… nice things from anyone were always a big deal for her. A bigger deal for her than they were for anyone else. A normal person. No one ever really gave her nice things or did nice things for her.  And she robbed herself of all the opportunities to make any friends that might be nice to her because she was too afraid to let anyone be that close. 

But she just wasn’t used to nice. To being treated like she deserved nice. And she knew, deep down, she didn’t deserve it. At least not right now. For attempting to sabotage Harry, she deserved the scratchy couch and a blanket-less sleep with whatever ghost was haunting their air bnb.  

Sighing, she ripped the blanket off and stood, knowing she’d never get back to sleep when her mind wouldn’t shut the hell up. So, she wandered to the kitchen, grabbing one of the waters she’d seen in the fridge and leaning against the counter while she sipped on it. It felt way too nice to stretch her body out and she knew that stupid couch was going to cost her in the morning. Her legs ached. Her neck was stiff. And she didn’t even want to think about how bad it hurt whenever she bent too far in the wrong direction and her back threatened to crack in half.

Maybe Harry’s car was a better idea after all.

She set the water bottle on the counter, securing the cap as she ventured back to the couch where she’d left her purse on the coffee table. Digging inside, she quickly found her small bottle of Advil and grabbed three of them before making her way back to the kitchen.

However, when she got back to her water bottle, the cap was sitting on the counter. Which was… not where she had left it… right? She swore she’d put the cap back on before she walked away. 

Taking a couple steps backward, she braved a few glances around the room, praying she didn’t actually see anything happen because if there was one thing she was actually scared of, it was the idea of ghosts.   

It was silent for a few moments and then she nearly turned inside out when she heard tapping on the front window. And after a mini heart attack, she realized it was just tree branches swaying in the breeze. 

She peered down at her water bottle again, convincing herself she hadn’t put the cap back on and was in fact just sleep deprived. She swallowed all three Advil and then put the bottle back inside the fridge.  

As she made her way back to the couch, she fought the urge to knock on Harry’s door. To convince him to let her sleep in there. Where she didn’t have to be alone with… with whatever was going on. But that would be crossing a line. He would just say no and then it’d be awkward the whole rest of the trip. 

Besides, he’d given her a blanket and could’ve very easily woken her up and let her have the other half of the bed if he actually wanted to do that. But he didn’t. So there was her answer. 

She curled up on the couch again and covered most of her face beneath the blanket, knowing that wouldn’t shield her from anything, but it made her feel better. Her mind rattled on for a while until she found a thought to fixate on that made her feel better.

And though it calmed her nerves, it wasn’t exactly the best thought to be having. 

Because she thought about wrapping her arms around Harry instead of the blanket she was holding onto for dear life. Or his arms wrapping around her. Being and feeling safe and not worrying about ghosts or men who bury girls in the middle of nowhere. Or about the stupid fucking tree branches. 

But then she really was on edge when she heard a door creak open. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and barely even let a breath out in her attempts not to move a muscle.

It was quiet for a moment as all she could do was listen. She didn’t even hear footsteps, though, and that’s what worried her the most. 

Until there was a soft, familiar voice breaking through the silence. “YN?”

It was Harry. She had no idea what to do. Should she get up? Then he’d know she was faking being asleep. But she didn’t exactly want to ignore him either. His presence alone made all her fears fall to the wayside.

She decided on the former. Blinking her eyes open, she sat up slightly, just enough to spot him over the couch’s armrest as he met her eyes through the darkness.

“You’re awake?” He asked.

“Now I am.”

“Did you… did you knock on my door?”

Her heart sank then. She had thought about it. So much that she had to fight her feet into taking her back to the couch instead of his room. But she most definitely had not knocked on his door.

“Um… no?”

“I swear I heard…” He shook his head and although he was possibly considering the fact that he’d just been hearing things in his sleep, she was now convinced they were being haunted by a ghost. A ghost that was quite possibly a mind reader, but still a ghost nonetheless. 

There was no way she was sleeping alone in the living room for a second longer.

She stood then, grabbing her coat and then her blanket. And he watched her carefully as she came around the couch. “There’s something weird going on in this house so I think I’m just going to sleep in your car, if that’s alright.”

“Wait.” He followed her as she walked to the dining table to get his keys. “What do you mean by weird?”

She grabbed his keys and turned to him. “I set my water bottle down right there just now, right?” She pointed at the counter and his gaze followed. “I know I put the fucking cap back on. Then I went to get something and when I came back, the cap was off.”

“What are you… what are you talking about, YN?”

“And earlier, when we first got here, you asked why I looked like I’d just seen a ghost? Well when you were getting your things I felt… I felt like something had tapped my shoulder but… nobody was there.”

He just looked at her for a moment and she knew he was about to call her crazy or something along those lines. She could feel it coming, so instead, she started up again.

“So, I’m going to the car because I’m not sleeping by myself in this house anymore.” She gathered the blanket again and made her way around Harry before he even got a word out but he very quickly wrapped his hand around her arm and stopped her when they were just inches apart from each other.

“You could, um,” he did not like the idea of her sleeping in the car by herself one bit. He’d barely tolerated her sleeping on the couch but he didn’t want to suggest she sleep with him and potentially make things weird. But now, there wasn’t a choice. And he didn’t exactly want to sleep alone now anymore either. “You could share the bed. I wouldn’t mind.”

She just stared at him for a moment, quickly realizing their faces were way too close and so she took a step back which made him release his hold on her. Her voice came in a near whisper. “I don’t want to impose anymore than I already have, Harry.”

He shook his head. “I know you don’t. You didn’t even ask me for a blanket.” He glanced down at the one he’d strewn over her many hours ago that she was now clutching against her chest. And her heart raced when it was confirmed he’d been the one to do that, not the resident ghost. 

“I—“ She started, but never finished. She didn’t want to bother him, he was right.

“You’re not imposing I’m… if what you’re saying is true… I don’t exactly want to be in here alone either. And I know what I heard.”

“Have you ever seen a scary movie? You’re not supposed to stay inside the house with the ghost, Harry.”

He rolled his eyes. “I think maybe we’re both just spooked from earlier and that’s all it is.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Or you’re just trying to get me to sleep with you.”

Even in the darkness surrounding them, there was no mistaking the smirk that crept to his lips. “Trust me, YN, if that’s what I wanted right now, I would not be entertaining the idea of a ghost to get into your pants… or, uh…” he glanced down at her bare legs, “shorts. I guess.”

“Yeah because I’d just easily climb right into bed with you.” 

He took that step closer to her, the one she’d taken away from him moments ago. She swallowed thickly as he leaned in the tiniest bit, the look in his eyes the furthest thing from worried about a ghost. “I think we both know you would do exactly that.”

He was right. She would. Ghost or no. She was stubborn as hell though. “You’re making the car sound more and more appealing.”

He ran his hand through his mess of curls. “You’re not sleeping in the damn car. Come on. The bed’s big enough, everyone’s keeping their clothes on. You’re the one that said you weren’t interested anyway.”

She thought it over for a moment, glancing down at the keys in her hand. She knew she wouldn’t get any sleep out in the car either. That it might actually be worse than inside the house because although there was something fishy going on, nothing had tried to harm them. 

“Fine.” She muttered between her teeth, turning to set his keys down and then tossing the blanket at Harry while she discarded her coat along the back of one of the chairs.

When she turned to him, it was obvious he was not looking at her face and had not been either when she was turned around. “Why exactly did you bring shorts that short to wear to bed?”

“These,” she gestured down at herself, “are my sleep clothes. Sorry that I expected to have a bed and a blanket on this trip.”

She hadn’t exactly gotten the point of his question, and although he had been quite concerned about how cold she’d been huddled underneath just her coat, he wanted to know why there were no other shorts in existence she could have worn that were not ones that made him think about very inappropriate things. 

Turning, he led the way back to his room, still holding onto her blanket until he was at the bed and tossed it to the other side where she’d be sleeping.

Closing the door behind her, she made her way around the room, thankful Harry had chosen to sleep on the side closest to the door just in case there was actually a ghost haunting the living room. He’d be the first to go, she supposed.

He waited for her to get settled on her side of the bed before he climbed in, and as soon as he was comfortable, he reached up to shut the lamp off and smother them in darkness again. It didn’t bother her as much this time, though, because she heard his breath and felt his warmth and it calmed whatever lingering nerves she still had. 

Still, though, she couldn’t fall asleep right away. 

“Harry?” She whispered after who knew how many minutes of just laying there, staring at the ceiling.

He groaned beside her, half muffled by the pillow. And when she glanced over at him, she saw that he was sprawled out, the blanket pooling in the middle of his back, exposing his broad shoulders. And even though he wore a shirt, it was still a magnificent sight. She always thought he had a really nice back and watching it now as it rose and fell with his every breath, she almost forgot what she was going to say.

“Are you awake?”

“No.” He mumbled.

“I just, uh… thanks. For the blanket. And for the bed. You didn’t have to.”

The bed moved then as he twisted around to face her and she watched, captivated by the exhaustion taking over his features that made him, if were possible, even more attractive. It, as weird as it sounds, made her stomach twist in the most glorious way possible as he looked at her through barely awake eyes. “It’s not a big deal, you don’t have to thank me. Especially not when I’m trying to sleep.”

She knew that. To him, it wasn’t even a small deal. It meant nothing to him. “Yeah, sorry.” Her eyes danced across his face for a moment, especially those eyebrows of his as they furrowed and his mouth as he opened it to say something, but she beat him to it. “Goodnight.”

She woke with her cheek pressed against something hard. Not a soft pillow. Not even the scratchy one from the couch. This one was soft, like cotton. Just hard, and…

Her eyes flew open when she realized what she was touching, when her hand went to adjust said pillow and instead she just found more of it. Lots more. Because it wasn’t a fucking pillow. It was Harry. His chest, to be exact.

Quickly, she pulled away. On instinct more than anything. She’d never been that close to him before and she didn’t exactly want him to wake up and find out about it. She had no clue what time it was, but soft grey light was just beginning to seep in through the curtains so it had to be early. Too early for her to want to get up, but she knew she couldn’t continue to use Harry as a pillow.

However, when she jerked back, she hadn’t considered the arm that was firmly tucked around her, keeping her in place. And when she moved, he groaned softly in his sleep and she cautiously glanced up to see that crease between his eyebrows and a frown on his lips. And as she reluctantly settled back against him, both soothed out until he slept peacefully again. If she tried to move again, it would just wake him completely and then she’d be met with the awkwardness. So, she stayed. Hoping he’d be the first to move at some point and it wouldn’t matter. 

She kept her hands to herself though, not needing anymore added embarrassment of having groped his chest on accident. He hadn’t ever moved though, not before she drifted back to sleep again.

All Harry knew when he woke was that he was hot. In more ways than one. And when he blinked his eyes open, he soon found out why. She was pressed against him, her forehead resting in the crook of his neck, one of his legs was tucked in between hers, and the worst, most incriminating part of it all: one of his hands was curled up in her hair.

Well, okay, the very unfortunate consequence of sleeping the way he was mixed with some questionable dreams and it being morning was also quite incriminating. But that could be hidden and ignored and forgotten about. His hand tangled in her hair, holding her against him? No denying that one or pretending it was just because of a wet dream. 

As he untangled his hand from her, as gently as he could, she stirred, and then he began to regret thinking the hardness in his boxers could just simply be ignored. Without any control over it, he moaned when she’d unintentionally rubbed herself against him.

He knew he had to get up, before she woke up and found out. Sure, he wanted nothing more than for her to wake up and for this to lead somewhere it really shouldn’t but he knew it wouldn’t ever lead there. She was… she was different. If she knew how close she was to him right now, she would very quickly put the Grand Canyon’s worth of space between them. He’d never seen her even so much as hug anyone, let alone be all wrapped up in them like this.

He gathered his nerve for a moment longer before he finally unraveled himself from her, holding his breath as he did, and replacing his body with a pillow as to hopefully not disturb her too much. And when he was safely on his feet, he realized it had worked. She was still fast asleep, clutching the pillow instead of him. 

Which… made him want to get back into that spot again, but his better judgement sent him on his way to the shower instead. Because there really was no hiding it anymore.

He grabbed a change of clothes and all his showering essentials before he left, having been too tired last night to deal with it. Plus, she’d been hogging the bathroom when he’d unpacked his clothes, so he just didn’t get the chance. And then he just kind of forgot about it.

It didn’t matter now though. All that mattered was getting in the fucking shower and dealing with himself. He hadn’t even thought of the ghost either. Which he probably should have, since he’d just walked into the living room, albeit briefly, with a very obvious bulge in his underpants. 

He hoped the ghost was at least of age, and he also hoped it wasn’t whoever’s grandma who may have died in this house. That would be embarrassing, to say the least.

As soon as the warm water touched his bare skin, he sighed in relief. Which turned more into a whine when he touched himself under said water. He felt every ounce of shame for what he was doing, but it had to be done. Sure, it’d go away eventually on its own, but as soon as he saw her in those fucking shorts again, it’d come right back. Ten times worse.

He leaned against the wall, resting his forehead on his arm as he closed his eyes and pretended it was someone else’s hand around his cock right now instead of his. And if the water hit him just right, he could almost pretend he was inside someone warm. 

That someone, of course, being the one someone in the world he shouldn’t be thinking about while he was getting himself off in the shower. But there YN was and he didn’t even try to fight it. Didn’t try to stop thinking about how she’d looked on the beach this past summer. That red bikini she’d worn that left nothing to the imagination. The way she didn’t even know what effect she had on him. What effect she had on anyone. The way she chewed on her bottom lip when she was concentrating and how she stared at his mouth while he spoke. The way she’d been wrapped around him, the fact that he could still feel the press of her against his thigh.

He bit down on his forearm to stifle the unruly sound that bubbled up within him as he came. As he came and saw nothing but her face, contorted into pleasure beneath him as he buried himself deep inside of her. 

Shit.

He was fucked.

She woke clutching a pillow to her chest and an otherwise empty bed. And it had been empty for a while, there was no warmth still on the sheets where Harry had slept. Golden sunlight lit the room this time, and she was sure he’d already taken off to that diner and left her here alone with the ghost.

And when she tiptoed out of his room and didn’t find him anywhere in the small living or kitchen space, she realized that was exactly what he’d done. At least there was daylight. Ghosts weren’t as scary when it wasn’t dark outside.

She checked her phone first, finding out that it was not only fifteen minutes after nine, but that she also had way too many unanswered work emails to deal with that she most definitely did not want to even think about.

Clicking the screen off, she went to her suitcase, opening it up fully on the floor to locate her phone charger first. Once that was secured and her phone was on the kitchen counter recuperating, she grabbed her bag full of hygiene products and made her way to the bathroom.

It hadn’t been long that Harry had left because the shower was still wet. After she unpacked her bag and got everything set out inside the shower that she’d need, she flipped on the water and got undressed. She thought about the last time she’d taken off her clothes in this house, when she’d changed in the living room and wondered if the ghost had been around then. If there was actually a ghost. She hoped not. 

The warm water felt nice on all the still achey bits of her body. The bed and the meds had soothed out some of it, but she hadn’t made a full recovery. She let the water linger on her neck and her lower back for a little while as she washed her hair and shaved what she wanted to shave. She thought about how she’d woken last night, practically on top of Harry and really hoped it hadn’t still been that way when he woke up. Though, she didn’t remember him moving at all. She figured she would have felt that. So maybe they went back to sleeping on their respective sides of the bed. 

And if they didn’t then, well… she just hoped he didn’t say anything about it.

She finished up and grabbed the towel she assumed Harry had left for her on the sink. With him gone, she didn’t bother bringing in a change of clothes. She didn’t want to walk around naked in someone else’s house—with a potential ghost lurking—but walking around in a towel wasn’t so bad. Even if it was kind of short and just barely fit around her and she couldn’t bend over without showing everything. 

They weren’t even sure there was a ghost. It could have just been what Harry said. Their minds playing tricks on them after everything last night.

So, she got over it and opened the door once she was sure her towel was secured. She made a bee line to her suitcase, not even realizing until it was too late that the last thing she needed to worry about seeing her was a ghost.

Not when Harry cleared his throat from the dining table. Not when she froze and looked over at him to find him already staring. At her legs, mostly, and then he finally dragged his eyes up to her face.

“Sorry, I… I thought you left.”

“Went to get coffee.” He lifted two takeaway cups in his hands that appeared to just be from some local cafe. But, at this point, coffee was coffee.

“Oh.” She dropped her eyes and they fell to her suitcase. It wasn’t going to be very easy holding her towel up while she dug through her things on the floor.

“Do you need some help?”

Her first instinct was to shake her head no. Mostly because she didn’t want to need his help. But the alternative to his help… well it could become an incredibly awkward weekend within seconds if something slipped. 

So, instead, she reluctantly accepted. “Uh, sure.” 

She stood frozen still in the living room as he walked over and then past her, hitting her with a very distracting scent. It was slightly different than how he normally smelled, like he’d changed something in his routine. Maybe he’d gotten a new cologne or aftershave. He still smelled incredible though. And on top of that, the contrast of her nakedness to his fully clothed, jacket and all, made her shiver in all the very wrong, inappropriate ways. 

And on top of everything, he was currently getting down onto his knees in front of her. 

Well, in front of her suitcase but… in front of her too. While she was… while there was nothing but her underneath the stupidly small towel.

“What am I looking for?” He asked, moving aside her extra pair of shoes and her blow dryer to get to her clothes underneath.

“Um, well, I need…”

He nodded, “Right. Suppose those are important.” She didn’t even want to know what he’d just meant by that, but she didn’t question it.

“Under those jeans right there… actually you can hand me the jeans too.” He did as she asked, handing them over and then moving onto the way too many pairs of panties she’d packed for the two night trip. He hid his smile from her, mostly because he knew she’d think he was thinking of something mean to say when in reality, it made him laugh because he had done the same thing. Packing an unnecessary amount of underwear.

“I don’t care which ones, just… hand me one. You don’t need to sit there and stare at my underwear.”

He grabbed a pair, particularly the black ones that had more lace on them, and twisted around as he gave them to her. “Had to make sure I picked the right ones.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He let his eyes fall to her thighs, which were, as she realized, way too close to his face right now, and then he shrugged as he met her gaze again but with a look that… that sent a shameful amount of heat to an even more shameful part of her body. A look that made the lower part of her stomach twist into knots.

Then he smiled, almost… knowingly at her before twisting back around to the suitcase. “What else, then?”

“That shirt, right there,” she pointed, “the black one.” He pulled out a simple long sleeve that didn’t nearly feel thick enough for the weather outside, but he figured she had her coat to go along with it.

“That’s all?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice because he knew he was missing one thing. Purposefully missing it, though, of course. 

“The bra right there.” She pointed again. “It’s black too.”

“Oh, this?” He pulled it out and held it up, teasing her with it and when she went to grab it from him, he quickly pulled away.

“That’s not funny, Harry.”

“Of course it is.” He stood then, taking the bra with him. “I don’t think you need it anyway.” He made a point to not glance down at her chest which he’d seen more of in the past ten minutes than he had since the beach.

“How did you go from threatening to kick me out last night to… to whatever it is you’re doing right now?”

He shrugged. “I’m over it.”

She eyed him like she didn’t exactly believe him, but she didn’t say anything else as she went for her bra still clasped firmly in his obnoxious hands.

And, of course, she didn’t manage to get it from him, for the second time now. They’d flirted sometimes over the years of knowing each other, although she’d consider it more aggressive flirting that never led anywhere or that they ever even took seriously. Like it had been last night when he teased her about being jealous. It was harmless. But this was— no, it felt like something different.

She went for the bra once more and actually fought him this time, though she was at a disadvantage since she only had one hand. The other held both her clothes and her towel. It was a very unfortunate accident waiting to happen, but he was irritating her and she didn’t really fully think things through.

When she almost had her bra within reach, he held it up above her head, to the point where she couldn’t reach it even if she was dressed and wouldn’t be risking everything to reach up and grab it.

She did try once though, also not realizing how close she had to be to him to make the attempt. And she felt way too much of the hard length of his chest and quickly retreated away from him once her attempt failed.

“I hate you.”

He handed her the bra once he realized she was done fighting him for it. But as she went to grab it, he held on tightly. “I hate you too.”

He let go and she couldn’t help but think that their ‘I hate you’s’ were filled with something else rather than actual hate. 

Getting back on his knees, he glanced up at her, “Anything else?”

“Um… there should be a bag in there. It’s black.” 

“Of course it’s black. All of your things are black. How am I meant to find a black bag in a sea of black?” Still, he dug gently through her clothes, feeling around for a zipper or some other indication of a bag.

“There.” She pointed and he followed, but he still didn’t see what she was seeing. He grabbed something in the vicinity, but it turned out to be a shirt, not a bag.

“No.” She huffed and then leaned over to grab it for herself. However, she accidentally bumped against his shoulder when she did so and as she grabbed the bag, he turned his head around to find her chest very nearly right in his face. She hadn’t done it on purpose, nor had he looked on purpose, but he could not get himself to stop staring. The towel was not holding up very well at this point and she was… spilling over the top of it. He swallowed thickly as she shifted away and then his eyes lifted to hers, giving her that look again before she was able to stand up straight.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He wanted very little more than he wanted to rip the towel right off of her. To say fuck it to his stupid itinerary and her clothes. To fall back into bed and make her forget all their petty arguments, any bad thing that’d ever happened to her, maybe even make her forget her name.

He stood then, never taking his eyes off of hers and she fought the instinctual urge to take a step away from him. She never did it out of fear. She’d never put space between herself and Harry because she was scared of him. She did it because she was scared of what that type of closeness entailed. Closeness that she didn’t know how to deal with. 

“Am I looking at you in some special way?”

She swallowed hard. He was… what was he doing? She knew Harry well enough to know that whatever it was, he was just trying to get a rise out of her. So once she fell for it he could make fun of her. She was not about to let him have the upper hand.

“No,” she nearly whispered, “I suppose not.”

He titled his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied her. “So,” he glanced down the length of her and she couldn’t tell if she wanted to hide from him or… or do even worse. “Are you just going to stand there in that towel then?”

She was bone still and he wasn’t sure she was even breathing until she finally mumbled, “No, I’m… I’m gonna get dressed. If you don’t mind.”

He shrugged, dropping his arms, “If that’s what you want to do, I’m not stopping you.”

But still she… didn’t move. Didn’t back away even the tiniest of inches. Just… stayed there, holding his stare and she was sure if either of them moved any bit closer to each other, things would very quickly not be going to plan.

Which would be… a very dumb thing to do, she was pretty sure.

Although, being dumb didn’t seem all that bad when it was wrapped up in something as nice to look at as Harry.

“Im… gonna get dressed.” She repeated.

A smirk crept onto his lips. “Yeah, you said that already and yet… you’re still here.”

“I am… but I’m gonna go now.” She slowly started to slip away, wondering if he was going to stop her, but as she got further from him and he didn’t, she felt a weird sense of disappointment. 

Instead he let her go, not saying anything until she was halfway to the bathroom. “I’ll be waiting.”

Once she was ready, she joined him at the dining table, taking the cup of coffee that he wasn’t currently sipping out of and sitting in the empty seat beside him. Whatever… tension had been there before had fizzled out considering his eyes were currently glued to his phone and, frankly, she was thankful for it. She had no idea why she’d been seconds away from doing one of the dumbest things she’d ever done in her entire life. 

“So, uh… you said the police station was first?”

He looked up at her finally and she most definitely noticed the way he glanced down at her as if he half expected her to show up in that towel again. “Aren’t you hungry?”

She shrugged. “I suppose you’re going to force me to go back to that diner and bother that poor waitress.”

“Oh my god,” he huffed, clicking his phone off and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. “You don’t even know if she’s all that poor. She could be mean, you know.”

“Good.” YN stood from her seat, pushing it in and slipping into her coat. “Then I hope she’s extra mean to you.”

The diner was busier than it had been last night, almost as if no one in town made their own Saturday breakfast and instead hustled their asses into a booth for some—albeit pretty tasty—pancakes and has browns.

But it frustrated Harry to see because it put a bit of a damper on his plans. Still, as he eyed the packed dining room with little hope, he held the glass door open for YN and did something kind of stupid without even thinking. 

When she passed in front of her, he placed his hand on the small of her back, ushering her inside like they were… together or something. Once he came to his senses, and before she seemed to notice his touch through her thick coat, he quickly snatched his hand back and pretended that had never happened. Mostly because if she knew that it had, she might just cut his entire hand from his body.

And he liked his hand attached to his arm just the way it was to ever thoughtlessly touch her again.

YN paused behind a family of four waited to be seated, slightly angling back to Harry as he let the door close shut behind him. “It’s kinda busy… and we don’t even know which one she is.”

Harry stepped closer to YN, to get out of some people’s way that were trying to exit, but still made sure he kept every inch of his body to himself. He peered over her head, trying to see if he could make out any of the name tags on the waitresses that flew by, even from a distance. Unfortunately though, they both moved way too fast and he also didn’t have that great of vision.

“Wait.” He glanced at down at YN and then followed her finger as she pointed a covert finger at one of the waitresses. “That’s…”

It didn’t take long for Harry to recognize her as well. She had the same short, curly brown hair and the same pair of glasses sitting on her nose as she had last night.

The woman from the house.

Before either of them could say anything else, though, someone bumped into Harry’s back as they passed and he jumped forward, closing what little gap there had been between him and YN as his hand came down on her waist to catch his balance.

And just as quick as it landed, he was pulling away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s fine.” Still, he noticed the way she tensed up and couldn’t help but to think it wasn’t all that fine.

“I know you don’t like—“

She twisted around to face him then and he shut his mouth. “You don’t know anything, Harry.” He really couldn’t tell if she was mad at him or not. “I said it was fine.”

He also had no idea what that was about, but he didn’t get a chance to ask as the hostess called them forward and YN put space between them again, asking for a seat for two, particularly in Jackie’s area.

They were seated quicker than expected with the promise that Jackie would be by soon to take their drink order and then they were left by themselves, although they didn’t really say much to each other at all.

They did, however, steal glances at one another until YN’s phone buzzed and that took up all her attention. It wasn’t long before Jackie arrived, and Harry thanked god for the distraction so he stopped thinking about YN for at least a few minutes anyway.

And it wasn’t just… thinking about her. She was… making him feel things. Like a tightening in his chest and fluttering in his stomach every time he thought about this morning, from when he’d woken to that stupid towel to just now, standing that close to her like they were an actual couple coming in for a simple breakfast together.

He snapped out of it as Jackie introduced herself. “I’ll be helping you all this morning. Can I get you something to drink?”

They both, Harry and YN, stared blankly up at Jackie because Jackie was the same curly-haired, glasses wearing woman from before. The two of them shared a look between each other, leaving Jackie to shift her weight uneasily.

“We have coke… or orange juice. Coffee… milk…” She listed off a few options to fill the awkward space Harry and YN had left open because they were too busy putting pieces together.

But, then, YN snapped out of it and blinked back to Jackie. “Oh, uh… I’ll have a coke.”

Jackie nodded, writing it down and then turned her gaze to Harry, who just mumbled, “Water, please.”

She was gone with the promise of returning with their drinks soon and Harry was the first to look at YN but she quickly met his gaze after having been distracted by watching Jackie disappear into the kitchen. “She’s…”

“Yeah.” YN agreed.

“I guess that’s why our other waitress said she’d know about it.”

“But why would she…” YN trailed off, picking at the skin along her fingernails in her lap while she averted her gaze and thought. “Why would she live in that house?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe she knew the family?”

YN met Harry’s gaze again with a look of horror. “Jesus, I hope not. I can’t imagine the other waitress suggesting we talk to her if that were the case. That’d be…”

“Fucked up.” Harry finished.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Harry opened his mouth again, but YN quickly leaned in and shushed him. “Wait, she’s coming back.” 

“Alright, a coke” she set down the soda in front of YN and the other glass in front of Harry, “And a water for you.”

Backing away, she pulled her notepad from her apron and flipped it open. “What can I get started for y’all?”

Harry cleared his throat, looking over the menu for the first time since they’d been seated. “Oh, uh… I’ll just have…” He was slow on his feet, he realized, but he was also currently looking at the kid’s section of the menu without noticing.

YN rolled her eyes. “We’ll share the waffles. Thanks.” She grabbed bother hers and Harry’s menus and handed them back to Jackie, who gave her a soft smile before turning on her heels.

“What if I didn’t want waffles?”

“Sorry, did you want a kid’s Mac and cheese instead? I’m sure she’ll come back.” YN made to wave Jackie down but Harry quickly reached across the table and held her arm down.

She pulled it away without really even meaning to, it was just instinct. Then when she looked up at him, she already saw the apology burning the back of his tongue and she sighed. “Harry, you don’t have to apologize for touching me. I don’t like it that much with people I don’t really know but you’re…” She stopped there before she said something incriminating. Like that he was different. That she liked when he touched her, she just reacted that way because she was slightly afraid of the feelings it brought up when he did.

“Oh,” he paused, staring blankly at her, “okay.”

Rolling her eyes, she sat back against the seat of her booth and crossed her arms over her chest. “So, when do you plan on bothering this poor girl?”

He just stared at the table for a little while, seemingly lost in the train of thought he’d been in this entire time that she couldn’t quite decipher. Nothing about Harry was very easy to read, however. 

“Hello? Earth to Harry.”

His eyes snapped dup to hers and he shook his head clear. “Sorry, uh… I don’t know. Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Oh, come on. We’re already here.”

He glanced around the busy dining room because the last thing on his mind was Jackie or what she knew about the case or… the whole entire case in general to be honest. All his thoughts had been infected by something he never thought he’d care about more than his job. 

Absently watching a little boy a couple tables away stuffing pancakes into his mouth, Harry spoke softly. “When I woke up this morning, we were…” His gaze slowly drifted back to hers and he saw in the way her eyes widened slightly that she knew what he was talking about. “And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

She sucked in a breath of air and looked at literally anything besides his face because it felt as if she might catch on fire if she did. “I, uh…” She shook her head. Unsure what to even say to that.

“You don’t have to say anything, I just… If you don’t want to sleep alone again tonight I thought…”

Her heart fluttered so much she thought it might just fly right out of her chest, smack Harry in the face and then walk right out of the building. He… wanted to sleep with her again and she was… seconds away from agreeing.

Until, of course, Jackie turned up with their order of waffles and they quickly sat away from each other again, realizing for the first time just how much they’d leaned towards one another.

“Anything else I can get you?” She asked, setting down a spare plate with two containers of syrup and little pre-packaged things of butter.

“We’re good.” Harry answered.

Once Jackie was gone, neither of them touched the waffles at first. They both just stared at the plate, four waffles stacked on top of each other, as if it might do tricks. And then, finally, YN glanced up at Harry.

“I was actually just going to assume you’d let me share the bed again tonight.”

That smirk was back on his face as he grabbed for the spare plate and took his share of the food. “You do like to assume things, don’t you?”

“Sometimes… If it somehow involves annoying you then yes, I do. All of the time.”

“Trust me,” he poured an entire container of syrup over his waffles, “You assuming I want to sleep with you does not annoy me.”

The way he said that just… brought about very dumb, inappropriate feelings again. Dumb enough to get her to say what came out her mouth next.

“What about if I assumed you were looking at me earlier like you want to do more than just sleep with me?”

He froze, mid-chew and stared at the table for an agonizingly long time. Long enough for her to realize what the actual fuck she’d just asked him. But then he chewed again and looked up at her, swallowing before he spoke. “That wouldn’t annoy me either.”

“What… does that m-“

He cut her off, smiling as he dug back into his waffles, “It means… you might have assumed right.”

“Might have?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Might have.”

They finished eating almost in silence. She asked about his stupid itinerary again, wondering how shitty of a day he had planned if they were going to sit in an office all afternoon, looking over files. And then he promised to make it less shitty for her, but never elaborated on what that entailed, so she was just left with her way too wild imagination.

He, of course, was wondering how he went from wanting to make her weekend hell to… wanting to ditch his plans entirely and just spend all his time with her instead.

Harry waited until Jackie returned with the bill to ask because by then, the diner had emptied out a bit and she didn’t seem as busy so he didn’t feel as bad.

“Here you go,” she set down the black envelope at the edge of the table, their emptied plates already having been picked up by a bus boy five minutes ago, “feel free to take your time.”

“Um, actually,” Harry began, pausing Jackie in her tracks, “If you don’t mind, we’re…” He glanced at YN, who silently edged him on. “Investigative journalists and we’re doing a story on the murders that happened here a few years back… we were wondering if you had any insight you could share?”

Jacking glanced apprehensively between the two and then over her shoulder like she was making sure no one, presumably her boss, was watching. Then she took a single step closer to the table. “I, uh… I know a little bit, yeah. What are y’all wanting to know?”

Harry shrugged. “Whatever you can tell us.”

She nodded, thinking it over for a moment. “Well, um… I don’t know if here’s the best place.”

“We’ll be down at the station all afternoon, if you want to talk there?” Harry offered.

“Oh, uh… I don’t-“

YN cut in. “Everything’s off the record. We don’t work with cops, we’ll just be there to go over the files, that’s all.”

Jackie held eye contact with YN for a moment, as if she was trying to gauge whether or not to trust them, but then finally nodded. “Yeah, sure. I get off at one, will y’all still be there?”

“Yeah, um… here, let me give you my number, just give me a text when you get there and I’ll let you in.” Harry grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen from his jacket pocket, quickly scrawling out his number before he handed it to her.

“Okay, I’ll uh, see you there, then.”

YN smiled when they locked eyes, hoping to give her one last reason to trust them before Jackie left, though the waitress couldn’t really be blamed if she didn’t show. And YN knew she had every right not to. They were strangers after all, and meeting at the damn police station wasn’t exactly ideal.

“Hopefully she comes.” Harry reached for the bill but YN’s hand quickly flew over his.

“You paid for the room and board. I can at least buy the waffles.”

He shrugged, letting her take the envelope. “Hardly a fair trade but okay.”

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her card from her wallet and stuck it inside the envelope. “I offered to help pay for that too, in case you forgot.”

“I didn’t. Just don’t want you to.”

She met his gaze across the table, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously as she replaced the envelope back at the edge of the bed. “And why wouldn’t you?”

“It’s not necessary.”

“But I crashed your weekend.”

“Not really.” He sighed, pushing back the flyaway hairs that had fallen onto his forehead.

She eyed him curiously for a moment. “So, what? You’ll take me sleeping with you as a form of payment, then?”

“If you’re offering, then sure. But otherwise, no.” He took one last sip of his water while a different waitress grabbed their check for them, waiting until she was gone until he continued. “Can’t you just accept that I don’t want any form of payment from you and just be satisfied with buying me the damn waffles?”

“So you don’t want to sleep with me then?”

“Is there a reason you keep twisting my words?”

Shrugging, she fought back a smile that desperately wanted to show itself. “Because it’s fun.”

That same unfamiliar waitress dropped off the envelope, smiling and telling them to have a good day before she took off again. YN replaced her card into her wallet and filled out the bill, leaving a decent tip for Jackie that she also hoped would convince her to come.

Once she was done and stuffing her copy of the receipt into her bag, Harry already started sliding his way out of the booth. “Let’s go. You’ve already made us late this morning, distracting me with that fucking towel.”

They made it to the station a little before noon, most definitely behind schedule, but Harry wasn’t really counting anymore. Especially when he held the door to the precinct open for YN and as soon as he got hit with a rush of her perfume, and he was considering taking a rain check on the entire afternoon. 

His momentary lapse in judgment didn’t follow him inside the station, however, as he got his head screwed back on straight before both him and YN approached the younger, male officer at the front desk.

It was a quick exchange as Harry caught him up on why they were there and the officer seemed to understand immediately, either having been the one Harry had talked to on the phone or someone had actually informed the poor guy who was stuck with desk duty. It wasn’t often Harry called ahead and found anyone once he arrived who knew what the hell he was talking about. So, needless to say, it was a breath of fresh air.

After they showed the officer their word ID badges to verify their identities, they were let into the area behind the desk and then led down a hall towards an open door on the lefthand side.

Once inside, there was another—albeit brief—sigh of relief when Harry saw all the file boxes already neatly placed on the large conference table in the middle of the empty, dimly-lit room. Then he counted them—five total—and realized it might take longer than he realized. 

“This is probably the first time ever I’ve been on a case and the police have actually cooperated with me.” Harry mused, mostly to himself, but the officer who’d led them back heard and, to Harry’s surprised, chuckled.

“To be honest, we hope you see something we haven’t. Folks in this town like to attach blame on people based on conspiracies.” The officer replied, to which Harry just raised a curious eyebrow at while YN made her way over to the table and began digging in.

Harry watched her for a moment, wishing they had put their heads together on the story a while ago instead of hiding ideas from each other in the name of competition. He could almost admit she might’ve been right when she tried convincing him it was a good thing she was joining him—that two minds were better than one. 

The officer cleared his throat, wrapping his hand around the doorknob, readying to leave them to it. “Anything else I can get you?”

Harry began shaking his head, and then remembered there was, in fact, one more thing “Actually, yeah, um, I was wondering if you still had the files of that Jane Doe you found in the woods, too?”

The officer hesitated a moment but then nodded, insisting he’d be right back with them. YN, on the other hand, froze as she sifted through a file, the fact that the buried victim had never been identified tugging at her heartstrings.

“I didn’t know she was never ID’d.”

Harry nodded, grabbing the singular box of files the officer returned with before kicking the door shut once he and YN were alone. “It’s pretty sad.”

“Yeah,” YN agreed absently, setting down the file in her hands and taking the box from Harry. “Might mean she was from out of town.”

Harry still stood near the doorway, tilting his head as he considered that idea for the first time. “Didn’t think of that, you’re probably right. So,” he began, coming around to the opposite side of the table, “You deal with that one, puny little box and I get all the rest?”

She just shrugged though, keeping her eyes glued onto one of the files for the Jane Doe. “I want to find out what happened to her… who she was.”

Even though she didn’t see, Harry nodded in understanding, letting go of any attempts to making their situation at all amusing. Because nothing about sifting through murder files was amusing, but it was his way of dealing with it. If he didn’t, his job would get a lot harder. But as for YN, he got it. Cold cases were always difficult to cover because they didn’t always figure anything new out, and it was even more seldom they actually made any concrete headway into the suspect. He wasn’t about to bring that up, though, not as she spread out a few papers on the table and got that look on her face. The concentrated, lip biting one he had shamefully been imagining this morning in the shower while he—

Yeah that was the very last thing he needed to be thinking about right now.

Most of their time was spent in silence as they skimmed through various documents. Sometimes they pointed out certain things that they hadn’t previously known about. Harry was particularly interested in the details about the break-ins themselves and found himself preoccupied with those files longer than any of the others.

But, as he expected, by one o’clock, they hadn’t found any huge breakthrough. They’d have to make copies of what they deemed important and go over the details later when they were actually writing their story.

And he didn’t know about YN, but it’d also help to clear his head if he wasn’t currently sitting across from her and practically counting every one of her breaths. He was having a shit time focusing on much of anything anymore.

Sighing, he checked the time on his phone. “You think she’ll actually show?”

YN shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “Who knows. Even if she does talk to us, that doesn’t mean she’ll agree to having any of it written down.”

“I guess.” Harry hung his chin in his palm, just watching her for a moment while he gave his eyes a break. When she finally realized he was staring, she narrowed her eyes at him.

“What?”

Shaking his head and hiding his stupid little smile, he said something that wouldn’t get him smacked, like telling her she was cute while she worked most definitely would have. “What do you think about those conspiracies?”

“I think,” YN began, a little more impassioned off the get-go that Harry realized she’d be, slamming the file she’d been skimming closed while she was at it. “It’s just bullshit. I think people think Cyprus knew there was something more going on and tried to bury it after the fact to cover his ass. But literally none of it seems fishy so far. I already skimmed through the police reports that were made when those girls saw the man in a mask. He even signed them. But, I mean… there’s only so much you can do, really, it’s not like he had much to go off of. And you know I’m not one to defend an officer.”

He considered all that for a moment, then shrugged. “I agree. I think it’s all just so people have someone to blame. And maybe he does share some of it, who knows? But, in the end, I don’t think he was the killer.”

“If you ask me,” YN huffed, looking down at the mess of paperwork they’d created, “this guy is long gone, and will probably never be caught. They couldn’t find a stitch of evidence.”

“Besides footprints.”

YN nodded, “Yeah, well, those were a pair of men’s size ten shoes, about the average size worn by American men. It’s also not much to go off of when they don’t have the shoes.”

“I’ll have to steal that bit of information when I write my story, thanks.”

She eyed him carefully, “Your story?”

He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Yes, my story.”

“Lenny put us both on it. We’re co-authors.”

“We’ll see.”

“No,” she nearly shouted, “we won’t.”

Then he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the edge of the table in front of him, keeping his arms folded as he smirked at her. “It might cost you another plate of waffles, then.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I like making you mad.” His smirk grew so big, she thought she’d have to smack it off of his face. “It’s cute.”

“So, I’m cute when I’m scared, cute when I’m mad… anything else?”

He thought that over for a moment then nodded almost intimidatingly slow. He held her stare and she couldn’t avert her gaze even if she tried because he was… looking at her in that same way again. The way he had when she was in that towel and just that look alone had her body reacting in very shameful ways. “I bet you’re also cute when you—“

His phone dinged then and she nearly jumped out of her skin as they both peeled their eyes from each other and stared at the screen. It was an unknown number and when Harry swiped to check out what the message said, he read it silently. But the look of disappointment on his face a moment later told her everything she needed to know before he even filled her in.

“She’s not coming.”

“What’d she say?”

He clicked off his phone and set it down. “That she’s not coming.”

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed another file from the box they’d been slowly doing some damage on, “I don’t think I’ve told you I hate you today.”

“Mm,” he hummed in disagreement, “No, I distinctly remember you saying that this morning.” 

“Well at least you know.”

“Yeah,” he held her gaze, “I do.”

She toyed with the edge of a manilla folder, something he definitely noticed in his peripheral vision, while she stared at him like she was gearing up to say something she didn’t exactly have the confidence to. He just waited patiently, though, averting his gaze back to the paperwork in front of him as he hid his smile because he already knew exactly what was going to come out of her mouth. And seeing her all flustered amused him way too much.

She cleared her throat after a moment and when he glanced up, she wasn’t watching him anymore. “So, um… what were you saying… before?”

His smile grew, knowingly. He was just surprised she actually wanted to circle back to that instead of just ignoring it. She had to have some inkling as to what he had been about to say before he was cut off. 

“Hm,” he feigned ignorance, “you’ll have to remind me.”

“Don’t play dumb, Harry.”

Nodding after a moment, he sat forward, bringing his elbows onto the table. “I don’t know if you’ll want to hear it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you might smack me.”

“When have I ever smacked you?”

He shrugged. “You might start now. It’s not very appropriate, what I was about to say.”

The amusement returned to him as she became very visibly flustered, shifting in her seat until she composed herself again. “I can’t even count on one hand the amount of times you’ve been inappropriate today alone.”

“Possibly. But what I was about to say might blow the rest out of the water.”

She finally huffed and threw up her hands and he considered for a moment that she might smack him for not telling her. “Harry, just fucking say it already.”

“If you insist.” To her surprise, he stood. Her stomach twisted into knots and her palms grew clammy as she watched him round the table, never taking his eyes off her. Then she found it hard to breathe when he pulled the chair out beside her and sat in it, scooting himself right up to her, closer than she was used to but not in a bad way. Close enough that his knee was touching her outer thigh and if she was distracted but that, it quickly got worse. He lifted his hand, then, going slow as if he was asking permission, and when she didn’t pull away, he reached over, gently sweeping his fingertips over her cheek as he tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. He leaned forward, bringing them even closer as she did, once and for all, lose the ability to breathe. Then his voice was at her ear, soft and deep, giving her goosebumps. “I was going to say…” He toyed with her hair again, and she saw him smirk in her peripheral, “I bet you’re cute when you come, too.”

She swallowed hard, finally turning to look at him as his hand came down onto the back of her chair. THeir faces closer than they’d ever been before. “No… that’s not very appropriate.”

She just barely caught him glancing at her mouth. “Told you.”

She wasn’t sure where the confidence to say what she did next came from, maybe from how he was looking at her, but she also hadn’t really considered any consequences when she opened her mouth to say, “Does that mean you’ve thought about what I look like when I come?”

The smirk that had grown near permanent residence on his face deepened, showing off his dimples now that would have made her incredibly weak in the knees if she were standing. “And if it does?”

She watched him for a moment, actually considering her words this time and deciding that she would, in fact, enjoy the consequences of them. “Then I’d tell you to find out for yourself.”

He tilted his head. “Thought you weren’t interested?”

“I’m not.”

“No?” He inched his hand back to her face, drawing his fingertips down to her jaw, his eyes glued to her lips, not even trying to hide it.

“Not even a little bit,” she whispered. It was a very obvious lie and he knew it. If he could hear the inside of her brain, in fact, he’d hear nothing but her screaming at him to kiss her already.

Then he leaned in and just as her stomach flipped and her eyes fluttered shut, he stopped. She could feel his lips moving as he spoke again, which just irritated her because she really wanted him to stop talking already.

“Still not interested?”

“Harry,” she opened her eyes again and found him, watching her curiously, “This is why I hate you.”

She also felt him when he smiled. And then when he swiped his thumb across her cheek and buried the rest of his fingers in her hair. “That’s not very nice.”

She blinked and something dawned on her then as she put an inch of distance between them, “Are you messing with me right now?”

A crease formed between his brows as he glanced back and forth between her eyes, testing to see if she was being serious. “Messing with you?”

She swallowed, “Well, I thought…” she really didn’t want to finish her sentence in case he was, in fact messing with her. In case he was about to laugh at her and return to his seat again, then tease her for how easily she’d fallen for it the entire rest of their weekend.

“Thought what?” He tilted his head, eyes scanning her entire face. “That I was going to get this close to kissing you and not do it?”

She dropped her eyes, staring at a spot on his chest in obvious omission. And he did not like that one bit.

Closing the gap she’d created between them, he brought her attention back as he placed his forehead on hers. “I’m not messing with you and I am going to kiss you. I just needed to know if that’s what you want.”

Her stomach fluttered as she nodded and, smiling, he mumbled, “Okay, then,” before dropping his lips to hers finally. Softly at first, until she kissed him back and he tilted his head to deepen it, pushing her backwards a bit and making her giggle around his mouth. 

He came closer then, sitting on the very edge of his seat, one hand on her cheek, in her hair and the other one not even aware of its place on her thigh. She didn’t realize either, not with her mind distracted by the feeling of his mouth on hers. Too focused on his tongue making its way to her own, the way the pad of his thumb felt pressed against her skin, holding her in place, tilting her head back to meet him. 

But then the hand on her thigh squeezed, finally gaining both of their attention as she gasped into his mouth. Even so, he quickly pulled back for a moment, loosening his grip on her thigh.

“Sorry,” he mumbled breathlessly, but before he could retreat his hand, she folded hers over the top of it, holding him there. 

“Like I told you… it’s fine.”

She kept her hand on his until it was clear he wasn’t going to stop touching her, and as she slipped her hand away, he moved his further up her thigh. She followed the path he took, her forehead on his still, heart racing.

“You like it when I touch you?” He asked, quietly, still in that voice that… sent a wave of heat someplace it really didn’t need to be. Not if they planned on getting any work done.

She nodded, swallowing the nervous pit in her throat. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust him, the nerves came in a rush because she’d never been touched the way he was touching her right now. Had never been touched by him specifically like this before and it made her so fucking nervous.

He pressed forward then, realigning their lips as the kiss became something deeper. Less rooted in just messing around and… meaning something this time. Something she really didn’t want to think about but that didn’t really matter for long when his hand moved to spread her legs apart, allowing him to shift his knees between hers and bring himself closer still.

Then it was as if he devoured her, stealing all her breath, pinning her back against her chair and soaking up every one of the moans she let out, particularly the ones when he pressed his thumb against her and she made it loud and clear she wanted there to be less clothing in the way.

It was less than a second that his mouth lifted off of hers, allowing her to get a couple breaths in, as he did too, before he went back in for more as if he couldn’t get enough. And then she lifted her hands to the back of his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair and tugging, gently, and suddenly he was the one moaning, the sound deep in his throat, vibrating against her lips.

She tugged a little harder, then, mostly because her lungs were burning, begging her to stop and catch her breath but that was the very last thing she wanted, to stop kissing him. To stop feeling the fluttering in her stomach each time he made his touch known again. When he went deeper, gripped harder, explored further. The last thing she wanted him to do was stop.

But then there really wasn’t much of a choice.

A knock on the door sent them flying off of each other, as if they both just then realized where they were for the first time since their lips touched. Or maybe even before that. And they probably would have stayed in that little bubble for a lot longer than that, if not for the extremely untimely interruption.

They stared at each other a moment before Harry pushed away in his chair and stood, running a hand through his hair to make sure there wasn’t any evidence of what they’d been doing as he walked toward the door. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure YN was good, he opened the door, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, I, uh… was in the file room and found another box. Thought you might want it.” The officer from earlier handed the box over to a very disheveled, flustered Harry and he took it, nearly dropping it when his muscles threatened to give out on him, still reeling from what he’d just been doing.

“Oh, uh, thanks. Yeah. We’ll uh…” Harry nodded, attempting a smile. “Thanks.”

He heard YN stifle a laugh behind him but the officer didn’t seem to notice—or didn’t care enough—as he tipped his head and let them be once again. Carrying the box inside the room, he set it down on the table with the others, making his way back to her.

“Something funny?” He asked as he dropped himself into the chair beside her, keeping a safe distance this time while he went back to sorting through the files they’d laid out before… well before things got a teensy bit out of hand.

“Uh… uh… yeah… th-thanks, officer.” She mocked him, even lowering her voice a bit to sound like him, laughing while he bit back a smile because the very last thing he was giving her was the satisfaction.

“It’s your fault.”

“And exactly how is that?”

He turned his head toward her finally, nearly forgetting what he was about to say when he saw her smiling. She didn’t often and since he mostly saw her at work, he really couldn’t blame her. Most of her smiles were forced at work but this was most definitely real and he’d let her mock him all day if it truly made her that happy.

But then he snapped out of it. “Kissing me the way you did, how was I meant to think straight after that?”

“How I did? You were most definitely the one kissing me, not the other way around.”

“Mhm, so it wasn’t you pulling my hair then?”

She froze for a moment, every ounce of her features embarrassed by what she had done. Because as much as she liked and wanted him to touch her, she still was unsure about herself when touching him. “It was the ghost.”

He shook his head. “No, that was all you.”

Swallowing, she clasped her hands in her lap, facing forward in her seat and staring absently at the papers in front of her because she was about to break out in a sweat if she held his gaze for a moment longer. “I’m sorry, I-.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted. She couldn’t really blame it on not knowing if he liked it or not considering he was very vocal about how much he liked it. And she also couldn’t explain why she felt so embarrassed.

“You don’t need to apologize for touching me. I like it. Just like you do.”

She nodded, leaving it there, knowing it would take some warming up to before she felt comfortable touching him without overthinking it for a hour beforehand. After all, it had taken her almost the entire time they’d been making out for her to gain the courage to bury her hands in his hair in the first place. 

“So, um…” she began before she’d really thought about how to word what she wanted to say. To ask him. If that kiss meant something or if they were just simply fucking around. She told herself she wouldn’t care either way, but part of her still relentlessly hoped it had meant something. But she—and her fear of rejection—suddenly realized she didn’t want to know. 

“Yeah?” He watched her, waiting penitently as he tried reading into the expressions on her face. Tried to guess what she was about to say, but he really didn’t have much luck because she quickly sighed and faced the files once more.

“Nothing. We should probably get back to work.” 

They worked into the evening, making photocopies of all the files they wanted to look into further on their own well after six o’clock and definitely while both of their stomachs were grumbling to be fed as they listed off options for dinner and settled on pizza.

Before seven, though, they were all packed up and saying their goodbyes and thank-you to the officers on shift then heading back out into the cold, their eyes needing some time to adjust to the dark since the last time they were outside, it’d been daytime still.

“You hungry?” He asked after securing the box of files in the trunk of the rental car, making sure it was locked.

“Obviously.”

“Don’t obviously me.” He teased as he glared at her over the roof of the car, unlocking the doors from the driver’s side.

“Don’t be annoying then.”

“I’m not annoying.”

“Yeah,” she deadpanned, dragging her door open on the passenger side the second he unlocked it, “you are.”

She disappeared inside then and he rolled his eyes as he joined her, turning the ignition and making sure the heat was on before he responded. 

“If I’m annoying to you that is your own problem, not mine.”

She pulled her seatbelt on. “Have you considered just being less annoying?”

“Annoying is a very relative term. How am I supposed to know when I’m being annoying?”

“When I tell you that you are,” she stated, as if that, too, was obvious.

“Right because you’re not biased against me at all.”

She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm and wondered why they hadn’t both gone to law school the way they argued over literally nothing. Over whether or not Harry was annoying. But then she figured she was being a tad unfair simply because she was hungry.

Sighing, she changed the subject. “What exactly is on your itinerary for tonight, then? After we eat, obviously.”

“Don’t think you’ll like it much.”

She whipped her head around. “We’re not going out to that field again, are we?”

“You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to. But… no, not there.”

“Then?”

“Well, um, it’s not exactly legal, per se.”

She scrunched her brows in confusion and then swiftly realized what he was referring to. “You couldn’t go about that in a legal way?”

“Hell no, the cops would follow us around. Take anything we might find. I wanted to break in. At night.”

“You really wanted to break into a condemned building where an entire family was murdered all by yourself?”

He shrugged. “I don’t exactly believe in ghosts like some of us do.”

“Yeah, that’s not how it seemed last night.”

“Perhaps I was just trying to get you to sleep with me.”

Then she just did it. Smacked him. She didn’t think about it at all, didn’t even have time to consider being embarrassed or feeling as if she’d crossed a line. 

“Ouch.” He rubbed the spot like the giant baby he was. “Why are you always trying to hurt me?”

“I’m not always trying to hurt you,” she argued. 

“Maybe not physically,” he agreed, “but it did hurt when you said you weren’t interested in me.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m being serious.”

She held his gaze for a while, narrowing her eyes and trying to decide for herself if he was actually being serious or not.

“Actually, you’re just being annoying again.”

He shrugged, letting it slide because he was intentionally being a bit annoying. “I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore though. Not if the way you kissed me was any indication of your very apparent interest.”

“If you don’t shut up and drive someplace that sells pizza, I’m going to let the ghost have you.”

They sat at the small dining table about a half hour later, sharing a large pizza straight from the box like they hadn’t eaten in days. She supposed the hours spent staring at tiny words worked up an appetite. 

The making out probably had something to do with it as well. And also the hours after that spent holding herself back from making out with him some more.

“So when are we going to the house?”

He wiped his greasy mouth on a napkin and swallowed. “Well, I also wanted to check out this local bar before. Bartenders, like waitresses, usually know things. And since our waitress was a bust…”

“Fine with me,” she clapped her hands together then, kicking off the dust from her fingers before she stood. “I’m gonna go get ready.”

He nodded, watching as she first made her way to her suitcase, digging around for a minute or two until she had what she needed and headed to the bathroom. Meanwhile, Harry finished off the last slice of pizza and then used the sink in the kitchen to wash up.

She got ready in front of the mirror, changing out of her jeans and long-sleeve and into the one and only dress she’d packed. She hadn’t been sure she’d need it, but she was now glad she had it. It was simple, a black sweater-type dress that fit loosely with a hem that just barely reached her upper thigh. If she moved the wrong way, however, there would definitely be a show, but she was comfortable and warm so that was all that mattered.

Working on her hair next, she brushed through it while using the blow dryer she’d packed, keeping the frizz down that would have otherwise been out of hand with the humidity. Once she had it at a decent enough point, she put on a tiny bit of makeup, just to look the part of someone going to a bar for fun and not to poke around about a murder case. 

Once she was finished, she gathered her old clothes and made her way back into the living room. The second she stepped within Harry’s sightline, his eyes were immediately drawn to her, to her bare thighs in particular. To the way one of her sage colored socks was bundled down around her ankle and the other was were it was supposed to be. To the way she walked like she knew he was staring, practically with his mouth hanging open, but didn’t even give him the light of day as she folded her clothes up back into her suitcase and grabbed her boots off the floor where she’d taken them off when they first got back with the pizza.

She still hadn’t acknowledged his existence when she made her way to the couch, boots in tow. At least not until right before she sat down, she finally lifted her eyes to meet his, smiling to herself at the way he stared and then quickly turned on her heel and sat down.

Before she got too far into doing up her boots, actually only making it until her left foot was in, Harry’s own shoes came into view. And then his legs, torso and eventually face as her eyes glazed up the length of him, sitting back into the couch and tilting her head back curiously.

“Can I help you with something?”

He just shook his head no and then gestured toward her one booted foot, the laces still astray. It took her a moment before she realized what he was doing, before he shifted his weight and bent his knee, waiting for her to give him her foot so he could tie up her shoes for her.

She knew better than to assume his intentions were as innocent as just that though, but she liked it anyway. She liked watching him as she sat back against the couch and lifted her foot up into his hold. Liked the way his eyes wandered as he placed the sole of her boot against his thigh and began working on the laces as slowly as he could manage without really paying any attention to what he was doing.

Her whole body hummed as his mischievous gazes lingered. “And here I thought you just wanted to tie my shoes for me.” 

His eyes that had most definitely previously been glued to the entire length of her bare leg, shot up to her face. “That is all I’m doing.”

“Right. Sure.” And then he went back to tying, keeping his eyes to himself which took every ounce of willpower he had. He didn’t make it very far though, and all that willpower was wasted when her hands slipped to the hem of her dress. His fingers froze on her boot as she gathered the material, shifting the hem of her dress higher and higher up her thighs and he had to swallow the pit that had formed in his throat while he watched. While she gave him something to look at. He felt what she was doing to him in places he really shouldn’t be, not if they were planning on sticking to the itinerary. 

To make matters worse, even though she kept the important bits hidden, he still had his imagination and it was running wild with the knowledge of what she was wearing underneath that dress. The black lace panties he’d picked out for her this morning. He was… he was seconds away from losing what little willpower there was left. But she seemed to notice that then, the way his eyes had darkened, growing hungry, needy, and she—gently—pushed into him with her left foot, the one he still held up to his thigh. It nearly knocked him off balance, but it definitely did the trick of snapping him out of it.

He blinked a couple times until his head was clear. “That was rude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugged, adjusting the hem of her dress while he finished tying her boot for her, shaking his head at her in disbelief. 

He put her left leg back on the floor and waited for the right one next. But he soon learned that, as she sat forward on the couch again to slip her foot into the other boot, she wasn’t quite done teasing him. Because she then looked up at him and her face was far too close to a very inappropriate area. One that was becoming very hard and uncomfortable in his jeans.

His reaction to her must’ve been written all over his face because she just smirked up at him and then sat back once more, lifting her right foot to his thigh.

“You know, if you wanted to look up my dress, you could’ve just asked.”

He tilted his head, considering that as he worked on her boot, pulling her sock up and adjusting it before he tightened the laces. “If I see anymore than what I just did, we’re not going to make it out of this house.”

The twisting in her stomach returned. Also because his eyes had wandered to the inside of her thigh again. She really wanted him to touch her—this time without her jeans getting in the way—so badly she nearly reached out to grab his hand to make him touch her. And she’d never wanted that so badly in her entire life; it almost scared her how much she wanted it now.

When he’d finishing tying her boot and moved to drop her foot, she kept her leg in place instead, pushing back against him. Once he realized that she wasn’t budging, he met her gaze with wide eyes, those vibrant green irises of his darkened once again.

They stared at each other for a moment, silently, before he moved his right hand to her ankle first, going slow to make sure that was what she wanted. And when she didn’t say anything, just held his stare, he knew.

So he went further, trailing his hand up her calf to the bend in her knee where he grabbed her leg with his other hand and made room for himself on the couch between her thighs, watching as she bit down on her lip when his knee pressed against someplace he imagined she really wanted his hands to be.

Instead, his left hand drew up the outside of her thigh, lifting her leg further onto his hip until he pinned it in place there, opening her up to him as he leaned down—gripping the back of the couch for support with his other hand—to trail his lips up her neck until he reached her ear.

“Are you going to show me what you want, or should I just guess?” She sucked in a breath of air at his words, not just because of them, but also because of that voice, the same one from before, the one that sounded so… so deep and and soft at the same time in way that made her feel it all the way to her core. And she wanted him to feel that too.

She reached for his right hand that was still holding him in place and he easily shifted his weight to give it to her, to let her guide him down to her leg again, taking him lower and lower until he was where she wanted him on the inside of her thighs instead. They held each other’s gaze as she slid his hand just a few more inches underneath her dress, her mouth parting at the feeling of his fingers pressed against her finally. 

He readjusted quickly, letting go of her leg and shifting his weight closer, making more room for himself, forcing her leg to bend at the knee which gave him much better access to what she wanted him to do. The roughness of his jeans grazing against the soft skin of her thighs each time he moved even the slightest bit made her head spin. The whole entire room spun, in fact, as she slipped her hand off of his and his touch remained where she wanted it, letting him take over. He leaned over her again, pinning her in place against the cushions as he brought his left hand down beside her head to support his weight now and then brought lips to hers, swallowing the moan she let out when he began rubbing his fingers over her.

“I would’ve guessed right, it seems,” he muttered, his thumb quickly replacing his fingers as they traveled south and pressed into her as much as they could with all that taunting lace in the way. He was glad for it though, because he could already feel how wet she was through the fabric. 

He knew she wanted more when she thrust her hips up toward him and he was not exactly in a place to deny her of that. But he did want to mess around with her just a little bit more.

Pressing their foreheads together to separate their mouths, he kept his lips close—but not quite touching hers—and pulled away slightly when she tried to reach for more. “What is it that you want me to do now, YN?”

She whined then, through an exasperated laugh that turned into a very desperate sound he nearly lost himself over. “Please, Harry, you know…” She breathed out, titling her head back and fluttering her eyes closed, whispering, “You know what I want.”

He nipped at a spot on her neck, pressing his lips against her skin as she lost all ability to breathe, and let his voice vibrate against her pulse, “Do I?”

“God, I hate you.”

He chuckled, the feel and sound of the noise he made giving her goosebumps. “I know you do.”

Without an answer from her, though, he decided to make the stakes even worse. Bringing his lips to her jaw, he tugged firmly on the lace and pulled her panties aside all in one smooth, swift motion, soon giving her nothing but his thumb as it circled agonizingly slow over that very sensitive bundle of nerves while she cried out at the new sensation of his skin against hers. Nothing at all in the way this time.

He kissed her again, needing to feel the way her sounds did against his mouth as if he’d die without it. And when he pulled back, he met her half-closed eyes, whispering breathlessly, “Show me.”

She held her breath for a moment after his demand before she slipped her hand back down to her body, finding his hand and folding her fingers over his own as she guided them down the length of her and then slowly pressed them inside of her. She wasn’t the only one making noise this time as he felt all of her for the first time. Her hand fell away and he buried his index and middle fingers in deeper, as far as they would go, his head spinning at her warmth and the way she was contracting her muscles around him. It took every ounce of self control to not replace his fingers with something else. 

“How long have you been this wet?” He asked, half under his breath, while she just shrugged, too boos watching his hand as is disappeared underneath the hem of her dress. He still wondered though, when exactly she’d gotten that way. Maybe it’d been when he’d first looked at her as he tied her boots, or when he’d finally touched her. When he’d asked her to show him what she wanted. Or maybe it’d been long before that, back when they were in the police station and maybe she’d just been waiting for him this whole time. Either way it happened, his fingers were slick with her and he ran them very quickly back up to that bundle of nerves, giving his thumb something to work with before he slipped back inside of her.

Then he watched her expressions change as he curled his fingers upward, gliding them across a spot that made her legs jerk as his fingers retreated, and then he quickly followed those same movements as he pushed his way back inside, keeping his thumb planted where it had been. His hair fell over his forehead in a disheveled mess when he leaned over her once more.

“Is this what you want? To come around my fingers?”

She nodded, her hand going to his forearm where she dug her nails in when he fucked her with his fingers once more, faster this time. And not stopping. The ungodly sounds she made got lost somewhere in his mouth again. And this time, she didn’t overthink it for a second as she brought her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer and digging her fingers into his hair, each tug a sign of how good he was making her feel with his hand between her thighs.

He was a constant, torturous wave of pleasure that had her body wriggling to get away, to stop herself from losing it—losing all control. Because he was bringing her right to the edge of that cliff with no signs of slowing down. Her hand was still wrapped around his arm, but it was listless now, simply holding on just enough to follow his movements each time his fingers dug up into her, still seamlessly hitting that same spot as before that was making her come undone faster than she wanted to. She wanted to stay like this for hours longer. Wanted to feel him for as long as she could. His thumb doing magic tricks and his fingers fucking her better than anyone ever had. And if he was this good with his hands, she couldn’t wait to find out what else he could do.

“Harry…” She whispered, a barely even audible sound but it made him breathless to hear her say his name like that. Telling him that she was close, seconds away from unraveling around him.

“I know.” His eyes found hers just before they fluttered shut as she let go. As he moved just a fraction of a bit faster. A bit harder. Her thighs pressed against him tightly—the friction of his jeans once again making it hard for her to breathe—but he didn’t budge even an inch to let her close them. He adjusted his knees further onto the couch to lock her in place when she began to pull away from his touch.

And then he sent her off the edge, her head bent over the back of the couch now, with his hand tangled in her hair, letting out everything stuck inside of her that he hoped the poor elderly neighbors couldn’t hear. He kept moving inside of her, mostly because he didn’t want to stop feeling the way she pulsed around his fingers and he couldn’t wait to feel that around a more sensitive part of his body whenever they got to that point. 

But for now, he let her come and then watched her closely to know when she had had enough, pulling his fingers from her as she practically melted into the couch. She felt the swipe of wetness against her thigh as he readjusted her underwear back into place and then fluttered her eyes open moments later when his hand lost all contact.

Because he wanted her to watch him as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, tasting her and then wasting no more time as he brought his mouth down to hers again, letting her taste herself too as he slipped his tongue past her lips.

He lifted his mouth after a moment. “I was right.”

He was positive she’d look just as dazed even if she did comprehend what he was saying. So, he chuckled, quickly explaining himself after guiding his lips to her ear.

“You’re cute when you come too.”

She shut her eyes again, laying her head back with her mouth open as she struggled to get enough oxygen in. “You’re welcome to be reminded of that any time you like.”

“Is that an invitation?”

She nodded without a single breath of hesitation. “Any time.” She reiterated.

“What about when you’re alone in your office?” He kissed his way down her neck, lips lingering on her pulse for a moment longer. Then he trailed his way back up to her ear, glancing at her face while he whispered, “Because I’ve thought about all the ways we can make your desk useful countless times.”

“Are you saying my desk is useless?”

He chuckled, his breath fanning out pieces of her hair which he quickly fixed, tucking it behind her ear as he then placed both hands on either side of her face and his forehead on hers, staring at her swollen lips while he spoke. “I think it’d be better utilized if I was fucking you on top of it.”

Her whole body shuddered as her lips curled into a pout like there was nothing more she wanted in the world than for him to do exactly that. But since they weren’t alone in her office, he settled with kissing her on a very uncomfortable couch in a possibly haunted air bnb instead.

They stayed that way for a while, which would’ve turned into a while longer than that if he hadn’t felt her hands slip to his jeans, fumbling to undo them.

He pulled away then, grabbing both her wrists to stop her from going any further and shook his head when she looked up at him, confused. Pouting again.

“Trust me, I want that more than anything right now,” he explained, just so she’d stop looking at him the way she was, like he was rejecting her. “But we have places to be.”

He held her wrists as he backed off of the couch and stood on shaky limbs, pulling her up with him, even though the state of her legs was far worse than his. So he wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on until she tightened her hold and brought herself closer, close enough to rest her head on his chest as she came out of that dizzying fog. And, sure, it could have been because he’d just had his fingers inside of her that caused her to cling to him but he was going to savor every last second of it. Because, if it were up to him, he would stay like that all night with her, but he knew as soon as she came to her senses, she was going to pull away.

“Harry?” She mumbled after a much shorter span of time than he would have preferred, her voice slightly muffled by his shirt.

“Hm?” 

“What are we doing?”

He knew exactly what she meant but he really wasn’t ready for her to come to those senses just yet. “Hugging?”

“No, I mean—“ The second she started moving away from him, he tightened his hold around her waist, keeping her in place.

“I know what you mean.”

It was quiet between them for a moment while she relaxed into him again because at least Harry seemed to be on the same page. 

“We’re…” he began quietly, eyes searching the kitchen behind her for something to focus on that might calm the bubbling anxiety in his chest. He wanted to tell her that they were finally doing what he’d wanted to do for a while, what he hoped she’d also wanted. That when they got home, she’d continue to want it there, too. And not just the sex but everything else, too. Nothing really did the trick of calming him down, though, and he lost his nerve. “We should probably go.”

She was the first to pull away and he let her this time, both their arms falling away as they held each other’s gazes. She seemed to almost be waiting for him to do something—or say something more. But he didn’t get the chance when a loud smack sounded from the kitchen, near the dining table.

Looking up from her eyes, he noticed what had hit the floor before she did. Even so, she still twisted around in his arms and they fell back to his sides, mostly because he was in a small state of shock at what he was looking at.

It was his notebook. Which had been sitting in the middle of the table. 

“Um…” He stared, wide-eyed at it, trying to come up with an explanation for what had just happened because there wasn’t one. No gust of wind had come through. He hadn’t left it sitting on the edge of the table. And the only other person in the house was YN and she surely hadn’t done that. 

“I told you.” She whispered, twisted back to face him although she still glanced around the room, slightly terrified that they really weren’t alone.

Especially after what had just transpired on that couch. 

“Maybe it’s best if we just go.” He stepped away from her and even though she spun back around, ready to yell at him from leaving her side, he was already making his way, carefully, to the dining table. Once he was close enough to grab his keys and wallet, he snatched them quickly and then grabbed her coat on his way before joining her in the living room again.

Handing over her coat, she quickly slipped it on and then her purse over that, wanting nothing more than to get out of there before something else mysteriously fell over. 

Once she was ready, he slipped his hand into hers, entwining their fingers, and led the way out to the car, hoping by the time they got back, he could forget that that had happened.

They only had one more night after all. It’d be fine. He just… didn’t currently want to be in that house for a second longer.

“Still want to go breaking into old, abandoned houses later?” She asked as he turned the heat up in the car.

“Of course,” he said with way too much confidence for a man that had definitely just been spooked by a ghost, “I told you,” he glanced over at her, smirking, “you’re cute when you’re scared.”

The bar was already in full swing by the time they arrived, which is why he had planned to come earlier but again, he was not about to complain for the reason why they were behind schedule.

YN led the way inside, wrapping her hand around Harry’s as she weaved through people, some already drunk and rowdy and others on their way to that point. As Harry glanced around, trying not to be replaced by the smell of tequila and body odor, he was slightly jealous of the people who were just there to have fun on their Saturday night. Who laughed so loud it drowned out the heavy drums of the rock music pouring into the room. He found himself especially jealous of the couple they passed on the way to the bar, who’s hands wandered as they made out against one of the pool tables.

He snapped back to reality when YN tugged on his hand as she made a quick bee line to the very last open seat at the bar. They were not there to have fun, he knew that. She was at the bar not for drinks, but to hopefully be able to talk to one of the bartenders. Still, he came up behind her, draping his arm over her shoulder and pretended otherwise.

Especially when he reached up with his free hand and swiped her hair out of the way before kissing a spot along her jaw and then brought his lips to her ear, feeling her tense against him. “We could actually have fun, too, you know.”

She smiled, staring down at the counter and letting herself get lost in the idea of them just being some random couple being a little too handsy at the bar. They could probably get away with it, too, but the smile slowly faded when she thought about how much the quality of their work would suffer all for a couple hours of drunken fun. 

And maybe Harry could afford that but she really couldn’t.

She turned then, glancing at him over her shoulder. All thoughts of telling him that they needed to stay focused wen right out the window when she realized how close their faces were. When her eyes darted right down to his lips and she remembered the way they felt and how much she wanted them on her again.

“What can I get ya?” A loud, female voice pulled them apart from each other and they both faced the woman on the other side of the bar with very guilty looks. Because they were most definitely seconds away from saying fuck it to the whole thing.

YN cleared her throat first, “Um… I’ll just have a water.”

“Make that two.” Harry added and the woman, who’s name tag read Sandra, quickly grabbed two glasses from under the bar and set them on the counter in front of YN, filling them both.

“Are y’all new in town?” She asked, passing their glasses over to them before she began wiping down the bar. 

Harry glanced down at YN briefly while sipping on his water, exchanging looks before she nodded at him. Silently letting him know now was the time.

“Yeah, well… we’re actually just in town working on a story about what happened here a few years back.”

The bartender froze for a moment, and then went back to wiping the counter. “I’m sorry that’s your first impression of this place. We’ve been trying to regain our reputation ever since.”

Harry nodded in understanding, setting his glass down. “Were you around back then?”

She sighed, folding her rag up neatly and absently. “Yeah, people stopped going out, just locked themselves in their houses. Some even moved out all together. I was out of work for a while. Can’t blame them, though. Freaked me out, too.”

“Did you know any of the victims?” YN asked, hoping she wasn’t pressing too far.

But Sandra just shook her head, “No… well, not back then, I didn’t. But the second family that was attacked, their eldest daughter found them. She had just came home from college for the weekend.”

Again, YN and Harry shared a look, their minds right on the same track as each other. It was Harry who spoke first, though. “Was her name Jackie?”

Sandra looked up at him with wide eyes, “How’d you know about Jackie?”

“We’re… pretty good at our jobs.”

“I’ll say.” The bartender luckily brushed it off instead of asking anymore questions. Sighing, she crossed her arms over her chest and averted her gaze from the two of them. “But, yeah, Jackie she was working here before all that. I hadn’t met her but I did later on when she came back to work and her shifts changed. We got close. She ended up getting a new gig at the diner down the street last year, but we still talk sometimes.” She paused, seemingly lost in bittersweet memories of their friendship until another thought came to mind, “She still lives in the house, not out of choice, though, she’s had a hell of a time trying to sell the place.”

“That must be…” YN shook her head, not even sure she could describe how it must feel being stuck in the house where your entire family was murdered.

“Hell,” Sandra finished and both YN and Harry nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” Sandra continued. “She lived with me for a while but it got hard and she ended up moving back in. I think, even though something tragic happened, being in that house still keeps her connected to her family.”

They could understand that too. They were also both incredibly grateful the meeting with Jackie hadn’t worked out because neither of them would have known how to handle that.

“Anyway, I don’t really know much else. She doesn’t either, even though she tried for a very long time to find out who did it. It drove her mad before she finally gave up.”

“What made her stop?”

Sandra smiled sweetly then. “She met someone. It didn’t last long but she realized she was wasting her life away on something she may never find answers to.”

Something about the way Sandra spoke made YN think the someone Jackie met had been Sandra herself, but YN figured that would be prying a little too much into things that neither she nor Harry really needed to know about.

“You said you were writing a story?”

They both nodded simultaneously.

“I don’t think she minds talking about it anymore, she’s probably still holding onto hope that if she talks to people, some new bit of information will come up. But I was just hoping, if you mention her, you could leave her name out of it.”

“Of course,” YN assured, having already decided to not include Jackie in any part of their story other than what was necessary to give readers a full picture. But leaving out her name was something that didn’t even need to be said.

“Thank you for talking with us, it’s much appreciated.” Harry smiled at her and Sandra returned it.

“Sure. If you two want anything else, just let me know.” 

As soon as Sandra left, Harry tucked himself into the space between YN and the person sitting next to them, his back toward the bar as he balanced his weight on it and faced YN. “So that was…”

“Not much help.” YN finished off her water, looking particularly disappointed as she set her glass on the counter beside Harry’s hand.

“No, but… at least we know who Jackie is now.”

“Yeah but—“ She shook her head, dropping her eyes to her hands in her lap, giving herself a moment to breathe through her frustration. “We’re still no closer to finding out anything new.”

Harry leaned over, reaching out to gently tuck her hair behind her ear. “We aren’t here to solve the case, YN, you know that.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“You want to find out what happened to that girl.”

She nodded.

“If we can’t find out maybe just including her in the story is all we can do. And maybe that leads to someone else down the line figuring it out.”

She knew she had to be okay with that even if, at the moment, she really wasn’t. They still had time to read through the files more thoroughly though, maybe they’d find something useful after all.

Harry squeezed her shoulder and brought her attention back to him. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom really quick, I’ll be right back.”

She wanted to argue about him leaving her there, in a crowded bar in an unfamiliar town, but he kissed her cheek before he left and it, weirdly, settled her nerves. Three days ago she never would have considered Harry kissing her in any manner as something that would calm her down.

Watching him until he slowly disappeared, she wondered what they would do when he got back. If they were going to continue asking around or if having fun was still on the table because she was more than up for it now after everything they’d just learned about Jackie. 

Before she got too lost in her daydreams about what type of fun her and Harry could potentially get up to, there was a tap on her shoulder.

And when she turned, she really wished Harry was still standing next to her. 

“Where’d your boyfriend go?” The man from last night inched closer, a bottle of beer in one hand and a pool cue on the other as he leaned onto the bar where Harry’d just been.

“He’s in the…” she stopped herself short, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

The man lifted a brow, “Does that mean you’re single then?”

She kind of wanted to punch this dude, but she clasped her hands in her lap and tried to be civil. “It doesn’t mean anything. He’s not my boyfriend and I’m not looking for one.” 

“You sure?” 

She nodded, impatiently. “Can I help you with something?”

Then he made it obvious as his eyes fell down the front of her, lingering on her thighs as he smiled. “I’m sure there are many things you could help me with.” 

Her heart began to race then, losing the confidence she’d had a moment ago when she’d wanted to punch him. Now she just wanted to run. To get really far away from him. Especially when she glanced over and found not only his two other friends from the previous night but also a few other men, all glancing over their shoulders at her.

Then it got worse as he leaned into her, bringing his lips close to her ear as she froze up. “Like your dress, by the way. I’m sure it comes off easy.”

His voice and words made her cringe and she found herself rolling her eyes instead of being terrified of him and wanting to run. “Is that really your best pick up line?”

The way his smile grew then made her swallow the pit in her throat. “You really don’t want me to say what’s actually on my mind.” 

No… she supposed she didn’t. 

“Look, he’s not my boyfriend, but he’s got me taken care of, alright? So why don’t you just go back to your friends over there?” She nodded over at them and they all seemed to avert their gazes at once.

The man followed her line of sight over his shoulder before turning back to her. “They aren’t nearly as fun as talking to you is.”

She was just mad at this point, looking over her own shoulder to see if Harry was even close to being back yet but she didn’t spot his familiar mess of curls anywhere. Sighing, she faced the man again.

“Yeah, well I can’t say the same about you, so can you just leave me alone?” She raised her voice a bit, hoping that someone close by might hear and step in. Or at least be aware that she wanted nothing to do with this guy.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“Jason!” A familiar female voice shouted over the music and the voices and both the man and YN turned to find Sandra. “I believe she told you to leave her alone.”

“Why you always ruining my fun, Sandra?”

The bartender glanced at YN as they shared a knowing look. “Yeah, well, your fun’s one-sided so piss off.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at Sandra, then looked at YN again, opening his mouth to say something but then he glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “I was just keeping her company till her boyfriend got back.”

“She does’t seem to be very interested in your company, Jason. None of us are, in fact.”

YN knew Harry was back before he even slid his arm around her waist and tucked himself close to her. Before he even said one threatening word to Jason. It was just his familiar presence and how much it calmed every inch of her body.

“Everything alright over here?”

Jason smiled at Harry but not in a very nice way at all. “Sure is.”

Harry also had to hold himself back from starting a fight. But it was Sandra who cut through the tension and stopped any punches from being thrown.

“Jason, go back to your game of pool before I kick every last one of you outta here for good.” 

That, he seemed to listen to. And, after rolling his eyes, he pushed off the edge of the bar, winked once at Harry and then made his way back to his friends.

“Sorry ‘bout him. He’s a jackass, but he’s harmless.”

YN wasn’t really sure about that, but she moved on from the whole thing quickly when Harry tightened his hold around her, reminding her that he was there as she looked up into his worried gaze.

“You alright?”

She sighed, nodding. “Yeah, he didn’t do anything. Just talked.”

Harry held her gaze for a moment longer, possibly to make sure she really was okay before he lifted his eyes to Sandra and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously.” Harry knew what she was implying. That when they wrote their story and mentioned this town that they wouldn’t talk about the select few assholes that lived in it. He knew it wouldn’t be fair to everyone else to do so so he nodded again and Sandra smiled apologetically at both him and YN before she took off.

“You wanna get out go here?” He asked.

“Jesus,” she practically jumped down from her seat, “I thought you’d never ask.”

After a lot of convincing that she was fine, Harry finally agreed to drive them to the old abandoned house instead of what he’d really wanted to do. Take her home and make sure she was safe. It had been a much more appealing idea than what he’d originally planned, but she insisted and, so, they soon found themselves parked across the street from the house on a quiet, dark street a little past ten o’clock.

“You sure about this?” Harry gazed over at the house and then turned to meet her eyes, almost hoping she’d change her mind. 

Instead of giving him a solid answer, though, she just unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over the center console until she was able to reach his lips. Kissing him was both to get him to shut up and also a silent thank you for him having her back earlier. He hadn’t done a whole lot, but just him showing up when he did had been enough. 

He lifted his hand to her cheek and deepened it for a moment before she pulled away. “Let’s go.”

She was out of the car before he had even caught his breath and by the time he was shutting his door behind him, after he’d retrieved his flashlight from the glovebox, she was halfway across the street, seemingly not bothered by the creepy flickering streetlight above them or the eery sound of cicadas his ears still weren’t used to.

Still, he followed after her, catching up until he was beside her, cursing under his breath at both her and how cold it was.

“You’re not scared are you?” She asked as they squeezed past the broken picket fence and then up the cracked cement pathway toward the front door.

“No, but it wouldn’t kill you to slow down a bit.”

She shrugged. “It might.” Still, she paused and held her hand out for him to grab and even though he just glared at her for a moment, he eventually rolled his eyes and took her hand, allowing her to drag him up the front steps of the small porch.

There was still crime scene tape and a piece of paper taped to the door, informing anyone who was stupid enough to get this close that the house was condemned and trespassers would be prosecuted. Ignoring it, YN reached out and tried the handle. To her surprise, it actually turned and the door creaked open. 

She didn’t step another foot closer, though, just peered inside into the darkness that lay beyond.

“Oh, so now you’re scared?”

“I feel like that door should have definitely been locked.” She whispered as Harry clicked on his flashlight and took a step in front of her.

“Probably had people coming in here, they could have picked the lock. Come on,” he grabbed her hand as he stepped inside and she reluctantly went with him, grabbing his arm too in order to keep close to him.

The house was… dirty, yes, but also normal. Just a normal living room, a normal set of stairs. Most all the furniture had been broken and scattered everywhere either by whatever type of people had broken in or by the cops when they searched the place for evidence. 

Harry scanned the flashlight around the room. No matter how much of a normal family home it looked, it was still someplace that marked a horrific event and, so, it gave her the creeps.

It didn’t help that she was also thinking about their ghost back at the air bnb.

She kept close as Harry led them into the kitchen, which was in an equal state of disarray. The fridge doors hung open and the window above the sink seemed to be the only one that hadn’t been boarded up. It was also broken, and let in a whistle of wind that gave her goosebumps.

“I don’t think there’s anything in here to find.”

Harry glanced at her over his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re scared. I tried to get you to go back to the house.”

“I’m not scared, just… they didn’t die in the kitchen.”

Harry averted his gaze, a solemn look crossing over his eyes before he nodded and turned them around, heading back out to the living room and then up the creaking stairs.  

The first room they went into had been decorated for a teenage girl at one point. Harry flashed the light around the window, which wasn’t boarded up, and the closet, trying to find anything that might give a clue as to how the murderer got in, but there was nothing noticeable.

“You know there was that one guy,” YN began as they made their way out into the hall, closing the girl’s room door behind them, “who just walked around, checking any random door until he found one that was unlocked and that’s how he decided who he’d kill.”

“You’re talking about Richard Ramirez?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed as Harry opened the door to another room, only to quickly close it when he realized it was the bathroom. “Maybe this guy did the same.”

“That doesn’t account for the man those girls reported.”

She grew quiet, realizing he had a point. It couldn’t have been completely random, then. 

The next room they ventured into was a boy’s room and it hurt worse because he’d been young. Toys were still strewn across the bright red rug. Neither Harry nor YN said anything or touched anything while they looked around.

But then something caught Harry’s eye.

He wouldn’t really have noticed it in the daylight, he assumed, because he only did now with the shadow cast from the flashlight. But there was a tiny piece of fabric stuck to the window. 

He turned, flashing the light at YN to get her attention, “Come over here,” he whispered.

She joined him quickly and as soon as he put the light back on what he wanted her to see, she spotted it too.

“Might be how he got in.”

She shrugged, taking one step closer and looking out the window. There was a roof below this window, and there hadn’t been in the girl’s room. It was possible.

“Why the boy’s room though if he’d been stalking the girls?”

“Convenience?” Harry guessed.

But then something else came to mind. “When I was skimming the files, they said the boy was found in his parents’ bed. He wasn’t sleeping in here that night.”

Harry nodded, taking a step away from the window and pointing the light between them so he could see her face a bit better. “Makes sense.”

“He had to have been watching them for a few days at least, then, before he broke in. I just don’t understand why he stopped.”

“Maybe he just moved on to a different town. Police aren’t exactly known for communicating well over county lines.”

“And we just barely found out about this case a few months ago when Lenny went digging around. This could have happened somewhere else too and we just don’t know about it.”

“Then maybe we should do our own digging and see if we find anything.” Harry smiled, just glad that she was no longer so disappointed by not finding anything out. “But, first, we should get out of here because, and I’ll deny this if you ever tell anyone, I am actually a bit scared.”

Grinning, she reached down to grab his hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone who would believe you over me.”

Before he could argue, there was a sound that seemed to have come from down the hall, in the direction of the master bedroom. A sound that made her jump right into his arms, gripping his biceps as she held Harry as close as she possibly could.

Harry turned slightly, pointing the flashlight at the open doorway, praying nothing darted across the hall when he did. And after a moment, when nothing else happened, he leaned down to her a bit and whispered, “Maybe it was just the wind?”

“I don’t want to stay and find out.”

“Good idea.”

They got the hell out of there then, and although it was in a rush, they still tried to not disturb anything on their way out. And as soon as YN reached the bottom step, she took a very grateful breath of fresh air.

Harry wrapped his arm around her waist, clicked off his flashlight and led them back to the car. “Guess I won’t be telling anyone how you practically latched onto me back there, either, then.”

“I did not—!” She pulled away from his hold, but it was no use when he tugged her close and helped her past the broken gate again and onto the sidewalk.

“Yes, you definitely did.”

She just glared at him up at him while he chuckled. 

“Don’t worry,” she was positive he was mocking the way she’d said those words just five minutes ago, “I like the way you hold onto me when you’re scared… might have to provoke the ghost when we get back…”

Instead of ghost provoking, however, they both just silently went about their nightly routines. Once YN had finished washing her face, Harry barged his way in the bathroom and they fought over the sink as they brushed their teeth. 

Then while she grabbed her pajamas, Harry waited for her on the edge of the bed after plugging his phone into its charger and setting an alarm for the morning. They had to be packed up and out by nine, or else he’d be slapped with a fee, so there was no chance he was going to risk sleeping in.

She joined him after a moment and he never took his eyes off her while she set her pajamas down on top of the dresser and then turned to face him. His eyes fell to her legs as a smile crept onto his lips that made her weak in the knees.

He met her eyes when she crossed the short space between them, and right when she was within reach, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Yelping, she fell against his shoulder and smacked him there as she regained her balance and glared down at him.

“Asshole.”

He shrugged, “You like when I’m an asshole.”

She really couldn’t deny that. He seemed to like her when she was being one, too.

His hands slipped to the hem of her dress, then though and she forgot about why she’d called him an asshole in the first place when his fingers glided over her skin as they disappeared underneath her dress.

“Don’t need this on anymore, do you?” He asked, his eyes glued to her body, watching as the hem revealed more and more to him. Parts of her he’d been too busy earlier to really get a good look at.

“No,” she breathed out, goosebumps rising to her flesh when he gathered her dress onto her hips, then her waist, exposing everything from her belly button down to him.

He glanced up at her quickly and then gently tugged her closer, bringing his lips down onto her skin, just above the band of her panties, right where every fluttering, tightening feeling for him gathered.

He inched his mouth lower and his hands drew higher, taking her dress with him as he made feeble attempts at getting it off. It wasn’t until he pulled away that he made it a priority and slid it up over her chest, then her head before he tossed it to the floor in a pile.

Eyes taking all of her in and growing darker the longer he stared, he met her gaze briefly, whispering, “Beautiful,” before he put his mouth right back in that same spot.

This time though, as he kissed his way down, his fingers dug under the bands at her hips, tugging slowly until his mouth caught up and then he pulled all that black lace out of his way. 

She no sooner stepped out of her panties before he grabbed hold of her waist and spun them around, laying her onto the bed and he twisted and made his way up between her legs, kissing up the inside of her thigh as he went, until he made it to the top and she squirmed underneath him.

Glancing up at her, he found her propped up on her elbows, watching him as she took labored breaths. He realized then, though, even if she hadn’t yet, that sitting that way was going to be uncomfortable for her.

So, he lifted himself up and reached over her to grab a pillow from the top of the bed, placing it under her neck so she could relax and still be able to watch if she wanted. It was what he wanted, anyway, for her to watch while he devoured her.

“Better?” He asked.

She just nodded, and before he could adjust himself between her legs again, she reached around behind her, unclasping her bra and removing it all while he watched, practically drooling when he finally saw every last inch of her.

Smiling, he brushed a piece of hair from her face. “Like I said… beautiful.”

Then he went back to business, although he took a bit of a detour from what he had been doing previously as he began his descent down her body at her breasts, taking one hardened nub into his mouth and the other his free hand took care of. Her back arched into him just as her fingers dug into his hair.

But then he continued on, kissing his way down as her hands slipped from the back of his head and instead, gathered bed sheets in her fists while his mouth fell over where she wanted him the most.

He didn’t tease her for much longer as he pulled her apart and dug in, swiping his tongue across the bundle of nerves he’d already grown familiar with. She moaned instantly when he did, and then again as he carried on with his movements making matters worse for himself as the tightening in his jeans became nearly unbearable. He really couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten this worked up over someone as fast as he was, but he really wasn’t going to question it now. Not when she brought her hand back to his hair and pulled.

He moaned against her each time she did, which only made her do it more because the vibration of his lips on her felt like heaven. He went slow, though, not wanting to send her over the edge just yet, not before he’d had a chance to get more than just his mouth on her.

“Normally,” he pulled back to catch his breath and she shuddered at the feeling of that warmth against her too, “I would definitely let you come but… I think this night will end much sooner than either is us want if I don’t get inside you as soon as possible.”

Laughing, she pulled him up until he was at eye level with her and then she kissed him while wrapping her legs around him, pushing his hips against hers until she could feel every last jean-clad length of him right up against her and he was moaning against her mouth this time.

“Guess you weren’t lying.”

“Unfortunately not.” He admitted, this time allowing her hands to undo both the button and zipper of his jeans not even bothering to tug them down his hips, just slipped her way underneath his boxer-briefs and wrapped herself around him.

His eyes fluttered shut as his mouth hung open and she quickly brought her lips back to his while she pulled him out, feeling her way up and down his entire length before guiding him toward her. He let her take control, mostly because he was enjoying watching her with her hand around him. Once she had him lined up, however, he eased his own way inside of her, both of them coming undone at the way the other felt. Her warm and slick and soft. Him hard and thick, stretching her out.

He went slow, for both of their sakes. Mostly hers though while she adjusted to his length until the crease between her brows soothed itself away and she tilted her head back onto the pillow and whispered, “Shit you feel so good, Harry.”

Inflated ego and all, he came down over her and pressed his hips into hers as far as he could go, burying every last inch of himself inside of her as she screamed out when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

He stayed there for a moment, kissing his way up her jaw until his lips were at her ear. “However good I feel, just know you feel a million times better.”

That completely did her in. He could do literally whatever the fuck he wanted to her then and she’d let him without question. If he wanted to invite the ghost in to watch? Sure, whatever. She was his now.

And since she couldn’t quite think straight while he was saying those types of things in his current position, she just wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and brought his lips down to hers. Letting him know just how much of herself she was giving over to him.

He kissed her harder, deeper, muffling all her moans when he pulled himself out of her and then repeated it all over again until he picked up a pace she seemed to like. If the way she tried to lift off the bed as she dug her nails into his back was any indication.

Until, of course, she got closer and begged him to go harder. Something that would not allow him to last very long at all, but her wish was his command. She dug her heels into the backs of his thighs to get him even closer, to show him what she wanted and he obeyed, giving her everything he had until he was sweating and panting, until the headboard was most definitely banging against the wall behind it.

“I’m—“ was her only warning. Harry didn’t even slow down as both her words and her breath got caught in her throat because she was already coming, he could feel her around his cock while he watched her face, the way her lips parted and her brows furrowed in pleasure. He brought his lips to her cheek and kissed her while he slowed his pace because he was seconds away from unraveling himself.

And when she relaxed, he kissed her lips, halting his movements but staying buried inside her. She brought a hand up to the back of his neck again, letting him into her mouth while she wrapped one leg around his again and pressed her heel in.

“Your turn,” she whispered, pulling away from him only a centimeter or so. They held each other’s gazes while he realized what she was telling him to do. And then without having to be told anything more, he kissed her again and fucked her until he couldn’t hold on any longer.

Pulling out, it didn’t didn’t take much work until he came all over the front of her, moaning and dropping down onto his elbow above her as he worked out every last drop. And once he was finished, he ran his fingers through his mess on her stomach, all the way down to that bunch of nerves where he got her all worked up again.

“Sorry for, uh…” He couldn’t get the rest of the words out when she reached down, grabbed hold of his wrist and took his fingers into her mouth. He watched her for a moment, silently, as she licked them clean. “… the mess,” he finished.

She drew his fingers from her mouth, smiling up at him. “That’s okay, you’re going to be the one to risk running into the ghost to go get me a towel.”  

He’d probably risk just about anything to do what she asked, but he didn’t tell her that. “Will I?”

She narrowed her eyes him. “Yes.”

A smirk slowly crept onto his face as he began backing away from her. “And if I don’t return, what then?”

She shrugged, sitting up as he made his way off the bed, stuffing himself back inside his jeans and doing them up again. “Then I have the bed to myself, I suppose.”

He just looked at her then, silently for a moment, before he took a step back toward the bed and grabbed her ankles, pulling her toward him while she yelped. He ignored that though and brought her to the edge, her legs wrapping around his before he leaned over her, his hands on either side of her head as she laid flat against the mattress.

“We both know you’ll be sad if I don’t come back.”

Swallowing the pit in her throat, she glanced between both of his eyes before then staring at his mouth. Yes, she supposed she’d be extremely sad if he didn’t come back. So, quietly, she admitted, “You’d better hurry up then.”

“That’s what I thought.” He teased, but still stood and took all of his warmth with him as he quickly snuck out the bedroom door, closing it behind him because she was, in fact, still completely naked and they were definitely still convinced of the ghost.

He was back in a few moments, though, towel in hand and she hadn’t moved much but as he approached, she laid back on her elbows, letting him do all the work of cleaning her up.

He’d dampened the towel a bit with warm water that felt incredible as he wiped her skin clean, every inch he’d soiled. Lingering a bit when he brought the towel between her legs as he thought about how many more bad choices they could make in one night.

“We should get some sleep,” she warned and he looked up at her, wiping the towel back up to her stomach. “Gotta be up early, right?”

He nodded as reality sunk in. Folding the towel in half twice, he placed in on the bed beside her and then went to grab her pajamas off the dresser. He helped her into her shorts first, not bothering with her panties, and then grabbed her arms until she was sitting up so he could fit her shirt on over her head.

“Are things still going to be this way when we go back to New York?” He asked as she fit her arms into the sleeves and adjusted the shirt over her body. 

“Why wouldn’t they?”

He shrugged but then smiled when he realized he’d been worrying over nothing. She wanted the same thing he did. 

“Besides…” she perched herself back onto her hands, her eyes wandering over every inch of his upper body until she found his again, “we still have my desk to make useful.”

The next morning went by quickly… after they showered. That, of course, took a while. Took most of the morning, in fact, and they then had to rush to get out the door in time. But it’d been worth it. Having lazy morning sex with her underneath a warm stream of water was better than he’d imagined it be.

They made it out on time though, only by about a few minutes, and got breakfast on the road. On the drive back, they discussed the story and YN got out her laptop to begin writing notes for it. They still had some research to do and files to look over, but they mapped out a basic outline by the time they crossed over into New York.

“I really hope there wasn’t a ghost in that house.” Harry said as they crossed over the bridge into Manhattan.

“Well if there was, they got a pretty good show.”

Harry nodded, agreeing. “Yeah… four of them to be exact.”

“Four?”

“Yeah there was… this other time in the shower. Saturday morning.”

“Why were you even—“ She cut herself off then, realization hitting. Saturday morning is when they’d woken up all… over each other. And he’d been…? Jesus.

He smiled. “I don’t need to answer that, do I?”

“No, I got it.”

“Good. Still want me to fuck you on top of your desk?”

Rolling her eyes, she stared out at the skyline as it came into view. “Even more now.”

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles writing

[astaroth1357]

My Protective Demon and Me: How to Live with Your Overly-Protective Hellspawn!

Intro:

So you've bagged yourself a demon, huh? Well, there are many great benefits to dating the otherworldly creatures of Hell, including increased power, longevity, and security! We can assure you that your demon boyfriend wants nothing more than to keep you safe, dear human, but this can be a new experience for the uninitiated. Never fear, because we have put together this guide to help you navigate the relationship you've just signed your soul into! My Protective Demon and Me is an instructional tool for your new demonic partnership, designed to introduce you to the protective tendencies of Seven Rulers of Hell. Listen to our advice, and you won't be left wondering why your boyfriend insists on carrying you down the stairs or loses his mind when you're injured by paper!

(Warnings: Possessive Behaviors, Implied PTSD, Yandere-ish)

Lucifer 

Now, there's no kind way to say this, but Lucifer will think of you as small, weak, and helpless on most days. We promise it's not quite as insulting as it sounds because to him, that just makes you cuter.

Because he thinks you're so pathetic, he will want to provide for you in all sorts of ways. This includes security.

Lucifer's approach to keeping you safe is a little indirect, and it may sound a tad… invasive, but that's only because he's not able to be with you in person as often as he'd like.

He uses familiars spread across the Devildom to keep an eye on you during the day. Don't fret; these familiars aren't there to tell him about your every waking breath. Just monitor you and report back to him if something's amiss.

If there's an alert, he will drop everything to be sure that you're alright. The second he knows something's wrong, he'll be right with you within a minute, Diavolo be damned. 

He may try to play it off as he just happened to be in the area if others are around, but in truth, he'd use magic to recall himself to your side. 

Speaking of magic… Again, since he can't be with you as much as he wants, you may begin to notice your body getting stronger to a certain degree over your time with him. Is he secretly using magical means to strengthen your bones or make your skin harder to tear? He will never say, so best not ask.

Potential threats against you are dealt with discreetly, mostly under the guise of safeguarding the exchange program for Diavolo. No offenders will ever make it to the castle dungeon, though, as Lucifer tends to finish them off on sight... We recommend that you make yourself scarce during these times. Torture is such a nasty thing to witness...

Lucifer would like to believe that, in being with him, you're the safest that you could possibly be, but he always worries about what danger you're in while he's busy with work. A part of him blames his lack of vigilance over Lilith for her downfall, and he has strained to recover a sense of security over his loved ones ever since... Though he may come across as overbearing, just know he only watches you that closely because he couldn't bear to lose you.

Mammon

If you've won over Mammon's heart, then he's going to guard you as fiercely as a dragon does its treasure. But be warned because this can lead to confrontation...

Mammon will see himself as your bodyguard of sorts, so he'll try to be around you at all hours of the day. He'll start by making excuses like he needs study help, but after a while, he'll just hope you come to accept him as a constant fixture in your life and don't question his hovering.

He will stick very close to you in public, particularly when among other demons. He's the second strongest of his brothers, so this alone should deter most threats but don't be surprised if you see him scan the room you're in from time to time.

Take care not to hurt yourself around Mammon because he has yet to fully process how fragile the human body is. He may panic upon seeing you hurt (and he's not the most helpful when he's panicking…).

Should you get hurt when Mammon is near, you may see his protective instincts spike considerably. He will offer to carry heavy packages, refuse to let you handle sharp objects, and hold out a hand to steer you around tight corners.

Do not threat, this added level of attention is only temporary. Remind Mammon that accidents are a part of human life, and you can get yourself through them as the species normally does. 

If someone actually tries to hurt you, we advise you to stay calm and focus on getting harmed as little as possible. Unfortunately, there will be no good way to talk Mammon out of fighting in your defense. It's best to focus on minimizing the damage to yourself and staying alive until help can be brought to you.

Mammon does this not to look down on you, but because he loves you so deeply, he's devastated any time he sees you hurt. Be patient with him, and he will learn to draw back his fear to a more appropriate level. Always know, though, that he worries about you constantly, so try not to give his demonic heart too many palpitations - yes?

 Leviathan 

Levi is in some ways more chill than his brothers, and in others far more extreme depending on the location you find yourselves in.

If you are in his room (which you will be a lot), then he will be very relaxed. As far as he's concerned, you are in his domain and thus perfectly safe. There's no need to worry about you getting hurt or stumbling upon any rivals.

If you are together in the outside world, however, he will be very on edge. You are the most important individual in his life, so any possibility of you leaving him by death or by choice is not acceptable.

He will try his damnedest to steer you away from large crowds or packed spaces because he will be terrified of losing you in the chaos. Being in any public place where he can't see you will drive his anxiety through the roof. His imagination is quite active, and his mind is always against him.

If you are with his brothers, then he will be particularly tense. He acknowledges both their capacity to drag you into dangerous shenanigans AND steal away your affections, neither of which are options he'd like to pursue.

He will rarely let you be alone with his brothers without express permission, and even then, he has likely shot a threat to them about minding your safety (and your relationship) beforehand. As he is third strongest, only Mammon and Lucifer would ignore his "requests" but only to a point. It's a terrible mess whenever he summons Lotan in the House…

If someone else hurts you retribution will be swift (and bordering on lethal) because he's far more worried about getting back to making sure you're alright. He won't have his Henry dying on his watch, after all.

If you happen to hurt yourself, expect him to stow you away in his room for even longer than usual. Your accidental demise is a recurring fear of his, so he will need a great deal of reassurance that you are still with him and not quite at death's door just yet (yes, even if you get a papercut).

Leviathan is so protective of you because he feels like he has the most to lose if you died/left. He interacts with so few people that having even one show him patience is a game-changer. He would have the hardest time moving on should your presence ever leave him, so protecting you is the best thing he can do to protect himself from that pain in the future.

Satan

Satan's protective nature is less overt than the others, but in many ways, it's more… intense.

He's more familiar than the others with the fragility of human bodies thanks to many years of casual study. Thus, he has bulked up his knowledge of your species in earnest to help keep you safe.

What we mean to say is, fear not, you're now dating a doctor. He may not have an M.D. to his name, but he's pretty damn close.

He will want to know about any slight inconvenience you may be experiencing, from a slight headache all the way to broken bones. He prefers to diagnose your problem quickly then use any combination of magic or medicine to heal your ailments. You will rarely struggle with ongoing discomfort again!

That being said, he can be quite pushy. There will be no, "I'll just sleep it off" with him. If it can be fixed, he will fix it. Your patience be damned.

If you somehow manage to hurt yourself… He will be disappointed, but he will not deny you assistance. He will lecture you if he sees you doing potentially reckless activities, though, because it's his (self-imposed) job to patch you up afterward.

It should really go without saying that most demons know better than to hurt someone he loves. He may not be the strongest of his brothers, but he is among the least merciful, and that does make a difference.

If, for whatever reason, one actually does manage to harm you, then you have an important choice to make. Do you allow him to act on his anger or be the one to show mercy when he will not? If you'd like to be charitable, please consult our helpful material, How to Calm Your Demon Boyfriend: Tame Demons, Save Lives.

At his core, Satan worries about his demonic side because he knows how easily his Wrath can take over. So he does his best to circumvent these destructive tendencies with nurturing ones. He may come off like a worrywart, but helping you is just as much an assurance to him as it is a service to you. He's not destined to hurt you. He can heal you instead.

Asmodeus 

Asmo is a free-spirited individual who would like to afford you the same freedom that he enjoys… but he knows very well how fragile the human body is. He's had many human lovers over the years, so he's very familiar with your limitations.

However, he's also aware of how capable you can be despite your perceived weaknesses (he's been friends with Solomon for years, after all).

Unfortunately, this won't stop him from worrying about your safety entirely. It's nothing personal, we assure you. He simply wants to be sure the love of his life can be with him for as long as possible.

Asmo shows his protectiveness most when confronted. He's far more worried about some demonic lowlife taking advantage of you than he is you falling off a step ladder. He understands that accidents will happen and that most are ultimately harmless, but other people? They can do you far more harm.

Due to his disposition and rank, most demons won't take his claim to you seriously. This is to their folly. Though he may not be physically strong as his elder brothers or even Beel, what he lacks in raw power he makes up for in deception.

Like Mammon and Levi, Asmo will want to be close to you out in public, but he will come across as far more relaxed than those two. This is partly due to his more developed confidence and because it makes it easier for him to charm potential threats into leaving you alone. Things are taken care of quickly after that.

Should you get injured well… Asmo will not be much help for anything aside from getting you to someone who actually can. He'd likely panic worse than Mammon, so do your best to remain calm and assure him that you will be fine after a little assistance.

His treatment of you post-injury won't differ much from how it usually is, because again, he knows that when there's a human involved - it's bound to happen.

Asmo's fear of others, both tragically and ironically, stems from his sin itself. Though he always tries to champion his partners' consent, he knows more than anyone that others can let their Lust drive them mad... His worst nightmare is letting you fall victim to one of those monsters because, frankly, he wouldn't know what to do with himself if that ever were to happen.

Beelzebub 

Beel is protection incarnate. This is something he's been doing long before you met and will likely continue to do until the end of his days. Protecting those he loves is in his nature.

That being said, this means is you are dating the equivalent of a demon-shaped Doberman Pinscher, loving and loyal to you and an absolute nightmare to your enemies.

Though he doesn't feel quite the same need to hang off you as Mammon might, Beel's protection can be likened to something like a hired-bodyguard. Close, but not too close, and always vigilant almost to a territorial degree.

If someone Beel doesn't like approaches you, he may growl at them. We would recommend you heed his warning. Beel is generally a good judge of character, and if something strikes him as off, then there may be cause for concern.

Fortunately for you, Beel does not jump to conclusions nor confrontation very often. Though he may act intimidating, he won't make any moves unless given an "Okay" from you beforehand.

This, however, does NOT apply if someone actually hurts you in any way. Though he may seem sweet and wholesome, please remember, he is a demon and the demon of Gluttony at that. Someone will be eaten for their transgressions, but he would rather you not watch if possible.

Truthfully, what will scare Beel far more than possible attackers are injuries in and of themselves. He has what basic first aid is afforded to anyone who plays sports but is nowhere near qualified to save you from something life-threatening... Should you become injured or sick, it would devastate him that he can no longer take care of you. He may even be at risk of a small breakdown as a result.

The events of Celestial War have perhaps taken their heaviest toll on Beel. Whether it's true or not, he carries a lot of the blame for what happened on his shoulders... The idea of going through something like that again, but now with you, scares him more than anything. Please remember, under that kind exterior lies dormant wounds that will likely remain unhealed long after you're gone...

Belphegor 

Belphegor is a strange case because, in some respects, he is one of the most possessive of the brothers... But he's also the least overtly protective.

Part of it is, yes, his inherent laziness. Following you around all day would be quite a hassle. He also can't expect you to stay in bed with him 24/7 (not that he lets that stop him from trying). Even setting up complex background machinations to keep an eye on you would be too much work...

But that doesn't mean that he leaves you alone entirely. If there is one thing that Belphegor tries to shield you from, it's his brothers. For possessive reasons, yes, but also as a form of protection.

Belphie is acutely aware of how often his brothers' shenanigans can lead to disaster. As such, he'll try to drag you out of their problems as much as possible.

It's not lost on him that the events that lead to your first demise were all due your penchant for meddling in his brothers' affairs. So in his eyes, a fairly simple and effective way to keep you out of trouble would be to keep you from them as much as possible.

As far as injuries go… "He dislikes seeing you hurt" is the least complicated way of putting things. Seeing you with major injuries obviously triggers some uncomfortable and unwanted memories for him, as it would for you. However, his emotions quickly get muddled up in it...

The sudden combination of fear, panic, shame, and anger can strike him at once and leave him in a frozen or vulnerable state... Painful for sure, but also not helpful in that situation. Minor injuries, thankfully, do not cause this reaction.

If you're injured and Belphegor appears to be going through trauma, we recommend calling for assistance from someone nearby or a different brother if possible (Satan would be a good option). Once you're stable, Belphegor will be relaxed somewhat but may need some cuddling.

Even with his lazy attitude, Belphegor does care for you and will try to keep you safe in his own way.  He may hide the intensity of his emotions behind a veil of apathy, but they run so strong that they can be paralyzing. Never doubt that he does love you, and try your best to be there for him when things become difficult...

More from the How-To series in Masterlist 1.0; More recent HCs in Masterlist 2.0

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me how tos #obey me scenarios #tw: possessive behavior #tw: ptsd

[eelfuneral]

I'm not sure if this is where you wanted a Tech x Reader request, but yessss I will cheer you on for whatever Tech you want to write! I've been having a rough week/mouth/year (lol) so I request anything comfort related. Sfw or nsfw is your preference 💙 I adore your blog btw

One fluffy hurt/comfort fic coming right up! I went with a gender neutral reader so everyone can enjoy this fic. Tw for a brief anxiety attack (which Tech helps the reader through).

—

It was all wrong, and it was all your fault. After three days of minimal sleep, it seemed that you had all but lost the ability to perform your duties as a mechanic for the GAR. You had managed to incorrectly rewire the climate regulator on the Havoc Marauder without realizing it, and powering the device up to run a diagnostic resulted in sizzling sparks shooting from its housing. The smell of your singed hair forced some awareness back into your brain, and panic overtook you and stole your breath. You had to replace the wiring before the guys went off on their next mission in seven hours, and judging by the hissing sounds radiating off of what used to be the climate regulator, you had a sinking feeling that seven hours simply wouldn’t cut it.

Your chest tightened and your heart began to struggle against your ribcage like a trapped nexu. The edges of your vision faded to black, and your hands no longer felt like they belonged to you. You were so focused on trying to steer the hunk of meat that was your body towards the disaster that you had created that you almost didn’t hear the staccato of a trooper’s boots approaching.

“What happened here?” said a breezy and all-too-familiar voice. You whipped around and found yourself face-to-face with a very concerned looking Tech. The tall clone adjusted his yellow tinted goggles and bent down beside you to inspect the damage.

This was it. Tech was finally going to realize that you were an idiot and break it off with you. He was far too brilliant to be your boyfriend anyways.

“This is rather concerning,” Tech said, gesturing towards the tangle of singed wires.

“I’m sorry,” you replied, unable to speak above a whisper.

Tech turned towards you and placed his long-fingered hands on each of your shoulders. His thick eyebrows were knitted together with concern. “This would appear to be the result of insufficient sleep,” said Tech, “and even a brilliant mechanic such as yourself can make mistakes when exhausted. You need to lie down for a spell and allow me to take care of this.”

“No, you have to get ready for the mission,” you replied. The last thing you wanted to do was inconvenience your boyfriend.

“You have been working on ship repairs nonstop for several days and nights now,” said Tech “In order to continue to perform your duties, you will need to allow yourself to get some rest. I love you, and cannot bear to see you overwork yourself. Rest please, for me?”

You nodded and threw your arms around Tech’s neck. He was wearing only the lower half of his armor, so you were able to nuzzle your burning face into his broad chest. You let out a shaky sob, and Tech squeezed your body into a protective hug as your tears soaked the thin, black fabric of his body glove.

“Thank you,” you murmured as your crying subsided. You lifted your crumpled face from his chest and looked him in the eyes once again.

Tech leaned in and brushed his lips against your forehead. “Shall I guide you to your room before I get started?” he asked.

“That would actually be a huge help,” you replied.

#tech x reader #len writes #anxiety attack tw #hurt/comfort #request

[wheelsup]

a friendly bet

category: fluff/humor, spencer x reader warnings: briefly jealous Spencer word count: 1.34k A/N: this blurb was requested by loml @rigatonireid! the prompts are: "you're absolutely dreadful" + "you're my favorite know-it-all"

Spencer Reid really does know it all. His intelligence might be the most attractive thing about him — tied with his face, his hair, his height, his kind eyes.... Maybe Spencer Reid is just overall attractive and you love everything about him, inside and out.

So yes, you’re completely biased on the topic of your boyfriend, but you are aware not everyone shares this fondness of his brain.

He can’t really help that he corrects people all the time — his impulse just takes the steering wheel and makes his mouth move before he can consider if it’s appropriate to comment. The rest of the team is familiar with the quirk, but even they still take offense from time to time.

And the strangers you meet on cases are even less receptive to it. Local law enforcement tends to think that the FBI only shows up to throw their weight around their city, and Reid’s little know-it-all interjections only increase the tension.

It makes it that much harder to get along with them, which isn’t always something your team can afford when the stakes are high. So, you decided to make him a friendly bet that he couldn’t go one whole day without correcting someone on an instance it wasn’t truly necessary.

“I thought you liked my rambling?” Spencer’s bottom lip curled into a pout that you quickly smoothed away with your thumbs.

“I do! I just… think it might make things easier if you hold back a little. Some of the guys here are getting their feelings hurt.” You laughed and stroked his cheek, coaxing a smile out of him. Your proposition wasn’t a criticism of him. It was of everyone else.

“There’s no way I correct people that much,” Spencer scoffed and rolled his eyes, playfully pushing your face away from him like you were being ridiculous.

“Then take the bet and we’ll find out.”

And sorry to say, there was a way.

Not an hour into the day, the vein on Spencer’s forehead was at danger of bursting through his skin. It only came out when he was angry or deep in focus, and you really couldn’t pick which of the two were causing it now. (It was a bit of both.)

This morning, you were trailing about thirty feet behind everyone when coming into the station and Spencer, being the good boyfriend he is, held the door open for you the extra ten seconds. The receptionist at the front desk subsequently chewed him out about ‘letting all of the cold air come into the office’.

That was Spencer’s first test of the day.

Surely, every person in the world knows that’s not how thermodynamics work. Not even close. And if she didn’t know that, that was definitely cause for concern. So really, this felt like a necessary time for Spencer to speak up. For her sake.

But he saw the way your eyebrow quirked up and he knew it was a challenge. It was too easy of a win for you. So he decided to bite his tongue and apologize for the inconvenience.

His second test rose from an argument between Morgan and Prentiss. The barista Hotch picked up drinks from messed up the team’s order and they discovered they were short one coffee. Both threw empty threats at the other and insisted they needed the drink more, but it had come to a stalemate.

“Emily, I worked late last night.”

“What happened to ladies first?” She slid the cup to herself, and Morgan snatched it right back.

“I’m not seeing any lady here!”

Before Emily tossed her chair at Morgan’s head, Hotch suggested they just flip a coin to make it totally fair.

Spencer’s brain was screaming inside: The odds of a coin toss are actually 51/49! Trials have shown that a coin favors landing on the side that was facing up when it was thrown, so really, whoever picks that side has a better chance!

It isn’t so much a correction as it is a fun fact. A harmless little fun fact, surely people would like to hear it! He should share it, they’ll love it.

But you remembered Spencer telling you about this once before, and your eyes are narrowing on him with a smug expression.

‘Come on. Tell them’ your face seems to say. He knows it’s bait, and he doesn’t bite. Thirty-seven minutes into the day. He can do it.

And to your surprise, he did last. For a while. (A while being an hour and twenty-four minutes.)

After the morning briefing, Spencer saw some young male deputy follow you into the conference room. Where you were working. Alone. Why the hell did he need to speak to you alone?

He’s tall with cover-boy good looks (much like Spencer himself), but the thing that Spencer hated most about him was the way he’d been looking at you all week. It’s a nicer word than Spencer would use — he’d say it was more like staring. Watching. Creeping.

Yeah, that’s the one. He’s a creep and Spencer’s very suspicious of him.

So, he did what anyone would do and hid behind a tall potted plant near the window to peek into the room through the blinds. (It’s very inconspicuous, they should use him to go undercover sometime.)

“Can I help you with something?” You gave a polite, tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, I was just, uh—” he forced a laugh and rubbed his neck in some lame attempt to be charming that made Spencer roll his eyes. “I was wondering if you could fill me in on the investigation.”

He placed a couple of files onto the table next to you and rested a hand on the back of your chair.

You blinked uncomfortably between his sudden proximity and the flirtatious expression adorning his face. “Oh, uh, did you miss the briefing?”

He shook his head no. He was there, he was just making an excuse to come talk to you.

“Could you talk me through it again? I guess I’ve got the memory of a goldfish.” He flashed a smile and leaned his elbow on the table, effectively boxing you in with his whole body.

Before you could tell him to kindly fuck off, you got distracted by the sound of rustling leaves. Then four seconds later, Spencer burst in through the door.

“Actually!” he huffed, a little out of breath, “Goldfish have a long-term memory ranging from three to five months.” Once he catches it, he crosses his arms over his chest and straightens out his spine to make himself bigger. “So you should be able to figure it out on your own. Unless your brain is smaller than a goldfish’s, of course.”

You have to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing at the deputy’s beet-red face. Spencer scrambled to pick up the files and shoved them back into the deputy’s arms as he “gently” ushered him out the door.

“That was cute of you.” You left a soft kiss on that protruding forehead vein that was finally beginning to go away. “You lost, by the way.”

.

“There’s no way you’re making me do this.” Spencer stood in front of your bathroom mirror with the grimmest expression on his face.

“Sorry, cutie, but you lost,” you teased, preening his hair into place.

A few weeks ago you saw an old picture of Spencer with his hair slicked back, and it’s all you’ve been thinking about ever since. You thought it made him look model-level good and begged him to do it again, but he was of a different opinion. Now, he had no choice in the matter.

“I can’t go to work like this, I’ll look like a joke. There has to be something else!”

“This is the only thing I want.”

He sighed, shoulders sinking as his whole body deflated. “You’re absolutely dreadful.”

You planted a sloppy, exaggerated kiss on his furrowed brows and continued combing the gel into his hair. “And you are my favorite know-it-all.”

-

visual aid (tumblr wouldn't let me insert it ugh)

-

taglist: @ellesgreenaway @suburban--gothic @sturmmhond @ssa-sarahsunshine @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @blondefrnk @andreasworlsboring101 @ssa-m-187 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @s1utformgg @reidgifs @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @you-sunshine @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit

broken tags: @iamonlyhereforcriminalmindsthings

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid insert #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds self insert #mgg #criminal minds #my fic #pinned

[turtleybeachin]

Burnout in the Devildom: Luke's Chapter

(re-post to share entire fic on tumblr)

Pairing: None. Luke and GN MC friendship Rating: G Word Count: 2.3k Tags: Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Luke Definitely Not Being Afraid of Demons, chihuahuas

You’ve been working hard in the Devildom. Classes are intense, especially when it feels like you’re having to play catch-up just to have basic understandings of things everyone else knows innately. Add to that living with seven avatars of sin who can’t go more than six hours without some sort of catastrophe, and somehow you’re always dragged into the middle of their chaos to sort things out and be their big sibling despite being the actual baby of the entire world?

You’re exhausted. The sort of exhaustion that does not just go away after a good night’s rest and an eye mask and a glass of human-world wine. The sort of exhaustion that starts sapping the life out of everything you do, everything you touch, until you feel like you’re just going through the motions and always one inconvenience away from a complete meltdown.

LUKE:

If you weren't one of his very best friends and he wasn't your guardian angel who was very worried about your well-being, Luke would be stomping his foot and proudly declaring an I told you so! to Simeon right now.

From the start, he'd said that humans being brought to the Devildom was a terrible idea. Why, even worse that one human was being forced to live with seven of them! Seven of the worst of them!

It had clearly all been a very sneaky wicked plan of these evil demons to lure angels into a false sense of security and humans to their deaths! 

And now look at you! You were clearly not doing okay! He wasn't sure what they'd done to you, but they'd obviously done something. As your guardian angel, he was going to get to the bottom of it! 

Despite Simeon's insistence he not force himself into the middle of things, he chased after you one day as you left the cafeteria. His guardian followed behind in a way that was either Default Angelic Observance or specifically Guardian of a Tiny Angel Observance (you couldn't quite decide which was more correct).

Cornered by a small desperately pouting angel, you're forced into the cutest interrogation the Devildom has ever seen. What's wrong, MC? And don't say 'Nothing', he can tell something is wrong! What sort of guardian angel would he be if he couldn't even tell when a human was troubled, eh?

You're normally very upbeat and chatty and always wanting to hear about his day, but you've been getting pretty quiet and he can tell you're not really listening most of the time, and you've been more sensitive lately to everyone's moods. And when the brothers start acting up (as they ALWAYS do), you just seem so heavy and upset and distressed. You don't laugh or scold them or put them in their places anymore, MC!

You attempt to appease him with a 'Nothing serious', but as soon as the 'noth' gets out your mouth he's interjecting again.

"It's probably all these demons, they can't be good for you! Constantly surrounded by their nastiness!"

(Simeon tuts from behind him, that ever-patient and fond smile on his face as he gently calls out the little angel's stereotyping.)

As much as you know he means well, you also know he won't really understand. On one hand, you aren't sure if angels and demons even suffer the same sort of brain-wiring-nonsense that leads to depression and anxiety and burnout and various neurodiversity among humans; on the other hand, even if angels and demons do get that, you know childhood is universal enough in not knowing how to handle it.

So you sigh deeply and offer him a smile that only makes his brow furrow deeper, and you try to explain in simple terms:  you're tired, you're overwhelmed with all that's on your plate, you're frustrated by the way things just constantly repeat no matter what you do differently. And yes, Luke, you know you should try to relax more, but sometimes with humans that's not as easy as it should be. 

Sometimes you can't find the energy to do anything at all, no matter how much it might relax you. Sometimes the very act of choosing how to relax is too difficult.

He's worried, but more than that, you can tell he's got that determined little spark. It's the same look he gets when one of the brothers suggests he is too young or too small to handle something. It's cute when it's aimed at them, but it's a little frightening to be on the receiving end.

"Fine! Leave it to me, MC! I'll take care of everything so all you've got to do is be there and be relaxed!"

Before you can protest this, he's already trotting back to Simeon and tugging his guardian with him back down the hall. The older angel is laughing and shoots a look over his shoulder that seems to convey apologetic amusement. And you're not entirely sure what you've just gotten yourself into.

A text that evening confirms your angelic itinerary for the weekend:  'I'll come get you 9AM Saturday. Don't worry about anything, MC! I've got everything under control.'

(A follow-up text in your group chat with the two celestials is only slightly more helpful, as Simeon suggests you wear something comfortable and make sure your D.D.D. is fully charged.)

By Friday night, you're a mix of weary uncertainty and determined optimism. You know Luke is excited and you know you always enjoy spending time with him, but you're feeling like you're the one who is thousands of years old. (It's hard to be taken seriously when you make jokes about 'kids these days' and 'getting old', because everyone around you always bursts into bewildered laughter that you think you're not an infant.) 

Before you know it, it's Saturday morning and Luke is at the front door. You can hear Mammon and Asmodeus taking turns teasing the poor thing ("Oho, did you manage to shake off your collar? Hold still, lemme get a picture, we'll put up lost dog posters!" and "Oooooh~ look at the little man here for a big date! Awww! Here, let me fix your hat~") and his indignant squawking draws the rest of the brothers to come skulking out to witness the spectacle.

When he sees you come around the corner though, he perks up and swats at the brothers to get out of his way. He greets you with such enthusiasm and excitement that you can't help the little smile and trickle of secondhand happiness as you join him and make your escape from the whining of jealous needy demons left behind. 

MC, he planned an entire weekend for you. He's even got an itinerary! (Solomon helped him write it out.) Today you're going to hit up all the best shops and bakeries and markets, there's the aquarium to go look at fish because he knows how soothing it is to stare into big watery tanks, there's a little concert being put on in the park by some local amateur musicians that could be fun to walk and listen to, he's even got times scheduled in for sitting and resting your feet! And that's just day one!

You were not at all prepared for an entire schedule for the day and you have the immediate thought that it reminds you of Lucifer, but you know saying such a thing would not be appreciated so you keep it to yourself and let him grab your hand as you start walking (which he insists is for your sake, and certainly not because he's in any way uncomfortable walking around the Devildom without Simeon or Solomon beside him).

And as much as you felt exhausted at the thought of going out, you realize it's not so bad as you walk together and he chatters on and on in that way children do, telling you all about things he's experienced and thoughts he's had and new things he's learned. At the first stop of the day, you spend an hour looking at magical kitchen gadgets and picking out cute three-legged crow cookie cutters. 

You also notice some little dog-shaped cookie cutters and hover near them debating if he'd think it was cute or take offense, but before you can decide he trots over and excitedly points out that they kind of look like chihuahuas and grabs a set. You snap a picture on your D.D.D. to send to Simeon and Solomon quickly before grabbing a set of cat-shaped cookie cutters and hurrying to catch up to your guardian angel.

Luke takes you through the market and shares tricks Barbatos showed him for picking out the freshest Devildom fruits, choosing some to make jam with later and proudly correcting your form as you try to help. You don't tell him how Satan already showed you these tricks once before. He's so excited to be teaching you something and, to be fair, you tend to leave the produce to whoever is on grocery duty with you.

He takes you to the arcade where he challenges you to racing games that he always loses but is laughing and enjoying regardless. He takes you through the park, gripping your hand tightly so that no demons get any ideas about you (he's definitely the one protecting you here!), and sits with you in the grass near a little stage to enjoy the music. 

When a pair of incubi take the stage, you suddenly realize you're super hungry and tug the little angel to join you in a quick retreat to find lunch. It's probably just your imagination that you can practically hear Simeon's bright tinkling laughter as you put your hands over Luke's ears when the music starts up and sounds a bit too heavy of a beat to be lyrics he needs to hear.

He takes you to his favorite little café for lunch, a small little place tucked out of the way that isn't famous for anything but does make delicious little sandwiches with fruit and honey and nut butter that is more dessert than meal (and you promise not to tell Simeon, it's your secret, and you agree enthusiastically that it has all the important parts of any proper meal so it counts).

Your afternoon is spent at the aquarium, sitting on the floor in front of tanks and being mesmerized together by the sights of colorful, huge, magical devildom fish. Luke's enthusiasm and awe makes you feel freer with your own, and for a while you lose yourselves in the watery world. All thoughts of chaotic brothers and upcoming exams disappear. You discuss how the prettiest fish are also the deadliest, and when Luke admits that the Devildom is a very pretty and fun place you agree.

He appreciates that you don't tease him or point out his flustered blush burning his face. 

By the time he walks you home, you're both exhausted but smiling. He's chattering excitedly about his Day Two plans:  you're coming over to Purgatory Hall for the day and doing puzzles with him and Solomon, and you're going to use all your new kitchen gadgets together to try a new recipe Barbatos showed him last week, and there's this trend on TokTik he wants to recreate, and-!

And you're exhausted, but for the first time in a while it's that good exhaustion. That 'had a long day doing pleasant things and feeling like I actually accomplished something' exhaustion. It's the exhaustion of your life going off-script but for once not resulting in a near-death experience for you or anyone you love.

You give Luke a big hug and he promises to text when he gets back to Purgatory Hall safely-- for your sake, not his, because he's definitely fine and it's no big deal to walk alone he's a very accomplished angel you know. The crowd of smirking demons at the door have him puffing out his chest and glaring and loudly insisting that the Devildom isn't scary at all and these demons are nothing but pests, and you really must be spending a lot of time with Simeon lately the way you're perfectly imagining his bark of laughter.

"Actually," Lucifer says from the doorway, "Simeon brought over a bag earlier in case you might wish to spend the night."

Mammon and Satan take that as their cue to make sly commentary about how late it's getting and how scary it might be to walk home all alone, and you try very hard not to smile as the tiny angel stomps his way up the steps to the house huffing how he's only staying because he doesn't want MC to worry after all the nonsense they're putting into your head about it being dangerous. 

You spend the evening having a proper little sleepover in a way that reminds you of your own childhood. There are cookies fresh-baked and eaten before they can cool (with one batch set aside for the brothers, and you shoot a look over Luke's shoulder as Mammon notices the small dog shape and snerks in preparation for a joke), and you make a blanket fort on the floor of your room to hide under together. You watch a scary movie together while hugging stuffed animals, and you both laugh at one another's fright as your horror becomes more entertaining than the film. 

You whisper secrets back and forth. He admits he's maybe a little scared of all the demons still. You admit it's hard to have to keep this part of your life separate and secret from your life before. 

He fidgets, and then gives you a very serious look when he says he understands. He's a little scared of all these demons, but he also likes quite a few, and it feels a little wrong to admit it back in the Celestial Realm. At least he has Simeon, though. 

You have him. You know that, right MC? He might not be able to visit you at home, but you can call him! You could video call even! And bake together, or just talk. It doesn't feel like much, and he's sorry he can't be a better guardian angel, but he'll do anything he can for you. 

Curled under the blanket tent on the floor, you give him a bright smile. It's more than he realizes, this simple gesture of friendship. 

And as you both slowly drift off, words trailing away and the flickering lights from the TV lulling you to sleep, sprawled on the floor with stuffed animals and cookie crumbs around you, you're comforted by the thought that perhaps you aren't so old after all. Maybe you are still a bit of a child in the grand scheme of things, and maybe that's a pretty wonderful thing to be.

#obey me luke #omswd luke #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #my writing #omswd fluff #obey me fluff

[ellsbclls]

you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there??? 

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut. 

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh,  enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well. 

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub, 

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader blurb #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #something about this man fucking the bad day out of you 🥰 #what a gentleman #ANOTHER 3K DOOZY?????? #WHA T TH E FUCK??? #mine*

[thesvnsins]

Make you late |myg|

▪Outline: 'It's Sunday and he is running late for an unscheduled meeting! You want to have him but you have to persuade him for the things you want'

©️ @lataes

▪Pairing: Yoongi × f!reader

▪Genre: Smut, fluff, domestic!AU, nonidol!AU, relationship!AU

▪Wordcount: 1.4k

▪Warnings: dom!yoongi, switch!reader, seducing, explicit sexual content - oral (m!receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, aftercare. They are having a quickie so...yeah.

▪A/n: Hello guys! I hope you like this fic. Please ignore any typos and/or mistakes. Recommendations and opinions are always welcome. Enjoy! 💜

You are annoyed, very annoyed.

Today is a Sunday and it is supposed to be your day. It is supposed to be all relaxing and fun with soft kisses and light touches not running around the room trying to find your wallet, already late for your meeting which wasn't supposed to be on today's agenda.

Yoongi. He is running around the room at seven in the morning, grumbling about how this meeting is important for the company and how it got scheduled at the last moment. You are just sitting on the bed watching him fuss around.

"Yoongi..." you say softly but he doesn't listen to you, eyes already fixed on tying his tie around his neck.

"Yoongi" you try again but to no avail. He isn't even listening to you. He is just focused on how late he is and how he can't even tie a fucking knot.

"YOONGI!" you shout which finally catches his attention.

"What?" he says.

"Stop fussing"

"I am not fussing"

"You are and it's annoying me"

"Well I am sorry for the inconvenience, Ma'am" he replies and you know from his tone that he is also irritated and also from the emphasis on the word, Ma'am.

"And why can't I tie a single knot!" he shoves the tie around, frustrated. Finally giving up, he hangs his head low and releases a sigh.

You get up from the bed and go to him, gently hooking your hands against his neck and massaging your thumb below his earlobe, his sweet spot which helps him relax.

"Stop fussing" you whisper to him and this time he seems to get the message.

Your annoyance doesn't matter now. He is stressed and if you will start giving him an attitude, he will explode. You need to help him.

"It's just I-" he starts.

"I know" you mumble "I know you weren't ready for this. I know how important this is. I know you have to go. I know that you are already a little late. I know, but you have to relax."

He gives a low hum in his throat, his nerves are already calming. He loves it when your touch automatically makes him feels safe.

"When will the meeting start?" you ask him.

"8 o'clock" he replies.

You look at the time, 7:15 a.m. It's still a little while. It takes him half an hour to reach his office, so if your math is correct, there are still fifteen minutes left for him to relax. And you know just how to make him feel good.

But you can't instantly jump into it. You know he will push you away in a second when he will realize what you are trying to do. You have to slowly make his mind about it.

"How long will the meeting last?" you ask intentionally, your hand slipping from his neck to his shaggy tie.

"About an hour" he responds, shoulder already relaxing and you give a quiet hum. You start to undo his tangled tie and start from the beginning.

All this while Yoongi is looking at you intently, his eyes not leaving yours whereas you are focused on his tie.

"I am sorry" he says after you are done with your work.

"You don't have to"

"I know I wasn't supposed to go but-" his sentence cuts off as you join your lips to his in a tender kiss. You move your lips slowly, almost like dancing, his fitting yours perfectly.

You stop the kiss as you start adjusting his collar. Gently, taking him in and you realise that he hasn't put on his cologne. He likes the scent of it as do you. A faded husky smell. An idea pops into your mind. You open the shelf and take out the bottle.

Opening it, you put some of it on yourself. On your neck, on your wrist. Slowly massaging the liquid on yourself, you settle your wrists to his chest, rubbing it there.

He is wearing a simple white shirt and you can see the outline of his firm nipples. You know you can persuade him for a quickie. Your hands go around his shoulders and you caress your scented neck to his. Transfering the cologne to his body.

"I am getting late...." Yoongi says but doesn't do much to extract himself from you.

"I know" you say.

"Y/n" he moans your name as you palm his already hard cock. He knows what you are doing but it is feeling too good to resist.

"I can help you relax baby, only if you will let me" you say.

You can see that he is struggling to make a decision but one look at the clock makes him change his mind.

"Please" he says breathly. Your ministrations are still going and he is enjoying every bit, it clearly shows on his face.

"Please what?" you ask.

"Please help me" he mumbles and you kiss him again, this time more roughly.

You deliberately open his shirt and tug at his pink nipples, he tries to bite back a moan but a lick on the other one makes him groan.

You sink on your knees, his eyes already blown up and hooded. You can only imagine what you look like right now, just woke up from bed and horny.

You open up his belt and slide his pants and boxers down his knees, his grith popping out in an instant. His pre-cum is leaking making you lick your lips.

You stroke him a few times and then you take him in your mouth. You're velvety softness and warmth makes him buck his hips. You start to suck him off in earnest.

You drag your tongue over him once, making his breath hitch, and then taking his cock again. You start to bob your head and he holds onto the vanity for support.

You change your position and take his full length into your mouth and he jolts from pleasure above you.

"Good girl" he praises you and you speed your movements.

His worry about the meeting is long gone as the only thing he can concentrate on is you.

After a few more bobs, he takes hold of your shoulder blades and motions for you to get up.

"But you didn't-" you start but his lips slam into yours in a ragged kiss.

"I need to be inside you" he says and turns you around so now you are the one holding onto the vanity.

He takes his cock, strokes it a few times and then slams into you, making you both moan. You have already been wet for a while now so it is easy for him to slide himself inside of you. He grabs your hair and commands you to stay still and that is what you do.

He starts moving back and forth, thrusting into you and your knees buckle with every single push.

"Ngh, aah, Yoongi!" You moan as he takes hold of your clothed nipples and tugs at them just like you did to him.

His thrusts are more rough and harsh now and you know he is reaching his climax and so are you. A few more thrusts and he is falling off the edge.

You mewl as he spurts his cum into you and you reach your climax as well, coating his cock with your orgasm.

It takes a while for both of you to calm down. After a while, you take some napkins and clean him up helping him with his tie.

"I love you and I am sorry" Yoongi says.

"Hmm, I will accept your sorry only when you promise to take this up again when you return" you say, smirking and see a fond smile forming on his lips too.

"This is a promise I am willing to make. And I intend to keep my promises" he says and leaves the room.

You look back at the clock, 7:30 a.m. it shows.

You know you are in for a long day and you are definitely not complaining.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts #make you late #min yoongi smut #bts smut #dom yoongi #sub reader #myg smut

[ladyvesuvia]

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@firewhiskyss: 🎢 harry with either “That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?” or “I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.” because my heart can’t handle angst rn 😋☝🏼|| for my 300 followers celebration

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Muggle!Reader

Summary: Being stuck in the elevator is bad enough, but being with a stranger makes matters worse.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: not proofread, light cursing, elevators, power outage + let me know if i missed anything

A/N: too bad u cant handle angst i could’ve found ways to sneak that into this hehe jk anywaaayy ok i felt uninspired sorry hydagjih

Harry held a bag he did not own in his hand. His shirt was a bit muddied and moist on one side, but he didn’t mind. He stood in front of the eighth door he’ll be knocking on in hopes it was the owner of the bag. It still wasn’t, though.

Instead, a woman his age greeted him with a smile. She was pretty, sure, but she wasn’t what he was looking for. He apologized for interrupting and went ahead to knock on the ninth door.

It swung open, and Harry let out a long sigh.

AN HOUR OR SO AGO

“Hold the door!” said a voice from the lobby. Harry pressed the open door button in haste, the doors doing as it was told to do. The figure rushed inside, hair dripping wet on the tiled floor of the elevator. He kept his eyes trained to floor as she moved his way to press the button to the eighth floor. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

The girl next to him began to dry her drenched hair with a purple towel, patting herself dry. Harry risked a brief glance in her direction — she was wearing a floral one-piece swimsuit which she layered with denim shorts. When she caught his eye, they both inched away from each other uncomfortably. To their relief, the elevator started to move up.

Nobody seemed to be coming in just yet. After all, it was six p.m. and most were probably outside biding their time for night swimming. Harry, on the other hand, just came down to get a box of doughnuts for Mr. Weasley, who he can only assume was changing into his swimming trunks in their hotel room. The rest were probably doing the same.

Harry was waiting for it to reach the ninth floor when the elevator lurched to a stop on the seventh. While Harry refused to meet eye contact with the girl next to him, she was busy trying to convince herself it was alright.

It’s okay, she thought to herself as she made a show of more aggressive patting of her hair in more of an attempt to calm her drumming heartbeat than to really dry it. Another passenger was probably just entering.

But she knew better, they both knew better. The lights above them began to blink in an inconsistent manner. To her dismay, the doors did not open nor did they continue to go up.

They both turned to each other with a bewildered look on their faces. Harry made to reach for his wand, but held himself back. Then the lights went out along with the tiny ones coming from the buttons. Harry froze. He heard the stranger next to him shift, probably wrapping the towel around herself. She had stopped pretending to pat herself now. Harry watched as her as she dropped her bag down on the wet tiled floor and pulled out a bulky gray block from it. Harry stood there awkwardly as if a statue while she kept on fumbling with the block thingy he now recognized was a flip phone. A light glowed from it, her face looking similar to that of a ghost.

She pressed it against her ear, but it seemed to not be working. She then raised her hand higher in hopes of getting better reception to no avail. Harry cleared his throat. The girl’s head whipped to his direction. “The emergency call button,” said Harry.

“I know,” she spat, reaching out for the buttons. But instead of clicking that particular button, she clicked the button for opening doors. Harry noticed she seemed to be shivering a bit even with the towel.

The girl was still dripping, albeit lesser now. She kept pressing the open door repetitively with her wrinkly fingers. Harry remained stiff, unsure if he should use his wand. “What floor are we currently?”

Taken aback, Harry didn’t respond for a couple of seconds until she reached out to his shoulder to check on him. “Oh, er — seventh, I think.”

He then heard her click a button he supposed was for the seventh, then a bunch of other buttons the next.

“We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die. . . .” Harry found that he preferred the constant clicking noises from the buttons over her constant reminder of their ‘impending doom.’ It was like fourth year all over again when their Divination teacher Professor Trelawney kept telling him he was going to die an early death. She kept chanting to herself in hysterics.

“Have you tried . . . the emergency call button? The one with the bell?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” said the girl. To his surprise, she picked up her bag again and aimed it at the elevator door before swinging it right in the middle. She then started banging her fist hard on the doors, pounding. “Help! I’m stuck! I mean, we’re stuck! Hello? I’m wi —”

“There’s a press to call thing here,” pointed Harry.

“Good,” she remarked as she practically run to it when the elevator made a creaking noise from above. The girl let out a shriek as she fell backwards and pulled Harry down with her. “Lie flat or we’re both gonna die!”

“Why — ?”

“JUST DO IT.” He did. Both of them sprawled their legs and he felt the damp floor wet his back a bit, but he was still weighing the pros and cons of pulling out his wand. Of course, if it were up to him, he’d pull it out in a heartbeat but the Weasleys’ vacation was on the line and he couldn’t jeopardize that by—

The elevator whined, and it felt as if it was moving a bit. “We’re gonna plummet to do our death!”

“Calm down,” said Harry, hardly knowing why he even bothered in the first place because he didn’t know what to say next especially with the girl’s expectant eyes on him. He thought of what Hermione had told them when they first came here, who then attempted to calm the others down about their feelings on Muggle Elevators. “Er — elevators are one of the safest ways of transportation with only the fatality rate of zero point zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-something-fifteen percent per trip.”

“Oh, shut up, stranger,” cried the girl. “There’s still a fifteen in that end. We’re gonna die, accept that!”

“You seem to be the one having troubles accepting that,” argued Harry back. She shot him a glare.

“I haven’t written my will and we’re gonna die. You see — you hear that rumble? We’re slowly falling down and we’re gonna die. I should have — should have taken the stairs. Please, please, please let me live! I swear I’ll start eating vegetables! This is it stranger, we’re gonna die.”

“That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“We’re about to die and you have time to think? Lie with your chunkiest bits on the floor to increase our chance of survival.”

He wanted to argue, but he resorted to inching further away from her and stretching his limbs awkwardly.

“Damn it, you shouldn’t have kept the door open!”

“How is that my fault? If anything, I was being nice,” said Harry.

“Being nice? You just sentenced me to my death and now I’m dying in this cramped space in a swimsuit and shorts that aren’t even for swimming!”

Surprisingly, the elevator whined to a stop. They remained on the floor for half a minute. Eventually, she was the first to stand up. Dusting herself and not meeting Harry’s eye, she smashed the bell button with her finger. It buzzed for a few seconds before a guy’s voice answered.

“Hello,” said the operator. The intercom seemed to be having troubles.

“Uh, hello, hi,” replied the girl.

“So are you currently stuck in the elevator?” Harry could hear the girl turn to him in the dark and call up the look of utter disbelief, as if wanting to reply, ‘No shit.’

“Yes, very much.”

“Okay, are you alone?” asked the operator.

“Unfortunately, no. I’m with . . .” she trailed off, turning to Harry with prolonged contemplation. “With stranger. I’m with stranger. A stranger. With a stranger, I mean.”

“May I know your names please?”

“Uh, sure? I’m . . . Papier Matchen and this is —”

“Har — Neville. Neville Longbottom, sir,” answered Harry. The operator did not respond. “Neville Longbottom.”

“Are you both guests?” asked the operator.

“Yes,” said [Y/N]. “Wait, are you a guest?”

“I am a guest,” said Harry stiffly.

“He’s a guest,” she added, as if in an attempt to keep whatever morale is left high. The operator didn’t respond again. “Hey, uh, operator? It would really help if you didn’t keep disappearing on us.” She chuckled nervously.

“What floor are you currently on?” said the voice with a bit more static.

“Uh, well,” she said, turning to Harry, “last time we checked, it was on the seventh but it moved down a bit and we might be in-between floors seven and six.”

“Alright, thank you. We’re currently experiencing a city wide power outage, and it appears that the back-up battery in Elevator Three has not yet been replaced since the last brownout. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Yeah, you should be sorry. So, uh, is any of your authorities gonna come and pick us up?”

No response. She pressed the button again. And again. And again. No sound came, not even static. “Hello? Hi?”

When no one responded again, she slumped to the floor once more, her hair still wet but no longer dripping. “Sit down,” she said, pointing at the spot right next to her. Harry obliged. “You can sit across, I don’t care. I know I smell like chlorine right now.”

Harry sat across from her, leaning back against the wall. She didn’t talk either. This went on for about five minutes until Harry had the urge to do something or at least say something.

“I’m afraid I’ve been thinking,” he started.

“A dangerous pastime, you should be afraid. Go ahead,” she said, gesturing a finger gun his way.

“Shouldn’t we try to get out of this?”

“Who are you, Bruce Willis? Need I remind you that you are Nev . . . Bottom?”

“That’s not actually my name,” said Harry.

“Same, I just said Papier Matchen off the top of my head. Like papier mache but witchy. My name’s actually pretty good, I think. I’m [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Oh, wait, nope, don’t like it.”

“I think it’s good.” [Y/N] turned on her phone and shone it around until it landed on his face. Harry realized he had kept the box of doughnuts in the corner when she made them sit down. “I’m Harry,” he said when she finally turned off the phone.

[Y/N] turned it on again and directed it to the box of doughnuts. “Are those doughnuts to make us super tiny like Alice in Wonderland or something?”

“Oh, those are for my friend’s father.”

“Let’s eat it, I’m hungry,” said [Y/N].

“It’s for my friend’s father.”

“You have to realize that that is so not a good enough point. We’re trapped in an elevator with no means of communication with that musty man and eating that is the only thing we can do. Unless you want to do something else?”

“Er — What?” choked Harry, clearing his throat. “Okay, fine, uh, doughnuts.”

She made a triumphant sound Harry couldn’t explain, but paid it no mind as she reached out to grab the box of doughnuts from the corner. She set it in front of her.

“Hey, these are from my aunt’s bakery.”

“They are?” asked Harry.

“Yeah! The one across the street from here?” asked [Y/N], to which Harry nodded. “Ooh, you got the one with Oreos? Nice! I helped design those.”

“Okay, uh, can I have some?”

“I thought it was against your will to take some of these from your ’friend’s dad?’” teased [Y/N], but she handed him a doughnut anyway. Harry began to eat just like she did. “Sorry I forced you to lie down here. . . .”

She looked at him, waiting for something. What? Harry furrowed his brows, confused.

“Sorry, I mean, what’s your name again?” asked [Y/N], hints of the chocolate stuck between her teeth and some on her lips.

“Harry Potter,” replied Harry, who debated against himself whether or not he should point it out. After all, she seemed to be having a good time and they just started to lose the tension. “You’ve got uh, something on your, you know.”

“I know,” said [Y/N], but she didn’t do anything about it. “Anyway, can you believe six and seven are lucky numbers yet here we are, stuck in the wretched elevator between them?”

“No, that’s why I don’t really believe in those . . . things.”

“I’d say that’s insulting, but I’m dripping in my swimwear while I’m stuck in the elevator with a total stranger, so fair enough.”

Harry didn’t know how long they were talking, but it just went on. He was pretty sure there were times he even laughed. Harry reached out to grab another doughnut when he realized she was holding it as well. They both let it drop back to the box.

“Oh, no, it’s yours,” said [Y/N].

“It’s okay, you can have it,” said Harry.

“I ate more than you did, you can have it. Just go,” said [Y/N].

“You can —”

“You know what? Let’s just split it.”

[Y/N] ripped it in half, handing him the bigger slice. Just when Harry was going to offer to exchange, she swallowed it whole.

“Too late, I ate my half already.”

“I can see that,” said Harry. He began to eat his own half, savoring it with three more bites.

“Sorry I smell like chlorine again.”

“Eh, I don’t know, it’s kind of growing on me,” said Harry. “I shouldn’t have said that, sorry.”

“On a good day, that would sound like an insult but it’s anything but a good day, so, thank you, I guess.”

The two shared a laugh (and most definitely three) the entire time when the lights turned on. They could see each other clearly now. There was no denying they felt quite vulnerable — like finally meeting an friend you only send letters and emails to for the first time, but she smiled to make it feel lighter.

Suddenly, it started to move up again, [Y/N] kept them seated just in case it started plummeting again. It didn’t, though. It opened on the seventh, as the indicator told them so.

The intercom buzzed once more and different operator spoke. None of them stood up.

“Hi, power’s slowly being restored. How’s everyone?”

“We’re good,” said Harry. [Y/N] smiled in the shadows, tossing the towel in the corner. “Wait, you’re — er — good, right?”

“Yeah, surprisingly so,” she said.

“Good to hear, we’re currently doing the best we can to cater everyone’s needs. Has your, uh, elevator moved yet? Sorry, I’m new here. Anyway, has it?” asked the operator.

“Currently open on the seventh floor, but we’re both going up, all’s good now, don’t worry,” answered [Y/N]. She stood up, taking the towel with her.

“Okay, great, thank you and take care!” said the operator before the intercom buzzed off. Harry and [Y/N] stood there as the elevator door closed shut and began to move up and open again to the eighth.

“So,” started [Y/N], “this is me. My floor, I mean.”

“Right,” said Harry

“Well, I still don’t like elevators and I may or may not ride one ever again so I can’t believe I’d ever say this because it’s hella cheesy but thanks for making it bearable.”

“I feel like I should say, ‘you’re welcome?’” said Harry.

“Oh yeah, you should.”

The door began to close, but Harry pressed the open door button.

“Okay, you’re welcome.” The two shared lighthearted laughter. “Anyway, er — thank you, too. See you around?”

“Yeah, yeah, see you around. Bye.” [Y/N] waved as the doors closed between them and Harry was once again all alone in the elevator.

He noticed what a mess the floor was, and went to pick up the empty box of donuts. His hand went to where he kept his wand to clean up and looked around for cameras and found one tucked in the upper corner. Harry let his hand down and dusted his shirt with his hands when something caught his eye. A beach bag in the corner, resting carelessly.

The door finally opened to the ninth floor. Harry was frozen, looking directly at a long hallway of doors. It took a few seconds until it whirred and shut close. Not knowing what to do, Harry picked up the bag and swung it over his shoulder.

He tapped his foot as he waited for the elevator to go up to the twelfth floor until it began going down again. He pressed the button to the ninth floor again.

Ten.

Eleven. A couple his age entered, probably about to go down. Narrowed eyes landed on him and his dirty shirt and pants, but he paid them no mind.

Twelve. The couple started to talk about their plans on the honeymoon tomorrow. Harry busied himself by playing with the straps of the beach bag. He realized just now it had her name inside one of the straps lazily written with a sharpie. [Y/N], it stated.

Eleven again.

Ten again.

Nine again. The door opened, but he did not step out. Of course, the couple began to eye him with suspicion now as he reached out to press the button to the eighth floor.

Eight. When he stepped out, he heard the hushed but relieved sighs from both of the other two behind him as the elevator proceeded to close shut and go down.

Harry knocked on the first door. A man in his pajamas answered. Harry muttered an apology as he walked away to try the second door. He heard the first door swing shut.

The second door was equipped with a sign on the doorknob saying, ‘Do not Disturb.’ So, of course, Harry moved on to the third. He heard loud sounds of children playing inside. When he knocked, a tired woman carrying a toddler in her arms answered. Harry apologized once more and moved on.

Harry’s shoulder was aching, so he let the bag down and simply held it in his hands.

The fourth door was answered by a middle-aged man holding a glass of wine.

The fifth door’s knob held the same message as the the second — ‘Do not Disturb.’

As you may recall, Harry held a bag he did not own in his hand. His shirt was a bit muddied and moist on one side, but he didn’t mind. He stood in front of the eighth door he’ll be knocking on in hopes it was the owner of the bag. It still wasn’t, though.

Instead, a woman his age greeted him with a smile. She was pretty, sure, but she wasn’t what he was looking for. He apologized for interrupting and went ahead to knock on the ninth door.

It swung open, and Harry let out a long sigh.

An older woman greeted him with a pleasant smile. “Hello, dear,” she said. He took a shot and asked if she knew anyone by the name of [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Unfortunately though, she did not.

Harry finally made it to the last door. He knocked once more, holding the bag tighter now. A little kid answered, with her parents and siblings in the background, eating pancakes. They did not know of someone named [Y/N] [Y/L/N], either.

Shoulders slumping, Harry made his way back to the elevator. He pressed the up button.

“Excuse me?” called out a voice from behind him. His heart skipped a beat. Wait, don’t skip, he thought to himself.

It still wasn’t her. It was the same girl from the ninth door. “Yes?”

“You’re looking for [Y/N]?” she asked. “[Y/N] [Y/L/N]?”

“Er — yes. Do you know her?” asked Harry.

“Yeah, she’s in the shower. Is that her bag?”

“Oh!” He almost forgot that he was holding it. “Yes, yes it is.”

“I can give it to her,” called out the woman. She closed the door behind her, making her way towards him. When she was close enough, she extended her hand.

The elevator dinged open. Harry was about to hand it over to her, when he decided something else.

“Er — no, uh, I was actually hoping if I could see her.”

She let her hand down, grinning. “You must be Elevadork.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s an inside joke,” said Harry.

“You can wait inside,” said the girl. “I’m Karolina, by the way. She’s just showering because she’s, and I quote, ‘will be too unlovable if smelling like chlorine.’”

Harry chuckled as Karolina led him to their hotel room. It was just like every other room he had seen, then he saw the same towel she had with her just a while ago when they were stuck with only each other’s company.

“He was nice, though. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again. By the way, we’re out of hair conditioner. My hair badly nee — Harry!” [Y/N] tumbled backwards to the bathroom with a different towel wrapped around herself. Harry’s eyes widened, and he turned around.

“He wanted to return your bag and ask you out,” said Karolina.

“That’s not what I actually said,” whispered Harry, turning crimson.

“Honey, trust me, it was definitely what you said,” laughed Karolina, patting him in the back. “You might want to change first.”

“I guess,” added Harry.

[Y/N] rushed to the get her clothes from one of the two beds and ran back to the shower, where she hastily pulled on her shirt and checkered pajama pants.

“She’s done changing, by the way,” said Karolina, patting Harry on the shoulder again as she left to pour iced tea for herself.

[Y/N] led Harry out, earning two thumbs up from Karolina, who was beaming up at the two of them. “How’d you find me?”

“Fate,” said Harry mockingly, as if from a show. She giggled. “I knocked on all the doors in this hallway.”

“To return a bag?”

“Sure, that, too. But mainly to ask if you’d like to get some — er — doughnuts with, uh, me. I really want to bring some up to —”

“Your friend’s dad, right,” [Y/N] cut out. “Are we still taking the elevator?”

“Yeah,” said Harry.

They finally reached the elevator, where they stood side by side.

“Aren’t you going to change first?” asked [Y/N].

“Nope,” said Harry, pressing the down button. He turned to [Y/N], looking at her shirt. “Does that say ‘Treacle Treat?’”

“Yeah, like as in Trick or Treat. See the pumpkin?” She pointed at the bottom part of her shirt.

“Oh, there it is.” The two were laughing even when they stepped into the elevator. They exchanged a knowing glance at the sight of scattered crumbs of doughnuts on the floor, not daring to talk about it in front of one another guest.

As the elevator began to go down, Harry realized he might as well believe in the lucky numbers. After all, if it weren’t for six, seven, and nine, he wouldn’t be here right now standing shoulder up to shoulder with the girl wearing a funky shirt.

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @maybanksslut @hey-there-angels @mrzweasley @gwlvr @booksarealwaysbettersworlds-blog @greenlyblue @henqtic @meiitanoia @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

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