#Feeding each other fruit is mostly a way of telling the other to shut up

[cheerleaderman]

Jarid

They have a grip on my mind ( I have other Ocs you two please let go)

[crimsonophelia]

Can I request for a fluffy friends to lovers fic with Venti and a human gn reader? They’re good friends (but the reader doesn’t know his real identity) and when reader brings up their desire to see a wind wisp in real life Venti decides to surprise them by transforming into his true form and paying them a visit. The reader finds this mysterious little wind wisp at their doorstep and gets excited, takes care of it, and while feeding it apple slices starts talking about how their good friend Venti would love to see them - but oh, he’s less of a friend and more of a crush who I’ve loved for a long time… wait, where did the wisp go? Wait, Venti?! When did you get here?!

featuring: venti x gn!reader

warnings: none

published: june 30, 2021

form: imagine

a/n: thank you for sending this in—i need more venti requests, he’s my baby <3

you could tell that the drink was beginning to hit you hard when you felt your muscles go slack. it was your fourth pint of the night, and although you thought that you could hold your drink fairly well, you could never hold a candle to your bard friend’s seemingly bottomless appetite for wine. venti was on his seventh--or was it eighth?--mug of cider for the night, and was still fairly unfazed, if you consider his usual bumbling amiability to be his default. after a long day of working and whatever it was that venti did in the daytime, you two had decided to meet up at the angel’s share that evening for a drinking night between friends, and to catch up on life and whatever else goes on in the city of mondstadt. 

the night had begun with a mug per person, as you and venti caught up with each other. due to your duties at home, and his rather inconstant job as a traveling musician, it was oftentimes difficult for you and the bard to stay in touch--responsibilities always seemed to get in the way. so, naturally, you took advantage of every opportunity you could get to see venti, one-on-one, and simply talk. after knowing him for quite a while, he really was a delight to talk to, always full of witty riddles and forever knowing the right thing to say at the right time. venti really was quite remarkable. 

he also had the unique talent of contagious alcoholism; after having spent an hour or so drinking and chatting with him, you unwittingly started drinking more than your usual limit, absolutely carried away with whatever small conversation venti had you engaged with at the moment. the conversation had somehow strayed into the topic of myths and legends of mondstadt. venti was speaking of some strange conspiracies surrounding the origin of the anemo hypostasis up in the mountains, and as the alcohol began to break down your proper judgement, you began to go on and on about how you, as a child, dreamed of seeing an elusive wind wisp. 

you had heard stories about the boy revolutionary, armed with his bow and his words, accompanied by a little white wind wisp, leading mondstadt’s journey to freedom. the story had enchanted you when you were young, and clearly you still had not given up hope of meeting a similar wind wisp. perhaps it would bring you the same joy and power to change your life for the better, just like it did for the hero of old mondstadt. 

venti listened to your reminiscing closely, looking at you with a quizzical look of interest. your intoxicated state made it so that you didn’t notice the look on his face as if he was plotting something, but, to be fair, venti’s poker face was notable for its impregnability. the night ended with him having to walk you home, propping your arm over his shoulders so that you wouldn’t trip and fall on the cobblestone streets. the last thing you remembered was him tucking you into bed, and singing you one of his funny little songs.

the next morning, you woke with a pounding headache and the bright noon sun peeking through your shutters. archons, was it so late already? you pulled yourself out of bed, trying not to stumble, distracted by the pounding in your head. you had a long list of things to do today that you had to complete, and you severely regretted drinking so much and so late with that damned bard last night (though you could never really hate him--he was too adorable).

slipping on whatever clothing closest to your bed and sluggishly following through with your daily morning routine, you got ready to head out the door to water the carrots and potatoes in your backyard. as you pulled open the door, prepared to step out and face the piercing daylight, you caught yourself as you almost stepped on the little figure at your doorstep. lying there on its side, was a wind wisp. yes, just like the ones you had read about all your childhood and you had mused about endlessly last night. it had its little eyes shut, sleeping probably, its delicate little form curled up on the step. 

you were bewildered, partially at the coincidence of it all, but mostly by the rarity of what had occurred before your eyes. a wind wisp, something most people never even saw once in their lifetimes, suddenly showing up right at your doorstep after you had talked about your desire to meet one just the night before. crouching down, you scooped up its little body in your hands. the little thing began to wake, hands rubbing its eyes sleepily, as it made a chirping noise. it was ridiculously adorable. 

“hey there, little guy”, you cooed. “what are you doing here?”

as it began to regain consciousness, the wisp floated up off your hands, small gusts of air emitting from its form, and it flew up to nuzzle against your face. it felt like a warm breeze brushing against your cheek, and you heard it chirping in your ear. 

you giggled. “well aren’t you the cutest little thing!” you raised your hand to pet it, and it made a little gurgling noise, leaning into your touch. something about its mannerisms felt so familiar, almost like something you had known in a past life perhaps, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. its presence was just endlessly comforting, even though you had only known it for a few minutes. 

reaching into your pantry, you pulled out some apples you had picked the day before, and cut it into small slices. the wisp watched you eagerly as you went about your business, like it could understand everything you did. holding up a thin slice to the wisp, a little hole in its void of a face opened up and enveloped the slice whole. a little shocked but certainly entertained, you gave it an approving head pat. 

as the day went on, the little wisp continued to follow you throughout mondstadt as you ran your errands. you went outside, behind your house, to take care of the crops you were growing. as you watered your plants, the little wisp helped you disperse the water more efficiently, blowing a gentle wind from your watering can so that you didn’t have to walk as far to water the faraway plants. you go to pick some apples and sunsettias nearby, and the little fellow would fly up to the hard-to-reach fruits and throw himself against them to knock them loose from the branches, right where you could catch them. you worried a little bit whether he was hurting himself by doing so, but he appeared to be pleased just to assist you, and he certainly was not ashamed to take a few bites from the fruits of your shared labor at the end of the day. 

considering how efficiently your errands were completed today, of course all thanks to the helper you acquired that morning, you thought it would be nice to use the time you had in the late afternoon to take the wisp out for a picnic dinner at windrise to show your appreciation. gathering some of the fruit the both of you had collected, and some sandwiches you made, you placed it all in a little wicker basket and set off for the great tree with your companion upon your shoulder. 

upon arriving, you laid down a gingham blanket in the shade of the great tree of windrise, just a moments away from the ancient statue of barbatos. you felt like a child again, remembering the summers of carefree exploration, tunneling through the thickets in the forest, or catching frogs by the creek, or tumbling down the hills by the sea. and now, a wisp joined you, taking you back to the memories of those years, when life was much simpler.

you couldn’t help but to think of venti, the bard, the friend, who had brought you such comfort through difficult times, whose music, like the warm touch of the wisp, reminded you of home and the beauty that life could bring. your companion was now feasting comedically fast on the food you had brought along, swallowing up fruits whole, and chewing for several moments before helping itself to another. you chuckled and gave it a pat. “greedy little fellow, aren’t you?” you couldnt help but to think venti would have loved to meet the wind wisp, considering his love for nature and all sorts of fauna, and considering the small resemblance between himself and the creature.

“stick around for a bit and i might introduce you to my friend, the bard”, you told it, not really caring that it probably couldn’t understand you. “im actually not sure that we are friends, to be honest. these days we rarely see each other but...” you trailed off, distracted by the sound of the breeze through the branches. the wisp stopped eating and watched you intently. “well”, you began. “i sometimes find myself wishing him and i were more than friends. maybe not lovers, not right away but... i just know that dearly. i cannot be sure that he feels the same, but that is of no matter.” you pat the wisp’s little head again. “if i can make him happy, even just as friends, that is enough for me.”

out of nowhere, a strong wind blew past you, knocking over your wicker basket and sending it flying several feet away. agitated, you scrambled up to chase after it, finally grasping it before it could fly too far. you were perplexed—where in the world could such a strong wind have come from? the sky was clear, and there were no clouds obstructing the setting sun. how odd, you thought to yourself.

you turned around to bring the basket back to your sitting spot, but to your surprise, the wisp was gone. no, in its place was now your bard friend, venti, sitting there on the blanket like he had been there all along. how in the world did he get here without you noticing, and where in the world did the wisp go off to? you hurried over to venti, questioning, “since when did you get here?”

the bard smirked, and fiddled with his lyre that you just noticed he had brought along with him. he had that look on his face again, the one he wore whenever he had some sort of plot in mind.  “whatever do you mean, [y/n]?”, he replied amusedly. “i’ve been here all along.”

[starvine]

first date headcanons

attack on titan (modern au)

summary: some first date headcanons with some of the attack on titan characters. 

warnings: none, just fluff :)

eren jaeger: movie 

a little basic but it’s all eren could come up with

besides, it was between a movie and dinner and dinner felt too formal so y’all decided on a movie

he’d let you pick the movie tho

he might argue with you if it’s something stupid and claim that it’s horribly written (as if he knows a thing) but that’s it

eren would make sure to get the BEST snacks. spicy food? check. candy? check. popcorn? check. fruits? check.

he just wants to impress you (even if he did have to confide in his friends for some advice)

he just really likes you

during the movie, you guys would start shifting closer to each other, both a little too timid to move all the way all at once

but you guys would make commentary throughout the movie, laughing when things seem too cliché or when a character says something funny

half way throughout the movie, you guys aren’t even really paying attention it it

you’re too busy throwing popcorn at each other and trying to catch it in your mouths, feeding each other candy, and giggling at each other

it’s intimate in its own relaxed way, which makes eren realize how perfect you are

you both could make the most out of a pretty average first date situation and make it into a beyond amazing first date

and that was all he needed to ask you on a second date before he dropped you off at your car, walking with you to make sure you got there safely

and ngl you’d be a bit of a fool to say no to eren

armin arlert: aquarium 

sweetheart is so nervous 

before he came to your apartment to pick you up for your date, he was a little nervous wreck 

he was fidgeting with his fingers, playing with the buttons on his shirt--he probably accidentally opened one by accident 

but once he saw you, he felt fine 

it was as if he physically melted, you just make everything okay 

once you guys got to the aquarium, he would NOT shut up

he was probably pointing things out, telling you fun facts, asking you what is your favorite marine life 

“oh, you like pufferfish? that’s cool! i like them too. they’re very... puffy.” 

he’s like a child in a candy store 

but while he’s rambling about how the digestive system of a sea cucumber basically cleans the ocean, he’s wondering how he should make a move 

he doesn’t want to scare you off or anything, but he doesn’t want you to be disappointed 

but while you guys are looking at one of those large fish tanks, the ones where you walk through a tunnel, you guys just sort of stand there and watch in awe

or rather armin watches in awe while you look at him, a soft smile gracing his pink lips as his eyes dart across the illustriously blue colored glass

and when he feels your pinky latch onto his, he’s a little shocked that you had made the first move

he didn’t not expect it per say, he just thought that he would be the one to make the first move 

but his overthinking got in the way

and when he turns to look down at your intertwined pinkies, he caught you sending him a delicate smile that made his heart squeeze until he felt as if every part of him was on fire

but it was him who finally held your hand fully 

he just needed you to give him the extra push

mikasa ackerman: book store 

it’s a very calming atmosphere, which is something you’d both need for this first date

mikasa is probably pretty anxious for the first date, and wants to make sure you’re okay and enjoying yourself while also making sure she’s okay and enjoying herself

so the calming scent of the book store and the quietness is perfect for her to multitask between mediating the two

you’d both be tasked with picking each other books and then buying them for each other

so initially mikasa was nervous because she wasn’t sure what to get you but then you asked what she liked to read and so that allowed her to ask the same, making the situation less stressful

and all while you two are walking from isle to isle, eyes scanning the various book titles and covers, she sneaks glances at you and how pretty you look

and the fact that you seem very deep in thought, heavily concentrated on getting her the right book, makes her feel less concerned on whether or not you’d rather be with her or not

the answer is obviously a yes but mikasa has a hard time understanding that sometimes

so when you give her the book you bought for her, making sure to lightly touch her fingers while you hand it to her, she already knows that another date is what she wants you both to have or else she’ll probably explode

and based off of how flushed she looks, the possibility of her exploding is not highly unlikely

you guys will sit at this little table in the corner of the store, reading your books

i can picture mikasa annotating certain lines that remind her of you, making mental notes to show you later

overall, the date is pretty lowkey and very sweet

connie springer: dave + busters/bowling

ok there’s not much of an explanation for this one besides the point that if feels right

like connie is pretty energetic and i feel like you can learn a lot about a person based off of the games they’re drawn to 

hence the arcade

i think connie really likes those racing games or the zombie shooting games

he also claims he’s really good at ski ball (he’s not, he’s trash)

so a good portion of the date consists of you just laughing at him the whole time cuz in all honestly he’s not the best at games but he enjoys them for the fun of them

he’d definitely cheer you on when you were playing or try to mess you up if it was you two against each other

but either way he’d give you a hug or a pat on the head after every game

even if u beat him

he’d probably try to sneak a kiss when you guys were in one of those shooting games that requires a booth and the curtains drawn (does that make sense?)

it’s not really romantic like at all, especially since it smells like a million different people in there, but it’s very low stress so in all honesty that’s what makes the kiss nice

and after you guys had used up all your tokens, you’d combine your tickets and pick something together

your prizes would mostly consist of candy and him insisting he get you a plastic gem ring so you can always remember your first date together

it was also his little, strange way of asking you for a second date

levi ackerman: art museum 

unlike connie, he’s not super energetic

so a museum is right up his alley

levi’s a bit awkward, he doesn’t really know how to talk to you

and especially since you’re lovely, his words jumble together and he gets all flustered

so a nice, quiet museum exhibit is perfect for him

it’s a nice balance between casual and formal, so you both dress nice but aren’t restricted by the need to be super polite and stuff

he’d probably like it when you try to imitate the poses that are shown in the paintings or sculptures

just imagine the soft chuckle he’d be unable to prevent from escaping his lips which then melts into a soft smirk

beautiful, beautiful lad

he probably wouldn’t join you though, he doesn’t want to embarrass himself

he just smiles at you and stares at the art, reading the background info they give on those little plates near them

but he would notice when you stare at him

he could be looking at some art made during the dutch golden age, but as soon as your head slightly tilted in his direction, his cheeks would HEAT up

you almost asked him if he was feeling alright he was so red

but as the date went on, levi really just thought about how much he enjoyed your presence

and he’s not a wicked talkative guy so being able to feel comfortable with someone even if you aren’t talking or doing much is pretty important to him

as the date concludes, levi finally works up the courage to place his hand on your shoulder, asking if there was anything else you wanted to see before the museum closes for the day

his face might be bright red, but the smile you give him makes him feel a little less embarrassed

what can you say, you’ve got charm 💅

hange: the fucking zoo

ok i won’t lie when i got the idea of hange taking you to the zoo for your first date i thought it was so funny and idk why

like they’d be so excited that they’d nearly forget that they’re on a date with you

they’d drag you around from exhibit to exhibit, pointing out the exact breed of tortoise or some really strange fact about the zebras without looking at the little description panel in front of the exhibit

it’s pretty comical

but then randomly, when you guys are sitting down and eating some fries from one of the concession stands, they start going on a rant about animal cruelty and how a lot of zoos don’t treat the animals properly

and you’re just sitting there like “what 🧍‍♀️” cuz they’re mood changed so quickly LMAO

and as soon as their rant started, it finishes and they’re rushing you to the reptile exhibit

they’d probably try to figure out if they could hold one of the snakes

you’d have to drag them out of there before they start harassing one of the workers into letting them hold a snake

they’d also give all of the animals names only to forget them in 2 seconds

“hey, robert, it’s good to see you again!” “hange, i thought you named them dante?” “oh... did i? 😁”

however there’s probably like one animal they absolutely despise and idk why but i feel like it’s parrots

y’all would be walking through this rainforest exhibit, birds flying from tree to tree and the whole time they’re cursing the birds under their breath for no reason at all

just an angry person walking through a rainforest exhibit, cursing out birds

pretty normal if you ask me

however, the date itself is pretty casual and almost feels like you guys are just hanging out

or it would if they didn’t ask you out on another date before dropping you off at home, kissing your cheek as their farewell

pieck finger: café

very simple and quaint

i feel like pieck has a coffee addiction and always puts her in a better mood

so what better place to go on a date then a café?

she’s definitely an iced coffee drinker, and will occasionally go for a hot drink but usually iced coffee is her go-to

and if you get a coffee or tea that she also happens to like, you’re already practically golden in her eyes

since pieck has a very soothing and lowkey nature, i can see the date being much more just like a conversation with someone you’ve known for forever instead of interview-y which is something i’ve found coffee/lunch/dinner dates to be a bit like

but pieck knows how to keep things interesting and she’s a pretty calming person to be around so all is well

i also can’t see her getting super nervous before the date

she seems pretty calm unless in high-stress situations, but even then, she’s pretty level-headed

but since she’s so calm, it makes you wonder if she really cares for the date

and of COURSE she does, she’s so excited about it

it’s just the way pieck is

but as the date continues, she’d probably start to tease you by playing footsies under the table

you gotta keep the date interesting, you know?

you guys would talk about your interests, family, friends, shows you’re watching

literally just anything and everything that’ll allow you guys to get a feel for each other

and if all goes well she’ll definitely suggest another date ;)

also don’t expect to leave without her either writing something cute on your cup, pressing a lip-stick stained kiss to your cheek that matches the one surrounding the rim of her cup, or a promise that your game of footsies will continue next time you see each other

[hanibalistic]

#758A87 | LEE JENO.

genre | fluff, domestic au, platonic love

word count | 1652

warning | none​

note | i am back to advocate for peeling oranges for each other. also, yes, i may be writing a little nct but don’t count on it.

the way jeno kicked off his shoes and begrudgingly walked past you to go to his room told you that he was rejected.

there was this girl who he has been going on and on about for a while now. he kept it to himself fairly well in the earlier stages of his crush, but you caught on anyway after noticing the cues he dropped here and there—smiling at his phone, mentioning her name in and out of conversations, and mostly jaemin's constant teasing. after he came clean to you about his occupied affection, he fully allowed himself to express how ever-growing his feelings were.

although there were times when you felt an overwhelming urge to shut him up (for someone who talks so little, jeno sure talks a lot in the comfort of your shared apartment), ultimately you were happy to see that he has a reason to be so giddy and happy all the time. she makes him talk like nobody can, she makes him beam and coo, and you were grateful that this unknown girl could bring the best out of your friend.

occasionally, though, when you watch the way his eyes light up in the mention of the girl, you would feel a cold breeze of loneliness for the absence of a companion of your own. you were not in love, and neither was anyone in love with you, and there was a deep hollowness in the absence of affection, whether one-sided or reciprocated, that made you feel an unexplainable desperation to find love without being in need of it.

you turned away from your laptop that you set on the coffee table when you heard footsteps trailing out to the living room. water still dripped past his skin, showing that he didn't bother to dry himself thoroughly after the steaming hot shower he just took. his blue hair dripped wet and the towel around his shoulders was the only thing catching the rainfall from his head.

jeno moved slow and depressed, his eyes not a trace of glow in them and his jaw tightly gritted. he bent down to pick up the shoes he kicked off in a moment of a tantrum when he got home, but his fingers were flailing as if he has no will to do anything but lay on his bed and reflect on his entire love life—how it started, how much he loved the girl who broke his heart, where it went wrong, and what the hell was so bad about him that she didn't love him back?

you pouted slightly in awkwardness when he resulted in placing his shoes near the wall instead.

oh lord, he totally got rejected. that was not the worst thing but the fact that you never knew how to deal with someone heartbroken. you never had to go through it yourself, neither were you ever placed in a situation where someone else needed your comfort.

what could you do? distract him by giving him tasks to do? let him vent his emotions out to you even though he has always been quiet about his negative feelings? be insensitive and remind him there were bigger problems than being dumped?

what if he didn't need it, though? do heartbroken people truly need their hearts to be mended at all? if the heartbreak is the only thing left of whom they used to love, do they truly want to get rid of it?

"jeno."

annoyed but kind, jeno looked up from the cracks of the wall to you. he was upset, but he thought it unfair to take it out on you. your wide eyes glanced back at him when he stood up straight again, and you flashed him a tight smile as you raised your hands to him. he looked at the oranges sitting comfortably on your palms, and internally, he sighed.

"can you peel these oranges for me?" you asked as you usually would, sounding occupied but also free.

jeno really could not be bothered with doing anything. he just got rejected by who he thought was the love of his life; he felt confident this morning, especially after you helped fix up his hair and pick his outfit, as well as jaemin's encouraging words, only to have his expectations crumble with a simple answer. some part of him felt humiliated and stupid for choosing this route, for thinking that he had a chance, and he really cannot be bothered at all.

"[name], i'm sorry but i really don't feel like doing anything right now," he confessed lowly.

he was about to turn to leave when you called him again, much more urgently this time but still with a hint of dragging laziness in your tone.

"ah–jeno, please?" you pleaded in a faint childish whine, squeezing the oranges in your hands. "just one orange? please, jeno?"

he almost rolled his eyes when he turned to face you, but the softness that erupted in his chest at the sight of you sitting on the floor, oranges in your hand, stopped him from letting you see his annoyance. his hammering brain relaxed when he saw you put one orange down and attempted to peel the other one with trouble.

he sighed with unknown but familiar endearment when your thumb tore right through the fruit, sprouting juices over your once clean hands, and a gentle defeat once again rushed over him when you frowned up at him with the failure in your hands and a pleading glint in your eyes.

the softness in his heart—he never thought much about it. much of his affection for you was platonic, he believed, but they were also affection that seemed to trump the ones he felt for the girl he loved whenever they rush to the nape of his neck. the feelings he has for you often seemed to trump all else when he was confronted with them blatantly, such as now, and he could do anything.

he could do anything. he could declare that you are one of his best friends, maybe he could tell you he loves you, but mostly he could brush away his sadness to peel you an orange if you asked.

"jeno..."

"okay, okay," he said as he crouched down next to you and took the untouched orange from the table.

at some point, he lost his balance and he ended up sitting down next to you. he skillfully ripped the skin off the orange, carefully and precisely revealing the tasty fruit inside. meanwhile, you struggled freely with your destroyed orange by taking apart the slices and popping them into your mouth.

"oh, try it, this is good."

jeno looked up briefly when you spoke. he opened his mouth so you could feed him the orange slice, and he raised his brows in approval. you grinned, taking note that you should get more of the same ones next time you go buy groceries to stock up.

there was a moment of silence where you focused on the television and jeno on the last bit of orange slices in his hands. when he was done, he reached over to the coffee table and dumped them on the tissue you laid on top. when he was done, he dusted his hands and hoisted himself off the floor, just before you spoke again.

"you got rejected, didn't you?"

jeno pursed his lips, the sorrow rushing over him once again after having forgotten about it. he nodded. "yeah."

you turned your head to look at him. jeno felt self-conscious under your gaze. he never did so, but it felt like you were accessing what was wrong with the way he looked.

"maybe it's your blue hair," you said, pointing at his head and a playful laugher hanging on your lips. "maybe you reminded her too much of sonic, like the hedgehog, so she said no–"

"you are not funny." he smiled patiently but humorlessly.

"i am trying my best!" you exclaimed, then you leaned back against the edge of the couch and asked to the ceiling, "are you sad?"

"yeah."

"okay then," you muttered, then you laid your head on his shoulder and huffed. "how about now?"

jeno choked on a short laugh, in disbelief yet he was kind of used to your way of comforting people, but his heart beat softly against his chest at both the proximity and your discreet care. if anything, he would have preferred your way than the way of talking and reaching into the cave of his emotions. mainly because the latter does nothing but make him realize how much he missed with just one rejection.

at least with your head on his shoulder, he remembers he has friends, a companion. he has someone he has a soft spot for, someone he can put all his abandoned love for in the meantime as he searched for another lover, someone who can make him bother when he feels like he can't anymore.

"maybe a little less," he whispered, smiling to himself.

"okay..." you reached your hand to him, an orange slice in your hand, "care for an orange?"

jeno laughed, but then he grimaced with a choke of disbelief when he saw the monstrosity in your hands.

"[name]! i said peel the orange not kill it!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide at how sticky and wet your hands have become from just peeling the orange.

"i told you i just can't do it!" you laughed incredulously, shrugging and popping another orange slice into your mouth. "this is why i have you."

jeno rolled his eyes in defeat, but he denies nothing of it. 

you are where he puts his love into for now, you are who holds half of his soul for now. you are who he is willing to peel oranges for, maybe not just for now but for the rest of his life.

[asciendo]

In too Deep

Your friends with benefits with Zuko was the best distraction from the upcoming battle with Ozai and Azula. 

But what happens when you slowly begin to catch feelings for Zuko but Sokka sets him up on a date?

It’s been six months since you and Zuko started your little fling. Both of you were the newest members of Team Avatar, Zuko being the redeeming Fire Prince and you being the daughter of a banished Fire Nation general who Zuko and Sokka rescued from the Boling Rock along with Sukki and Sokka’s dad. You’ve known Zuko since you were children but never interacted that much.

Both of you got on each other’s nerves at the start, both being stubborn on how to teach Aang how to fire bend. You knew deep down Zuko was meant to be Aang’s fire bending teacher but that didn’t mean your suggestions didn’t matter.

“I told you, you should teach him to learn how to flow with the energy, not just shoot fire out!” You rolled your eyes as Zuko huffed with a confused Aang stuck in a bending stance behind him.

“He has to learn how to hit his target, am I right?” Zuko marched towards you as you both continued to argue.

“Uhm, I feel like you both have good points, ha ha ha” Aang was always in the middle of your arguments and tried to defuse them, but he knew trying to control two hot heads was almost as difficult as defeating Fire Lord Ozai.

Your argument continued as Aang fell asleep, tired of waiting for his lessons to resume as you and Zuko were almost at each other’s throats, which resulted in Zuko shooting a fire ball on the tree where Sokka was sleeping. “HEY!”

“See! Look what you made me do!”

“What I made you do?! You threw that fireball all on your own!”

“If you hadn’t interrupted my training with Aang, we would be done by now!”

“If you just listened to someone else’s suggestions, Aang would be a better fire bender!” You and Zuko were literally in each other’s faces now, the only thing missing was smoke coming out of your ears as both of you were fuming at one another.

“If you weren’t such a know it all, I would never have gotten angry!”

“Well, you should learn to control your temper!” At your last outburst, both of you stormed off on your own.

“Am I ever gonna learn fire bending?” Aang sighed as he laid on the ground in defeat.

It seemed almost impossible for you two to start your fling, but one night you were practicing your bending on your own, then you suddenly heard footsteps behind you. Zuko.

“What do you want?” You rolled your eyes as Zuko approached you. “You have to let me teach Aang on my terms. I’m his teacher, not you.”

“I’m not trying to be his teacher, you’re just not teaching him everything.” you hated how he made you feel small and less capable, you knew you were a strong bender, almost beating Azula in a match once, and Zuko made you feel like your abilities weren’t good enough.

“I don’t need your help.” Zuko growled as he stepped closer to you. “What? Your ego can’t take a few suggestions, Prince Zuko?” His eyes narrowed at his title and he stepped closer to you till your back was against a tree. “Don’t call me that.” he said through gritted teeth.

“Why? What are you gonna do?” You teased and Zuko’s face turned into a scowl. Suddenly he was closer to you and your faces were almost touching. His exppression turned from anger to softness and you chucked nervously at how silent he became.

, “Zu—“ before you could finish Zuko’s lips were on yours.

You shot back in shock as you couldn’t believe what was happening. Your relationship with Zuko was more of a complicated one, filled with banter yet, deep understanding with your somewhat common past. Of course you found him attractive, with his shagy black hair, toned body and gold, piercing eyes, but you never thought anything like this would happen between the two of you. “Y/N..I-I’m so—“ this time, before he could finish, you crashed your lips on his. You didn’t know what it was but it just felt right, being with him in this way. His lips were chapped but still soft, although as the kiss went deeper you could feel the intensity in the way he grabbed your back and how you tangled your fingers in his hair.

That started your secret “fling” as you called it. Both of you didn’t want the others to know as they were just getting used to the idea of having two fire benders on Team Avatar. They didn’t suspect a thing as your bickering didn’t stop, but at night Zuko would secretly slip in your tent and you two would spend the night together. This happened every night ever since.

You noticed Zuko change a little bit towards you. He took your suggestions when he was teaching Aang seriously and on missions he’d always make sure he was near you.

There were moments when the both of you would sneak off while the gang was distracted, it was easy since you mostly camped out in the open.

You and Zuko would find an empty cave or under a tree far away and you’d get lost in each other.

Those nights when he’d have nightmares of his father, you’d be the one to comfort him. The same with you when you’d dream about your father, who you haven’t seen since you left the Fire Nation. It scared you how vulnerable the both of you were with one another.

One day, when you were bickering, Zuko went too far and made a snarky comment about your father. You looked at him with not just anger, but with fear, you were letting him in. You backed away and left the camp for a bit. He didn’t say anything that horrible, you were mean to him too. You questioned him about betraying Iroh and he replied by calling you out for not fighting hard enough to stay with your family.

It was true, you could have been in hiding with them, but you wanted to do something more for the world. You weren’t hurt by his words, but terrified how it was so easy for you to hurt each other, your fling was supposed to be something fun and to forget about the stress of trying to save the world.

You were in your tent, trying to sleep but failing. The sound of someone crawling into your tent startled you, but you already knew it was him.

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t move, you pressed your eyes shut and tried to pretend as if you didn’t hear him.

“I know you’re not asleep, Y/N.” He lowered down and was sitting next to you, “I said I was sorry alright?” his voice was low but husky and you could her traces of desperation.

“No.”

“What do you want me to say, I’ll say it!”

“Shhh! Are you crazy!” You sat up and attempted to cover his mouth but he dodged your hand. “I’m sorry, okay? I was a jerk, I didn’t mean it.” he looked into your eyes and you knew he was genuine. You weren’t being fair to him, you’re not hurt by his words but scared about what you were starting to feel for him. “You just...you just rile me up so much and my temper...you know how I get and I say things I don’t mean...I shouldn’t be that way towards you, I’ll tell Aang you can teach himsometimes..” you stared at him with such confusion, he was rambling. He only rambles when he’s nervous, and he was nervous with you.

“Are you gonna stop talking or are you going to get in here?” you chuckled and motioned to the space next to you. Zuko sighed then squeezed in next to you in the sleeping bag. “I’m sorry, too.”

Zuko sighed then looked down at you. You faced up towards him expecting to feel his lips on yours, but instead, you felt his lips on your temple. That night was the first time both of you just slept, entangled in one another, and in your heart you knew you were doomed.

6 months later...

“I saw you, you know...” Katara winked at you as you both were gathering water at the nearby lake. “What?”

“I saw you.” She followed you as you continued up the stream. “I see you too?”

“No...I saw you...and Zuko.” You stopped in your tracks. “Yeah, we travel together, Katara. We see everyone every day!” laughing awkwardly you began to gather more water.

“Uh-huh.” You could hear the eye roll in her voice as she walked in front of you with her hands on her hips.

“What exactly did you see?” sighing and giving up, you knew it was useless to lie. You were caught.

“Not much, thank god but...try picking a cave not so near the apple trees next time?” Katara chuckled.

You knew exactly what she was talking about. Zuko had a hard training day with Aang and he needed to blow off some steam, which was what you were there for.

It was your turn to feed Apa so you were gathering fruits for him until you felt strong arms around you.

“Zuko, bad timing, I need to feed Appa.” You smiled, but his grip tightened. “I need you, now.” He grumbled, but you weren’t budging.

“Y/N, please.” His breath was hot on your skin and your body tingled, but you liked to tease him so you broke off from his grip and walked away. You turned towards him and you could see the desire in his eyes, the desire for you. “If I feel like it.” you said as you lifted a tiny bit of your top, revealing your toned abdomen.

Zuko growled and walked towards you and pushed you up against a tree. “I need you.” He whispered and you smirked. “Then show me.” You stared at him with longing.

Zuko chuckled then lifted you up, then you straddled him. He spotted a cave near the tree you were picking apples from and carried you towards there. He placed you on one of the rock formations and you pulled him closer with your legs.

“Show me how much you need me.”

He smirked then crashed his lips on yours. Then the two of you were lost in each other once more.

You ended up telling Katara everything, she said was surprised but also not so much. “So you had a feeling?”

“A little, not really? I mean, you guys are always at each other’s throats but he has been a little bit more... I don’t know concerned about you?” She explained how she noticed that he let you give your input on Aang’s training more, and how when they have a new mission, he made sure he’d be paired with you and she even told you how he talked to Aang about how you shouldn’t be anywhere near the line of fire when the war starts. The time when you and Toph went on a mission to figure out where Boomie was, Katara told you Zuko was pacing back and forth and cursing at how he didn’t go with you, and how it should have been basically anyone but you that went on that mission. “I never knew why, but now everything makes sense.”

You sat there for a minute then opened up to Katara about how scared you were about your growing feelings. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, seeing how he’s acting, he probably feels the same.”

The two of you made your way back to camp and found Zuko and Sokka laughing with each other. “What’s so funny?” Katara asked.

‘Zuko just scored a date!” Your heart dropped, but you tried to keep your exterior composure calm. “ What date?” Katara asked nervously as she just heard your story and encouraged you.

“We were in town and the girl at the hat store kept following Zuko, like NON-STOP! He didn’t believe she was into him but it was SO obvious! So I forced him to ask her out and he did!” Sokka punched Zuko on the arm playfully and Zuko laughed. “You should thank me, maybe having a girlfriend will make hot head over here less moody.” Sokka plopped down on the mat next to Toph and all you could think about was torching Sokka to no end. “So, when is this date?” Toph asked boredly next to Sokka. “Tonight?” Zuko laughed, “Well you better get ready lover boy.”

“I’m gonna give some water to Apa.” You announced and Katara followed you. “I’m SO sorry, I never would have encouraged you if—“

“Katara, it’s not your fault, you didn’t know, and besides...maybe this is a sign I should call the whole thing off?” you sighed and Katara nodded slowly.

“Oh sorry...am I interrupting?” behind you was a looming Zuko, grinning sheepishly as Katara stared daggers at him. “No, I was just leaving.” Katara huffed and left you two alone. “What’s her problem...”

You continued to separate the water for Apa as you heard him approaching you. “So...I’m seeing you tonight, right?” you stopped, tonight? Wasn’t his date tonight? Your heart suddenly felt lighter as you thought he cancelled with hat store girl.

“Isn’t your date tonight?”

“I mean...after?” your heart dropped. He was still going through with it. You felt your face turn red with anger, what were you to him? An object he can go to whenever he has his needs?! A simple plaything? It started off as that but you thought you somewhat meant more to him.

“What’s wrong with you?!” You stared at him with a hurt expression, his eyes widened and he stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean what’s wrong with me?”

You grunted and he shrugged in confusion.

“Zuko...we have to talk.”

“Uhm...okay, but I kind of have to get ready—“

“We should stop.” Zuko tilted his head as if questioning what you just said, but you knew deep down he understood what you were saying. “Stop what?”

“This! Whatever we’re doing!”

“Why? Is it because if this date? I just won’t go—“

“No, it was fun while it lasted but we’re just postponing the inevitable...you should go.” you turned away to continue with what you were doing. “Postponing the inevitable? What do you even mean by that?”

“We’re just holding each other back. We know this isn’t going anywhere and we’re just delaying it. Go, have fun. It’s time.”

“You wanted this too, you know! You said it was all fun and just a distraction! No commitments, no promises, nothing! You would remind me every night—“

“Exactly! We had our fun and now it’s over!” you turned towards him and his face was full of anger. “I can go on a date, we can do whatever we want! That was our agreement!”

“It was so why don’t you just go!” you tried to control your voice so no one would hear but it was so hard, you were so angry. “I am! I just told you I was going and you snapped and said you wanted to end it!”

“Because I’m not just some play thing you can get whenever you want! I’m not disposable.” You were inches in front of his face and you could feel the anger radiating from him. “What do you want from me...” he whispered and for a moment, it seemed like he was truly asking you what you wanted him to do, and for a second, you knew he’d do it if you asked. “Nothing.”

“You’re unbelievable!” Zuko, raised his arms in exasperation. “Me?! You’re the one going on a date.”

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I don’t.” You did. You did care, too much. This all started out for fun, but, you were in too deep with Zuko, and you couldn’t let yourself fall for him. “Then why are you ending it?! I don’t understand.”

“I just told you! I’m not just something you can just take when you feel like it!”

“Then tell me what you want!” He was up in your face again, you didn’t know what you wanted. You wanted Zuko, but you weren’t allowing yourself to want him. “I want this to end, and I want you to go on your date.” You said softly, and you saw a glimmer of pain in his eyes. “You want to end this so bad? Fine, it’s DONE. You just lost me.” He said with gritted teeth and began to walk away.

“No Zuko, I didn’t...because you can’t lose something you never had.” He turned around and stared at you with wide eyes that turned to sorrow. His expression quickly turned to anger that you thought you imagined seeing the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m leaving.”

“Go!” and he did. That was it. Your “relationship” with Zuko was over, and he was off with some other girl.

The next day you were on your way to Ember Island on Appa. Zuko had a hood on as people might recognize him when they arrived. Sokka kept asking Zuko how his date went but he would just shrug. “Well sorry for trying to get you some action!” Sokka rolled his eyes and Katara hit him, “Ow! What was that for!”

When you got to Ember Island, the whole gang hit the beach. Sokka and Suki were running around, Aang was making sand castles, you and Katara were in the ocean and Zuko was left sulking on the balcony in his ancestral home.

“I used to come here with his family, you know.” You told Katara as you played in the water. “You grew up together?”

“Not really, my father was a high ranking general so we’d be in the same vicinity, but no contact whatsoever.”

“I think you should talk to him...”

“Nah, I think it’s for the best, better to cut it off while it was still early.” It hurt, being around him, knowing your whole relationship was over. Even if it was nothing from the start, you started to get your hopes up and, it came crashing down.

“I don’t know...you both seem miserable now that you guys broke up—“

“We were never together.”

“Come on, Y/N! You both obviously like each other, you just don’t COMMUNICATE!” Katara rolled her eyes which made you laugh. “I think his date or whatever was a sign...it was getting too complicated, it’ll be for the best.” Before Katara could react, you both heard Sokka’s voice.

“Hey! Some dudes invited us to a party, let’s go!” Sokka yelled and the gang agreed to go, they needed a little fun before having to deal with the larger issue at hand, defeating the Fire Lord.

They were on the way to the house on foot with Aang dancing on the way there, Katara giggling, Sokka and Suki walking hand in hand while you and Zuko walked awkwardly next to each other.

As soon as you got to the house, a guy opened the door and invited you all in. The house was filled with fire nation teenagers and you all dispersed among yourselves. Sokka and Suki were dancing, Aang was showing fire bender girls some tricks, Katara was checking out the house and Zuko was sulking in the corner.

You decided to get some punch then someone tapped you on your shoulder. “Hey, I’m Han.” A tall, tanned and muscular guy was smiling at you. “Hey I’m...” you decided not to use your real name unless someone recognized you. “I’m Hania?” You mentally kicked yourself for choosing a name so close to his. “Hmm, interesting, so close to mine.” He winked and you blushed. He was cute, and from the horrible day you had, you needed some harmless flirting.

From across the room, Zuko stared at you two by the punch bowl. “Hey, lighten up! They are a bunch of hot girls here!...but don’t tell Suki I said that.” Sokka shrugged and nudged Zuko. “Zukoooo” Sokka tried waving a hand in front of Zuko’s face but Zuko kept his eyes on you and Han. “What are you looking at?” he looked where Zuko was gazing. “Oh, Y/N’s found a boyfriend ha ha.” Sokka chuckled and walked away and left Zuko there fuming.

“So, do you come here a lot? I haven’t seen you around Ember Island before.” Han asked you as he poured you a drink. “I used to when I was a kid, haven’t been back since.”

“Oh, why not?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, things change I guess?” you looked around for your friends just to make sure they were still there, then you locked eyes with Zuko. His eyes were intense and you could tell he was angry. But you didn’t care, you were nothing, you both made the decision to stop whatever you were doing with one another and you needed a little fun. “Do you wanna go look at the moon outside?” Han nodded and you both headed out to the balcony.

Zuko’s heart dropped as he saw you two leave.

“You’re an idiot, you know that right.” Katara rolled her eyes as she leaned next to him on the wall. “What?”

“I-D-I-O-T.”

“How am I an idiot?” Zuko shot up from leaning on the wall and Katara laughed. “You are so into her.”

“No I’m not!” Zuko crossed his arms and turned away from Katara. “I didn’t say her name, how do you know who I meant?” Katara kinked her eyebrow and Zuko rolled his eyes.

“You’re maybe the least happy person I know but when you were sneaking off with her, you were more tolerable for the rest of us.”

“Wa-wait what? Sneaking off—“

“Cut it out, I saw you guys.” Katara smirked and Zuko sighed in defeat. “Fine, we were fooling around. But that was it. I am NOT into her!” he started to walk away but he heard Katara giggle. “Then why have you been shooting daggers at the guy she was talking to all night?”

“B-because! He could be a spy of the Fire Nation! Her father was a recognized general you know! He could be targeting her and we’re all doomed! AND what if he’s working for Azula—“

“Uh-uh.”

“Stop looking at me like that! I’m not in love with her all right!” Katara’s face froze at Zuko’s last statement. “Love?!”

“What?”

“Are you in love with her?!” Katara started to smile as Zuko’s face turned bright red. “I said I’m NOT in love with her! Are you deaf?!”

“Zuko, I didn’t say anything about love in the first place...you said the word first.”

“So! I just said it to make a point, got it?” He leaned back on the wall and hung his head low. “Well, do you?” Katara asked him again.

Did he love her? All the times they were fooling around, he stared at her while she was asleep. He remembered feeling a sense of peace knowing she was next to him. He started to even look forward to their conversations in her tent rather than the physical stuff. He thought of how she’d throw her head back laughing whenever he told her about Uncle Iroh’s prankster antics when he was growing up. How her eyes shined in the moonlight when they’d take walks after dark. How when it was dusk and the sun would reach her eyes just the right amount and you could tell they were actually golden brown.

Zuko thought about the nights when she’d knowingly wrap her arms around his waist when he was having a nightmare about the Agni-Kai with his father. How her eyes lit up whenever she talked about her family. He thought about how he always wanted to protect her, if they had missions he wouldn’t be able to concentrate if she wasn’t near him, or how he couldn’t keep still when she was out on a mission with Toph or Katara, anxiously waiting for her to come back...to him.

“Shit” was all he said and slumped to the floor and buried his face in hands. “I thought so.” Katara smirked then sat next him. “What did I do? Agh! Why am I so bad at this stuff?” he grumbled and Katara just laughed. “You should tell her how you feel.”

“No! She’s off with that bonehead over there! It’s too late, maybe it’s for the best.”

“Ugh! You two are exactly the same!” She rolled her eyes and Zuko shot his head up. “What do you mean we’re exactly the same?”

“You both don’t simply TALK to each other! ‘Maybe it’s for the best’ my ass!”

“Huh?” Zuko looked at Katara with such confusion that Katara scoffed at him.

“You both said the same thing!”

“About what?” Zuko had no idea what she was talking about. “When you went on that date! She said “Maybe it’s for the best” that you guys break up.”

“She cared about that?” Katara stared at Zuko with astonishment; she didn’t think Zuko was this clueless.

“Zuko,,, I know you’re not stupid, but how do you think she felt when she found out you were going on a date?!”

“I didn’t think she cared...”

“Well she did.” Katara threw her hands up in defeat. How could boys be so stupid, she thought.

“Oh...” Zuko looked down and started remembering their conversation. He noticed the hurt in her voice when she accused him of treating her like an object he can just take whenever he wanted. He felt a pit in his stomach, he didn’t mean it to come off that way. “I-I didn’t even want to go it was Sokka!” Zuko tried to defend himself but Katara gave him a knowing look and he sighed.

“Fine..I was...starting to have...feelings for her...every night—“

“Aah! I don’t wanna hear what you guys do!” Katara began to cover her ears. “Calm down.” Zuko rolled his eyes.

“Every night...she’d always talk about how what we were doing was just a distraction...how this would eventually end...how we shouldn’t commit to one another...I mean we were sneaking around after all.” Zuko looked at Katara for her input but she motioned for him to continue.

“I agreed to it at first, obviously. But over time...I-I uhm...” Katara could see how hard it was for Zuko to express his feelings. Which made her feel bad about how much he holds in especially with how hard his past was. “You fell for her.” Zuko nodded.

“I went on that date because I was...scared. I was feeling too much for her and I knew she didn’t see it going anywhere, I wanted to prove to myself it was nothing. That my feelings for her weren’t real and I could just stop whenever I wanted. But when I went on that date...no matter how much the girl threw herself at me, I knew I could have had anything I wanted with her.” Katara rolled her eyes at that statement.

“I just...couldn’t. The whole time I was thinking about Y/N and what she said to me, how it was over and why it was over, I knew I fucked up the second I asked her out.” Zuko finished. “When did you fall for her?”

It was five months into your fling. You and Zuko were tangled up in each other in her tent. You were just talking about their old lives in the Fire Nation and if they’d even be like this with each other if they both have never left. He laughed at how he would still be trying to prove his honor to Ozai and how you would probably be part of Azula’s crew with Mai and Ty Lee. Both were slowly drifting to sleep until you popped your head up and looked at him. “Zuko?”

“Hmm.”

“Your mother would be proud of you...you know, with the choices you made.” You went back to sleep but had no idea Zuko lay awake all night thinking about you said.

“AW! That’s so cute!” Katara exclaimed, “Alright, alright!” Zuko rolled his eyes. “So, what do I do?”

“You have to figure that out for yourself, lover boy.” Zuko winced at that name as he watched Katara walk away.

The moon was beautiful that night. You and Han talked about your lives with you lying about some aspects of course, but it was nice to talk to someone who had no idea who you were and was genuinely interested in you.

“I’m really happy you came tonight, you should come to Ember Island more often.”

“I’m happy I came too.” You smiled. Han was looking down at you and he started to lean in closer. You knew he was going in for a kiss but you weren’t sure if you wanted to. Your huge fight with Zuko was just the day before and at the moment, you couldn’t imagine kissing anyone else. But before you could decide on what to do, you saw a fist fly to Han’s face and he fell to the floor. Zuko.

“ZUKO!” You shouted but Zuko ignored you. Han stood up and glared at him. “What the fuck man!”

“Stay away from her.” Zuko warned but Han didn’t back down, he threw a punch at Zuko but he ducked. Han grabbed on to Zuko’s shoulders then tossed him inside the party, which caused everyone to stare.

“Stop it!” You yelled as you followed them inside. Zuko got up then speared Han unto the table. He was about to hit him once more but you stood in between him and Han.

“Y/N move.” Zuko said through gritted teeth, but you stood your ground. “No.”

“H-hey, what’s going on?” Aang asked nervously as the rest of the gang stood behind him in shock. The other party goers didn’t know what to do as well. You looked around and noticed everyone staring at you. Zuko was still glaring at Han as he struggled to get up. “What’s wrong with you?” you stormed out the front door with every intention to head back. “Y/N, wait!” Zuko ran after you.

“What’s going on?” Toph asked the rest of the gang. “Beats me...”Aang took a bite from the apple he was eating. “No idea but, let’s go see!” Sokka began to follow you guys but Suki pulled him back. “HEY!”

You were trying to get home as fast as you could. This whole night was a disaster and you just wanted to be left alone. “Y/N!” a familiar voice called but you continued walking. “Hey!”

“Y/N will you please—“

“WHAT!” you shot around at him and he froze in his steps. “I just need to talk—“

“NO! what is the matter with you?! Starting a fight?! Really?!”

“W-well if you weren’t trying to make me jealous nothing wouldn’t have happened!” Zuko shouted as he walked closer to you. “Make you jealous? I wasn’t trying to make you jealous!”

“Then what were you doing with that bonehead?!”

“I was having a conversation. Not everything is about you, Prince Zuko.” You rolled your eyes then continued on your way. “But you were about to kiss him. I saw YOU!” he shouted and ran to catch up with your pace.

“Stop following me, Zuko.”

“No.”

You bended fire at his feet and he jumped. “Hey!” you continued walking but he was right behind you. “Zuko, leave me ALONE!”

“No.” you stopped and turned to him then he stopped as well.

“You had no right to hit him!”

“I don’t care.” You continued on your way home but he continued to follow you. “You can’t just hit people for no reason!”

“I had a reason.”

“And what was that?!” you rolled your eyes but refused to face him.

“You were about to kiss him.”

“So what if I was?!” you raised your hands in defeat, if you kissed him or not it shouldn’t even matter. He stayed silent but continued to watch you with those piercing eyes of his. “Whether I kissed him or not, it has nothing to do with you, Zuko.”

You tried to leave again but heard a loud noise. “AGH!” Zuko shot fire at a nearby tree, which caused you to stop.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU ZUKO!” You were in his face and he was breathing heavily with his eyes locked on yours. He paused then grabbed your face then crashed his lips onto yours. You gave in a little but then quickly pulled away.

“No, you can’t do that to me.” You backed away then ran back to house.

As soon as you arrived you ran to your shared room with Toph and Katara then slammed the door. You forgot to lock it but as you were about to, Zuko was standing at the doorway.

“Zuko, will you please leave me alone!”

“NO!”

“What do you want from me, Zuko?!” You yelled at him. You felt so many emotions in the last two days from anger, sadness, jealousy, defeat...and all because of him.

“You. I want you.” He said, and for the first time he wasn’t yelling and his voice was calm.

Before you could speak, Zuko continued.

“Look, I-I know it doesn’t seem like...I care...about anything really...but...” he paused and you stared at him. “I do care about some things..I-mean—“

“Zuko, you don’t have to—“

“No. You need to hear this.” His voice was suddenly serious and he was staring at you with so much intensity you couldn’t speak.

“I know we both started this thing as a distraction from what’s going on. Escaping from our pasts in the Fire Nation and what might come next with this war. But...along the way...I started...to feel things towards you that I know I shouldn’t and I thought I could control it while we were together I mean...not together like that but...yeah.” he started blushing and wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was nervous and knew it. You suddenly felt your heart warm up to him but you composed yourself once more.

“I thought I could control it, but the more time we spent together, it just got harder. Then that stupid date happened...I never should have asked her out. I know it’s not an excuse but...I just got scared. I mean, hearing you talk about how it’s never gonna work out, how this is just temporary really freaked me out, so I went out with her to try to prove myself that my feelings for you were nothing but...the whole time, I just thought about you...and I instantly regretted it. So I’m sorry for asking her out...I’m sorry—“

“You didn’t do anything wrong with that we aren’t—“

“I’m sorry for acting like I could just take you whenever I wanted. I’m sorry for disrespecting you.” He finished and you knew he meant it with the way he looked at you.”

“Zuko...it’s alright.” He sighed in relief and started to smile. “I think these things had to happen to show us that our time was up. We were going too far with each other and we were just going to get hurt, I mean look at us now, look what happened tonight. We’re not good for each other, and the team might suffer for it later on.” His face dropped when you finished. You could tell he expected another answer from you.

“How can you say that?”

“Zuko, all we do is fight! We argue about everything, we hurt each other and we’re hurting the team with our bickering and disagreements! What kept us going was the physical stuff...and if we don’t have that—“

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it was all physical for you.” He was staring deep into your eyes and you paused. Why couldn’t you just say it? A few words and this could all be over. No more fights, no more drama, nothing. You and Zuko would be nothing.

“Z-Zuko I—“

“You can’t say it because you don’t mean it.” he stated and you stepped back from him. “It’s more complicated than that, you know it!” You turned away from him. “How is it complicated? Yes we do fight, so what? That’s not an enough reason for me.”

“It is for me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter!” You tried to leave the room.

“NO! Tell me what’s so complicated!” Zuko was holding your arm so you couldn’t leave. You bit your lip trying to stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. “We don’t know what’s going to happen after this war. If I...if you...if something happens, and you know there’s a possibility that one of us...or both of us...” you stopped, you’ve lost your family already, you had no idea where they were, they could be dead, you couldn’t lose someone close to you again. Zuko loosened his grip on your arm, understanding what you were saying. “I’ve lost my family—“

“You don’t know what.”

“I do...and if I lose another person close to me again...”

“I won’t let that happen.” He whispered and you turned to face him. “Zuko, it’s just...I already felt losing you once over this whole thing...I’m not going to do that again and not just because of what the future holds but...how are we sure of any decisions we’re making now? I mean look at us!” Zuko stepped back and just watched you.

“You left your life in the Fire Nation twice and made two different decisions after each time. I didn’t want to leave when my father was banished, then ended up following him to only leave a week later because I felt like I could do more than hide. We’re erratic and unsure of everything, we can hardly make decisions on our own, what more commit? And the fact that there wasn’t even an “us” to begin with?” you sighed but Zuko seemed unbothered by your statement.

“Y/N...I may be unsure about a lot of things. I always think about how...if I’m making the right decisions not only for me but for the Fire Nation. I’m unsure about if this is the path Uncle Iroh wanted for me, if I’m teaching Aang the right skills. I’m unsure about the future because if my father wins, would this all be for nothing. I’m unsure about a lot of things Y/N, but the one thing I’m sure about in this whole fucked up situation is that I love you.” Your eyes widened in shock and his did too. You stared at each other for a couple of seconds, both of you unable to move.

“You don’t need to say it back, I’ve told you everything. I just had to let you know.” He whispered and with that he was gone.

You stood there motionless in the room. Zuko just said he loved you. The same Zuko that drove you crazy, that made snarky comments about your bending, that tested you till you’ve reached your limits. But it was the same Zuko that would hold you at night when you had nightmares, who reassured you whenever you worried about your family’s safety, Who would make sure you were safe whenever you were on a mission, who would secretly hold your hand when you were flying on on Appa because only he knew that heights made you nervous, the same Zuko who just told you he loved you, and you let him walk away.

You broke out of your trance then rushed to his room. You barged in but he was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, you saw a figure on the terrace looking out at the ocean. You walked outside and saw Zuko facing out with his arms spread across the balcony. His muscles looked tense and his head hung low. Walking towards him, you could feel your heart beat outside of your chest. You’ve been around Zuko a hundred times but this felt different.

You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist has you felt his body jump at your touch then relax. Leaning your chin on his shoulder and pressing your face against his, “I love you, Zuko.” You whispered and you could feel the smile on his face. Zuko turned around to face you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He looked down at you and you knew he was going to kiss you.

“Wait, I’m not Han, just making sure—“

“Zuko!” you slapped his arm then he laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” You rolled your eyes and it felt like old times again.

“I love you, and I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” Zuko whispered and then he finally kissed you.

[honey-dewey]

Worthless Comforts

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader

Word Count: 2,146

Warnings: None

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Reader shows Din the small comforts that make life worthwhile. Like sleeping in a real bed and eating three meals a day. 

Life aboard the Razor Crest was always interesting. Not necessarily bad, but not good either. Interesting. Din had hired you originally as a translator, but that role turned into mechanic and then babysitter as time moved forward. You two were close, close enough for him to share his name with you. He knew your tells and triggers, and you knew most of his. So it was no surprise when you noticed he was stressed before he did.

“You need to relax,” you said offhandedly one day while you two were traveling to Tatooine to hunt a quarry. “How do mandalorians relax?”

“We die.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping another page in your book. “Okay Mr. This is the Way. When did you last eat something?”

Din shrugged. “It was that Bantha meat you gave me.”

“That was yesterday,” you said, sitting up straighter and staring at Din’s helmet. “When are we landing?”

“A few hours.”

You sat back, still eyeing Din’s tightly wound figure. “Okay.”

Tatooine was not your favorite planet. Boba and Fennec made it better, and Cobb was always fun. Peli gave you shit but made you smile, and you did like traveling with the Tuskens. But no amount of decent company changed the dusty atmosphere and the blinding suns. The way the sand dug into your feet and got into every crevasse. By the time you’d reached the old Hutt Palace, you were cursing the sand and the suns and everything in between.

“Finally!” Fennec said, guiding you into the palace. “We expected you last week!”

“Picked up another quarry on the way,” Din explained, nodding to the guards who stood by the doors. “Had the time.”

Fennec rolled her eyes. “Don’t you ever relax?”

“That’s what I said!” You said, nudging Din. He sighed and shrugged you off.

Boba was happy to see you both in one piece, and he was especially eager to see Grogu asleep in the carrier across your front. “Your rooms are open, as always,” he said with a grin when you suppressed a yawn. “Go unwind. The quarry hasn’t moved in three months. You can wait another few days. I know traveling the way you do can be stressful.”

Before Din could open his mouth and ruin it, you spoke. “Thank you so much Boba. We appreciate it.”

As night fell, you ate, drank, and talked. It was fun, and Fennec made for excellent company. When you finally retired, you found Grogu asleep in Din’s room. He must’ve taken the child when you weren’t looking.

“Sneaky bastard,” you said affectionately, shutting yourself in your own room and falling asleep as soon as your head hit the pillows.

You woke to loud thunder and the sound of rainfall. Confused, you rubbed your eyes and got dressed, forgoing your armor and weapons. You barely even put shoes on, sliding into leather flats instead of your supple boots.

Boba was already on the throne when you arrived in the throne room, Fennec on his right. He looked up as you walked in, an easy, relaxed grin on his face. “It seems you and Djarin have found yourselves trapped here,” he said. “Tatooine rarely has rainstorms, but when it does, they are dangerous. You will stay here until the rain passed.”

You noticed the final sentence was a command, and you nodded. “Thank you,” you said. “Din would’ve made me walk in the rain had you not kept us here, I’m sure of it.”

Fennec laughed. “Find him,” she said. “We have water for baths now. He smells like a bantha.”

You laughed. “Thank you again,” you said. “I’ll go find Din and tell him.”

Din’s room was locked, as it usually was at night, but once you knocked, he opened the door within a few minutes. “What?”

“Boba told us to stay until the rain passes,” you said. “King’s orders. Fennec also said there’s water for baths now, and she recommends you take one.”

Din nodded, stretching a tiny bit. You smiled. “Maybe we can take this chance and actually relax,” you said.

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

You rolled your eyes as you and Din walked to the baths. Tatooine was big on communal bath spaces, so bathing was always interesting. But you’d figured it out.

As you walked, you examined Din. He’d done the same as you, forgoing his usual armor in favor of his long sleeved brown undershirt, brown pants with the black patches, and boots. He was still wearing the helmet, but not the head covering that hid his neck. The high collar of his undershirt did conceal most of his skin though. He looked comfortable, especially with Grogu tucked up under his arm.

The bath room was empty when you arrived, and you immediately began to fill two of the dry pools. Each one was small, meant for one person, but all the sunken pools were open to each other. No privacy.

While you filled the tubs, Din found a wooden divider, dragging it over and separating your pools. When you were done, you collected soaps and towels before hopping behind the divider and stripping out of your clothes. You could hear Din doing the same, folding his clothes as he took them off. Finally, you heard the sound of the helmet being removed and set down, and then the ripple of water as Din got into his pool.

You and him soaked, side by side, separated by the divider, for a while. The water was warm, and the smell of rain that filtered through the palace made your eyes heavy. “Din?”

“Hm?”

You sighed, leaning back so you could stretch your legs out. “How long do you think this rain will last?”

“Rain storms on Tatooine are aggressive,” Din said from behind the barrier. “But it should only last a few days.”

A crack of thunder sent a small shock through your body, but you calmed quickly, relaxing into the warmth of the water again. “Okay. I can do a few days.”

An hour later, once the water had gone cold and you’d scrubbed all the grit from your body, you got out and toweled off. Din, judging from the sounds, was doing the same. When you two reunited, you both smelled better, and Din seemed a bit more relaxed. Well, relaxed for him. He was still guarded, but it seemed he was finally starting to realize he was safe.

The palace was mostly empty. The rain seemed to deter most potential guests, so the only people around were Fennec, Boba, Din, and you. You and Din swung by the kitchen to grab some food, you carrying the food while Din held Grogu. It wasn’t an easy task, considering just how much Grogu squirmed. By the time you’d carried the food to Din’s room, Grogu had bitten Din twice in a desperate attempt to reach you.

“Alright you little Womp Rat,” you said, setting Grogu in his cradle with his food. “Stop messing with us!”

Grogu pouted, but let you walk away without crying too much. You sat beside Din, looking over your kitchen raid spoils. “Damn,” you said. “We did good.”

Din snorted, and you scrunched your nose at him. “What do you want?”

“This,” Din said, reaching over you to grab a metal container that was warm to the touch. “Please.”

“Go for it,” you said, taking something you didn’t recognize, but it smelled heavenly. “You have permission to eat as much as you want, and please do, because I know you don’t eat enough on the Crest. Turn around though, I want to be able to eat with you.”

Din turned, and you sat with your back pressing to his. He seemingly got the message and removed his helmet, slowly eating whatever he’d taken.

“Y’know,” you said, stabbing another glazed slice of fruit from your dish. “We actually get three nutritious meals a day while we’re here. No ration blocks twice a day.”

Din hummed, and you could feel him chewing when he put his head back and pressed it to yours. “Those ration blocks really are shit,” he decided softly. “But I can’t cook.”

“I can,” you said. “If we store ingredients on the Crest, we should absolutely be able to have meals like this. And I don’t mind cooking,” you added, knowing Din was likely to protest. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“Decent,” Din said. “Feels good to sleep on a mattress.”

You laughed, reaching to grab a container of cake. “Told you!” You said. “You sleep on that damned rubber pad, I can’t believe it.”

“You sleep on the same kind of rubber pad,” Din pointed out. “Yours is just bigger.”

“Yeah,” you said slowly. “The mattress is really nice here. Why don’t we visit more often?”

Din was quiet for a second while he ate another bite of food. “I don’t like Tatooine,” he finally said.

“Preach,” you said, pulling Grogu’s cradle closer and feeding him some of your cake. “Want dessert?”

You and Din shared food back and forth until you were both full, Din finally relenting and admitting he wanted a nap. At which you closed your eyes so he could get up and get into his bed.

You didn’t open your eyes until you heard the curtains around the bed shut, a feature Boba had put onto the bed specifically for Din. When you opened your eyes, you saw the helmet sitting atop Din’s folded shirt. Oh right, he slept shirtless.

Standing and stretching, you quietly kept Grogu occupied until he fell asleep too, and then you decided to find Fennec and maybe practice sparring.

You scooped Grogu up and set him down on the bed, leaving him to crawl his way to Din’s warm side. As the curtains shifted, you got a tiny peek at Din’s sleeping form.

He slept on his side with his arms up, covering his face. His hands were tangled in his hair, and you stared, entranced by the scar pebbled expanse of Din’s chest. It was the most skin you’d ever seen on him, and you almost wanted to touch it.

“Are you getting in too?” Din asked sleepily, and you yelped, jumping away from the bed like it might hurt you. You heard shuffling from inside, and then the curtain rustled. Before Din could push it open, you slapped your hand over your eyes, determined not to look.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go spar with Fennec,” you said, trying to sound firm despite the wobble to your voice. “Goodnight.”

Din chuckled softly, and you heard more rustling before strong and very warm arms wrapped around you. “Please come nap with us,” he said, leaning on you. His hand found your wrist and tried to gently tug your hand off your eyes, but you stubbornly refused.

You whimpered, resolve softening at Din’s half asleep voice and almost unfairly warm body. “Din,” you said. “Your face”.

“My Creed has long since been reforged. You can see my face. Fennec and Bona both have.”

When Din pulled against your hand again, he met no resistance. Your eyes met his first, and you swear your breath stopped altogether. “Din.”

“Yes?” Din said, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Can we nap please? I’m tired.”

“Of course you’re tired,” you said, your wits finally returning to you. “You haven’t taken a break in a decade.”

Din led you back to the bed, and you discarded your shoes before crawling under the blankets beside him. Grogu cooed when you joined the cuddle pile, and you snuggled up to him and Din, deciding to close your eyes only for a second.

When you opened them again, it was to a loud crack of thunder. The suns had set already, and in the dark, you could barely make out the outline of Din’s face. His curls were unruly, the mess visible even in the darkness. You sighed, resigning yourself to sleeping beside Din, especially because his arm was tossed over your waist. You were a bit surprised to find that Din was big on cuddles.

It wasn’t long before you were drifting off again, absently watching the rise and fall of Din’s chest while he slept. You wondered faintly if this was the longest he’d slept since he’d last been here. He often napped in three hour increments, just for convenience.

“You awake?”

“Well I am now,” you grumbled, watching Din’s eyelashes flutter as he blinked, his silhouette shifting when he rolled to his side. “Why’re you up?”

Din yawned. “Felt you move,” he said softly. “Woke me up.”

“Ah. Sorry,” you said, settling back down and feeling your eyes droop closed. “I’m exhausted.”

“Same,” Din said, pulling you close. “Thank you.”

You smiled against Din’s chest, curving so you were practically molded to his body. “Any time Din. Any time.”

[himbo-kuto]

i saw this screencap from the manga and knew IMMEDIATELY that i would have to write a lil headcanon of aone and his turtle. he is literally the most precious person who deserves the whole entire world.

i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it!

genre: fluff, wholesomeness, a whole baked bean, college!au pairing: aone x gn!reader word count: 2k warning: language

okay so you ended up being roommates with aone, futakuchi, and mai when you ended up transferring colleges last minute and needed housing

you saw that they had an empty spot and with time not being on your side, you decided to take the opportunity!! apt 205 squad!!

at first you kind of felt left out since they all knew each other from date tech but you soon warmed up to futakuchi since you had a few classes with him and mai because well-- you guys shared a room

HOWEVER!! one person you couldn’t seem to get close to was a man by the name of takanobu aone-- lemme tell u sumn about this Baked Bean

whenever you tried to interact with him, all he would do is 👁 👄 👁  or just Grunt in response

you were a bit discouraged because you thought he didn’t like you so you shied away from talking to him again :(

but futakuchi was quick to ensure you that was just his way of communicating and that he was actually really engaged in the conversation 

“oh yeah, he’s a great listener-- i talk to him for hours and he just sits and listens”

“ok futakuchi-san, but have you considered that you talk Too much for your own good?”

he gave you the finger for that one

but omg the first time aone Spoke to you????? rocked ur mf world-- what the Heck!!

you were in the mood to bake some cookies and were looking for the big mixing bowls but you just remembered that futakuchi used it to try and make a baking soda volcano 

why??? who knows but all you do know is that he put it ALL the way on the top shelf-- and for what????

but u know-- bein dumb as dirt u tried to use a swivel chair to try and reach for them

and of course it was all the way in the back like wtf curse these tall men-- 

and so you got on your tippy toes and right as you were about to reach it, Of Course the chair decided to turn 

and u were 🤏🏼 this close to eating shit but thanks to the one-- the only-- tol angel baby aone, he stopped the chair dead in its tracks just in time for you to regain your balance

“are you okay?”

you were so shook (one from almost breaking your face and two-- AONE JUST SPOKE AND SAVED YOU!!!) 

at first you just stood there blinking down at him with the bowls in your arms like hinata season 4, episode 15 - 15:37

he held up his arms to you and you blushed so hard because was he really about to carry you down????

but before your mind had anytime to roam, he pointed to the bowls and you realized with your real eyes that you were not the one to whom he was referring to 

it wasn’t long until you got over your initial iron wall with aone (…. 😏)  and he actually ended up being someone you hung out with on a regular basis

mai was always out studying for her practicals in the library while futakuchi… well.. who even knows what the heck that man is up to..

but ANYWAYS!! you guys would hang out mostly in the living room to watch TV, do homework and eat meals-- he always helped you with your math homework and you helped him with his architecture models!! 

you didn’t really know what he liked to watch but he didn’t seem to oppose whatever you had on-- however, you Did notice that whenever you put on volleyball he stared very intensely at the TV only stopping when commercials came on

aone Always ate your home cooked meals without fail

literally such a sweet and appreciative boy as opposed to futakuchi who would complain but one time aone gave him That Look™️ and he shut right the fuck up

that day forward futakuchi ate all your meals like a good boy

aone has also become very protective of you-- in high school, he may have locked onto the aces of the other teams, but in college he locked onto his close friends to make sure they were safe

one time you guys got onto a cramped bus to go grocery shopping and all it took was this creepo man to just Look at you the wrong way for aone to stand right in front of you and shoot this man a death glare that said “if you even think about touching her i’ll put you into the ground” 

HE MAY HAVE A HEART OF GOLD BUT DONT MESS WITH THE PEOPLE HE CARES ABOUT OR ELSE IT’S HANDS 

but know this ladies, gents and my non-binary friends, we MOST DEFINITELY sit next to aone on the bus and engage in the best of conversations because tHATS WHAT THIS MAN DESERVES!!!!!!!!! 

not to mention all the times he has saved you due to your clumsiness and overall single brain cell fueled activities 

one fateful day you were sitting in the living room as you saw aone come home with a whole bag of groceries

he didn’t put them into the communal fridge so you were a bit confused as to why he took them straight into his room

you weren’t one to just bust in there to try and find out so later when you guys were eating dinner you asked him what he bought at the store

he listed off a bunch of produce and then said that they were for his turtle!!!!

you were all !!?!?!??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 TURTLE?????? WHERE??? HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN HERE??? CAN I SEE THEM?

he goes on to tell you that he’s had the turtle ever since they all moved in!! but it never came up in conversation so you never knew until now

him and futakuchi rescued the turtle but when they tried to let them go, they didn’t go anywhere so they kept them!! 

so after dinner you both quickly washed the dishes, and he brought you into their room to show you his turtle

you were honestly a bit nervous going into their room-- like what were you to expect??? was it going to be messy?? stinky?? clean??? were there any secrets????

but to your surprise it was fairly clean and simple-- even futakuchi’s side (which you assumed was aone’s doing)

you looked around his room to find all these old pictures of date tech on the wall, many of them with futakuchi and mai

there was even a photo of all the third years clinging to aone like koalas on a tree and though his expression was faint, you could tell that he was happy

it warmed your heart to see that he got along with his teammates and held these memories close to him-- they accepted him for who he was and that was more than enough for you

he also had plethora of architecture books on his shelves which made you wonder why he picked that major in the first place

but you shrugged it off as you looked over to his desk

there was a table next to it with an enclosure and a cute little turtle sunbathing underneath a lamp inside

you scurried over to the tank, getting down on your knees to get eye level with the animal while you slowly brought your face to the glass  

the turtle was half curled into its shell, looking up at you as he gave you a slow blink

you could’ve sworn you felt your heart explode and melt all at once in that Exact moment

you looked up at aone with 🥺 eyes before looking back to reptile to see them poking their head out to fully greet you 

you squealed internally as you wiggled your finger as your salutations

“do they have a name?” 🥺 

“ichigo-desu...” (strawberry)

you thought your heart exploded before?????????????

oh bitch you felt like you were about to go into full blown cARDIAC ARREST MY G O D!!!!!!

“did futakuchi name them?”

“no i did…”

you literally hunched over, and leaned onto the desk for support as your heart was filled with his soft boy energy because there was no wAY!!! DID AONE JUST NAME THIS TURTLE ICHHHIGOOOO BITCHHH AHHH

but lowkey aone was also being filled with your soft energy and got all blushy-- but thank god you were too occupied by his turtle to notice

“do you want to feed him a strawberry? it’s his dinner time too”

you could not have said yes faster to this man 

he went into his personal fridge and there you saw all the groceries he had earlier that day!! he pulled out a single strawberry before handing it over to you

he walked over to the tank and cautiously pulled out ichigo before placing them on the ground

HOWEVERRRRRR!! what came next you didn’t expect at all

he walked around so that he was behind you, gingerly reached for your hand and guided you to hold the strawberry out for ichigo 

ichigo craned their neck in the sight of the fruit and started chowing down

and by God you hoped that aone could not hear your loud ass heartbeat and see your red ass face-- (you were surprised that ichigo wasn’t going after you since your face might as well have been a strawberry)

you two sat in a comfortable silence as you watched the little reptile enjoy his dinner 

as ichigo drew closer to the leafy bit, you wanted to ask aone if he was allowed to eat that part 

so you turned your head to the side to speak but immediately closed your mouth as aone’s face was only centimeters away from yours 

you thought you were red back then???? bitch buckle up cause we’re reaching a new LEVEL of red

at that moment you were no think, no thought, head EMPTY as you just stared at his profile 

all of his features were strong... the bridge of his nose, his jawline, his expression-- he himself was a strong man and you just wondered how all this soft, fluffy, wholesomeness was packed into this 192cm man

and just as you relaxed into this position

FUTAKUCHI BUSTS THROUGH THE DOOR WITHOUT ANY KIND OF WARNING JUST TALKIN OUT OF HIS ASS 

at first he’s so absorbed into his own conversation that he doesn’t even notice you guys in that position

but when he does??? it’s like those moments in animes where you’re all chibitized and you just have circle eyes and a blank expression o_o

you IMMEDIATELY come to your senses, releasing the rest of the strawberry and aone’s hand

if you could peace fade in this moment, you would’ve definitely flashed futakuchi a duces

but alas, you could not..

so you scrambled to your feet-- but not before thanking aone for letting you meet his turtle-- and RAN out TF of that room heart a BEEATTINN

from that day on, you visited aone and his turtle a lot more-- even going so far as buying things for ichigo!!

“hey aone-san, did ichigo like the squash i cooked?”

“mm.”

“hey aone-san, does ichigo like the new hide?”

“mm.”

“look aone-san! he can’t grip onto the cherry tomato!! it keeps rolling around!”

“mm.”

many of your conversations went along like that and he always appreciated the amount of effort you put into them

he wasn’t a man of many words but did his best to make sure you knew that he was listening and engaged

at one point mai and futakuchi said that “he has spoken more words to you in these past few months than he has with us in 3 years”

you were surprised but also flattered by the fact that aone was comfortable enough to open up and have conversation with you 

although it was a bit of a rough patch in the beginning, you were glad that you became a part of the 205 squad! it was you, aone, futakuchi, mai and ichigo against the world!!

[oumaheroes]

Earthbound: Ludwig’s Story

Characters: Germany, Prussia

Context:

Hundreds of years after the fall of Earth, mankind is slowly starting to return. Some people have a stronger urge to return than others, confused by fragments of memories from a life already lived.

Arthur’s story can be found here. 

Matthew’s story can be found here.

Gabriel’s story can be found here.

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

Ludwig is six, and is sick again. The doctors don't know what's wrong with him; they know what's causing it at least but they have no idea why. He can't keep food down and every time he tries to stand the world pitches and swims and he can't keep his balance so he never manages to stay up for long before he bonelessly falls to the floor, where he feels no better.

It's the gravity, the doctors say, for some reason he's affected by the gravity. The artificial gravity that he's known all his life; it's as if he's just climbed aboard and his body suffers from relapses where it just can't acclimatise. Where it suddenly realises that something's not quite right and rebels against him for a week or so. This his family already knows, but his mother isn't satisfied with such a lacklustre answer so she takes him to a different doctor every time he suffers another attack just in case one of them is even marginally more competent than the last. These 'episodes', as his mother likes to call them, don't happen all that often, but he seems to have one every ten months or so and they are regular enough to annoy his mother to no end. Ludwig doesn't really know if she's annoyed that no one can fix him or with him himself, Gilbert won't say and normally his big brother talks to pretend that he knows something so his silence worries Ludwig the most.

Mother is a very important person with a very important job: she's a governor of the space station upon which they live and it is very important that Ludwig remembers this. So, when he's laying in bed clutching at his belly and desperately clenching his eyes shut to minimise the swaying, his friends at school think that he is away for a special training academy. Because can you just imagine, the governor of a space station's son being space sick?

His father doesn't like to call it that because he thinks it's degrading so his mother doesn't, when she thinks Ludwig can't hear, anyway, but Ludwig knows that's what the kids at school would say so he happily keeps mum because it's easier than lying. They don't talk to him much besides, they find him too cold and distant but that's because he's so scared of disgracing his mother further that he can't quite relax fully.

When Ludwig is thirteen his mother, after exhausting all doctors aboard their large floating colony, finally accepts that it's unlikely that this small problem of his is going to go away. Her way of dealing with it is to pretend that it just doesn't happen; during an attack Ludwig is sent to his room where he stays painfully alone with only his books for company whilst she busies herself with her new campaigns. She's running for director now, aiming as high as she can go and there's no room for weak, feeble Ludwig all the way up there.

His brother tries his best to keep him entertained and happy during these times, but Gilbert is healthy, strong, smart; he's everything that Ludwig should also be able to grow up to be and their parents have sent him off to expensive schools which means that he's more often away from home than not. Sometimes Ludwig wonders if they've sent him away because they want Gilbert to be the all around best he can be, or if it's to distance him as much as they can from Ludwig. It's almost as if they're worried that Ludwig will taint him, or that maybe Gilbert will grow too attached to him and distract himself from what's really important. That Ludwig will anchor him down.

At five years older it's highly unlikely that Ludwig will be the one doing the influencing, but his brother, despite hardly seeing each other and such a large age difference, does seem to genuinely care for him. During one particular attack, when Ludwig is eighteen, Gilbert is home from university; it is almost Christmas and his family are preparing to travel to where his grandparents live on the other side of the space station, where they'll spend the holiday. Of course, it is now that his body decides to betray him.

He, his parents, and his brother are gathered around the large dining room table finishing off dinner. It is tense. Mostly it is Gilbert who talks because despite their mother's cool demeanour and their father's lack of interest he seems to always have something to say to fill the silence and speaks easily. Even with the response he gets, or lack of it, he seems honestly unperturbed and remains cheerful, somehow managing to both eat and speak without seeming impolite. As much as he loves his brother, Ludwig is also supremely jealous.

He stares at his fork, contemplating which point in the evening would be best to ask if he could slip away, when his body decides for him. His stomach swoops, his ears pop and the table tilts alarmingly. He clenches the edge in panic to remain upright and the noise alerts his mother, who looks up from her dessert in irritation.

'Ludwig, we are going away tomorrow.'

'M- mother-'

His mother sighs and looks at his father, who sharply stares back. 'Dear?'

His father grunts and spears another forkful of fruit pie. 'They're expecting him to come.'

'But the photographers-'

'What do you want me to do, Hilda?'

Meanwhile, Ludwig has still not been dismissed and cannot now seem to find the words to ask for permission himself without spewing all over the fancy silverware. He doubts that that will make the situation better, somehow. Gilbert notices and stands, attracting his parents' attention.

'I'll take Luddy to his room.'

'Darling...' their mother tries to say something, but it's what she's trying not to say that comes across the loudest.

Gilbert ignores her and walks around the table, slowly helping Ludwig to his feet, then away from the table and swiftly towards a bathroom. They make it just in time. Gilbert pats him comfortingly on the back and rubs soothing circles into his shoulders until he's finished, then hands him a glass of water.

'So, they're still arseholes, huh?'

Ludwig snaps his head up in horror, but this is a bad idea because the image of Gilbert swims before him and he has to shut his eyes.

'Don't call them that.' He finally manages, weakly.

Gilbert tuts. 'What the fuck did they feed you with in order to churn your personality out.'

Ludwig lays his head on the cool tiles of the floor and groans inwardly at how nice the feeling is. 'They're not arseholes.'

'Yeah, and my name's Shirley.'

Ludwig cracks open an eye, but Gilbert's not joking. He is, for once, deadly serious. 'How'd you put up with them Lud?'

Ludwig shrugs and gives a small shake of his head. 'They're our parents, Gil. They still care for me. Besides, I'm not exactly making it easy for them.'

Gilbert looks disgusted. 'You're their fucking son, arsehole. They're supposed to take care of you. They ain't even doing that right are they?' Gilbert runs a hand through his shock of white hair and bits his bottom lip whilst he shakes his head. 'Look at how they treat you versus me.'

'Yes, but I'm not exactly-'

'But nothing!' Gilbert raises his voice slightly and swallows. When he speaks again, he's much quieter, back under control. 'Have they got you in a university programme yet?'

Ludwig's silence is answer enough and Gilbert sighs deeply before brushing back Ludwig's sweaty fringe. 'There's nothing wrong with you Lud.' His brother sounds so very sad. 'Fuck, there's nothing wrong with you at all. They know full well that if they put you on a planet rather than this floating heap of rust that you'll probably be alright. And have they? Have they fuck.'

Ludwig wants to argue against him, wants to say something to stand up for himself if not for their parents but his eyes are suddenly burning and his throat is choked up. He knew a long time ago that his parents had given up on him, but to hear it from someone else hurts more sharply than anything he tells himself.

There's an odd companionable silence for a while; Ludwig lays still with his face against the floor and his brother's hand carding through his hair so he almost misses what Gilbert says next.

'I was gonna wait till Boxing Day, but I've got us tickets for Earth.'

Ludwig tenses and holds his breath. Gilbert continues. 'I was gonna wake you up on the 26th and take you away with me, but I want to tell you now instead, cause you look like shit. We're gonna get out of here Luddy; I've always wanted to take you to a planet and what better one is there than the original, huh?'

'You, I- you can't- what about your studies? The internship you've got?' Ludwig manages to stammer out, opening his eyes.

Gilbert brushes his concerns aside. 'I never liked medicine, really. I've always wanted to go to a planet, so I'm mega up for it.'

Ludwig knows he should say no, knows that he shouldn't take up the offer. He'd be denying his brother so much, he'd be exactly what their parents worried he'd be because he'll only drag Gilbert down and down and down like a heavy lead weight and ruin all of his chances at a good life.

But Ludwig wants to be selfish. He reaches out and clasps onto Gilbert's hand, squeezing it tightly. 'Gil...'

Gilbert flashes him a grin and winks. 'I know, right? How awesome am I?'

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

AN:

I’ve been a very busy bee recently and haven’t been able to write anything, so in lieu of something new, have something old.

This is from my fic Earthbound, which I’m embarassingly fond of. It’s made up of several different stories and Ludwig and Gilbert’s is the one that I’m the most happy with after all these years.

Hope you enjoyed!

[tllthesundies]

I mean I have so many requests but I don't want to overwhelm you but maybe a poignant one could be when Harry realises Louis is not going back on tour because he quit?

Harry gets the call while he’s in a black Tesla on their way to the airport.

He hasn’t heard from Louis in several hours, and he hasn’t bothered to spam him with messages or phone calls, fearful that he would be interrupting something important Louis could be doing. He trusts Louis enough that he can leave him alone for many hours without bugging him. But when he sees Rachel’s name flash across the lockscreen of his iPhone, he glances quickly at Liam out of the corner of his eye, who’s in the driver’s seat. Rachel sometimes calls him out of nowhere, just to get updates on how he’s doing, but she never calls this late.

He slides his thumb across the screen to answer, and brings it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Harry,” she greets, and he listens intently to her tone, eyebrows furrowing in concentration, “how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” he says, curt.

Stilted silence.

“That’s great,” responds Rachel. “Hey, I just wanted to update you on some venue policies. Um–most of the rules have stayed the same; however, it mostly just applies to your crew. I’ve sent everyone e-mails in regards to it.” There’s another pause of stilted silence, but Harry just waits, silent. Rachel’s tone softens. “Listen . . . I have some news you probably won’t like.”

There it is.

“What is it?” Harry asks, impatient.

“Louis called me,” she starts, and it immediately sounds apologetic, “and he put in his resignation.”

Harry stays silent as a rush of red bursts through his nerves in his hands and explodes in his fingertips. “You’re lying,” Harry says, blunt, whilst keeping his voice emotionless. Louis wouldn’t quit. He looks down at the sound of his fingers aggressively tapping part of the door handle. He can feel Liam’s gaze on him, flickering between Harry and the road in front of them. But Harry pays him no mind. Louis wouldn’t just quit without consulting Harry; they’ve grown closer whilst on tour–more than Harry ever imagined they would–more than Harry ever had thought he was ever capable of doing with someone. “Why are you lying to me, Rachel?”

“First of all, shut up. Don’t yell at me.” Harry didn’t realise he raised his voice. “Second, I’m just the messenger.”

“Repeat every word he said to me,” Harry demands.

Rachel sighs. 

“He said, and I quote, ‘Unfortunately, I no longer see myself as Harry’s assistant as my long term commitment anymore, and I’d like my leave to be effective immediately. There are no hard feelings between us; we just have a matter of inconsolable differences.’”

“Inconsolable differences?” 

Harry closes his eyes and flops his head back against the headrest of his car seat, hard.

“H, what’s wrong?” Liam quietly asks.

Harry peeks his eyes open, briefly, to give him a look.

Hold on, he mouths, then asks Rachel, “Can you, please, get a hold of Louis again? I need you to tell him to call me immediately; it’s an emergency.”

He hangs up on her without waiting for a response, and hurriedly finds Louis’s contact in his phone. He’s one of the few people in his phone that has a contact picture. Louis’s leaning back on a picnic bench, observing the setting sun reflecting onto the river water. He’s in a white t-shirt, comfortable joggers, and Finn is by him, sitting on the grass by his feet. Louis had surrounded Finn with berries and various fruits, with grains spread on top, to feed him. Finn hadn’t been interested yet. And Harry had walked in on that when he had come home from a meeting. Harry presses the phone icon and waits for the ringing, but each time he calls Louis, it goes right to fucking voice mail. He must have his phone off, or–something. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he mumbles after the fifth call.

“Harry,” Liam says.

Harry ignores him. 

He brings up their messages and types out, Louis, Rachel called me. Please call me back. 

He throws his phone in his lap, leaning forward and digging the palm of his hands into his eyes.

“Harry.”

Harry pulls his hands away. “He can’t fucking do that,” he tells Liam, looking his way. “He can’t just fucking quit, Liam. Not without talking to me. I didn’t do anything to him.” His voice has turned desperate. “We were getting along so great, I thought. We weren’t bickering. We weren’t at each other’s throats anymore. I was even starting to like his presence. I didn’t ever have to tell him how to do his job, and I didn’t have to worry about my schedule ever colliding with itself, and–and he’s great with Dolly, and–” He cuts himself off, trying extremely hard to fight the water flowing upwards to his waterline, teetering and teasing the edges of his eyes. But his voice is brittle, and he can’t hide that, as embarrassed as he feels about that. His dips his tone into a whisper to mask it. “How could he just leave?”

“Harry,” Liam softly says. Harry knows that tone; like he’s going to try to talk Harry off the edge; like he sees the furious tapping of his fingers against the car door; like he sees Harry’s leg bouncing uncontrollably with unhinged, aggressive emotion. Liam looks at him with controlled patience. “It’s in his contract. He doesn’t have to give you a warning. We gave him the options of quitting. I’m sorry, mate. Those are his legal rights.”

Harry could kill Liam and Rachel both for constructing that contract.

Sucking in a wet, shaky breath, he wipes at his dry face to get himself together and forces his leg to stop shaking, then extends his hand in Liam’s direction.

“Give me your phone,” Harry says.

If Louis’s only ignoring Harry, then he might answer to Liam.

Liam does.

[jacobseed]

domestic meme for edie + bo 🥰

you WOULD i love you sm wow thank you airika

under the cut bc it's so much

who reaches out to new neighbors

well... if they EVER had new neighbors, definitely edie. bo wouldn't even bother to think about meeting people and definitely would scold her for talking to anyone.

who remembers to buy healthy food

....edie? but not always just goes into the kitchen and takes a look and she'll decide maybe to add some fruits and vegetables to their diet. can't live off meat every day.

who remembers to buy junk food

bo. definitely bo because this man doesn't know how to fix a proper meal and he loves having something he can just grab and go. not that he doesn't know how to cook, but sometimes his food is... boring.

who fixes the oven when it breaks

oh bo. he had to learn how to take care of his brothers all these years, so he will fix it. but he does teach edie how to do it in case he isn't around or is busy with "work" that he can't rush back to fix it.

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s)

edie!!!! she usually has so much time on her hands and she actually doesn't mind watering the plants or taking care of the dog. it gives her something to do and some times she'll be found just sitting in front of her plants, talking to them.

who wakes up earlier

edie has her own eternal alarm clock in her head and once the sun comes up she's awake and headed downstairs - or occasionally still laying in bed with bo, tracing shapes across his skin or kissing the scars on his wrists. but, she likes to keep busy and will be running through the house to make sure the other boys are taken care of.

who makes the bed

surprisingly, bo! you'd think he would never, but since he's the last to wake up, he mostly just tosses the blankets around so it looks a little neater, but it gets the job done.

who makes the coffee

edie if it's an early morning for bo, but usually bo since edie doesn't care too much for coffee. she'll drink it once and a while.

who burns breakfast

bo... he leaves it too long and it will burn (usually he's still trying to wake up and is out of it) and so that's why edie has taken over breakfast duties for now on. besides, vincent and lester agree that bo is no longer allowed to make breakfast.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house

bo: sometimes he doesn't bother to tell her that he's leaving, but she knows by the way he lets the door slam shut. however, there will be times he'll just say "wait up for me, sweetheart", and she will.

edie: leaves a note if she isn't leaving when he is or if he's already gone and she isn't sure if he'll be back before her and if he's home when she leaves, she will grab his hand and kiss the back of it before she goes.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home

bo: he'll kiss her on her forehead and hold her for a moment.

edie: she'll kiss him on the cheek and

who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often

neither of them. neither really care too much about giving gifts, that not being either of their love languages or just something they like to do.

who picks the movie for movie night

bo does all the time. only because edie doesn't know many movies since she didn't really watch them growing up so she gives bo full control over picking the movie to watch. since it isn't easy for them to just watch all kinds of movies and neither have an interest in watching newer movies, they'll rewatch some several times.

their favorite kind of movie to watch

horror! but like, campy slasher films and that's about it. maybe some like, true crime documentaries or even very old movies the bo maybe have lying around from his parents collection.

who first suggests a pillow fort

if they did.... edie. maybe she saw it in a movie or remembered her old dead friends had mentioned it at some point, so she wants to try it with bo.

who builds the pillow fort

bo - since edie's never done it and i firmly believe that bo has done it at least ONCE for either of his brothers. does it hold up very well? probably not but when it falls apart they'll just find an excuse to use those pillows another way.

who tries to distract the other during the move

movie?? both. they can either be really invested or they can't pay attention at all and the movie becomes more of background noise than anything.

who falls asleep first

bo always does. he spends most of his days keeping ambrose up and running and keeping outsiders away, so by time the day ends, he's exhausted and falls asleep after getting too comfortable on the couch or in bed.

who is big spoon/little spoon

switch - but usually bo is the big spoon and edie is the little spoon however they will switch is up. bo loves to feel edie against his back and her arms around him.

[ri-ahhh]

desperate

Grayson makes his girlfriend all kinds of desperate by posting those photoshoot pictures for everyone to see

warnings: long af, about 4.6K, but mostly sexy times

***

MJ Macias is in a hurry as she huffs and struggles across the threshold of the front door and into the Dolan boys’ house. She practically lives there, so she had taken it upon herself to do the weekly food shop for all three of them. Her arms are laden with reusable shopping bags that are filled to the brim with groceries from Trader Joe’s, so she bumps the door closed with her hip behind her before waddling as fast as she can into the kitchen.

“Hey,” she greets Ethan hurriedly, heaving up and plopping down the heavy bags onto the granite countertops.

Ethan stands in the middle of the kitchen, minding his own business, eating a banana and scrolling on his phone. He nods his head in return, his mouth otherwise occupied by a mouthful of fruit.

MJ whips off her sunglasses and tosses them with her keys onto the island catch-all plate, simultaneously toeing off her AF1’s. “Can you do me a solid and put those away, please?” she asks. Her body feels hot despite the fact that they keep their AC on typical-boy freezing temperatures. “I gotta, um…take a poop. Yeah.”

Ethan eyes her suspiciously and chomps off another bite of his banana as he does so. Her flushed face, her twitchy hands, her slightly breathless voice, are all telling a different story. Unfortunately, he’s around his brother and his girlfriend often enough to know their horny tells, which are usually his cues to get the hell away from them; those two really didn’t give a fuck who was around when they got desperate enough.

“No you don’t. You saw his douchey Instagram post, didn’t you?”

MJ at least has the decency to blush a little as she rolls her eyes and digs through the black hole of her purse in search of her phone. There was no point in denying it if he was gonna call her out like that. “Fine! Would you rather me tell you I’m off to suck your brother’s dick? Because I am.”

Ethan retches a little. Drama queen. He looks down at the half-eaten banana in his hand, grimaces, and sits it on the countertop he had just been leaning against. “Ugh. So many terrible, terrible images I can’t stop now.”

Phone in hand, MJ is already halfway to the hallway when she stops and turns to give him a deadpan look. “You’ve caught us full-on fucking, E. Just think, you’ve already seen worse.”

She smirks when he groans loudly, his head tipping back exasperatedly. If there’s one thing that provides her with endless entertainment, it’s pushing her boyfriend’s brother’s sometimes oversensitive buttons. “Okay, okay, MJ, leave now please, before you inflict more mental scarring on my poor virgin brain. I’ll just… pretend like I don’t have any idea what’s going on in there.”

MJ scoffs. ‘Virgin brain’ is the biggest lie she’s ever heard pass his lips.

It also jogs a helpful memory in her head from two nights ago.

It started when she had woken up in the middle of the night completely parched, and padded herself sleepily into the kitchen at 3 AM for some water. The muffled yet tell-tale noises breaking the silence blanketing the rest of the house should have been her warning, but in her defense, she had still been half asleep. Cut to zombie-esque MJ suddenly turning wide awake when she rounded the corner to find Ethan on his knees on the kitchen floor, his head buried between his girlfriend Evie’s legs where she sat perched on the counter. A nearly inaudible squeak of surprise was the only thing she had left behind before booking it back to bed, leaving the couple none the wiser in the dim light of the kitchen.

She had still been thirsty, she remembers grumpily, and was left with her own mental images burned in her mind, which she had spent a good portion of the rest of that night trying to put out.

It’s only fair, as payback, that he doesn't find out that she and Gray have been in the exact same position several times before.

Alright, so it’s a little hypocritical for her to continue to dig at him, but she does so anyways without any guilt whatsoever. “Hm. Well, at least we’re behind closed doors. You should probably remember: the kitchen is for cooking, not for eating.”

She gives him a grin and a pointed look at the counter behind him, leaving Ethan looking momentarily confused before understanding dawns on him. “MJ, shut up. Serious— wait!”

“Thanks for putting the food away, E!” she calls over her shoulder as she continues across the living room, laughing heartily at the furious blush on his face.

MJ is still chuckling when her phone buzzes in her hand. Her heart lifts when she sees it’s from Grayson, asking if that was her he could hear Ethan yelling at. She swipes the text notification away and bites her lip as she stares at the new photo that is her background wallpaper. Thousands of other girls are probably looking at that picture of him laying in bed the same way she is now. What they don’t have, she thought smugly, is the real thing waiting for them on the other side of a door.

That’s exactly what she finds when she enters their room: him sprawled out on that very bed, looking superbly comfy in his athletic shorts and soft t-shirt, barefoot, his skin a fresh golden tone from doing laps in the pool earlier today. His eyes dart away from his phone, which he tosses to the other side of the bed when he hears her come in.

“I thought that was you,” he says with a bright smile, reaching his arms out to her. “C’mere. I haven't seen you all day.”

Not exactly true, as they had crossed paths a few times in passing in the morning, but the effect had been there since they were both separately busy. She doesn’t correct him and ignores his grabby hands, too, despite how much her body longs to dive into them.

She shuts the door quietly behind her, her green eyes appreciating the real-life version of the man in those photos. Those photos that she had gotten a tiny preview of a few days ago when Grayson had showed her the email, but were nothing compared to the final product. When she saw his Instagram post right when she got in her car to come home, her mind, heart, and pussy were all instantly fighting with each other to process the coinciding beauty and sexiness of the images blessing her eyes.

Now, she wants to take the time to appreciate every aspect of him. To let her brain wrap around how he can be so beautiful inside and out; to let her heart simply feel how much she loves him; and to let her body be a tool for his enjoyment.

Her lust must be evident on her face as she stares at him, unmoving from her spot by the door, because Grayson’s bright smile turns knowing. He loves the effect it has on her when he shows off what’s really hers to his millions of followers. It’s mostly why he does it. Admittedly, he’s self-aware enough to realize he thrives off the praise and attention from his fans, but he’s also selfish enough to do it simply for the rise it gets out of his beautiful girlfriend; he knows it could only end in his favor.

He also knows MJ like the back of his hand by now, and he hasn’t seen her this turned on without him even touching her since he made that post in Australia about saving the duckling. The marathon session he had been rewarded with after that was unmatched to this day.

Grayson has a feeling now might be the time.

MJ is finally brought back to her senses a little bit when he shifts up the pillows to get more comfy and to allow himself a better view of what he knows is about to go down. She takes off her black baseball cap and tosses it to the corner of the bedroom, eyes never leaving his as she shakes out her wavy waist-length hair. Her delicate fingers tug at the drawstring of her grey sweats — the very ones of his that he’s wearing in the pictures, actually — and steps out of them when they fall to the floor. Finally, her casual black body suit is all that adorns her body, and she pulls the spaghetti straps down her arms so it can slide to the ground as well.

Grayson licks his lips and let’s his hazel eyes absorb the delectable curves of her body as she stalks over to him like a panther on the hunt for her prey. She climbs onto the bed with their eyes still locked, small smiles tugging at both of their lips, until she’s straddling his fully-clothed waist.

“Who gave you permission to be that sexy online?” she asks quietly, combing his hair back with the manicured fingers of one hand and using the other to steady herself on his shoulder as she sits back and wastes no time rocking her hips over his lap. “Making all those girls want you. Jealous they can’t have you.”

Grayson bites his plump lower lip and brushes her long tresses over her shoulders so her tits are fully exposed for him. He takes a few moments to admire his favorite part of her body while his large hands find her hips to help her grind against him. He can feel her wetness already seeping through his shorts, and it makes him dizzy that she’s this turned on by him without him having to do anything at all.

“I thought you liked it when I make other girls jealous,” he retorts, meeting her eyes once again with a grin. MJ gasps when his hands sweep upwards to cup her sensitive breasts, where he rubs his thumbs a couple of times teasingly over her nipples before dropping one down to swipe through her slit. He moans when he brings the digit to his mouth, sucking the coating of her sweet, earthy arousal off his skin. “Mm. In fact, I know you like it.”

He’s so perfectly feeding into this sexy-and-I-know-it douchebag fetish of hers and it’s making her head swim dangerously. MJ moans herself and pushes his hand away from his mouth so she can kiss him deeply, sloppily, her tongue finding his in his mouth and sliding alongside it sensually.

“I fucking love it,” she whispers hotly when they pull back for air, her chest heaving with both desire and the attempts to catch her breath.

She uses the downtime to take hold of the hem of his shirt and tug upwards. Grayson lifts his arms in assistance until the garment is over his head and thrown across the room. MJ’s fingers are instantly drawn to the newest addition of body art inked into him: the black-and-grey photorealistic peach on his ribs.

For all intents and purposes, it’s her name etched into his skin forever. Usually when she sees it, it just makes her heart extra soft for him. Now, it only drives her lust for him through the roof, because if only those millions of people knew what that peach really meant.

MJ dives back in to kiss him again, both of their hands grabbing at every bit of exposed skin they can reach as their lips and teeth and tongues clash roughly, perfectly. They make out like that for a few more minutes until MJ’s finally able to comprehend that he’s fully hard beneath her. She could very easily keep grinding on him until she came, but she decides to focus on him. Really, it’s almost selfish how desperate she is to make him cum first.

Her breaths are loud and heavy as she bites her lip and scoots down his body with a grip in the waistband of his shorts, dragging them down with her. Grayson lifts his ass off the bed and hisses when his dick springs free, hot and hard and throbbing for her. MJ’s mouth waters at the sight, and she sits back on her knees with her eyes glued to him as she throws her hair up in a messy bun. With it sufficiently pulled out of her face, she settles on her belly in-between his legs, getting comfy; she’d be there for a while if she has it her way.

Her legs naturally bend at the knees and cross at the ankles, looking innocent and seductive as she takes him in one petite hand, the other scratching her long nails along the skin of his abdomen, hip, and upper thigh. She makes sure his eyes are on hers when she turns her head and licks up the whole underside of him like an ice cream cone. Grayson sighs and interlaces his fingers behind his head to watch her work, just like the spoiled prince she’s treating him as.

“You’re so hot,” she murmurs after giving the head a lascivious kiss. Grayson moans softly and throws his head back, swallowing hard when she follows it with a gentle suckle of the whole tip — just teasing little snippets of what’s to come. “Makes me crazy how sexy you are, Bear.”

With that, she dips her head lower and takes more of him in her warm, wet mouth a few times, then pulls back and drizzles some of the saliva pooling in her cheeks onto his dick. She repeats this again. And again. And again, her eyes shining mischievously as she watches him get more and more worked up the longer she goes without giving him exactly what she knows he wants.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hazel eyes glazed over as she spreads the considerable amount of slickness from her mouth all over his shaft. She’s got him as desperate as she set out to, which is only confirmed when he finally begs, “Suck it, baby, please.”

MJ grins against his skin and, with his dick sufficiently wet, gives in instantly. She dips her head and takes the first couple of inches into her mouth, then a few more on the next pass, until finally she has enough of him in her so that his tip is tickling the back of her throat. She hollows her cheeks and twists her hand on the way back up, continuing until she’s got a rhythm and pressure that has him moaning unashamedly amidst the filthy sounds created by her mouth on him.

“So fucking good,” he groans, gripping the base of her messy bun and holding her down so her spit and drool pools at the base of him, dripping down his balls. Tears start to stream from her eyes as MJ allows him to keep her there until she has to tap his hard stomach, trying to lift off of him to gasp for air.  

Grayson pulls up on her hair at once to let her, swiping at the tears on her freckled cheekbones for her as well. MJ giggles breathlessly and strokes one hand over him while the other cradles his sac. “Because you have the best dick, Gray. So big and thick and nice. I love your dick,” she moans and ducks down to suck one of his balls into her mouth, giving it a warm bath before the other gets the same treatment. “Mmm. Want it back in my mouth right now.”

“Yeah,” he growls, his eyes shutting momentarily when her lips wrap back around him. He doesn’t want to miss a second of her pretty face so close to his cock, though, so he opens them once again and demands, “Wanna fuck your mouth.”

God, yes. “Do it, baby, I’m ready,” she instructs with a moan. Her pussy throbs greedily when she takes him back all the way down, relaxing her throat and concentrating on breathing through her nose when he bends his knees and starts thrusting gently.

His hand returns to her hair for leverage and holds her head steady as he finds a tempo with his hips that she can handle. MJ fights her gag reflex and does her best to look up so she can watch his beautiful face with teary green eyes for as long as she can. Giving head has always been something she’s relatively enjoyed, but Grayson has taken her appreciation for it to a whole new level. Never before had she craved the feeling of her throat being stretched, the slight ache of her jaw, the way her eyes watered, like she does with him.

Grayson’s sounds are getting more frequent and needy, music to MJ’s ears solely for the fact that they feed her ego and drive her own arousal. She’s always loved that he wasn't afraid to be as loud as he usually is outside of the bedroom, inside it as well; whether he was working out or talking or getting his dick sucked, he had zero regard for his volume in respect of his twin just down the hall.

“Fuuuckk,” he moans, almost painfully so, and tugs roughly on her hair once again to pull her off of him as he sits up. He’s panting, a cute flush tinting his cheeks and neck and chest. She catches the sexy glint of one of his tooth jewels as he grits his teeth with a little snarl in attempts to hold himself together. “C’mere.”

MJ whines and follows his physical order, but not his verbal one. His cock is an absolute mess with her spit, a beautiful sight to see, and she rubs it all into his tight balls and his shaft with two hands. “Put it back in, Grayson, I want it in my throat,” she pleads, opening her mouth wide for him.

A deep, guttural noise passes his lips, his eyes blown out with desperation and desire. His visceral reaction to her defiance sends a gush of moisture to her already dripping pussy as he drags her up to him by her hair.

They’re nose to nose, breathing heavily, and MJ expects him to pull her by the back of the neck to kiss him, but he just reaches a big hand up to wipe the moisture from both her eyes and her mouth off of her flushed face.

“Ride me,” he growls, his fingers moving from the soft skin of her cheeks to the more delicate area of her throat. He squeezes gently, and she’s so turned on, that the simple hitch in her breath that results from it makes her eyes roll back and her clit pulse. “Ride me as good as you suck my dick, MJ.”

MJ whimpers and lunges forward to crash her lips against his, moving from the middle of his legs to straddle him with a knee on either side of his hips. Without breaking the heated seal of their mouths, she lifts up onto her shins and reaches behind her to find his cock and line him up with her center. If he wants a good ride, she’ll sure as hell give him one.

Grayson’s moan is synchronized with her own as she sinks down on him, so wet and ready for him it’s just one easy movement until she’s balls deep on him.

“God, this pussy,” he growls, grabbing a handful of her thick ass and following it with a sharp spank to her skin, causing her to yelp into the minimal space between them. He bites his lip and looks up at her darkly as she wraps her arms loosely around his neck, her nails digging into the sinews of his broad back. “Go, Peach. Fuck me.”

Those were usually her choice words, so something about hearing them in his deep, raspy voice said to her, sends her head reeling and her hips rocking of their own accord. She is fucking him; they both know everything she’s doing right now is for him. If she happens to cum in the meantime, it will simply be an added bonus this afternoon.

If she were taking herself into account, MJ would start by grinding on him, building that pressure in her core by stimulating her clit. But she wants to do everything she knows he likes, all for him. She looks at his face, his body, and sees those insane photos on Instagram. How many girls would do anything to be in her place?

A lot. Too many, really. The renewed thought both drives her crazy and makes her heady with a weird sense of momentary superiority.

MJ moans and starts rising up and down on him, bouncing on his lap so her tits are jiggling right in his face. Grayson grunts and watches intently until he takes them both in his hands, squeezing roughly. He releases one and wraps that arm around her waist, bringing her forward so he can suck her nipple of the breast he’s still holding into his warm mouth.

“Lay down,” she says breathlessly after a couple of minutes of letting him indulge, pushing gently on his chest. Grayson follows suit. He swallows hard when she drags her nails down the hard ridges of his abs before bracing herself there with her palms and making sweeping circles with her hips. As much as he loves a face-full of her tits, nothing beats the full view of her body when he's flat on his back like this. Her dark hair curtains the soft, blissful features of her face; her breasts shake enticingly; the respective dips of her waist and swells of her hips are more pronounced by the way she’s sitting astride him; her own lean muscles work hard as she moves gracefully, sensually, to give him as much pleasure as she can.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs lowly, overwhelmed by the sight of her on top of him, working just for him. Without him even realizing, his thumb instinctively finds her clit, his mind and his body hardwired to make sure she’s satisfied as well no matter what.

A new rush of heat floods her body at his touch, and the tip of his cock is hitting just right on that spot behind her belly. Her head tips back with a high-pitch gasp and she fights for a second between instinct to reach her own peak and the competitive, determined urge to get him to cum first.

It takes all her willpower to take the latter route and gather both of his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers and pinning them above his head. His biceps bulge obscenely, his shoulders and triceps equally pronounced, and MJ moans wantonly at the sight as she changes the motion of her hips. She uses the new leverage and goes back to moving up and down on him, a slight smirk gracing her lips when she watches his attention zero in on her tits swaying over him from the way she’s leaning above him.

Unfortunately (or, who is she kidding, fortunately) for her, Grayson also realizes the advantages of this new position. His knees raise behind her so his feet are flat on the mattress, and he grins when he starts thrusting full-force up into her. He would usually wrap his arms around her waist to hold her steady, but those abs are coming in clutch as he achieves the same effect with his hands captured above him.

He knows this is one of her favorite positions, when he jackhammers her like this, and sure enough her moans and whimpers shift in pitch and frequency as her body goes stiff. She can only take him like this, and any thoughts of other girls and jealousy and pride or any other emotion like them fly out of her mind as her body’s desires take over her brain’s thinking power.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Grayson!” she squeals, her eyes squeezing shut and breaking their mutual gaze as she cums and cums hard.

“Yes, baby, cum for Bear,” he grunts, snatching one of his hands from hers so he can grab her face by the cheeks and pull her down for a sloppy, desperate kiss.

It takes her almost a minute to come down enough for her to be coherent, and Grayson smiles smugly as he sits them up and trails his mouth to the spot behind her ear that never fails to make her shiver. “You love my dick, Peach? Hm? Who’s dick just made you cum that hard?”

MJ groans and grasps a handful of his dark hair when he bites into the junction of her neck and shoulder. “Yours,” she whispers. Her body is exhausted, but she starts moving over him again, tugging on his long, sweaty hair to pull him away from her skin so she can look him in the eye. If there’s anything that gets Grayson Dolan off, it’s eye contact. Eye contact, and dirty praises of his prowess. “Didn’t even need to touch my clit, it’s so good.”  

She clenches purposefully around him as she speeds up, and Grayson’s eyes roll back for a second. It’s MJ’s turn for her pride to swell, as the simple action puts him right at the edge. “Fuck yeah… ungh, MJ — gonna cum…”

She’s off him in an instant, back on her tummy as she strokes him off into her open mouth, her eyes big and green and sparkling as he whines with every spurt of his hot seed that gets released. The first couple of shots are powerful enough to miss her mouth entirely and land half on her face, which catches her by surprise, but she giggles as the rest find their place on her tongue.

“Holy shit,” he groans after a few moments, his chest heaving as he stares down at her with his white cum pooled on the surface of her tongue. It takes him an extra second to process the streaks on her face, and he smiles with a shake of his head. She grins back and swallows, swiping her finger across the bridge of her nose to collect the extra and sucks it into her mouth.

“Best nut I’ve ever tasted,” she says truthfully. Take his douchey captions as you will, but regular exercise and a vegan diet make the best cum. It’s science.

“Unreal,” he murmurs, plucking a Kleenex from the nightstand to clean the rest of her face, then reaches down to hook his hands under her arms and drag her up to lay next to him.

MJ smiles and nuzzles into his neck as she lets him pull her close to his chest. She reaches blindly behind her for the blanket to throw over their sweat-cooled bodies. “That’s my line. That’s what started this whole tryst in the first place. Because of how unreal you look in those photos.”

Grayson hums, and he kisses her temple. “You’re prettier. More beautiful. Absolutely stunning.”

MJ scoffs and blushes. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be used to him complimenting her like that, with such conviction. “I don’t think so, but okay.”

He shakes his head, his eyes closing as he starts to drift off. “You have boobs. You win by default. Nothing’s better than your boobs. Except your pretty face.”

She giggles and snuggles closer with a yawn. There’s a minute of comfortable silence, until she breaks it with her sex-rasped voice. “Oh, by the way, I caught your brother going down on Evie in the kitchen the other night. In case we need leverage in the future.”

Grayson grins, his eyes still shut as he nuzzles the top of her head. “Nice work, baby. But can we please take a nap? You wore me out.”

“Yeah, I did,” she says smugly to herself. She should probably get up to pee, but in her mind right now it’s worth the risk if she doesn't have to move. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Peach. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

[mischiefandspirits]

Doppelgänger (3/?)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{Prisoners of Love, Part 2}

Doppelgänger only realized the van they’d been tossed into had been moving when it stopped. They looked up as the doors opened.

“Out,” one of the cops growled.

They awkwardly got to their feet, their three minds all trying to control their body. They tried to shuffle to the doors and promptly fell out of the van.

Danny started apologizing, Sam started cursing, and Tucker started laughing.

A sound came from their mouth that sounded more like television static than words.

“Get up,” the cop growled.

The static got louder and they shakily got their arms and legs under them. It took a few moments, but they eventually got to their feet. They looked up and froze.

In the prison yard next to where the van was parked were Skulker, Technus, Desiree, and quite a few other random ghosts they’d fought over the past few months.

The ghosts had been watching the van and they all took on smirks or scowls when they saw Doppelgänger.

“Well, if it isn’t one of the young whelps who helped us get locked up in this stinking place!” Skulker said, crossing his arms and giving them a vicious grin. “Welcome home.”

The static grew to a screech before finally forming words. “We’re in trouble. Do you think shankings still happen in ghost prison?”

One of the police ghosts -- guards? -- grabbed their arm and dragged them into the prison. He shoved them into a small room where a pair of striped prison clothes waited. “Get changed,” he said as their bonds disconnected from each other, keeping their powers bound but allowing for freedom of movement. “You’ve got a meeting with the warden, then you can go see your friends in the cafeteria.”

“Friends,” they growled as he shut the door to the room with a smirk. “I’ll show him friends.” They moved to grab the clothes, then jerked back violently. They collapsed to the floor. “We can’t take off the hazmat suit. We’ll get in trouble if we don’t put the clothes on though.” After a moment’s deliberation, they struggled to their feet and grabbed the pants. They haphazardly began to put them on over the suit.

“Can you believe he thought we were just duplicates? Well, it makes sense. We do look exactly alike as long as we’re wearing our goggles. Remember how freaked out Skulker was when he realized we were a trinity. And how many ghosts have actually seen all of us fighting together?” They paused, one arm in the prison shirt. “Skulker and Sidney know, but Sidney never talks to anyone but us and the chess club. Skulker obviously didn’t tell the fruit loop so he might not have told anyone else. The dragon, Technus, and Vlad have only ever seen one of us change and Technus thought we were one of us. The same goes for Boxy and Desiree, but for each of the other ones of us. Holy crow, does everyone just think we’re one ghost going around kicking butt and duplicating now and then? That’s hilarious!”

They finished buttoning up the shirt and their bonds disappeared.

Energy blasted out of them, scorching the walls and leaving flickering fires surrounding them.

They collapsed as they forced the energy down, shaking. They spewed static as they tried to get their energy under control without the bonds to inhibit it. They tried to figure out why the ghost prison would allow them their powers, then they felt it. There was something in the prison clothes trying to inhibit their powers, emphasis on trying. The clothes were obviously only designed with one ghost in mind. They could feel the power of the clothes wrapping around Sam, then Tucker, then Danny, then Sam. Always trying to lash them down, but only managing one at a time.

The energy of the others was spilling out, trying to fit into the too-small space their body made.

They were about to separate, but then Sam got an idea. The boys hesitated and went over the idea. Slowly, they perked up with excitement and all three pulled themselves in, shrinking their power as much as they could without transforming. Even still, white-blue-purple light flickered at their waist and energy buzzed across their skin, hidden mostly by the prison clothes.

Danny and Tucker allowed their minds to go blank, allowing Sam to take control of them. She quickly put out as much of the flames as she could and placed herself in front of the door so that the guard couldn’t see much of the room when he came back.

Thankfully it worked and he didn’t say a word as he led her through the halls to an office, where he chained her to a chair.

“Doppelgänger, is it?” the white ghost from before said as he marched in and the guard left.

“That’s us,” Sam chirped.

He glared at her and opened his green book. “Trespassing, loitering, creating a disturbance, and possession of real-world contraband.”

She opened her mouth to comment, then her eyes widened as a gift box floated past. “The gift! Mr. -”

The warden grabbed her by her shirt. “Walker, son. Kn-”

“Not a boy,” she said.

“Don’t interrupt me, girl.”

“Not a girl either.”

Walker threw her back onto the chair and she barely stopped it from toppling over.

“You better learn quick that your jokes won’t earn you any favors here.”

“It wasn’t a joke,” she muttered.

“I am your judge, executioner, jury, executioner, jailer, and, if necessary, your executioner.”

She stared blankly at him. “You said executioner three times and we’re ghosts. If you’re going for scare tactics, then we should point out we kind of already did the death thing so executioners aren’t exactly scary.”

Walker smacked her across the face with enough force to knock over the chair.

“Son of a bi-iscuit,” she growled into the floor, barely keeping a hold on the three’s power as Danny and Tucker swirled back into consciousness. “We’re feeding him to Audrey II. No, she’s got better taste than that. True.”

“Seeing how this is your first offense, I was willing to be lenient. Now though… five thousand years!”

“Ok boomer,” they snorted.

He scowled and waved at the door. “Get it out of my sight!”

“Wow, we’re an it now. Just call us they you coward,” they said as a guard came to unchain them. “Did we have to antagonize him that much? No, but it was fun. Yeah, that’s fair. We're insane.”

The guard dragged them up and out of the office. A few halls over they were shoved into a cafeteria. “Chow time! Move it out!”

“Huh, so ghosts do eat,” they said as they stared around the too familiar settings. “It’s kind of like school.” Their eyes landed on the table where Skulker, Technus, Desiree, and Boxy were sitting. “Wow, heh, pretty much everyone who hates us all at one table. It’s exactly like school.”

As they tried to get themselves back into some semblance of order, they watched Skulker stand up and march up to them. The others stood, but stayed behind to watch.

“Hey, Skulky, question before we do this: Does everyone really think we’re just one ghost duplicating?”

Skulker cracked his metallic knuckles. “As far as I’m aware.”

“Wild.”

He stopped in front of them, towering over them as other ghosts began to gather around. In a low voice, he asked, “So which one are you then: the hunter, the geek, or the girl?”

Doppelgänger gave a smile that was all fangs for Sam, crossed their arms and tilted their head mockingly for Danny, and laughed in Skulker’s face for Tucker. “Yes.”

Skulker gave a confused frown, then his eyes widened and he backed away.

Their grin grew and they tapped at the tight rubber band-like feeling that had been growing in them since they’d been forced together. It snapped and the prison clothes were disintegrated as they split apart in an explosion of energy that knocked down every ghost in the room.

The trio instantly went to work. Tucker and Sam fired plasma blasts at the guards near the doors and on the catwalks while Danny opened his Space Fold, allowing six of Audrey II’s bathtub-sized heads to emerge. He set her upon the guards, then he and Tucker turned their attention to their fellow prisoners.

The lot looked caught between horror and excitement.

“Are you all going to try to fight us or are we getting out of here?” the trio asked. Danny raised a hand to shield them from a guard’s blast and Tucker took control of all the guard’s batons, forcing them to stop working.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend, for now,” Skulker said, eyeing the flytrap head that had just scooped up two guards and began dissolving them in the acid dripping from their lobes.

“No, don’t eat them, Twoey. They’re bad. They’ll give you a stomach ache. We’ll feed you when we get home,” the trio said, Danny turning to wag his finger at the plant.

The flytrap spat them out then started grabbing and tossing the guards around instead.

“You feed your plant ghosts?” Desiree asked, looking ill.

“No, we feed her ectoplasm. She’s still learning the difference between pure ectoplasm and inhabited ectoplasm though,” they said and Sam scratched one of the plant’s lobes. “Now are we going to get out of here?”

The prisoner ghosts nodded quickly and started rioting.

“We should probably send Twoey back before she accidentally eats one of them,” they said quietly and Danny flew over to lure the stalks back into the fold. “We’ll go for the gift while we lead these guys out of the prison. Alright, meet up on the other side.”

Sam flew out of the cafeteria and transformed. Humming, she made her way through the halls until she reached Walker’s office. She slipped through the door to see the warden yelling into a microphone.

“Guards, what’s going on down there? Somebody answer me!”

She rolled her eyes and walked over to the present.

“You? What are you doing here? Who are you?” Walker growled as she grabbed it out of the air.

She set it on her hip and turned to the warden. “I’m Doppelgänger, duh.”

He snarled and tried to grab her, only to pass right through.

She ignored him as she grabbed Tucker’s phone off his desk.

“Why can’t I touch you?” he asked as he kept trying for her.

“I’m a halfa, moron. Half-ghost, half-human. And humans are the intangible ones here.” She gave him a wink and walked through the wall.

She kept going until she passed through the outer wall, then paused. “Now where are my boys at?”

“Have fun?”

She smiled and turned to Tucker and Danny. “I got your parent’s present and ticked off a prison warden. Today was a great day.” She passed Danny the box, then handed Tucker his phone before transforming to join them in the air.

“My baby,” they said as Tucker nuzzled the phone. “Don’t make us say that! Come one, let’s head home.” They paused. “Do we know how we know how to get back to the portal? Maybe because we died there? Or formed there? How about we not think about that and just head home? Yeah, alright, it’s interesting though. Interesting as in morbid? Yes.”

They laughed and flew off.

{My Brother's Keeper}

Sam checked her watch and frowned. Danny? What’s taking you so long? Did a ghost show up?

Yeah, but that’s not the problem. The thing got away and left me in the smoking remains of the new guidance counselor's office. Lancer and Jazz found me and now they’re making me talk to her. Apparently, Jazz convinced him it would do me some good to talk to her because I’ve been “pulling away from everyone except his partners” and she’s worried we’ll become “overly dependant.”

Yikes, sorry, dude, Tucker said.

If she only knew, Sam snorted. Want us to bring you some lunch?

Yes, please. I don’t know how long she’s going to keep me here.

On our way.

The two stood up and Tucker grabbed their lunches while Sam went to grab some for Danny.

“You know, Jazz might have a point,” Tucker said as they headed to the office.

“Seriously?”

“I mean, when was the last time we did anything apart?” Tucker pointed out. “I know I haven’t hung out with the computer club since the new school year started.”

Sam frowned and tried to think of the last time she’d been to a poetry night. “Oh.”

“Yeah. And how much do you want to bet Danny’s been skipping out on time at the observatory?”

“Okay, yeah,” Sam sighed. “Maybe we should schedule more personal time.”

“Before we really do become a hive mind,” Tucker chuckled, only half-joking.

“We wo-” Sam cut off as heat flooded her cheeks. She looked to Tucker to see him staring down at his arms. “Hair standing up?”

He nodded.

They stuffed their lunches into an empty locker and transformed.

Sam pointed at the counselor's office.

“Think the ghost came back? Wouldn’t one of us have noticed? Even if we did, we wouldn’t be able to do anything with the counselor there.”

The two shrugged and turned invisible.

When they stuck their heads through the wall, they saw Danny sitting in a chair looking miserable while a perky redhead came up to him.

“I'm not saying you're a loser, Danny,” she said, stepping behind him. “I think you're a great kid!”

She grabbed his shoulders and their eyes widened when they saw a flicker of green energy passing from Danny to her.

“Then why do I feel so miserable?” their partner asked, slouching down.

The two snarled and Sam blasted her away from him.

“Woah!” Danny said, jumping up as they landed in the room.

Tucker immediately placed himself between the redhead and Danny while Sam had a nearby potted fern grab the ghost.

“What are you doing, uh, ghosts?” Danny said, backing away.

“Get somewhere safe,” they said. “She’s not what she appears.”

Danny nodded and ran out the door.

Suddenly a blob ghost tackled Tucker. “I thought you said it was the Fenton kid, Spectra,” it hissed.

“I thought it was!” she growled, phasing through the plant.

“Stay away,” the two snarled as Sam ripped the blob off Tucker. She punched it and sent it crashing into Spectra.

It helped the redhead back up, then turned to them with a furious glare. It transformed itself into the shape of a bee, only to be sucked up by the thermos.

The two looked up to see Danny poking halfway through the ceiling, waving.

“No,” Spectra shouted and black clouds formed around her. They rose to cover her, then dispersed, leaving her as a literal shadow of herself.

Unimpressed, the three blasted her before Danny sucked her into the thermos as well.

He gave it a hard shake as he dropped down next to his partners and they all transformed.

“That’s what you get for trying to mess with my head.” He gave it another shake then put the thermos in his Space Fold.

“Feel better?” Sam asked.

“Much.” He pressed into her side and she wrapped an arm around him.

“Good, now let’s get out of here before we get blamed for this,” Tucker said, gesturing to the upended plant and cracked wall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jazz fidgeted slightly as she made her way down the hall. She really should leave this to the professional and let Danny work through things without her intervention, but she couldn’t help but want to check on him. Her brother had been closing himself off from the world and that wasn’t healthy. His partners were no better, but she didn’t have any authority to help them. Hopefully, when they saw how much Danny benefited from it, they’d consider getting help too.

She turned the corner and then ducked back around when she saw Danny come running out of Ms. Spectra’s office. She peeked out to see Danny looking around then he held his arms up. Her eyes widened as she saw him transform into a green creature in a flash of white rings.

“What was that?” she whispered as he floated up and pulled a Fenton Thermos out of nowhere before diving upwards. She ran up to the office and looked through the window to see two people that looked just like the… whatever Danny had turned into facing off against a green blob and Ms. Spectra. The blob suddenly turned into a giant bee, only to get sucked into a thermos held by a third green creature -- Danny? Wait, he used the thermos! Does that mean they're ghosts? Ghosts are real! -- that emerged from the ceiling.

Then all three took down Ms. Spectra -- Who was also a ghost? Maybe? She turned into a shadow! -- before they all transformed. Danny from the one with the thermos using white rings like before. The one next to him turned into Sam using purple rings. The last turned into Tucker using blue rings.

Are they all ghosts? Why did they look exactly alike? Is this why they’re always hiding away together?

“Feel better?”

“Much.”

“Good, now let’s get out of here before we get blamed for this.”

Jazz eye’s widened and she ducked down and ran for the corner. She slipped around it just as she heard the door open. She looked back to see the three come out of the office, Danny still tucked against Sam’s side while arm-in-arm with Tucker.

He smiled up at them and kissed them both on the cheek. “Thanks for the save back there.”

“Of course, dude.”

“You’re our partner, we’re always going to take care of you.”

Jazz smiled and left the three.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jazz said quickly, turning her gaze back to her food.

Her eyes slid back to her brother.

“Ugh! What?”

“Nothing!” She shouldn’t say anything, should she? He’d get defensive. But a little push couldn’t hurt, right? “Uh, so, uh, Danny, I know I've been kind of hard on you lately, but you know I think you're great, right?”

He looked surprised before ducking his head. “I-I guess. I mean, I thought so, but I’ve been hearing things.”

“Then you've heard wrong,” she said, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing it. Well, he certainly feels solid. Human. And he’s breathing so-No, focus. “Look, I know you think I'm pushy and I'm a know-it-all. I know you think I can be a jerk sometimes…” she trailed off as he saw the dorky smile on his face. “You know, you can stop me at any time.”

“I know.”

She sighed and let go of him. “All I'm saying is I'm your sister and I care about you. And even though you don't think I'll understand, you can talk to me about anything.”

He bit his lip and looked away. After a moment, he glanced at her, “I -”

An explosion sounded in the family room. They ran to the door to see the couch was smoking and their dad was holding up some new device while their mom watched on.

“I'm just saying, if we can find that ghost at Jazz's school, we can peel that ghost like an onion!” their dad said.

“Well we can't completely vaporize it,” their mom reasoned. “Don't you want to at least examine the remains?”

Danny’s shoulders hunched up and he went back to the table. “I don't feel like talking about it.”

“Yeah, I'd imagine not,” she said, holding back a glare. Why did her parents’ obsession with ghosts always have to ruin things? She followed him back to the table and kissed him on the head.

He squirmed away with a glare, but she ignored him as she went back to her meal.

“I… Jazz?”

“Yeah?” she said, head popping up. Maybe her parents hadn’t messed things up after all.

“Sam, Tuck, and I were talking and… Maybe, maybe, you were right about us spending too much time together so… Would you want to go to the observatory tomorrow?”

She blinked, then smiled. “Sure, little brother.”

Not exactly what she’d been hoping for, but it was a step in the right direction. He could tell her when he's ready.

[living-dead-parker]

Shower - P.P

Summary: It’s the baby shower of the century. Part two to We Are Family

Warnings: cussing, fluff, so much damn fluff jfc

For timeline purposes; this takes place in May, the reader is like six-seven months. Last time I said something about fall, I meant winter. 

Word Count: 3.5k

The sight of everyone reuniting once more leaves you in awe. From your spot in the passenger seat of your car, you can see so many black and white colored tables, laid under a white canopy. The deck on the lake decorated from the shade, fairy lights strung across the whole area, making it look like a canopy of light itself. There's one single table resting on the small deck, one with two chairs on it. You giggle, thinking that it's most likely Nebula's idea. From your spot, you can see small, foldable, cardboard crib and baby bottle centerpieces. There are also black and white streamers, baby rattle cutouts taped to the canopy, baby's breath and chickweed flowers attached to the centerpieces. There's a large table with various platters and containers of fruit, vases, and jars of candies and plenty of other sweets and pastries. There's another table with six matching black and white gift bags, as well as about twenty baby-themed gift bags and quite a few boxes.

"Ready?" Peter asks, turning to look at you. The smile on your face is proof enough that you are ready. With a contented sigh, Peter unbuckles himself, feeling excited about today's adventure. The baby shower.

Tony, May, and Nebula were leading the Parker-Stark baby shower coalition, as they liked to call it. In reality, they just wanted to celebrate becoming a family, more than what they already were. A baby kind of seals the deal forever. However, they made it their mission to make it a sex reveal. At first, you and Peter didn't want to know, but the more Tony and May asked about it, you both complied. So, when the time to see the sex came around, you told the doctor to put the results in an envelope and send it right to the cabin. The only people to know what the result was for the next months were Tony and May. They don't care what the baby will be, but they still think it's a cute gesture. All they said was that it would be a yellow banner with the results in bold printed on it, as to keep the whole gender neutral thing.

"20 bucks and a back massage says May tears up three times, Tony tears up maybe twice," Peter wages, giving you an exciting look, the loving gleam in his eyes. You giggle at his words, thinking of your own wager.

"I'd like to add feeding me chocolate covered strawberries because I'll be too lazy to do it myself that May twice, dad four," you respond, giving him a playful scowl, challenging him so soon. Peter chuckles, nodding his head as he reaches a hand out. You take his hand and shake on it, setting your bet in action.

The two of you walk over, to where almost everyone is. There are three empty tables out of six. All tables seem to hold different amounts of people, no set number of people to each table. On one table; Bruce, Stephen, Wong, T'Challa, Okoye, and Rhodey. One table down; Thor, Brunhilde, Carol, Fury, Scott, and Hope. To the left of that table; Clint, Laura, and their three kids. The space already seems so full of people, but you know it's not that many and there are still more people to come.

"Should we pop inside and wait there until everyone gets here?" Peter asks as he looks around, the two of you still going unnoticed. You nod, wanting to prepare yourself a bit before seeing everyone.

It had been a few weeks after telling your immediate family about the news that it was made public. Mostly because Tony couldn't keep shut about it, so he posted a picture to social media. Since then, the only people you've told face to face was Bruce, as you've seen him once or twice in person within the past few months. Everyone else there found out at the same time as the rest of the world, not having been able to see it in person until now. So, all the interactions would tire you out, might as well prepare for it.

With that, the two of you sneak in through the backdoor, not wanting to get caught. Plus, there are still some touch-ups you need to work on, on both yourself and Peter. Sneaking in, you and Peter quietly waltz in, making it past the living room and into the hall. Until Tony and May catch you guys.

"Y/N! Peter!" they exclaim, seeing the two of you. Straightening yourself up, you head into the kitchen, where the two adults work on some pots and pans that are being taken out by Pepper and Nebula.

The two of you approach the adults, watching as they gasp and smile so fondly over the two of you. However, the more they stare, you begin to notice it. First Tony, then May. A small sniffle, and a second later, a tear. A tear!

"You guys are so big," Tony mutters, pulling you into his arms.

"Gee, thanks dad-"

"You know what I meant," Tony scolds, causing Peter to giggle. After he lets go, you greet a tearful May with a hug. Pepper comes back in with Nebula, the two women greeting you both with such enthusiastic hugs. Eventually, you and Peter escape into the guest bedroom, finishing up your makeup, and helping Peter with his outfit. The two of you decided on matching outfits, so you went with a very bohemian white sundress. Meanwhile, Peter opted for a white dress shirt and some black trousers. The two of you fixed your hair, Peter deciding to slick it back, letting the two small strands fall to his face as usual.

"Ready to watch people rub my belly?" you ask Peter, giving him a serious look.

"I'm ready to see May cry two more times, and Tony once more," Peter responds playfully.

"Alright, well, dad's gonna cry three more times and May once. But whatever, let's go."

With that, Peter grabs hold of your hand as you lead the way. He stops you as you move to exit the room. You turn to look at him and watch him as he bends down a little, pressing a small kiss to your belly. The gesture sends a small giggle past your lips and a gleeful warmth through your chest. Once he stands up, you lead the way out of the room, then out of the house. It seems like everyone's outside now. All six tables filled with people now.

On one table; Steve, Nat, Sam, Bucky, and Wanda. In another table; Shuri, Ned, MJ, and Harley. At the final table; Tony, Pepper, Happy, May, Morgan, and Nebula. The sight of everyone is one for sore eyes. It makes you happy, to see everyone smiling and laughing as they talk amongst themselves. Peter nods at you, ultimately leading the way outside. When the door opens, you hear Sam yell something about the couple of the hour coming out to play. Everyone begins cheering when they see you and Peter and your big belly. Peter takes you to the first table, where Bruce and company sit.

"You're huge!"

Those are the first words to come out of Rhodey's mouth. You playfully flip him off, giving him a hug first before going around to everyone else. You and Peter stick around for a few, letting everyone asks questions and feel your belly. Eventually, you and Peter move from table to table, greeting everyone. You reach Steve's table, seeing a big smile on his lips.

"Seems like you two have been busy," Steve says as you approach him for a hug. You roll your eyes, playfully smacking the man. His hand moves to your belly, rubbing it gently as he looks up at you and then over at Peter. Sam and Bucky strike up a conversation with Peter, tormenting him with questions about how he plans on being a dad. You scold the two men as you walk over to Natasha. You can see Wanda eyeing you carefully, but you give her a reassuring smile. The two of you had quite a rocky relationship, but after everything that's happened, you've learned to let go of things and appreciate everything. Now more than ever. So you approach her, hug her, and let her rub your belly because you could tell she wanted to.

"So, how does this little loser get you knocked up?" Sam asks through a chuckle.

"How else, Samuel? I'm sure you wouldn't know," you sass, earning a deep belly laugh from Bucky as he hollers at Sam. Sam flips off Bucky, the two arguing amongst each other. "Well, we got some friends to greet, so we'll see you around."

You grab Peter's hand and lead him to the oh so special table. The one that seems to be lacking your presence. One you've been saving for last so you can really get to talk. Peter excitedly runs to the table with you. Peter runs up behind one of the seats, wrapping his arms around the person sitting on it.

"Ned!" Peter exclaims excitedly. You smile, walking over to MJ and hugging her as you two greet each other. The two of you go and greet everyone at the table with a hug before sitting down with them and catching up. Topic after topic, you all speak excitedly about everything. From MJ having her dream job to Ned's business and Shuri's improvements on Wakandan tech.

"So does this mean no more science squad shenanigans?" Harley asks softly as he looks up at everyone. The same saddened look comes across everyone's eyes before you shake your head.

"What are you talking about? This is the next generation of the sciecne squad!" you exclaim, earning a couple of looks. You ignore the looks, continuing with your statement. "Plus, this kid is lucky to have such cool aunts and uncles in their life. Hell, science squad family nights. Our shenanigans will continue for as long as we're friends," you tell them rather passionately. They're your best friends and nothing will change that. Absolutely nothing.

After that, you and Peter head to the small table for two set up for you. There, you and Peter eat some food, you talk for a bit, and eventually, Tony joins you two. He goes on some tangent about how excited he is about the life you and Peter are bringing. However, his tangent winds up getting a bit emotional, causing him to tear up once more. Peter looks at you with a smirk, but you smirk back. You still got another five hours to go.

May begins announcing the games that would be played. The first one being a round of baby bingo. The first person to bingo wins one of the black and white bags. Everyone but Peter, Tony, May, and yourself participate. The first prize goes to Hope, who wins a cookie jar. The second game winds up being a rather long game of musical chairs. Ultimately, Bruce wins a mug set. To which Tony grows jealous. The third game is another long game of hot potato. Mostly due to the fact that Carol kept burning the potato in her hand the first few times. Finally, when she stopped, well everyone cheated. Wanda used her powers, Stephen used his as well. Clint's kids kept smacking it over, Tony would forget to stop the music. The game eventually got too intense and took a good half hour. In the end, Wanda reigned supreme and won a spa set; bath salts, a bath bomb, a scented candle, some soap, and a few extras.

The fourth game was an especially intense game of relay. Fasten the diaper -on one of Morgan's teddy bears, feed the baby -which involved feeding a partner blindfolded, put the baby to sleep -which was a bit worrisome because it was quite literally knocking down cutouts of babies with a ball. It was especially worrisome when Steve couldn't properly fasten the diaper, almost shoved pudding up Thor's nose and almost made him choke on it, and how he tore a hole through a baby cutout with a ball. MJ wound up winning, as she did it all right at record speed, taking home a set of wine glasses. The fifth game was a game of jeopardy, all about you and Peter. Harley wound up winning, taking home a pack of specialty assorted cookies and sweets. The final game was an intense re-match of hot potato mixed with musical chairs. Tailbones were hurt, an ankle was sprained, elbows and knees scraped, and even more burnt potatoes. Hulk almost made an appearance. However, in the end, Fury won a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers.

"Now that all the excitement has ended, we'll be moving on to some cake!" May announces. Everyone watches excitedly as you and Peter cut the black and white cake with edible designs all over. Deciding that you want to speed up the bet between you and Peter, you ask your dad if he wants to have a father-daughter dance.

"Right now?" he asks.

"Yeah, seize the opportunity."

As soon as the words left your mouth, Tony stands up and changes the song. The one you both claimed was yours. While the lyrics weren't father-daughter appropriate, the meaning and the artistry behind it was important. Everyone watched as the sound of Something Stupid by Frank and Nancy Sinatra begins playing. They watch as you and Tony stand together, his hands resting on your waist as your wrap around his shoulders. You rest your head on his shoulder as he rests his chin on your head. However, as the song progressed, you felt yourself become overwhelmed by emotions.

"Dad, I love you," you tell him, your tone innocent and sweet. "Thank you for everything,"

"Hey, this day w-"

"No, not just today," you tell him, looking up at him. His eyes gloss over as he looks down at you, seeing the all too beautiful e/c eyes he loves seeing. The way they sparkle with joy. "I mean for everything. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. I know things were bumpy once, but I would move mountains for your happiness dad, just like you did for me."

At this point, both you and Tony are in tears. You weren't expecting that, but here it is. Once the song ends, you press a kiss to Tony's cheek. He kisses your forehead, taking you over to your table before he goes to his. Through sniffles, you rub it in his face.

"That was tear-up number three, one more to go," you tell Peter through a giggle. Peter chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips and reassure you that you're fine.

"Alright, time to open presents!" Tony exclaims excitedly.

Seats shift around to get a better look as you and Peter stand behind the table to open the presents. There are tons of presents, ranging from gift bags to boxes. As the sun begins to set, someone turns on the fairy lights in the deck shade, illuminating the scene better. You grab a big bag, opening it as phones come out.

"From the Bartons," you read the tag out loud. You reach in and pull out piles of clothes and various other baby items. You thank the family before putting the items into the big bag and set it down. "From Thor," you read, grabbing the small bag and opening it. You pull out a bracelet with a green gem.

"It's a protective charm. So the child will be safe."

"Thank you, Thor," you respond. You put the small bag into the bigger on as not to lose the item. You move on to another smaller bag. "From T'Challa," you read before pulling out a pair of kimoyo beads.

"It provides medical assistance in case the child gets hurt as well as a communications bead for future use. I provided two just in case the other is lost."

"Thank you so much, T'Challa, that means so much, giving my child a piece of your tech, we'll be sure to keep it safe."

The better part of two hours is spent opening presents from everyone. Lots of clothes, lots of diapers, lots of shoes, and lots of baby necessities. You and Peter go through all the presents, thanking everyone. Now, there are three more presents left. You grab the medium-sized yellow box, revealing a set of small stuffed teddy bears. Each wearing a shirt with a name on it; Ned, MJ, Shuri, Harley, Peter, Y/N.

"We all pitched in for the idea," Ned says softly. You thank him, taking notice of the small banner design under the names, a sign that reads 'science squad'. It's very endearing.

You grab a black bag and pull out its contents. Inside is a small hanging piece for the crib, with an attached lullaby player. After that, you pull out a small box, revealing a necklace with a purple charm.

"Much like a lot of the jewelry, it's a protective charm. You get the gist," Stephen responds, earning a couple of laughs. After that, you pull out some clothes, as well as a few baby bottles and other usual items. Once you put all the items back, you see a small bag. A white bag used for donuts. The label on the bag shows the same one as to where you and Peter first got together.

"There's one more, you should open it, babe," Peter says softly.

Nodding, you reach in, feeling a ring inside of it. You begin chuckling as you begin to think of who else is giving your child a protective piece of jewelry. "This won't fit the baby," you respond as you pull the ring out. Suddenly, you hear gasps, making you look up. However, you look down, seeing Peter on one knee. Your eyes go wide as he gives you a big smile. "Peter," you gasp softly.

"Y/N Stark," Peter says softly. "Being with you has got to be my biggest achievement in life because I've found the person who I want to spend my life with. There's so much I could say, but words could never compare, could never really explain it all. Words are not enough, but it would make me happy if you continue to allow me to show you what it is I feel for you. To let me show you what I cannot speak. So, will you marry me?"

Your eyes are glistening, and as you look at Peter you nod your head, unable to even form words. This moment never seemed like a possibility. But now that it's here, it feels and tastes so sweet. Peter stands up, pulling you into his arms.

"Peter, I love you so much," you tell him as he pulls you into his arms. You hear him sniffle a bit as he pulls away just enough to kiss your lips. The feeling is there, sending emotions to rush through you. "I can't wait to spend my life with you."

Peter pulls away, grabbing your hand. WIth the other, he grabs the ring and slides it on to your finger. You turn to look over at everyone and see two people hugging each other as they cry in each other's arms.

"Pete, I think I won this bet," you tell him, nodding your head in your father's direction. He's in May's arms as the two cries. Peter giggles, leaning over and pressing a kiss to your cheek. The music seems to change in the background, the sound of Louis Armstrong singing La Vie En Rose playing catches your attention. You lean into Peter. "How about my award is this song being our song. At our wedding, at out anniversaries, at parties, and even in private. Just when we're together or even apart, when we feel happy, sad, lonely; we play it and think of each other."

"I can do that," Peter responds, pressing another kiss to your lips.

"Okay, lovebirds," Morgan cuts in, making everyone laugh. "Time to find out if I'm having a niece or nephew!"

Once Morgan finishes her sentence, Nebula is coming out with a box.  You giggle, giving your little sister a wink as she walks over to you. Peter stands next to you as everyone settles down, phones coming back out to take pictures and record. Peter places on hand on his side of the box, you doing the same on your side. As everyone finishes counting down, you and Peter remove the lid to the medium-sized box. You both look at the banner and lift it up, spreading it out and reading it over.

It's twins - a boy and a girl!

"What?" you and Peter yell as you look at each other. The open space goes quiet as you and Peter stare at each other wide-eyed. You both flip the banner over, showing everyone the words.

"Holy fuck!" Rhodey exclaims.

"There's gonna be two of them?" Sam playfully asks.

"Yeah, two kids who will totally kick your ass, Samuel. I'll train em once they're out the womb!" you retort playfully. Everyone laughs, turning to point at Sam as they laugh. You wrap your arms around Peter as he pulls you into his side.

"Wow, engaged and two kids? This day just gets crazier!" you tell Peter.

"Well, I wanna experience this craziness with you. So, Ms. Stark, how does Mrs. Parker sound?"

"Funny, we're hyphenating."

"Mr.and Mrs.Stark-Parker? I think I like that better."

[cake-writes]

In Your Atmosphere (Part One)

Pairings: Steve x Reader & platonic Bucky x Reader (mostly)

Warnings: PTSD / Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anxiety Disorder, Panic Attacks, Mental Health Issues, Survivor Guilt, Eventual Smut 18+

Summary: The first time you met Steve Rogers, he kissed the hell out of you. It wasn't the first time he met you.

---

Quiet.

That was the first thing you noticed about the new Avengers facility. It was a stark contrast to the Tower you'd visited a handful of times before whilst on official SHIELD business. There, you could easily hear the sounds of peak hour traffic and the endless police sirens, too, even ninety floors down - but here, there was nothing of the sort. It paled in comparison to the familiar city sounds of Washington DC, the ones you'd grown used to whilst working at the Triskelion. The paper-thin walls of your small inner-city apartment had done nothing to dull the noise, not like here, where you could just barely hear the spring birds chirping.

Upstate New York was quite rural, not urban like you were used to. Unfortunately, you'd have to get used to it, because as of today, this quiet place would be your new home.

You hated the quiet.

To say that it was a pain in the ass was an understatement.

Late last year, it had become public knowledge that SHIELD was compromised. You'd known for much longer. Even after the incriminating files were uploaded to the web, you remained steadfast in your mission to gather further intel on Hydra.

Then, a couple of days ago, you'd been caught putting your nose where it didn't belong. You had very narrowly escaped with your life and as a result, you found yourself having to get off the grid.

Tony Stark was ever the gracious host, offering up the compound while you regained your bearings and continued your investigation into what little of Hydra remained. Birds of a feather, and all that.

What made the whole ordeal even more jarring, though, was that you'd only previously met a couple of them, the Avengers, and now you were settling into their home. While you were familiar with Director Fury (wherever he was nowadays), Black Widow, and Hawkeye - because they worked with you at SHIELD; and Tony of course, too, because you often met with him in Agent Coulson's stead - the rest you'd only ever seen in photos.

The soft sound of your suitcase's plastic wheels rolling along the tile echoed off the tall ceilings as you followed Tony through the compound on a tour. You hadn't been able to bring much, just some clothes, toiletries, and a couple of sentimental items. That was all that would fit on the back of the motorcycle you'd been forced to hotwire. After all, a car wouldn't have been ideal if you had to get away in a pinch. All things considered, you were lucky to have made it here in one piece.

The final stop on the tour was your new bedroom. There were a lot of those here: enough for the Avengers, of course, and then at least triple that amount for other staff and for guests. You weren't sure which category you fell under.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," you said finally, coming to a stop behind Tony as he opened the bedroom door for you.

Tony laughed at that. "Don't worry about it, kid. Make yourself at home."

You gave him a smile and, when he gestured for you to go in, you stepped inside the corner suite.

The walls were a warm, welcoming combination of wood and plaster, and the room's large windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling, situated directly next to the closet and ensuite and catty-cornered from the doorway. They offered a beautiful panoramic view of the lush green grass on the training grounds, the dense forest bordering the compound, and the sparkling lake beyond. You'd been all sorts of places in your line of work, but this simple view was just as breathtaking.

On the same wall as the entryway was a large queen-sized bed made of honeyed oak. Its plush mattress was decked out in soft grey and white bedding, along with a few matching throw pillows. Two wooden side tables sat on either side of the bed, with a modern lamp placed on each; and a large flat-screen TV was mounted to the opposite wall. There was also a small chair, which you would very likely use for your suitcase.

"Thank you," you told him gratefully. "You're a lifesaver. Literally."

"That's enough of that, now," Tony chided as he made his exit. "I'll let you get settled. Just pop downstairs when you're ready to meet the team."

You nodded, and Tony shut the door behind him, allowing you to acclimate to your new home.

---

An hour later, after you unpacked your belongings, showered in the adjoining en-suite, and changed into fresh clothing - a plain tee shirt and skinny jeans - you made your way downstairs to the combined kitchen and living area. Before you even got there, you could hear lively conversation between a handful of people, four of them from the sounds of it. The facility already seemed much less sterile with the friendly banter spilling into the halls.

When you stepped into the room, you found that you were wrong. There were five of them, not four.

Natasha was the first to notice you. She was in the kitchen, fixing herself some kind of healthy smoothie. Beside her on the kitchen counter was a bag of spinach and a chopping board full of fruit. When she gave you a nod and flashed a quick smile, you did the same in response. You'd been good friends for a couple of years, now, and once upon a time the two of you used to go out drinking pretty frequently upon returning from the missions you went on together. She'd seen you sloppy drunk more times than you could count, but you'd never even seen her tipsy. She was Russian. You were a lightweight.

Your eyes moved from her to Tony, who looked comfortable and smug as always. He was sitting in a brown leather chair with his feet up on the coffee table, a glass of whiskey in hand, chatting animatedly with Vision about some type of advanced science or engineering or... something. You didn't really understand any of it. What you did gather was that it had to do with the mission they'd just returned from.

Stretched out on the sofa was Wanda, with her feet in Vision's lap. That was certainly a bizarre sight. They were both dressed so casually compared to the uniforms you'd seen them in; particularly Vision, considering he wasn't human but his sweater and button-down shirt were distinctly so. The funniest part of it all was that Wanda was scrolling through her Insta feed in boredom. You totally understood.

The last person you spotted was the unmistakable silhouette of Captain Steve Rogers. His back was turned toward you and the rest of the room as he looked out the large windows toward the lake, deep in thought. That was a strange sight, too, for you'd never seen Captain America in civilian clothing, let alone such a form-fitting white tee shirt and grey sweatpants like he currently wore. God, he really did have a fantastic ass. You'd always thought so from the photos you'd seen, but seeing it in real life was an entirely different animal altogether.

"There she is," Tony said with a grin, pulling you out of your reverie as his companions turned to look at you.

"Here I am," you responded awkwardly, doubting that most of them even knew who you were.

Tony introduced you to them one by one. Wanda was first; she gave you a smile and waved a little, but aside from that she didn't budge an inch. She seemed only a couple of years younger than you, which was kind of nice because you might be able to chat with her about normal girly things. You had an Insta, too, and as you offered her your handle - not that you really expected her to actually follow you, but she did! - Vision gently moved Wanda's feet to the side so that he could stand and greet you properly.

"It's a pleasure, Agent," Vision told you, and you shook his hand cheerfully. He was much kinder than you thought he would be.

"Come on, Cap," Tony called over his shoulder, sounding exasperated. "Don't be rude."

"Come off it, Tony," Steve grumbled in annoyance, which came as a bit of a surprise. Then again, it wasn't exactly a secret that he and Tony didn't get along sometimes. He took a few steps back to the group, but when his clear blue eyes finally met yours, he froze in place.

"Captain…?" you ventured hesitantly.

The way he was looking at you, almost mystified, made you blush and when he said your nickname, just once, your brows furrowed in confusion. Tony hadn't had a chance to give anyone your nickname, yet, let alone your actual name. How could he have known that? You'd never met him before.

Then Steve closed the distance in four quick, long strides and, before you could react, his lips were hot on yours.

You were too stunned to react at first. His lips were soft, but his kisses weren't, nor were his hands as they snaked around your waist to pull your body flush against him. You couldn't hold back the muffled gasp that escaped you at the feeling of his strong chest pressed firmly against your breasts and you felt like a ragdoll in his muscular arms, loving how easily he was able to move you in whatever way he liked. His temperature ran much hotter than yours, so much that you could feel the heat radiating off of him through the thin fabric of your shirt. God, and the smell of him was intoxicating; he smelled clean, like soap and fresh laundry along with something so distinctly him that you lost yourself in it. When you responded to his kiss in kind, you quickly found yourself breathless, needy, and desperate, your heart pounding fiercely against your ribcage.

That was when Tony's cat calls resonated in your brain, and you suddenly realized what was happening. You roughly shoved your palms against Steve's chest, hoping he would stop and also wishing that he wouldn't. Considering his strength, you knew that he could have just ignored you - but he didn't. He immediately let you go, and you instantly regretted the loss of his body against yours.

What a mess.

Your breath came out in harsh, shaky pants as you brought your fingers to your swollen lips, staring at him with a delicate mixture of awe, indignation, and fear.

Captain America was a pervert. Your rose-tinted image of him was steadily crashing and burning into a million pieces.

"What the hell,"  you spat hoarsely, "was that?"

It was in that moment that the good Captain finally seemed to regain his senses. All the eyes in the room were on him, silently judging him - except Tony, who was laughing his head off - but the only ones he cared about were yours. And yours, well, your eyes and your judgement were the worst of all. With one look, he could tell you already despised him.

The worst part was that he couldn't even explain it to you. Well, he could, technically, but there would be grave consequences.

Steve held his hands up in front of him in a show of surrender. "Wish I could explain, doll," he grimaced at the casual address when it slipped off his tongue so easily, "but I can't."

He didn't miss the way your jaw tensed at his non-answer. He knew you - well, not this version of you, but he still knew how you would react. You were teetering on the fine line between slapping the hell out of him and storming out of the room. Either reaction would embarrass you, and he didn't want that.  

"What I can do is apologize," he spoke carefully, like you were a cornered animal, "and I'm sorry, Agent. It won't happen again."

You crossed your arms in front of yourself, biting the inside of your cheek. He certainly looked apologetic enough, but you weren't sure if he really meant it and, worse still, if you could even trust him at all. He was Captain America, leader of the Avengers. Even Natasha trusted him. Surely that meant he was trustworthy, but what man in his right mind kissed a girl like that before he even said two words to her?

When Tony's laughter had died down, you weren't sure, but you could feel all eyes on the room fixed upon you, now, and you shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny. You glanced over at Natasha for help and, upon seeing her amused look, you finally remembered your training. The best course of action here would be diplomacy.

"Okay." You offered a perfectly calculated shrug and casually held your hand out to him for a handshake. "Well, whatever. It's good to meet you, Captain."

Steve could feel the trembling of your small hand in his grasp. He shook it once, and then he let it go.

You could immediately tell that he'd figured you out, that you were putting on a brave facade. Whether you were afraid of him or of your body's reaction to him, you didn't know, but you wouldn't let it show. Not in front of the others. Not in front of Tony. Not when he was being such a gracious host.

"Well, that was awkward," you said with a nervous laugh in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

Fortunately, it worked, and soon enough the conversation began to flow freely again. Tony and Vision continued discussing their science, the kind that was way above your paygrade, while Natasha finished adding ingredients to her smoothie. Wanda had since stopped laying down, instead she sat in the middle of the sofa which allowed you to take a seat next to her. She showed you her Insta feed while she scrolled through it, and the two of you chatted about the new makeup releases that appeared as she scrolled further and further down. Every now and then, she gave you a sly grin, which you did your best to ignore. You definitely hadn't heard the last of it yet.

You were keenly aware of him, though, even as you tried to forget about the way your heart was racing. Your body was still thrumming with excitement from the encounter, heat pooling in between your legs, and you risked a glance at him. His cheeks were slightly flushed as he talked to Natasha about something you couldn't hear, her blender whirring loudly over their voices. You knew it was being used as some type of cover, but you still tried - and failed - not to pay attention.

Then your eyes met his for the briefest of seconds, and you quickly looked away.

---

After a few distracted minutes, your phone buzzed, and you quietly excused yourself from Wanda to pull it out of your pocket. Natasha had sent you a text.

You shot Natasha a look and she grinned at you, to which you rolled your eyes. It looked like Steve had left her to her smoothie, and you quickly scanned around the room only to discover that he was nowhere to be found. He must have slipped away sometime while you were blatantly ignoring him.

Well, that was kind of disappointing, but you didn't let it show. Instead, you responded to her text with righteous indignation.

Then she sent you a picture of what had just happened, a very clear photo of Captain America kissing the living daylights out of you. God, you knew how well he could kiss, now, but seeing your reaction to it on the small screen was even worse.

When had he even leaned you back? You weren't parallel to the floor or anything, like in the movies, but he had definitely leaned you back, forcing your body to rely on him. Perhaps 'forcing' was too strong a word, because you hadn't been forced at all - quite the opposite. One of his muscular arms was around your waist, and with the other he splayed his large palm over the middle of your back, holding you securely against him so that you didn't fall. Your fingers, meanwhile, were threading through his blonde hair, pulling him impossibly closer. It wasn't hard to see the shared desperation between the two of you, a desperation you'd never felt before.

Feeling embarrassed, you huffed and hovered your fingertip over the 'delete' button. Natasha had a point, though, and you just couldn't bring yourself to delete it. She was right. You did love it.

That was going to be a problem.

---

Part Two / Master List

[lovelylogans]

where you lead, i will follow

chapter one / next chapter

here’s the whole thing!

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, verbal fighting, top surgery mention, classism, 

pairings: moxiety, logince

words: 11,088

notes: so, remember these posts? this was the fic. it’s a gilmore girls au. i thought it was gonna be a bullet list fic, which is why it’s written Like That. anyway it’s ballooned into a ten chapter fic. i know, okay, i know.

(extra note: i haven’t watched all of gilmore girls, and what i have seen was a while ago. however i have read some a+ fics with this concept. if you are in the check please! fandom please see this one, and also read all of shellybelle’s works because they’re That Good. and if you are in the 100 fandom please read this one, and also all of layalioness’ works. layalioness also introduced me to the concept of a practical magic au, which i also wrote in the sanders sides fandom. we stan.)

all right so picture this: very tiny town. let’s call it uhhhhh... sideshire. why not. the tiny town of sideshire. it’s early morning. there are certain things that happen in sideshire every morning. ms. prince and her son are leading the sunrise yoga class in the dance studio the prince family has owned for nearly fifty years. other small town stuff. you get it. i’d set the mood but this is a bullet list fic. but the most famed is patton pleading with virgil to get one more cup of hot cocoa/coffee.

(yes. hot cocoa/coffee. it is a mixture of hot cocoa and coffee. it is specific to virgil’s menu. patton attempts to consume enough of it on a daily basis to match the amount of blood in his veins so that his body runs only on hot cocoa/coffee. don’t you mean a mocha? you ask. no, i say, and refuse to explain further.)

logan, on the other hand, is using the distraction of his father pleading for caffeine/sugar to feed his burgeoning coffee addiction.

“DO NOT THINK I DO NOT SEE YOU, LOGAN SANDERS,” virgil bellows, as if he is not already slipping logan a half-caf to-go cup across the table. “YOU WILL GET AN ULCER AND I THE ONLY THING I WILL TELL YOU IS I TOLD YOU SO. CUT IT BACK.”

he is also passing logan a chocolate chip muffin baked with protein powder even as he is lecturing very loudly. it is baked with protein powder because he tends to hide healthy things into food that is probably not healthy otherwise alongside the other things. the ones he tends to reserve for the people he never sees eat a single vegetable, and also for literally every person in the town who could be seen as still growing. virgil loves likes patton a lot, but he also knows that patton has a sweet tooth and adores junk food and is not much of a cook. so he tends to save a lot of the sneak-attack healthy stuff for them.

also perhaps he has a soft spot for logan, probably because logan has grown up in this diner: he’s fallen asleep in every booth, sat in every seat while he colored pictures or did homework or made his own copies of a newspaper out of printer paper, took his first steps on this tiled floor. it’s hard not to develop a soft spot for someone you’ve known since he’s been three weeks old. it’s a Thing. logan only abuses this power sometimes.

“—but i just want a liiiiiiiiittle more hot cocoa/coffee,” patton pleads, trying for his best puppy dog eyes. they always work eventually. “c’mon, i’ve been so good, i even ate your super healthy breakfast—”

“—patton, that was an omelet and i put in maybe two vegetables among the bacon, ham, and absurd amounts of cheese, and do not think i did not see your grocery run last night how can one fully grown man only know how to make box macaroni and ramen and microwavable meals you have a growing son who needs things like vegetables and protein—”

“—but the past is the past! and if i don’t have enough caffeine, i might crash, virgil. i will crash asleep in the middle of this diner. and then you will have to steer all of your customers around me. and then you’re going to have to deal with me eventually waking up and pleading for more hot cocoa/coffee. so if you just give me a cup right nowwwww...?”

virgil folds. he always does. he has the world’s biggest weakness for the way patton’s eyes light up when he gets his way, as if virgil would truly deny him anything (within reason, obviously. if left unattended patton would have the dream diet of a six-year-old.)

“....you’re getting this smoothie to take with you to work.”

virgil has stocked it with protein powder and spinach and literally as many healthy things he can shove into the blender without overpowering the flavor of mango and pineapple. he chose those fruits specifically because they are more powerful than banana and strawberry to mask the flavor of more healthy things. literally all of patton’s healthy eating falls to virgil. it is Kind Of A Problem. virgil has no idea how he hasn’t gotten scurvy.

“deal!”

“you are drinking ALL OF IT, do you understand?”

“yesyesyes, now hot cocoa/coffee!!!”

“....fine.”

“you are an angel sent down from heaven, virgil, i swear.”

at this moment, roman prince attempts to stroll casually into the diner as if he has not just sprinted from the studio for the sole purpose of walking logan from place to place. patton and virgil exchange knowing glances over their heads.

logan obliviously looks up from his newspaper (it is a small town newspaper, as in, it is about six pages and printed on cheap newsprint—most of it a glorified pta newsletter nestled in along stories brought in from the wire around the state, and ap stories for national/international stories. he has underlined and circled various errors in red pen. there are cramped notes along the sides of each column. he will drop it off at the town’s excuse for a “press” on the way back from school. he has been doing this since he was seven years old. he got his first byline then too. patton has every single one of his bylines framed/otherwise in a scrapbook.

when he drops off the paper every day, the sole reporter/editor/photographer of the sideshire courant will attempt to not throttle him, mostly because he’s a good part-timer/intern/free labor. the whole town knows he will work for some bigshot city paper someday. but for now his know-it-all-ness is lovably infuriating. emphasis on infuriating.)

and he says “good morning” as if he does not notice how roman lights up when he says it.

patton and virgil exchange an even more knowing glance.

virgil does give roman a good meal that is easy to eat to-go and is also good for replenishing calories after a workout, though. virgil also might have a soft spot for roman prince. this particular soft spot is mostly overridden by bickering. no, virgil is not too proud to engage in bickering with a teenager. shut up.

roman, vaguely related, has also somehow become virgil’s sole confidant when it comes to his crush on patton??? it has also applied vice-versa when it comes to roman’s crush on logan??? how did this happen, you ask? virgil literally could not tell you. he just knows that sometimes roman will come into the diner to Scream about logan sometimes and then will say something along the lines of “sanders men, amirite,” and virgil will grumble at him in commiseration. 

logan and roman depart soon after to walk to do their summer shenanigans (today, roman will win out their argument, and logan will dangle his feet in the town’s excuse for a swimming hole as he reads poetry aloud to roman, who’s diving to get what he hopes are pretty rocks for logan. most of the time they’re covered with moss. logan appreciates the effort. not that he’d ever say it.) patton whips his head around, looking over each shoulder in the most obvious way that he could possibly telegraph I AM ABOUT TO TALK ABOUT SENSITIVE THINGS I DON’T WANT OVERHEARD in a town full of gossips, and ducks closer to virgil, as if he can somehow avoid the town’s eavesdroppers that way. virgil does NOT find it cute.

“i got the letter,” he whispers conspiratorially.

“did you open it???” virgil demands immediately, ignoring the old man gesturing angrily for a coffee refill down the bar, because he could wait and honestly if he didn’t get how patton had priority by now did he even live in sideshire???

“no, i was waiting for you,” patton admits and virgil’s heart does NOT melt a little.

“well?? open it,” he demands.

patton takes a breath and unearths the envelope from chilton.

(backstory: patton started the campaign for logan to get a spot since his freshman year, since his son is so smart and deserves every single chance to succeed. logan does not know his dad has been applying for him, because he would inevitably start fretting about money and transport, but patton’s the dad, okay, he can worry about that stuff. but it’s now hit logan’s sophomore year and it’s the first week for chilton next monday and this letter came and WELL.)

patton does open it. and then patton starts screaming. and then virgil shouts a little too.

BECAUSE LOGAN GOT IN!! but of course he got in, he’s so smart and his grades are so good and of COURSE he would get in but logan would be so excited and virgil virgil VIRGIL MY SON IS GOING TO AN IVY LEAGUE—

patton is maybe crying a little he’s so excited. chilton wasn’t for him because he wasn’t the traditional kind of “book smart” they valued, and he never wanted to go to an ivy, and he’d never really fit in with the whole ‘high society’ thing, plus he was the first openly trans student there, plus like teen pregnancy, but all these opportunities for his son—

and then his face falls a little.

“what??” virgil says, already running through literally every single worst case scenario in his mind. “what is it?”

patton slides over the letter and silently underlines the tuition with his finger. virgil cringes away out of sheer instinct.

patton is a bit late to work that morning because he’s tried to talk out every possible way to make it work with virgil (sell something? sell a lot of things? mortgage? sell all the things???) but he knows there’s a surefire way to get that money without putting himself into major debt.

enter emily and richard sanders. (yes, i’m keeping the names emily and richard. they work too well and i can’t think of anything else. i’m handling it)

so they were a little rocky with accepting that their son is trans, but they’ve always had a... not the best kind of relationship? so they aren’t specifically transphobic (after patton ran away and had logan and they were trying to make amends, they actually paid for his top surgery) but they... well, let’s go with patton wasn’t the kid they were expecting (read: wanted) to have?

they’re v attached to their high society lifestyle, and they expected a kid who would follow that, they expected a kid who was book smart and would be in the top of his class, and they expected a kid who would want to go to an ivy league and settle down in a very cis/hetero-normative relationship and uh it was clear p early on that patton Wasn’t Gonna Do That. so patton’s whole childhood was him chafing against these all expectations, and then he came out, and then pregnancy, and he felt like he’s done everything possible to disappoint them, and the final nail in the casket was running away to sideshire when logan was barely three weeks old in the dead of the night when his parents were out at their first public appearance since logan’s birth, and he took a car and packed up everything and left, the only goodbye a note left in logan’s crib.

but again, they tried to make amends. it has only worked a little. they have stilted contact on holidays. it is polite and frigid. neither patton or logan like it.

so patton begs off work early and makes the drive to their massive mansion. he is very aware that he is in a holey, stretched-out sweater and jeans that are messy from him running around in the kitchen and playing on the grounds with the group of kids that had come up for a debate tournament. he wonders if he has gotten too old to feel rebellious about things like that, and then he deliberately messes up his hair too. just to complete the image.

it’s for logan, patton reminds himself constantly as he squeaks up the stairs in the sneakers that have a hole in the left sole that he’s duct-taped over, it’s for logan, it’s for logan, it’s for logan. his son, who he loves more than anything in the world.

he knocks. his mother opens the door. patton kind of has the feeling that he’s about to sell his soul to the devil.

he talks with his parents. he makes it very clear that it is A Loan He Will Pay Back, and that it is For Logan. patton escapes with three slightly barbed comments about his hair, five about his wardrobe in general, and eleven about his life choices, but he gets out knowing that he and logan are going to have to have weekly dinners with his parents and that he’s going to have to call his parents every week to talk about logan’s schooling, too. but he definitely got the tuition money for chilton.

so, he definitely kind of sold his soul to the devil. just a little.

he also wonders if this knowledge is gonna deplete logan’s excitement over chilton.

patton slumps into virgil’s diner. virgil immediately pours him a hot cocoa/coffee, because patton should never ever look so much like a drowned, kicked puppy.

“so,” he says, tracing the circle of the mug with his pinky, “good news, i got the tuition money.”

“you starting with good news implies there’s bad news,” virgil says, leaning against the counter. his part-time workers, used to this, scoot around him in the quest to serve the other customers.

patton grimaces. “so you know my parents.”

(virgil had a brief run-in with patton’s parents one easter. virgil might have thrown some dyed eggs at their fancy car. it was not a particularly great run-in, even if nine-year-old logan had shouted “COOL!” with delight in his eyes because he was young enough then to not worry about looking serious all the time and patton to this day looks a little smug whenever he sees people starting to dye eggs.)

(virgil had met them one other time before that, actually, but patton wasn’t in a place to remember it and logan was too little to remember it, so.)

“aw, patton, no,” virgil says, putting the pieces together.

“patton yes,” patton says unhappily, “and patton and logan will have to go to weekly dinners until patton is dead, probably, and patton might not escape it even then.”

virgil wordlessly dishes up some of the double chocolate fudge layer cake. it is a mark of how patton feels right now that he does not start crowing about dietary victory over virgil’s extremist vegetable agenda.

(he maybe spends a little too much time hosting roman prince in his house, but hey, any kid is welcome in his house, okay? especially when they’re definitely absolutely in love with his son. patton might have a bet going with himself on who confesses first. his money is on roman, because bless his son, but he is Terrible With Emotions which he probably inherited from patton but in, like, a whole new different way. genetics, right?)

“i mean,” patton sighed, dragging his fork through the icing, “it’s worth it. for logan, anything’s worth it. it's just—”

“your parents suck,” virgil finishes bluntly.

“they don’t suck entirely.”

“not being as much of a transphobe as they could be is a low, low bar, patton. it is literally the most basic bar they should be able to clear, because they’re your parents.”

“...yeah. okay.”

patton finishes the cake, tries to shake off his mood, and asks virgil for an order of takeout so that he can get dinner ready at home for logan, to tell him the good news. virgil sighs a little and barely even makes a comment about how they better eat the side salads he’s included for each of them.

⁂

logan walks into the cheerful yellow clapboard house his dad bought as soon as he could afford it, after a morning at the swimming hole and an afternoon spent 1. heckling the one-person staff of the sideshire courant, 2. pestering the librarian for the latest shipment of books she said would be in last week, and 3. reading quietly on the wooden pews that the princes repatriated from the old church before the church got the nicer ones with cushions and sits outside of the prince dance/yoga studio, glancing through the windows to watch roman laugh and spin with little girls who are wearing matching tutus with him, doing ballet lifts with them when they shout and plead MISTER ROMAN MISTER ROMAN MAKE ME FLY PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! and squints at the table.

“did you... make dinner? you never make dinner. you made sure the smoke alarms were on, right?!”

“how can you not recognize virgil’s spaghetti and meatballs, i’ve literally been feeding this to you since you grew teeth?”

“i’m just used to it in takeout boxes. wait. why did you put it on actual plates?”

“can you just sit down for dinner, please?”

“is someone dead?”

“logan!”

“it’s a reasonable question!”

“no! no one is dead! it’s a celebration dinner!”

“... that doesn’t mean someone isn’t dead.”

“logan!”

so logan sits down, squinting suspiciously at his father. usually they just go to virgil’s. or they stay in and make stuff that takes less than fifteen minutes and would probably give virgil heart palpitations from stress.

this is Not Normal. which means something Abnormal has happened. and usually Something Abnormal means Something Bad.

his dad takes in a deep breath, and says, “you’re so smart.”

logan knows this. no one ever accused him of being humble. he cannot possibly pinpoint why this lead to a celebration dinner, though.

“you’re so smart,” his dad repeats, “and you work so hard, all the time. and i know you have such big dreams for the future.”

“dad,” logan says.

patton takes a breath in, and slides a piece of paper across the table. (the tuition sheet, he triple-checked, is not included.)

logan takes it, flips it over, and takes in the coat of arms. then dear mr. sanders, we are happy to inform you we have a vacancy at chilton prepatory for this school year. due to your son’s excellent grades and recommendations, and your enthusiastic pursuit of his enrollment...

he can’t keep reading from there, though. because his eyes are too blurry and his throat is too tight. he probably needs a new prescription and he might be coming down with strep. or an upper respiratory infection. maybe some variant of throat cancer that is also making his eyes too hot. that’s all it is. he should make a doctor’s appointment.

“dad,” he manages to say.

“oh, hey, hey,” his dad says, and he crosses the table to kneel by logan’s chair and pulls logan down into a hug, and logan shuts his eyes tight.

“you applied to chilton for me?” logan whispers.

logan, of course, knows about chilton. the franklin is consistently rated the best student paper in the state, winning awards both at state and national levels. a diploma from there’s practically a gilded invitation to an ivy league. seven chilton graduates have pulitzers. he knows how good their programs are. he also knows the limited stories his dad has told of his two years at chilton before he dropped out to have logan.

“and i’m... you... i’m in?”

“yeah, kiddo,” patton says. “you’re in. they were practically foaming at the mouth when i showed them your gpa, plus your bylines. they wanted you there so bad. ”

“but it’s so—” expensive, far away, you hated it so much there...

“hey, i’m the dad, okay?” patton says, drawing back and wiping his thumbs under logan’s eyes, offering his own watery smile. familial allergies, maybe. logan should check the filters and possibly update any medical files. “let me worry about all that stuff, that’s my job. your job is school.”

“i’m going to chilton?” he repeats.

“you’re going to chilton,” patton says, and hugs him one last time before rising to his feet and sitting back in his chair. “plus an ivy.”

logan’s cheeks hurt. “i’m a sophomore.”

“yeah, but you’re my sophomore,” patton says, as if that makes sense as a term of endearment, “and you’re gonna get into any college you want, because you’re logan, and you’re so smart, and you work so hard, and you deserve a spot at chilton or any old ivy league that you want, and i am gonna bend the earth and sky to make sure you have all the opportunities you could ever possibly need.”

if logan gets up to hug his dad one more time... well, his dad would never tell.

"eight, dad," he mumbles into his shoulder.

"aw, kiddo," patton says gently, and holds him tighter. "sixteen."

⁂

so, patton isn't a particularly strict parent, but logan has the feeling that if patton knew how much logan snuck out that his windows would probably be bolted shut and he’d be treated to a lecture about how “sideshire is a small town but that doesn’t mean it’s always safe all the time, okay???” as if logan hasn’t written the defining articles on the crime statistics of sideshire for the past two years, since he was old enough to see pg-13 movies and thereby old enough to see pg-13 statistics.

patton would probably be even less pleased if he knew that logan had perfected his sneak-out route at the age of ten. there’s a trellis of ivy that’s very easy to climb down from his bedroom window, and logan has been hopping the backyard fence since they’d moved into this house. and from there’s it’s just following the well-worn trail to the middle of the town, to the fairy-light-strung gazebo. it’s the perfect halfway point between their houses, and so it was Their Place.

roman grins up at him from where he’s sitting on the gazebo steps, waving his phone at him. “usually i’m the one who calls midnight crisis meetings,” he teases. “i figured that you might want something.”

he holds up two styrofoam to-go cups that logan’s sure are full of milkshake. see, logan is a virgil’s diner man through-and-through, it’s a family thing, but when it comes to ice cream/milkshakes/other ice cream based products, he has to get it from lucy’s. virgil gets it, he gets all of the ice cream he serves from lucy’s.

anyway, he and roman have been getting milkshakes from lucy’s for years: we-gotta-do-these-book-reports milkshakes, screw-the-bullies milkshakes, just-cause milkshakes, logan-i’ve-been-trying-to-teach-a-class-full-of-toddlers-a-waltz-routine-for-two-hours-let-me-have-this milkshakes. so on.

logan accepts his (salted caramel to roman’s chocolate-covered cherry) and sits on the gazebo steps, stretching his legs out. roman sits next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder, and logan’s heart does that strange squeezing thing that it’s done around roman for as long as he can remember.

(they met like this: they were both in mr. geller’s kindergarten class, and there’s no one with a q last name in their grade, and the only r in their grade was in ms. lansing’s, so he and roman ended up as table buddies. they were supposed to decorate the nametags that were taped onto their desks. logan drew leminscates on his, and roman drew an expansive, wild garden of red roses that leaked over onto his. logan had gotten mad. roman had drawn blue and orange universes over them in apology without ever actually saying the word sorry and he told logan a story about how the flower-world had been populated by aliens and a brave scientist touched down to try to get the prettiest flowers in the universe for his husband, the most handsome prince there ever was. at snacktime logan had traded his strawberries for roman’s jam cookies. they’d been inseparable ever since.)

(logan’s nervous about a lot about chilton, but he’s most nervous about changing this. losing this.)

logan takes off the lid, and drags his straw through the whipped cream, attempting to eat it first, so that the whipped cream wouldn’t sink down and prevent him from finishing off the milkshake with a mouthful of caramel-tinged whipped cream. roman steals his maraschino cherry. that’s all normal. it’s all so normal, sitting here together in the gazebo in the dying heat of summer, the only light from the stars and the fairy lights, and logan stares at his shoes—his formal-ish black shoes—and how they look next to roman’s red high-top converse, scrawled all over with multicolored sharpies because roman was a horrible fidget, and he was most prone to drawing all over the nearest surface (paper, his hands and arms, his legs if he’s wearing shorts, his shoes, logan, sometimes, if they manage to get seats close enough together in class and sometimes when they lay in the gazebo in silence, chasing sugar highs and enjoying the stars—)

“i’m going to chilton,” he blurts to their feet. “my dad’s apparently been trying to get me in since last year, but a spot opened up, and—and it starts monday.”

there’s silence. logan almost can’t bear it, before an arm slings over his shoulder.

“logan,” roman says, and he’s... smiling. maybe.

“you’re not mad?” logan says, confused, and roman blinks at him.

“why would i be mad?” he says. “i mean, you didn’t know, right?”

“right,” logan agrees tentatively.

“so,” roman says. “i mean, i always knew you were gonna, like, go off to stratospheres of academic excellence, it’s just happening a little earlier than expected.”

there’s something wrong with his smile. something brittle. logan doesn’t like it.

“roman—”

“i’m happy for you,” he says, and there’s something biting there.

“roman.”

“look, i just—whatever,” roman huffs. “you’re going to fancy prep school. good for you. it’ll be great. you’ll be great. tell me about the stupid franklin.”

“the franklin isn’t stupid,” logan says, shaking off roman’s arm. “it’s one of the best student-produced papers in the state. that includes high schools and colleges.”

“right,” roman snaps, “of course. the franklin’s fucking perfect. my mistake. like your stupid chilton uniform’s gonna be perfect, and all your new snooty chilton friends are gonna be perfect, and your ivy league is gonna be so fucking perfect, because you’re just too perfect, right?”

“i—what?!” logan says, trying to shake off his confusion like it’s something as physical as roman’s arm. “you said you weren’t mad!”

“i’m NOT!” roman snaps, and then he falls silent.

“i thought you would be happy for me, because that’s what friends do,” logan snaps right back. “i want to go to the best place for my future, what’s so wrong with that?!”

“nothing,” roman spits, getting to his feet. “absolutely nothing’s wrong with that.”

“then act like it!” logan hollers back, surging to his feet because he hates anyone looking down at him, literally or metaphorically. “what is your problem?”

“my problem??? my problem????”

“yes! YOUR problem!”

“fine! i guess it is my problem! because i’m not smart like you, logan sanders, otherwise known as mr. right-all-the-time—“

“wh—i don’t even know why i cared!” logan snaps. “it’s just that this is important to me, roman, i’m not going to apologize because i’m doing something that’s going to be good for me, that’s—”

“going to get you out of sideshire?” roman says, bitter.

“fine! yes! i want to do things, i want to write about important things, and i can’t exactly win a pulitzer covering the latest town meeting for the courant, okay?!”

“oh, so some fictional pulitzer’s important to you, but i’m not?” roman snaps, and logan’s mouth snaps shut, and his voice catches in his throat, and his brain runs over the conversation because when had he said anything that could possibly be interpreted like THAT?! but he realizes when roman’s face drops and then screws up that he’d taken too long to answer.

“wow,” roman scoffs. “i—you know what? have fun at chilton, walter crank-kite. i hope you and your imaginary pulitzer become the best of friends.”

“roman,” logan manages to say, but roman jostles his shoulder on his way out, and he slams both the salted caramel and the chocolate-covered cherry shakes into the trash, stomping back toward the prince studio and apartment.

and logan’s left standing in the middle of the gazebo, wondering what just happened.

“emotions,” logan huffs, and kicks one of the railing posts.

⁂

when logan slouches down the stairs the next morning, hair mussed and scowling, patton doesn’t really question it. sanders men aren’t morning people. it’s a fact of their nature. he figures it’ll get better after a mug of coffee from virgil’s.

it does not get better after a mug of coffee from virgil’s.

patton gently mentions how it’s his last friday of summer, and logan makes vague mumbling noises, stabbing his scrambled eggs with his forks more than actually eating them.

“well,” patton says, keeping his voice chipper. “no matter what you decide to do, be back at the house, okay? we’re having dinner with my parents at seven.”

logan stiffens. he drops the fork with a clatter. “it’s not a holiday,” he says suspiciously.

“well, no, but—”

“we only see grandma and grandpa on holidays.”

“it’s about chilton,” patton says. “they’re excited that you’re going. it’s a celebration—”

“we already had a celebration dinner,” logan grumbles. he picks up his fork and starts stabbing his eggs again. “i liked that celebration dinner. dinner with grandma and grandpa is a punishment dinner.”

“hey,” patton says, trying to be a little stern, but, well, he’s right. “they’re excited you’re going to their alma mater. they want to have us over for dinner more often. it’s like a peace offering.”

“did i do something?” logan says suspiciously. “you said no one was dead. i should have rephrased—is someone dying?”

“logan, what?! no!”

virgil, swinging by, frowns at logan’s plate.

“you need more protein,” he says. “eat your eggs, don’t kill them. they’re already dead.”

“i don’t need more protein.”

“yeah, i see the vast majority of your meals, kid, that’s not gonna fly,” virgil says. “eat the eggs.”

“words can’t fly and you sneak protein powder into every pastry i eat anyway,” logan mutters, and rebelliously shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth. virgil nods in approval and goes to drop off a plate of pancakes for the nearest gossips.

“no one is dying,” patton says exasperatedly. “what makes you think someone is dying, anyway? why is that always your first thought lately?”

“statistically—”

“let’s not get into depressing journalistic statistics first thing in the morning, huh?” patton says hastily, because he has made that mistake before and spent the rest of the morning in the throes of an existential crisis or general misery about the state of humanity or the planet.

(not even just, like. generally depressing statistics. journalism-specific statistics can be plenty depressing too! i went digging for some and then it turned into a couple paragraphs of me presenting paragraphs of statistics about journalists. and then i tried rewriting it like three more times. it basically boils down to me lunging through your screen to scream “support journalists,” okay???)

anyways, to get back into the fic, patton is aware of these statistics. he has rambled nervously about them to virgil, who has internalized these worries. am i basing that instance off people in my life who similarly care about me but aren’t Into Journalism like i am? yes. buzz off. i said i was getting back to the fic.

anyway, patton briefly mentally flashes through the “photojournalists can be as likely as combat veterans to develop ptsd/journalists tend to self-medicate with caffeine and alcohol and sugar/the job market isn’t great/you absolutely Do Not go into journalism for the money” statistics that i just summed up for you instead of ranting for five paragraphs you’re welcome, and says,

“do you want more coffee? you’ve barely had any.” because, you know. he’s a sanders. caffeine’s gotta work some kinda magic. and also the whole “journalists love caffeine” thing is Real Okay it’s Backed By Statistics.

virgil, on his way back to dump an armful of empty dishes back in the kitchen to be washed, is about to start lecturing, before he stops and frowns.

“yeah,” he says. “i... logan, i haven’t even caught you trying to sneak a refill.”

this is a cause for Concern. logan has usually attempted to get at least one refill at this point in the breakfast.

logan jerked up a shoulder in a shrug, and shoved another forkful of eggs into his mouth.

virgil frowns, tops up his mug, jabs a finger in patton’s direction and says, “not a word,” before he vanishes to drop off the dirty dishes.

“do you know what you’re gonna do today?” patton prompts. “there’s some debate kids in the inn. i’ll look the other way if you want to totally wreck them.”

this is usually a temptation for logan, who gets into arguments the way cats get into any visibly box-shaped object. debate kids in town on tournament meant kids being ready to practice arguing, and logan tended to delight in taking on their arguments and poking holes into their arguments, their fact-checking, their general take on debate—

“maybe,” logan says listlessly.

“i saw that the courant had a spelling error, right on the front page,” patton offers encouragingly, because he is getting more and more worried about his son right now. “i bet rudy’s been waiting for you to storm into the office since he noticed it.”

this is also usually a temptation for logan. he’s usually gleefully ripping the courant to shreds at this point in the morning. he hasn’t even glanced at the paper dispenser or asked patton for a spare quarter in case he forgot to grab something from the family piggy bank to be able to buy the paper.

logan never forgets to get change to be able to buy the paper.

logan shrugs again.

“are you feeling okay?” patton says abruptly. “let me feel your forehead. do you think you’re coming down with something?”

“i’m fine,” logan says sharply, ducking aside so that patton doesn’t have access to his forehead.

except even being sick wasn’t an excuse for logan to not want to look at the paper, patton realizes, because what delights logan most when patton stays home to look after him when he’s sick is when patton brings back the spare copies of the new york times and the washington post and the wall street journal from the inn, and will be confined to bed rest as long as he has something to read in his hands.

“are you okay?” patton repeats, and logan sneers at his eggs.

“i’m fine,” he says.

“if you keep making that face it’ll stick like that.”

“that doesn’t make any sense!”

which is typical for logan to say, whenever patton busts out a dad-ism like that, except logan doesn’t usually yell it and slam down his cutlery loud enough to make half the diner look in their direction.

“whoa,” patton says, “kiddo, hey—”

“nobody is making any sense,” logan seethes, and grabs his stuff. “i’ll be back for the stupid dinner.”

“hey!” patton says, stern, but logan’s already storming out of the diner, the bell above the door jangling, discordantly cheerful.

“what,” virgil asks, coming up behind the counter, “was that?”

“i,” patton begins, and frowns. “i have no idea. i mean, he’s been in a bit of a mood all morning, but i just thought it was a morning thing, but i mentioned the dinner and he got all...”

(oh, patton, bless. you have no idea. keep working under that assumption, though.)

“he and your parents only sometimes get along, right?” virgil says in an undertone.

patton lets out a slow breath. “usually, it’s like a flip of a coin,” he says. “either they’re all thrilled that he’s, you know, as smart and talented as he is, and he preens under all the attention. or, well. they say something about how smart and talented he is, and how we could work to apply it better, and he...”

“gets snappy,” virgil says, because he bore witness to quite a few of toddler/little kid logan’s temper tantrums and has seen them age, like really terrible wine. “yeah.”

patton hesitates, before he looks at him out of the corner of his eyes. “can i get another hot cocoa/coffee to deal with my son going very teenager, all of a sudden?”

virgil snorts, and fondly snatches logan’s freshly-filled mug away, holding it out of patton’s reach when he jokingly tries to jump for it, and that’s a little better.

⁂

so. logan’s not having a great day.

he couldn’t sleep because he was too busy trying to figure out what the hell happened with roman. he bit his tongue so hard it bled when his dad had off-handedly mentioned going to the prince studio as an idea for what logan does with his day. he apparently has to go to dinner with his dad and his grandparents.

logan’s relationship with his grandparents is, in a word? stilted.

(logan may be terrible with emotions, but he knows his dad well enough to spot the way his shoulders tighten up and hunch over whenever his parents say something with that particular twist of their lips, to see how he starts absently rubbing the sleeves of his sweater or cardigan between his fingers or over his face like he needs comfort, the way he always makes sure to hug logan tight and firmly tell him that he supports logan, always, no matter what he wants to do, as if logan has not known this since he was capable of knowing anything at all.

logan may be terrible with emotions, but he knows the way his other father slips up and starts to call patton something that doesn’t share any of the syllables of his name and the way the blood drains from his dad’s face, every time, and he can count the times his other father has remembered his birthday on the day of and contacted him that day on one hand, whereas his dad wakes him up every birthday morning at 4:03 am to tell him all about how he was born no matter how much logan groans about it.

logan may be terrible with emotions, but he knows that’s not a man his dad should have been married to, ever, no matter how much his grandparents insist on how good it would be for the three of them, how they both needed someone to take care of them, as if patton hasn’t been taking care of the both of them on his own since logan was three weeks old.

logan may be terrible with emotions, but he has grown up surrounded by the people of sideshire who love and support his dad, who have never called him the wrong pronoun or name, and logan may be terrible with emotions but he is smart and so it’s been easy for him, over the years, to compare high-class to the town that his grandparents seem to look down upon, and logan may want to leave sideshire but he still loves it.

logan is terrible with emotions, so he gets snappy when his grandparents get snappy, but that’s not the way a proper young man should behave, logan, because he’s more obvious with his barbs than they are.

oh, they love him. he knows that. they fawn after his school work and exclaim over his bylines and send clumsily impersonal gifts for each holiday and take him out to a fancy dinner within the week after his birthday every year, he knows that they love him. he knows that they love his dad, too. it’s just hard to remember that when his dad got into the driver’s seat after last christmas and burst into tears because his parents had sprung a visit from his other father on them without any warning at all, and his other father had messed up and called him by the wrong name, again, and how his grandparents always call the inn a motel, and how they always look down on the cozy yellow clapboard house patton bought them, and a million other little things in their lives that become targets, and how it wasn’t the first time logan had ever seen his dad cry after a family function but it had been the first time since logan was a little kid, and it still hurt to see that his dad, who probably had more capacity to love people than logan had ever seen, had grown up with people who always had terms and conditions to their affection and their presence in his life and yet still had the audacity to insist that they were trying, patton, can’t you meet us halfway?

so. yes. stilted is certainly a word for it.)

so when he gets back from hiking angrily around in the forests surrounding sideshire, and sulkily takes a shower, and puts on the most formal look that his grandparents will probably be displeased with but cannot actually disapprove of (he’s particularly fond of the trans flag tie part of it, in addition to the rainbow handkerchief he’s put in his blazer pocket) he’s still in a bad mood.

“ready to go?” his dad says, from where he’s nervously tugging at all his clothes. he always dresses a bit extra masc whenever they go to his parents’ house, and he usually spends the next couple days in his coziest sweaters with his hair as messy as it possibly can get like he’s trying to reassure himself that he can be a bit of a mess without people lecturing him for it as long as he’s comfortable, and logan really, really hates going to his grandparents, along with the world in general right now.

“if i have to be,” logan says.

the whole car ride there he sits with his arms crossed and glaring out the window, not engaging with his dad’s slightly subtle “so how was the rest of your day?” to his more telling “you know you can talk to me about anything, right?” to his very obvious “if you aren’t okay, i can call and tell them to push it off to another night.”

when they get there, patton shuts off the car.

“i know your grandparents’ aren’t—”

“i’ll be civil,” logan says, cutting off the pep talk, and gets out of the car before he can get the whole lecture. he hears his dad sigh before logan shuts the car door.

logan straightens his tie, puffs up the handkerchief so that it’s blatantly in the line of their vision, and patton gets out of the car. they walk in silence to the front door.

logan mutters, “let’s get this over with.”

his dad laughs, breathlessly and nervously, and knocks.

his grandmother opens the door almost before they’ve finished.

“logan!” she says, fondly. “patton,” she adds, less enthusiastic.

“mom,” he says.

“right on time,” she says.

“traffic was... fine,” patton says lamely, and they both walk into the house.

“i can’t tell you what a treat it is to have you boys here,” she continues, and patton looks cautiously optimistic.

“yeah, we’re pretty excited too,” patton says.

“now, let me look at you in the light, logan,” emily says. “oh, look at how handsome you are. growing up all the time. just the picture of a proper young man. it’s so good to see you.”

she gives logan a long hug. logan stiffly holds his arms in place, looking to his dad as if to say, help. patton shrugs. logan rolls his eyes to the heavens and pats her once on the back.

“it’s, um. it’s good to see you too,” he says, lying through his teeth.

“so!” she says, drawing back and grabbing logan’s hand, pulling them toward the Fancy Fancy living room. “tell me all about chilton.”

“i haven’t started yet.”

“richard! look who showed up!”

logan’s grandfather looks up from his paper and squints at him. “you’ve gotten tall.”

“i suppose.”

“what’s your height?”

“five eight.”

“tall. still growing, i assume. i’m on the edge of my seat to see how tall you become.”

he looks back to his paper. logan, not for the first time, thinks he knows where he gets it from.

“hey, dad,” patton says.

“patton,” he says, without looking up. “your son is tall.”

patton grins. “yeah,” he says, remembering how he shot up nearly six inches after he got back on t after logan was born, and how logan’s probably going to get even taller than him soon. “remember when he used to fit in the dresser drawers?”

“dad,” logan complains.

“champagne, anyone?”

“oh, um,” patton says. “champagne, wow. fancy.”

“well, not every day i have my boys here for dinner on a day the banks are also open. a toast?”

she does not ask patton if logan should have champagne. he probably would have said yes, but still. it’s the principle of the thing. patton grits his teeth for a moment.

“to logan entering chilton,” she says, raising the glass. “and an exciting new phase in his life!”

“here here,” richard says, still reading the paper, and they all drink the champange.

“this is so exciting,” emily continues, “an education is the most important thing in the world, after family.”

“and cookies,” patton blurts out.

his parents both look at him.

“joke.”

“ah.”

logan hesitates, still staring at the paper. the front page isn’t visible but the design styling’s so obvious logan already knows, but—

“is that the times?”

"yes,” his grandfather says. “interesting article about the effect of delivery on local restaurants and grocery stores today, have you read it?”

“no,” logan says, “i haven’t really read much of the news at all today.”

richard, without looking up, hands logan a copy of the washington post from where it’s folded up beside an already-read copy of the wall street journal and the latest copies of national geographic and time. logan, smirking a little, takes it.

“can you please wait to read until after dinner,” emily says wearily.

“oh, let them have their bonding time,” patton says, grinning widely now, and picks up the national geographic (pretty pictures!)

patton likes to imagine that his mother barely quashes the urge to throw her hands up in defeat.

the dinner, however, is much more awkward than all of them reading their publications of choice in quiet (patton’s mother had selected ladies’ home journal, in a move that patton isn’t quite sure was a masked hit or not) and he absently tears a roll to shreds in his hands, ignoring the way his mother is glowering at the little bread bits he’s littering on the table. 

“logan, how do you like the lamb?” she says instead.

“it’s good,” logan says, as if he has not been poking it with his fork more than eating. patton figures it’s better than stabbing, but he would prefer if his son actually ate.

“too dry?”

“no.”

“hm. shelby always leaves it in too long. i’ll have her make something else.”

“please don’t,” patton says hastily. 

“it’s fine,” logan says, when it looks like emily is about to mow over patton again.

“well. all right, then.”

a pause.

“how are things at the motel?”

“inn,” logan and patton correct simultaneously.

“i’m the executive manager now,” patton continues. “run the whole place.”

“oh,” emily says. both his parents startled. logan looks offended on patton’s behalf. patton tears off another chunk of the roll.

“dad’s done a great job with the inn,” logan says, defensive. 

“speaking of which,” emily says, “your father called the other day, logan.”

logan goes stiffer. “my father’s right here.”

“he’s doing very well, out in california,” emily continues. “he’s got his own practice now. very talented man, your father.”

“i know,” logan says, glowering. “dad’s worked his way up to executive manager. he’s the youngest executive manager in the whole inn’s history and he’s getting his business degree. he’s thinking of buying an inn of his own someday.”

“logan,” patton murmurs quietly. a please be civil. 

“well, that’s a bit different, isn’t it?” richard says. “christopher was always a smart boy. top of his class at chilton, and then at stanford, you know. you must take after him.”

“excuse me,” patton murmurs very quietly. he goes into the kitchen. logan gets to his feet, and so does his grandmother.

“i’m going to—”

“please keep your grandfather company,” she says, and goes into the kitchen. logan sits down reluctantly, before he says directly, “have you ever heard of howard gardner?”

“no.”

“he identified the seven distinct types of intelligence.”

“hm. seven, really.”

“yes. seven. linguistic, logical, kinesthetic, spatial, musical, interpersonal, and intrapersonal,” logan finishes, jabbing at the lamb. “dad might not be traditionally book smart, but he’s very smart in his own way. intrapersonal, specifically, but interpersonally too. i’d be proud if i inherited any of his particular types of intelligence. clearly he’s the only sanders man to have them.”

richard is about to retaliate, before there’s noise from the kitchen.

“—how could i have possibly taken that the wrong way? what was left open to interpretation?!”

“keep your voice down.”

“no! why do you pounce on every single thing i do that isn’t enough for you?”

“you’re being very dramatic.”

his father laughs bitterly. logan digs his fingernails into the silver of the knife and fork he’s still holding. 

“dramatic. right. of course. i’m always the dramatic one. silly me, i must have forgotten, like i forget everything else, because logan gets any smarts from him, right? i’m the one who raised him, but any good part of logan, it always gets credited to him!”

“well, that’s not true—”

“why else would you bring him up like that?”

“we like christopher.”

“yeah, well, i remember you having a very different opinion when he got me pregnant.”

“oh, please. you were sixteen, what were we supposed to do, throw you a party?! you had such bright futures, we were disappointed.”

“yes, and by letting him go to california and having me raise logan, we got to keep those bright futures.”

“when you get pregnant, you get married! a child needs a father and a—“

she falls very silent. logan feels what little lamb he had churn in his stomach.

“finish your sentence,” his father says, and he sounds cold. like logan. he sounds like logan when he gets angry.

“i didn’t mean—“

“yes, you did. you did mean it. you were about to say a child needs a father and a mother, weren’t you?”

“patton—”

“logan was never going to have a father and a mother. he was always going to have two dads. and i’m a good dad. i have done fine with logan on my own.”

“that’s right. far away from us.”

“mom—!”

“you took that boy and you completely shut us out of your life!” emily shouts, and logan is very pointedly not making eye contact with his grandfather right now. “we came back to a note in a crib in the middle of the night, no idea if you were safe, if you and logan would have gotten hurt—”

“i would have suffocated here.”

“oh, and you’re so perfect, and i was so controlling, hm? i put you in good schools. i gave you the best of everything. i made sure you had the finest opportunities. and I am so tired of hearing about how you were suffocated and i was so controlling. well, if i was so controlling, why couldn’t i control you running around getting pregnant and throwing your life away?”

“mom, if you don’t stop, i’m leaving. i swear. i will leave, and i’ll break out agreement, and you’ll be lucky to get christmases ever again, do you understand me?”

“what?!”

“i’m not going to keep trying to rebuild a relationship with you if you just keep telling me i threw my life away!” patton snaps. “i have a life. it has a little color in it so it might be a bit weird to you, but it’s a life, mom. and if i hadn’t gotten pregnant i wouldn’t have had logan.”

“you know that’s not what i meant—”

“maybe i was some uncontrollable terrible child like you said but logan isn’t! he’s smart and careful and ambitious and a hard worker and a good kid, and i raised him, mom. he’s my son.”

“you were still a child raising a child.”

“that stopped as soon as that test went positive. i figured out how to build a life, i found a good job—”

“as a maid,” she hisses.

“housekeeper, actually, which is a perfectly fine living, for your information, but in case you didn’t hear your grandson, i worked my way up. i run the place now. we have a good life with no help from anyone.”

“yes, and think where logan could have been if you accepted a little help from anyone, hm?”

“why do you think i’m here right now?” patton shouts. “i opened my life back up to you when i established myself enough in sideshire. i accepted the top surgery that you gave me instead of an apology. i have been coming for holidays for years. and now i’ve asked for help for logan. now logan is going to chilton. you have your weekly dinners. i’m back here. you win. aren’t you thrilled about it?! isn’t that all you want?!”

logan sets down the silverware. he thinks he might be a little sick.

“is that what you think?”

“yeah, well. you haven’t really done anything to show me otherwise, have you?”

“i have no idea when you became so sensitive. you used to be such a pleasant child.”

“...you seriously just didn’t listen to a word i said, did you? for your information, being sensitive is one of the things i love most about—you know what, forget it. fine. let’s just have dessert. logan and i can go home, we’ll try again next week, i’m sure we’ll fight again then. and then you can keep telling me all about how i used to be so pleasant without thinking about how maybe i got some things from my parents, too.”

the door opens back up. logan looks back to his grandfather in a panic, only to see his head tipping forward onto his chest.

how could he have possibly fallen asleep during that? logan thinks in disbelief.

⁂

patton gets into the car and lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding since he walked into that house, logan buckling his seatbelt.

“do you want to stop at virgil’s for coffee?” he says, a little timid. like a peace offering.

patton chews his lip. “how much of that did you overhear?”

“...snippets.”

“all of it, then.”

“just from her telling you to keep your voice down,” logan says, and patton huffs out a humorless laugh as he puts the car in reverse, glancing through the back windshield as he carefully backs the car out.

“okay, yeah, all of it. sure. coffee sounds good.”

they’ve been driving in silence for about three minutes before logan blurts out, “maybe chilton isn’t such a good idea.”

“what?!” patton demands, and immediately pulls over to the side of the street so he can park and look at his son, face-to-face. “no way, chilton is a great idea!”

“it comes with these dinners as a condition for my tuition, the bus ride is forty minutes both ways which i could be using to study or helping you at the inn or working at the courant, we don’t know if i can’t get into an ivy if i stay where i am,” he lists off, but patton’s already shaking his head.

"these dinners might be bad sometimes but not all the time, you can still read on buses because i know you don’t carsick like that, you’re going to be harassing rudy at the courant for as long as you live in sideshire because you have been doing that since you were seven and i’m pretty sure it somehow works as stress relief for you, and isn’t it better to improve statistics than risk it?”

“i don’t like the way they talk to you.”

“i can handle it,” patton says gently. 

“you shouldn’t have to handle it,” logan grits out.

“look,” patton says. “the dinners are mostly so they can keep tabs on you, okay? they want to get to know you a bit better. and you know that they aren’t always like that. tonight was a bad night.”

“dad—”

“right, i’m the dad. and i know that most of the time i make sure this house is a democracy, but i gotta pull the dad card here, okay? chilton is a good idea and you’re going. it offers too many good opportunities for you to not go. and sure, going to these dinners isn’t... the best, but i can handle it. i handled it for years before you were born, and it’s better now than it was then. besides, i already paid tuition, so.”

logan lets out an irritated sigh.

“so,” his dad repeats. “you’re going to be great at chilton, and i’ll be okay going to dinners. if there’s a day where i can’t handle, i’ll call out sick. promise.”

logan looks back out the window.

“is it just the dinner that’s bugging you?” patton tries. “because you’ve been in a bit of a mood.”

“i’m not in a mood.”

patton lifts his eyebrows silently at his son, until logan turns to see the expression on his face, scowls, and looks back out the window.

 “i thought we’d said we’d go for coffee.”

“yeah, sure thing. it’s just that i’m worried about you, and i want to make sure you’re okay. if it is the dinner, fine. if you want space, that’s okay too, as long as you know i’m here to talk it out. i know emotions aren’t your favorite thing.”

logan pauses, scuffs his shoe, and mutters, “emotions don’t make sense.”

patton briefly flashes back to that morning in the diner, thinks about nobody is making any sense! and the only other person who could get his son in such a state, and has an aha! moment. “yours, or is it someone else’s emotions that have you like this?”

logan hesitates. just long enough that patton thinks he might get it. (also, okay, he knows that needling logan isn’t the Best parenting move, but sometimes logan needed to be prodded until he blows up and rants about everything that's bothering him, like the world’s most cathartic volcano.)

“...a certain dance teacher’s assisstant, maybe...?”

“coffee,” logan grits out.

patton obligingly puts the car in drive and keeps going. also logan is still trapped for thirty more minutes, so patton will get there eventually. he loves his son dearly, but patience is not one of his virtues.

“someone who shares a last name with a royal title? that rhymes with wince?”

logan almost audibly grinds his teeth.

“someone whose first name is also the longest lasting empire in history?”

“the longest lasting empire is the empire of japan, then the byzantine empire, then the holy roman empire which is different from the roman empire,” logan blurts out, and then he snaps his mouth shut.

patton stifles his grin as he signals to turn onto a new street. gotcha.

“so,” patton says innocently, “definitely not him, then?”

logan is inhaling. patton has to pay attention to the road but he would have money on his son practically inflating on a pufferfish, which meant that in three, two, one—

“he’s infuriating!” logan howls, and boom, yes, there’s the volcano. 

patton is treated to about ten minutes of ranting about how roman prince is the sole cause of emotional distress, not only to logan, (”i mean—if i had emotions,” logan scoffs, and patton quietly saves that talk for another day because they’ve had it before) but to every person in sideshire and possibly the whole world. patton, knowing his son and his best friend, mostly lets this slide in one ear and out the ear, nodding and “mhm”-ing in the appropriate places.

“so,” patton says, when this dies down, “what did he do to cause a rant of those proportions?”

“i told him about chilton,” he says. “somehow that turned into him saying that he wasn’t my friend anymore.”

“okay, whoa,” patton says, “did he say that exactly?”

“...basically.”

“you’re a journalist, you know all about the dangers of having a bias, plus paraphrasing versus quoting directly. give me some context.”

“how dare you use journalism against me,” logan mutters, before he starts telling him about it. (unbeknownst to patton, logan changes the story so that he gave roman a phone call instead of sneaking out. he has to have some secrets.)

they’re nearly to sideshire by the time logan tells him that he was trying to figure out where he went wrong and didn’t answer roman immediately, and patton has been gently cringing for the past three minutes but that turns into a full-on wince that logan could not possibly miss.

“what?” logan says.

“sweetheart,” patton says gently. “he’s scared.”

“what???” logan says. “that’s ridiculous. what could he possibly be scared of? he’s the one staying at sideshire high. he’s always had other friends. he’ll probably make more friends now that i’m not going to be at school taking up all his time.”

“scared, or jealous, maybe?” patton says. “think about it. you’re going off to a great new school. you’re going to get way more opportunities to pursue your interests. there are going to be other people who have those same interests, who you will probably get along with very well, and you’ll make new friends. he’s staying here. he’s scared that you’re going to forget about him and leave him behind.”

“but—but that’s absurd,” logan says, but he’s a little less defensive now.

“he’s going to go to school without you for the first time since you both started school, you know? same as you. it’s like he has to re-evaluate his whole school social circle,” patton says. “plus, i mean, then he asked if he was important to you, honey, and you hesitated, which when you add in all that other stuff...”

logan’s quiet.

“he’s scared of losing his best friend too, kiddo.”

logan heaves a massive sigh as patton turns onto the sideshire main road. patton also notices that logan does not deny that he’s scared of losing his best friend.

“i have to apologize, don’t i?”

“i mean, he said some not-great stuff too, but yeah, you should probably initiate.”

logan groans to himself, dropping his head onto the dash, and patton pulls into the parking lot of virgil’s.

“what do i even say?” logan says miserably.

“you’re a smart kid,” patton says, shutting the car off and opening the door. “i bet you can figure it out.”

logan follows, and virgil looks up at them, squinting at their slightly-fancier dress.

“so, dinner with the hellbeasts?”

“they’re my parents,” patton scolds at the same time logan says, “yes, they were terrible,” and hops up onto the barstool.

“coffee,” he says. “and fries. plus a jam tart.”

“logan, you’re killing me,” virgil says. “could i possibly steer you toward ordering something healthy? for once?”

“i only said i wanted coffee, fries, and a jam tart, in no way is that tantamount to murder. plus i get salads all the time.”

“yeah, after i tack them onto your order,” virgil says.

“you know what,” patton says. “make that two jam tarts. and maybe make logan’s order to go?”

logan looks at him, panicked. “what, now?”

patton shrugs. “why wait?”

logan sighs, and repeats, “to go.”

“plus a coffee and a bowl of vanilla bean ice cream for me, please.”

“...plus a salad?”

“virgil,” logan says, anguished, “we had lamb for dinner. that included a side salad. and grandma was mean to dad. let us be unhealthy.”

“...do you want a warm brownie with that ice cream?”

patton smiles a little bit, directing it down at the counter. “if you wouldn’t mind.”

he passes over a twenty to pay. he then hands the change to logan.

“maybe lucy’s wouldn’t be a bad call?” he says to logan, under his breath, and logan nods, taking it.

virgil dishes up their coffees, and then hands logan a bag.

patton pats him on the back. “you got this.”

logan gives him a jerky nod and takes the bag and his travel cup, heading out of the diner.

“so,” virgil says, leaning on his elbows, putting his chin in his hand. “going to see roman?”

“going to apologize to roman,” patton corrects. “he was in a mood this morning because he and roman got into a fight.”

“ahh,” virgil says. “well, they’ll, you know. patch it up.”

“they always do,” patton says, “but, well,” he glances around, “it was about chilton, and logan might have implied that roman isn’t important to him, so.”

virgil flinches.

“yeahh,” patton says. “i mean, he didn’t mean it, obviously, but. jam tart. lucy’s. him going to actually say sorry.”

“yikes,” virgil says. “um. speaking of yikes... do you wanna talk about...?”

patton shrugs a shoulder. “just my mom disapproving of my life, as usual, and crediting any of logan’s achievements with his other dad, as usual, and she nearly said something pretty trans slash homophobic before catching herself, which, you know, was a new kind of not great, or at least a kind of not great they haven’t been bold enough to say to my face until now,” he says, like it doesn’t hurt. “plus i lost my temper and actually, like, yelled at her, which logan of course overheard.”

“you?” virgil says. “yelling?”

patton nods, drooping.

“jesus,” virgil says. 

“yeah,” patton sighs, and takes a huge gulp of coffee. 

“if you want me to egg their car again—”

patton nearly snorts coffee out of his nose, and then there’s, like, what would be the closing scene of an episode that makes viewers think oh they’re in LOVE love, all fond smiles and laughing at each other as the camera slowly zooms out, showing them looking like they’re wrapped up in their own little world in the middle of virgil’s diner.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Part XV - The Untimely Downfall of Strangers

I knew that the media and the fans and everyone would have questions. But for now, the only sound I could hear was her breathing and the hum of the central air in her house. And that was enough for me.

AN: Y’ALLLLL. Okay. So we’re nearing the end (for now) of this story. I’m thinking one more chapter, so for all of you out there who have been following along the whole time, just a fair warning! Also, if you like this story or like my work--please reblog. So many people have reached out telling me that they love my work but are confused as to why it’s not more popular. I don’t know why--I’m just happy to share it with you all. BUT. If you like my work and think more people should read it, please reblog. I’ll love you forever!!! 

wc: 4.8k of moving forward

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THEN - Day 629

“Slow the fuck down, Margot!” Niall shouted from behind me, his words broken up by laughter as I took a sharp left turn, nearly clipping the wall and their crew members who seemed quite annoyed by our level of energy. 

I could hear his footsteps behind me, closing in as I looked over my shoulder to gauge the distance between us. I shot past Harry--who was stood in the doorway of the green room, a confused look on his face as he bit into a banana. 

“Your girlfriend’s a cheeky little shit,” Niall laughed as I slowed to stop, tossing the cellphone back in Harry’s direction--who barely caught it as he fumbled with the banana. 

“What’d she do?” He asked as he stood between us, his mouth full of the fruit he snacked on.

I smiled over at Niall, offering for him to explain the running and yelling and laughing as Harry stepped aside to let us back into the green room. I bent over to gather my hair over my head, twisting a hair tie around it as Niall let out a loud laugh. 

“She claims she’s tryna set me up with her friend but she’d sending an embarrassing photo to people I don’t even know,” he pretended to be more upset than he was, the smile visible on his face as he stared at Harry--as if he would do something. 

“You’re being a big baby,” I told him, my eyes wide. “You’d like Cara, she’s great. We could all go on a double date and ride off into the sunset and buy houses right next door to each other.”

Niall rolled his eyes at this, grabbing his phone back from Harry as he walked to sit on the couch. He muttered a few things under his breath as he pulled up the text messages I’d sent. It was too late. 

“Oh Jesus,” he said--mostly to himself--as Harry slipped an arm around my shoulders. 

“I was gonna go workout for a bit--want to come?”

“Eh,” I shrugged my shoulders--weighing the options in my head. Visiting the boys on the road was the closest I got to a vacation in the summers. Instead of running around on stage and being exceedingly busy, I got to screw around during the days and watch the shows at night. “I’ll pass.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Love you, don’t kill each other,” he brought his eyes from me over to Niall, waiting for some sort of reply. 

“Go fuck yerselves,” Niall said absently, not even looking up from his phone as I let out a laugh. 

NOW -  Day 1810

I climbed out of the car behind Harry--thankful for the fact that there were only a few photographers who’d been clued into his location. He waited for me, his arm lurching forward to find mine as I reached for the door to shut it, a swift diversion to the fact that he was trying to hold my hand. 

People were saying all sorts of things about us--which wasn’t necessarily new--but I also knew that me and Harry being back together was causing much more anger than ever before. There were plenty of photos of me coming in and out of his London home--a place that had once felt cozy and safe--but now my social media accounts were filled with messages from people who accused me of breaking his heart on purpose. 

So I deleted the messages and pretended that being in London didn’t feel strange and scary, especially because my return to LA was slowly approaching. 

“Morning,” Harry shook the hand of a woman who waited by the door with a headset. She smiled at both of us, muttering something into the microphone that sat near her cheek as the door was shut behind us with an echoing thud. 

His tour was set to start in a few weeks and rehearsals were amping up, just like the nerves in my stomach. Tour was such a symbolic thing for us: it meant distance, press, lots of fans and questions and attention. Harry’s promo tour was difficult enough, but knowing he’d now be playing show after show to crowds of 20,000 people felt like our relationship--in its entirety--was being put on stage for people to judge and question. 

Was I allowed to visit? What would people think if I did--or worse, if I didn’t? 

Harry’s hand was now around mine, leading me back into the rehearsal space as he greeted the people that stood by. He’d been waiting for quite some time to introduce me to the band that’d be traveling with him--people he’d grown to love and respect over the process of making and releasing the album. 

He seemed to lead me around the room, letting me shake hands with people I’d never met and some I’d known for years. I couldn’t help but wonder what they thought--were they as curious as the people with cameras outside the building? Were they as hesitant as I was to believe that things were back to normal?

It felt more confirmed now. Neither of us had addressed it in public--aside from the vague comments that we were enjoying spending time together. Claire reassured me that I didn’t have to say anything I didn’t want to--but Harry seemed more eager to just be honest. 

Which felt strange, in some ways. He wasn’t ever much of a public person--he valued his privacy and respected that of others, but when it came to this, he had a strong desire to label it for the media and the fans. 

He said it created a better boundary. He said, in a meeting made up of me and Claire and Nick and Jeffrey and his head of PR, Janie, that labeling me as his girlfriend allowed for more control over the things that people said. If everyone just knew we were together, he insisted, we could ask for their respect and make it clear that we weren’t interested in any hateful messages. 

Sounded good in theory--but I didn’t know if it’d work. 

We’d been so careful--minimal touching in public, spending time with additional friends was a bonus to make it seem like maybe we were just friends. 

I knew he was getting sick of it. We’d managed the media and the public for three years--we could do it again. 

Which is why, later than night in his London living room with a blanket over my lap and a movie on TV, I scrolled through my instagram feed and slowed when I saw a photo that I knew was us. 

Earlier today, at his rehearsal--his arms were around my shoulders as he pressed a kiss to my lips. I was laughing and smiling up at him. I’d given him shit about one of the lyrics during a break. Mitch and Sarah had heard and apparently appreciated my bluntness. It was a fine moment, a quick one in reality. 

But now, seeing it captured in a grainy cell phone photo with terrible lighting, it felt like it could have spanned three hours. 

Harry--who’d been attentive to the movie until I became engulfed in my phone--used his foot to nudge my leg. “What’re you looking at?” He popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth. I reached forward to steal the bowl back from him, replacing it on his lap with my cellphone, the photo open on the screen. 

He looked offended at first when he no longer had immediate access to the popcorn--but his face shifted when he saw the photo and picked up my phone to get a better look. 

Now it was my turn to munch on a handful of the snack, my eyes patiently on his face as I tried to read his emotions. 

This was the first real proof. 

“Are you upset?” His voice was quiet as he returned my curious stare. 

I shrugged my shoulders and let out a breath of air. “I mean--it’s not like they didn’t know already, I guess. It’s gonna lead to a lot of nasty messages on my end.”

“Still?”

“Yes, still,” I snapped a bit, licking at my lips as I tried to regain composure. “They haven’t stopped. There are plenty that are nice but of course those don’t stick out in my mind as much.”

He seemed to deflate a bit--I knew he always hated it. He hated the way people would treat me and he hated the fact that some people still refused to respect our relationship. “I’m sorry they’re like that.”

I shrugged. I appreciated his words but they didn’t change anything. I’d tried to ignore it. I had tried back then to ignore it and pretend it wasn’t there and I tried to not worry about when we were apart for weeks and weeks on end. 

I pushed the worries out of my mind when I felt like I couldn’t sleep at night because I wondered what he was doing. And now he was here. He was sat across from me on the couch and he offered a small smile as he closed the distance between us, putting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table as he pulled me into his side. 

“I love you,” he said, his voice somewhat muffled as he spoke into my hair. “Nothing’s going to change that and they’re not going to change it and I don’t care what people know or think. I’m just glad to have you back.”

THEN - Day 853

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but the silence wasn’t it. The kitchen was quiet except for the beeping of my parents’ alarm system that seemed to threaten my mere existence. The house was dark and cool and I wondered what everyone else was doing. 

But I knew the answer. My mom and Pete were still at the award show. Ben was probably at Sara’s and Maya was at a friend’s for a sleepover. Sinead was in the car that was now backing out of my driveway, ready to drop her off at home so she could take off her shoes and her dress and go back to normal. 

Harry was somewhere on the other side of the world for rehearsals. He was likely fast asleep due to the time difference between wherever he was and LA. My ears had the ringing noise inside them that came in quiet moments like these. I think it was all the screaming and loud music I’d heard for so long.

For four hours I’d been in this heavy dress--my hair pulled back from my face with hidden bobby pins. I could feel the makeup caked onto my cheeks that hid the circles under my eyes and the breakout on my chin. It was the makeup that reflected the flashing of the cameras on the red carpet. 

I didn’t even know why I’d went. It wasn’t my field. My mom and Pete were excited for a night out and Nick had assured me that it’d be good for me to make an appearance after the holidays. 

The refrigerator seemed to hum beside me--my mom’s handwriting on the white board read a note to Maya.

May-text me when you leave and let me know when to pick you up in the morning. I love you. Mom.

I wondered--for the millionth time in my life--what it would be like if I wasn’t me. Would my mom leave me a note like that on our families’ tiny white board that clung to the fridge? Would I be at college or at a sleepover instead of in the middle of the dark kitchen with a buzzing in my ears from all of the silence?

I felt tears well in my eyes--my legs felt tired and before I knew it, I was slumped against the cabinets as my dress crumpled on the ground beneath me. Bonnie would be pissed. 

I think people thought I liked alone time. I mean, sometimes I did--but only if there was someone on the other side of the door or if Sinead was just running out to grab me a coffee. 

But quiet like this--home alone, with everyone else living their lives and enjoying the things that my job brought to us--only seemed to bring an aching to my chest that seemed to grow with the passing days. 

It was 2015 now. The holidays came and went and I was gearing up for a busier year than before. Harry was talking about the future and I was still stuck on trying to control the present. 

If I thought he’d answer the phone, I would have called him. Instead--I went over to the liquor cabinet where Pete kept a full bottle of gin. 

And that’s the last thing I remember. 

NOW - Day 1718

I was sat across from Nick, Sinead and Claire--a long conference table made of oak in the building on Selma Ave where Nick’s office was. Kayley--a head from my label--was sat beside from me. Her long blonde hair seemed to cascade down her shoulders, and I wondered, for a second, if she thought I was crazy. 

Nick wasn’t thrilled about it--but it felt like Nick was rarely thrilled with anything I did. He wanted me to be successful and be happy and he also wanted me to fulfill my contractual obligations and he wanted me to stay sane. I think sometimes, especially in moments like this, he felt in the middle. 

“So it would just drop? Just an immediate release with no promo?”

I nodded and watched as Kayley leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh--she definitely thought I was crazy. 

“I know that’s pretty out there and not how we’ve ever done things, but--doing a big promo tour doesn’t feel right,” I said honestly. “This is about the music I made and the story I’m telling and it’s not about the build up.”

I didn’t realize how nervous I was until I rubbed my hands on my high-wasited jeans--the fabric dark in spots from the sweat on my palms. 

“No, I--I hear what you’re saying. I just think it’s risky. I mean--you have a fanbase. No question about that,” Kayley looked from me to Nick and then back to me. 

Nick shifted uncomfortably and I could tell he was getting antsy. I’d dropped the idea on him only a day and a half before this meeting. I’d been working with Nathan on finalizing a few songs. Masters were sent off and returned, Nathan and I were dreaming up a tracklist. Within a few days we were left with a final product and I had no idea what our plan was. 

So I drove to Nick’s house and brought take out for him and his wife. I figured the least I could do was butter him up before dropping the big news: the album would be released on all streaming platforms with a limited number of CDs in a week and a half. 

No promo. No press. Minimal interviews. 

He’d stared at me in his living room like I’d truly lost my shit--ironic, seeing as I was more stable than ever before. Now, Kayley did the same. 

“It is risky,” Nick said, a shrug of his shoulders as he turned to face me in his chair. “I think it’s a bold move but I think--” he let out a sigh and laughed a little. “You’re breaking all of the rules lately, so I say fuck it. If this is what you want, let’s do it. Let’s do it big and we’ll see what happens.”

I turned to Kayley, a small smile on my face as she bit at her lip. I first met Kayley when I was 15. She was new to the record label and had shorter hair than she did now. She worked with a man named Keith--someone who’d been integral to my signing and the release of my debut album. 

Kayley believed in me and wanted me to be myself. In a strange world of contracts and copyrights, Kayley seemed to be on my side. 

She tried to fight the smile on her face as I looked at her expectantly, a pleading grin as I rubbed my hands together. “It fits the theme, Kayley!” I reminded her. “I disappeared in the middle of the night and no one knew where to--and here I am, back in the middle of the night and no one knew it was coming.”

Sinead let out a laugh, leaning forward on the conference table as she spoke. “I wouldn’t necessarily say all of that to Harry.” Nick rolled his eyes, Claire stifled a laugh and Kayley let out an amused sigh.

“I agree with Nick that it’s risky--I don’t know if anyone’s ever just done that before,” she looked around the table of us, silently asking for a correction if she was wrong. When no one spoke, she cleared her throat. “It’ll be a big deal because of what’s been going on. You going away, coming back, One Direction breaking up, Harry’s album. It’s sure to draw attention because of you, but also because of your history.”

Kayley was right. She was thinking logically and like a businesswoman and I understood that. But I wished--momentarily--that telling my story wasn’t a business move. I wished it was a right of passage or a heartfelt move--not a strategic plan in the game of chess that seemed to be my life. 

“But it’s 2017 and things are changing if there’s anyone who can handle that, it’s you.”

THEN - Day 1052

The shouting of my name was now muffled by the car door as soon as I pulled it shut. They weren’t banging on it this time--I’d take that as a win. The cameras still flashed outside as I pulled the seat belt around my waist, his words echoing in my mind as the engine started. 

He didn’t want to leave--I get that. His friends were inside, the music was good, the drinks were free. But my chest ached for the quiet of his bedroom and the feeling of his hand on my back, drawing small circles like he used to when there weren’t oceans between us. 

“Can you turn the radio on?” I asked the driver--my voice fragile and weak as he made eye contact with me in the rearview mirror. He nodded simply, pressing a few buttons as tears welled in my eyes. 

That was a trick I’d learned early on. The more famous I got, the less privacy I had--in cars, dressing rooms, bathrooms, or even just in the hallway of venues. Tonight, it was the top forty that would drown out my sadness.

I looked out the window and blinked a few times, water wetting my cheeks as the men with their cameras faded in the distance. 

I felt like no one knew my secret. And if Harry did--he didn’t really care.

Niall and Louis were inside as well--both offering concerned looks when I left and remarking that they’d see me in the next few days. Harry, who offered nothing but a cold shoulder as I walked out, didn’t seem to care that I was falling apart in front of his eyes. 

I mean--what would happen if I told him the truth? What would he say if I told him I wasn’t okay? What would anyone say? The sad truth was that my life and the lives of those around me depended on me being fine. 

How are you, Margot? I’m fine. I’m great. My album went platinum, my tour is sold out, and my family is healthy and my boyfriend’s also extremely successful? How was I supposed to tell them that on top of that, I cried every day, I didn’t even enjoy performing anymore, and writing songs felt like I was pulling teeth?

And the worst part of all was that I couldn’t tell him. I’m sure if he heard me say that he’d say it wasn’t true. He’d say I could tell him anything and that I could trust him and that he loved me. But I didn’t know if he could handle it. 

How could the innocent boy with a heart of pure gold accept the fact that I was miserable? What if this was just how I was now? What if this is what this life shaped me into?

What I’d come to realize over the last few weeks was something simple. I had two choices: keep secrets just to keep him around, or be honest and lose it all. 

NOW - Day 1820

Margot stood at the stove, her hair was up in a bun on top of her head as I reached for silverware in the drawer. I’d been gone for a few days, but three days off meant a quick stop in LA to pick up where we left off. That’s what Hilary was calling it in therapy. 

She’d called me the other day to let me know that the album was finished. And rather than saving it for the Winter or Spring and give it a fair amount of promo--she wanted to put it out, now. 

Margot had always been impatient--that was no surprise. But as the stir fry she cooked on the stove seemed to sizzle, she turned around to look at me. 

“How are you feeling about it?”

“About your album?” I  asked hesitantly, setting the forks on the light blue placements she kept on the island. 

A nod as she kept her eyes on mine.

I let out a sigh--fighting the urge to appease her and trying to balance my honesty. “I’m excited for you to release it because you’ve worked hard and it’s going to be an amazing album.”

She nodded again, somehow knowing that I wasn’t finished. 

“But I’m scared of what people will think and say and how it will affect us.”

She sighed at this--it wasn’t news to her. I may not have said it so bluntly before, but she knew just as well as I did that her album would get people talking and stir things up and whether or not we liked it, it put us in a fishbowl--again.

She turned back to the stove and I couldn’t tell how she felt. I wondered, for a second, if the  anxiety in my chest was anything like how she felt when my album came out. I figured it was, to an extent. The only difference was that I knew she was  making it and I knew how she felt  and I had her in my life again. 

When she heard mine, she had no clue it was coming, no idea where we stood, and no idea  how I felt. So, in that department, I guess I had it pretty good. 

“It comes out Friday at midnight. We haven’t announced it anywhere. There’ve been some photos of me leaving Nathan’s studio so I think people suspect something but they have no clue.”

She didn’t like my silence. She turned around with knotted brows and a look on her fact that told me she was annoyed. “What?” I said quickly.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you want from me. I feel like every time I bring it up you get all weird and nervous.”

“I am nervous,” I told her, my voice more exasperated than before. She pushed at the food in the frying pan and then turned it off, placing it on a back burner. 

“I’m nervous too! This is huge, Harry. I haven’t put out music in years and people don’t exactly love me right now.”

I couldn’t help but make a face at that. It felt like people always loved her. She was Margot Jones. She was a household name at age 15 and the world watched her grow up. How could people not love her?

“I know this whole thing has been hard for you, but it’s been hard for me, too.”

For whatever reason, that set me off. The way she likened her experience to mine felt invalidating and wrong and so off-base. “You left me, if you’ve forgotten. You left and walked out as if it didn’t mean anything to you.”

She let her hands slap against her thighs in distress. “I can’t keep fucking defending myself, Harry! I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up. But I need you to believe me when I say I won’t do that again.”

I shook my head--her words weren’t enough and they didn’t stop the sadness from bubbling inside of me. Things felt good and more normal than before. I felt more connected to her and more aware of how she felt--but how was I supposed to trust anyone? How was I supposed to believe people when they said they’d never leave?

“I tried that. I believed the band when we all promised to ride the wave until it crashed. But Zayn left. Zayn up and walked out and quit like he had no strings attached.”

Silence as she leaned against the counter. I watched her chest deflate as she waited for me to say more. 

“And then you did the same. So forgive me. Forgive me for questioning people’s promises and wondering if they meant anything they said.”

Another California sunset outside the window as she let out a sigh. “You’ve made mistakes too, Harry. I’ve said from the start that I’m not going to sugar coat things. I wrote these songs in the over the last few years and they were where I was at. If you don’t like being painted as  the bad guy then you should have thought about that before you did it to me.”

“I don’t know what to say to that. I didn’t mean to make you look bad. I was just telling my truth.”

“And you get your truth Harry. I hurt you and I left and I fucked up. But you didn’t call and you didn’t ask enough questions and there are a thousand things we could both do differently if we could go back. But we can’t.”

I softened at her words--she had a point. My truth was my truth. But she had hers, and it wasn’t any less valuable or important. As the thought crossed my mind, I understood what Hilary wanted for us.

She always said this thing about fighting being better than nothing. At least we were communicating.

So sure--I was nervous about her album because it basically put mine on trial. It told her story  and in some places that matched mine and in others it didn’t. But I guess that’s the beautiful thing about love, right? It looks different depending on the light you put it in. 

They were older songs, meaning the words weren’t a description of her current feelings. I had figured that--I mean, she said most of the songs were old and about our downfall. But that didn’t stop the thoughts in my head of how embarrassing it would be to have people hear it. 

“I just don’t want people to think that this is still how you feel.”

She shook her head, emotion on her face as she shifted on her feet. “It’s not how I feel. It’s how I felt. Past tense.”

NOW - Day 1826

Margot wore a blue dress. Her hair was curled and her lips were painted a bright shade of red. It was the good lipstick--the one that didn’t get on mine when we kissed. I had Bonnie to thank for that.

Her whole family was there and people from the label were there and Niall came into town for it. There was food and drinks and Pete shook my hand as if he knew that his step-daughter put me through the ringer. 

She made a speech and she thanked everyone for standing by her. She thanked Nick for letting her break the rules and she thanked Sinead for always reminding her of what the rules were in the first place. She didn’t address me in front of everyone--Claire had warned that it might not be the smartest.

So when we sat in the car at the end of the night, Margot checked her phone to see just how unexpected it was. She’d removed her shoes and she had her feet in my lap. “It’s trending--my  social is too busy to even really look at.” She clicked it shut and closed her eyes for a second. “Nick will tell me all the numbers in the morning.”

I smiled a bit at her--that was a change of tune. Old Margot would have demanded the numbers  immediately. She would  stay up and wait for them to come in. She’d pace the living room at the  end of the week to find out how the release would be qualified.

We climbed up the stairs in her quiet house and climbed into bed. She thanked me for loving her and standing by her and I thanked her for giving us a second chance. She fell asleep quickly,  and I knew that the morning wouldn’t be as quiet and peaceful as it was right now.