#Hey on the lighthearted side I keep thinking about how in the early days of this party forming ram is still using Disguise Self constantly

[vampiricsheep]

the way astarion wants freedom but sees power as the truest form of it vs the way ram is so sick of powerful entities toying with him and others that he'll do anything to help astarion gain whatever he considers freedom...

And so instead of escaping the struggles that have defined them they simply repeat them. Cazador isn't completely gone, because astarion steps into his place. And ram cedes himself body and soul to a man who will become everything he always thought he hated.

Astarion said once that he never understood how long eternity could be until he was under cazador's boot. I think ram may have the same realization when he finally realizes what he's become.

[spatialwave]

asking for jordan marie content and specially communication, like early on stuff when maybe they aren't dating yet but they are hanging out more and they start to get closer and marie starts to realize that jordan tends to shift to his male form when things get slightly romantic and she asks them about it, maybe playing like "how do you decide when to shift?" phrasing as a silly curiosity and jordan opens up about their insecurities and marie reassured them and yeah they kiss !

oh, i adore this! i hope this does your ask justice. 🩵 word count: 684

-

marie had noticed something about jordan in recent days, a peculiar tendency about their shifting form. since their first kiss, the two of them had become quite close, still a bit unsure about what they were. both of them were great at avoiding the big question, in fact, it was fun with it being a bit unclear. though, marie was craving a deeper connection, wanting to see what jordan was like when they were vulnerable. jordan could sense that too, which scared them. they were having fun with marie, without the responsibility of a relationship, but they were smart enough to know that this blissful ignorance wouldn't last forever.

"hey, jordan," marie asked softly with a smile on her lips, the two of them had been sitting in a grassy area of the quad on campus. enjoying a break from class and the sun, it was marie's idea. "can i ask you something?"

they looked over at her, quirking an eyebrow, "as long as you're not asking me for a favour. i'm actually enjoying doing a bit of nothing." they responded with a soft sigh, turning ahead as they closed their eyes and soaked up the rays of the sun. marie admired them for a few moments, taking in their shoulder-length hair and how the curls framed the side of their face.

"i've just been curious about the way you shift," she started, smiling as she tried to keep her question lighthearted, not wanting jordan to think she was prying, "how do you decide to do it? is it an emotional thing? do you have to think really hard for it to work?"

jordan looked over at her, swallowing thickly down their throat when they connected their gaze. they knew this question would come up eventually, but they were unaware of why marie was asking. "it's kinda' hard to explain," they said, shrugging, "it's second nature, i don't really have to think so hard about it. i can do it whenever i want."

marie nodded along as they spoke, trying so damn hard to keep the question inside, but it was like word vomit, "then why do you always shift into your male form when you're with me?" she questioned, eyes widening, "i mean, like, you know. not right now obviously, but if we were alone in your room. that's when you would." she swallowed a lump down her throat

she regretted the question immediately because she saw the pain that formed in jordan's eyes. yet, she felt she deserved an answer.

another sigh came from jordan, their eyes flickering away as they began fidgeting with their hands, "do you want the honest answer or the easy answer?" they asked back but didn't get a response. wetting their lips, they looked over to marie, eyes softening, "i, uh," their voice cracked, "i wasn't sure what you wanted, i just assumed... that's what most girls want from me. no one's ever wanted to be with both." they said, cringing at the word, hating that they often times had to talk about themselves like they were two different people.

jordan couldn't look her in the eyes anymore, their brown orbs falling down to look at the grass underneath them. how embarrassing.

"don't assume anything with me," marie spoke, her voice gentle. a hand reached over and slid over jordan's jaw, then their neck, "it's new to me, but... i like you. all of you." she whispered, staring at jordan like there was no one else in the world.

their gaze met once again, both filled with adoration for each other. jordan was about to scoff, ready to brush it all off, but it didn't take much to see the sincerity in her eyes. jordan's lips parted to speak, but marie didn't let them.

"i mean it," she whispered, leaning forward towards jordan. there was a tense feeling that moved through them, wanting to shift for security - but they didn't. they let marie move in close until their lips pressed into a chaste kiss.

jordan had been waiting for this moment for years. for someone like marie.

[an-idiot-in-fandoms]

3 am [jason todd x reader]

a/n: i wrote this at 3 am :)))) warning for swearing, and implications of the reader not being in a good state mentally

You were usually awake at 3 am.

There were a multitude of reasons for this; to have a mental breakdown, to have an existential crisis, to do some work you'd completely forgotten about, or even just to go on the internet and argue about irrelevant topics to get your mind off the ever increasing hole in your soul.

But you know, that stuff was normal.

What had become forebodingly more and more common, was that you were up at the devil’s hour to tend to the wounds of your long time friend, who also happened to be a vigilante, who came crashing into your apartment every five to seven business days. Jason Todd was a peculiar man, to you at least; some days he was lighthearted, snarky, poking fun at his injuries, and the next he was brooding, moody, and didn’t say as much as a thank you when he left. But you’d known him for three years now, which was about enough for you to properly discern his character.

And being totally honest? You loved him with every piece of what was left of your sanity.

He was a disaster, a person with deep-rooted trauma and problems, but you wanted to help him shoulder that baggage more than anything. Jason still hadn’t quite opened up to you fully, despite the long time you two had known each other, yet you were ok with that — his comfort came before your curiosity by miles. However, he trusted you so implicitly that he always told you about what he’d done that night without breaking a stride in his speech, sometimes tripping over his own words to talk to you about it.

It made you feel special, even though you were pretty sure you weren’t.

For you, Jason just being with you the way he was sufficient to keep you happy. You didn’t need him to return your exploding feelings (though it would be nice if he did).

A yawn escaped you, as you lay in bed in the early hours of the morning, anticipating a visit from your local leather-clad anti-hero, casually reading a book Jason had bought you — one massive volume of William Blake’s poems (god, Jason was a dork). Though you were scrutinising the sentences, all you could hear in your head was his soothing, rough yet warm voice reading it out to you.

Everything about him drove you wild. His jagged personality, the abrasive or tender tone he spoke with, his eyes that should’ve reminded you of something romantic, but all that came to mind was fragments of shattered glass. And his hair; you’d asked him over 30 times what shampoo he used out of pure disbelief, because of how fucking soft it was. The white streak among his darker locks served as a grim reminder of what he’d been through to him, but to you it was somehow the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

He was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen.

Heat travelled up to your face, and you shook your head, as if the physical action would somehow stop you from thinking about him. It wasn’t your fault! He was just so — so — enticing? Perfect? What was the word?—

“Hey.”

A short shout of surprise escaped you, and you clutched at your duvet, breathing heavily; once you realised it was just Jason slipping through the window, you let out a sigh of relief, and swung your legs over the side of your mattress. “Do you ever make any noise? Any at all?” you asked wearily, shuffling over to him.

He shrugged, holding his arm, as if trying to hide the obvious from you. “Being quiet is part of the job. I can’t exactly go around screaming like you just did.”

“I didn’t scream,” you scoffed, moving his hand away to inspect his wound. “Is that it? I was expecting something a bit more... extreme,” you settled for, guiding him over to the chair in the corner.

“Yeah, well, the replacement showed up and decided to help,” Jason muttered, moving his jacket away from his injury so you could tend to it. “So we made short work of the bastards.”

“I see,” you said simply, kneeling down next to him and opening your first aid kit.

“What are we looking at, doc?” he joked — somehow, even with that stupid helmet of his on, his voice was reassuring.

“I’ll just clean it and bandage it up,” you murmured, taking out the alcohol, “no stitches tonight. But don’t go around exerting pressure on it. And take that thing off, it makes me feel like you’re about to put a bullet in me.”

Undeterred by the coarseness of your humour, Jason let out a short, gravelly laugh, and removed the red bucket from his head, to reveal the absolute seductiveness that was Jason Todd. You tried hard to ignore the appeal that was oozing off him like a toxin, and immediately began addressing the wound, dabbing the cut.

“Ah — shit! Where was the fucking warning?!” Jason complained, giving you an insulted look.

“Oh, boo hoo,” you mocked, with a slight smile. “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

The implication of what you’d said didn’t fully dawn on you until he leaned towards you, face scrunched up and a finger pointing to his mouth; “Yeah, right here please, darlin’.”

You inhaled so violently that it sounded like you’d just choked on weed.

“Shut up,” you made an expression of distaste the best you could, shoving him away, “that’s not even where you’re hurt. Plus, your breath stinks.”

“Fuck you,” he snorted, feigning offence.

Five minutes of silence passed, as you let Jason rest, whilst wrapping up his arm. It was moments like these that made you feel satisfied just to have him around; in moments like these, you were utterly content with just being his friend, nothing more, nothing less. You were simply undeniably grateful to have this mess of a man in your life, and the fondness welled up in you like a bubbling fountain of water before you could stop it.

Glancing back up to him, when you were done, you found him with a rare mien of serenity; his pink lips were parted slightly, and his eyelashes left shadows on his cheeks, under the dim glow of your bedside lamp. Unable to restrain yourself, you ran a hand through his hair, that was pressed down from the helmet, moving it around so it was returned back to its normal wavy state.

“The hell are you doing?” Jason chuckled, opening his eyes to give you a baffled stare.

“It was bothering me,” you gave half the truth, now using both sets of your fingers to make it stick up. Once you were pleased with your efforts, you returned your gaze to his, where you found him observing you with what you hoped was affection — even though this was Jason we’re talking about.

“Why do you look like that?” you questioned, with a breathless laugh, though your brow was furrowed in concern.

“No one’s ever treated me like this before,” he admitted quietly, slowly becoming serious from the realisation, “not Bruce, not Dick, not even Alfred.”

You weren’t quite sure how to respond, nor whether that was a compliment.

Out of doubt, you pulled your hands away, and placed them in your lap instead. “Well,” you mumbled uncertainly, “you deserve to be treated like a person who’s loved.”

Would he pick up on the subtext? Of course he would, he was smart, and had been trained by fucking Batman.

You were an idiot.

Jason visibly softened at your response, somewhat touched, and then brought himself a bit closer to you, making sure to keep looking at you. “You know,” he murmured, “if you say stuff like that, sweetheart, I’m gonna figure out what’s going on inside your head.”

“Yeah, my mistake,” you joked weakly, though inside you were panicking intensely.

“Hey,” Jason positioned himself right in your personal space, “do I still get that kiss?”

You froze. Was he serious? — oh, god, he was.

He’d shut his eyes again, and was waiting patiently, in complete silence. You gulped, and attempted to compose yourself, and failed miserably. He was — he’d just asked you to kiss him! How did he expect you to do this without having an anxiety attack?!

And what did this mean for your friendship? What was he implying? Was this a benefits type of thing?

Slowly, you edged towards him, and let your mouth hover an inch away from his, shutting down again when you felt his warm breath fan your cheeks; contrary to your earlier remark, his expiration smelled quite nice, actually. Well, that didn’t add to your problems at all! So, not only had he raised the bar, but now he was also making it very clear that kissing him would be an unforgettable experience.

You couldn’t — as much as you wanted to — you just didn’t have the nerve to do this.

Fortunately for you, Jason was never one to wait around for too long.

When he sensed your hesitation, he let out an irritated sigh, and before you could react, he leaned in properly, and captured your lips softly, brushing over them with amorous intent. For the third time, your processing system broke, and you sat there like a statue, attempting to discern if this was a dream or not.

The kiss lasted six seconds.

Then, Jason drew away, though only by a centimetre, allowing him to admire your embarrassed expression. “Stop being satisfied with the bare minimum,” he whispered lowly, “I’ve wanted you too for a while now.”

That was all the incentive you needed to finally take the lead, and lean in properly this time.

Being Jason Todd’s friend was enough.

But now you wanted more than enough.

[watchmegetobsessed]

TO LOVE AND BELOVED - Part Five (Harry Styles)

a/n: ahh idk why but writing this part took me forever! but its finally here and i can’t wait to see your thoughts on it! i was debating for a long time if part 5 should be the last one, but then i decided to add another part, bc there are two more things i want to include in the story and i couldn’t squeeze them into this part, it’s already the longest so far, so we have one more part left of the story! also, a little warning that part 6 might take a little longer than the prev parts bc im a little behind with my schedule but it’ll try my best!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce, sexual content

word count: 12k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

You’ve been feeling like a teenager sneaking around her parents these past weeks. Only that you’re an adult and the parent you are trying to keep your secret romance hidden from is a four year old little girl.

Your birthday was a turning point in your evolving relationship with Harry. Like a wall has been brought down and he finally started reaching out to you. It feels like with every passing day you’re getting closer to him and you can see the progress he’s been making thanks to his therapy sessions and how much he is trying to make a change himself as well.

Stolen kisses and tiny touches have been a usual in your every days whenever Izzy was out of sight for the shortest second. You’ve realized that Harry is an affectionate person, he likes to keep you close and he never fails to bring passion into the tiniest kisses.

With Izzy around 24/7 it’s been hard to find time when it’s just the two of you, but you’ve been waking up early in the morning just to spend that twenty minutes alone with Harry while he drinks his coffee. Sometimes you just sit in silence, trying to wake up for the day ahead of you but sometimes he talks your ears off about anything and everything. In the evening, when Izzy is already sleeping the two of you usually wind off together in the living room or watch a movie in the entertainment room, just enjoying some alone time. It’s not much, but more than nothing and you’ve grown very fond of these little moments with him.

Nothing more has happened than just kissing. Despite the progress Harry has made so far you can tell he still has quite a few conflicts buried deep inside him and you definitely don’t want to rush him into anything he is not ready for. Some cuddling on the couch or short but passionate make out sessions in a corner while Izzy is not paying attention, you haven’t gone further than this.

Now it’s the last day before Izzy leaves to Harry’s mum for the week. He is dropping her off Sunday afternoon and it will leave the two of you alone for seven full days. Well, Harry still has to work during the day, but from the moment he’ll get home, it’s just gonna be you and him.

You had to make a few phone calls so you’ve been locked in your room for a while now. When you come down you find your favorite father-daughter duo on the couch, some kind of Barbie movie playing on the TV, but Izzy is busy with something else. She’s got her water based flooring pens scattered around her, Harry’s tattooed arm laying across her lap as she is coloring the patterns as if it was her favorite coloring book. Before they could notice you, you run back to your room and grab your polaroid camera and returning you snap a picture of the adorable scene. The shutter of the camera makes Harry’s head snap in your way, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Hey,” he softly greets you. You put the camera and the photo aside to the cupboard near you before joining them on the couch.

“Hi Y/N! Look!” Izzy beams happily, pointing at Harry’s ship tattoo that is now fully colored with yellows, pinks and blues.

“It looks better this way,” you smirk down at her before your eyes meet with Harry’s over her head, smiling at you softly.

Making yourself comfortable next to them, you watch Izzy work on more of his tattoos and you find it such a heartwarming scene, you want to remember it forever. Harry Styles, such an influential, successful and serious businessman, sitting on the couch in his loungewear while his daughter is using his tattooed skin as her personal coloring book. He really is a wonderful human being and the best dad to his daughter.

“Y/N, do you have any tattoos?” Izzy asks, turning to you with curious eyes.

“I actually do,” you answer and you see Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“You really do?” he asks, his head resting on the back of the couch, turned to face you.

“Yeah,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

“Where?” Izzy asks perking up at the new information.

“Um, it’s right here,” you tell her pointing at the side of your hips, covered with your sweatpants.

“Can I color them?” she asks innocently, but Harry is quick to react.

“Izzy, you’re being a little too nosy,” he warns her as always, and she looks at you with a pouty look.

“It’s fine. Um, yeah, you can color it,” you nod.

Sliding lower on the couch you roll down the waistband of your pants until the tattoo is revealed on the side. You catch Harry’s eyes wander over the skin you are now showing and you can see a slight blush tinting his cheeks. He hasn’t seen this part of your body uncovered yet, he hasn’t even seen you in a bathing suit so far so it’s quite the new thing.

(reference for the tattoo)

The tattoo on your side is a simple yet meaningful one, dedicated to the special bond you and Trevor share. It’s a minimalistic yet beautiful piece of two koi fishes swimming in a circle, one is left blank as while the other one is black so their formation resembles the yin-yang symbol. You got it when you turned twenty, when Trevor was just in middle school, but he promised you he would get the same design when he turns eighteen that will happen in the fall.

“That looks beautiful,” Harry breathes out with a shy smile and you notice how he doesn’t ask about the meaning behind it. Not because he is not curious but because he is insanely respectful and he doesn’t want to ask something that’s too personal.

“Thanks,” you smile at him as Izzy grabs her pens and starts coloring the blank fish.

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully, Harry is clearly trying to spend as much time with Izzy as possible before her week with his mother, but you also notice that he seems to be keeping something away from you, like he is trying to bring up something but he is not entirely sure how to start the conversation.

It’s not until Izzy is put to bed that he joins you on the couch, turning to you with a serious expression on his handsome face.

“What’s up?” you ask with a soft chuckle.

“I was thinking…”

“I could see that,” you tease him, giving his knee a playful squeeze. “I’m listening.”

“Actually there are two things I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not sure which one to ask first.” He purses his lips before sighing and moving his eyes to meet your curious gaze. “So we’re gonna be alone for the next week.”

“Mhm.”

“And I thought that… if you want to, but we don’t have to, it was just an idea—so feel free to—“

“Harry,” you cut his stuttering off, moving closer with a reassuring smile. You caress the side of his face and you notice how you lean into your touch, breathing out through his nose. “Don’t be nervous, alright? Just tell me what’s been on your mind.”

“Would you go out on a date with me?” he then asks and it’s the purest thing you’ve ever seen and heard from him. The hopeful but still nervous look in his eyes makes him appear like a little boy who is asking out his first crush in middle school, afraid of rejection, when that’s the last thing he has to think about when it comes to you, but it’s still cute.

“I would love to,” you smile at him and leaning closer you peck his lips softly. “And what’s the other thing you wanted to ask?”

“Well, I’m driving Izzy over to my mum’s early in the morning and I’m staying for lunch and… if you don’t feel like it’s too much, you could… maybe come with us.”

“You want me to meet your mum?” you ask surprised.

“Well, she wants to meet you as well, but I want you to meet her, yes,” he admits with a nervous chuckle. “Gemma has told her about you and my sister likes to be nosy so she might have added a little spice into the story about us when nothing was really going on.”

“Oh my, what does she think?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry,” he assures you quickly. “She just made it seem like we are… dating and all,” he adds with a nervous smile. “But I told her that it’s… I mean that we are not there… yet.”

“Oh, okay. Well, if you really want me there, I would love to go with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Would love to meet your mum.”

“I was afraid you’d find it a little early for this,” he admits truthfully and you can see that rationality in his thought. “We haven’t really… discussed what we are and I didn’t want to put the pressure on you.”

“Well, do you want to talk about us?” you ask softly, giving him the chance to decline if he feels like the conversation might be a little too much for him.

“I do, but I’m not sure… what to say,” he hums, knitting his eyebrows together. Last time I had this talk I was in my early twenties and I don’t even know how to start,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“Okay, then let’s just agree on some things,” you suggest and he eyes you curiously. “Neither of us is seeing anyone else, right?”

“Is that even a question in my situation?” he snorts, making a joke out of his issues clearly and you’re happy he is able to take it so lighthearted.

“Just clearing the air,” you chuckle. “So we are…exclusive.”

“Seems like it,” he nods.

“And you just asked me out on a date,” you point another detail out.

“I did. And you said yes,” he smiles, an excited shine in his eyes glimmering through his green irises.

“Yeah. So we can say we are dating? Seeing each other?” Harry chews on the terms you offered, tastes them before nodding slowly.

“I guess we could say that.”

“Okay. So�� that’s what we are,” you smile at him, giving his knee another squeeze. This time, his hand finds yours and he runs his thumb across your knuckles.

“I think… I’m okay with that,” he breathes out and though it’s seemingly such an insignificant thing, you know how huge steps he has just taken forward.

“I liked the blue one better. With the white sweater,” Heather hums, watching you through the video call. You have your phone propped up on your dresser as you’re trying to figure out what to wear today.

Though you seemed completely unbothered last night when Harry invited you along with them, but now you can feel the slight panic. It’s not even because you and Harry are a thing now, you’d feel this way if you met his mother just as Izzy’s nanny. Grandmothers can be so protective over their grandchildren, you’ve met with quite a few problematic ones while you were working at the daycare and you just want Anne to like you, to trust you with Izzy as much as Harry does.

“Okay, blue it is then,” you sigh, pulling the yellow sundress off of yourself before putting the blue one back with a white sweater.

“So you guys are now official?” Heather grins at you through the screen. “Meeting his mother and all that?”

“Define being official,” you chuckle softly.

“Like, boyfriend-girlfriend?”

“Not yet. But we agreed to be exclusively dating.”

“I still can’t fucking believe that you’re scoring the hottest dad I’ve ever seen. You lucky bitch,” she sighs, sipping on her morning coffee.

“Me neither,” you scoff.

“I’m pretty sure if the mothers who got you fired knew, they would explode. Basically every woman was in love with the man and now you are the lucky woman actually getting him.”

“I guess this is karma for what they did,” you chuckle shrugging. “Alright, I gotta go, because we are leaving soon, but I’ll talk to you soon.”

“You better be! I want a detailed essay about how it went!” she grins, kissing the camera.

“Alright, bye!” you smile before ending the call.

When you get downstairs, Harry and Izzy are already down there, Harry is zipping up her bag while she is dancing around humming to herself.

“Baby, your backpack is still in your room. Can you please get it?” Harry asks her, Izzy nods and runs towards you, stopping in front of you.

“Hi Y/N! I like your dress!” she beams at you.

“Hi! Well thank you!” you smile at her before she runs past you up the stairs. “Hey,” you greet Harry and his eyes snap up to you, his pink lips stretching into a warm smile as he leans closer and kisses your cheek sweetly.

“Hi. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. So, any tips for meeting your mum for the first time?” you ask, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. Harry reaches out and takes your hands between his so he stops the motion.

“You don’t need tips. I know my mum will like you, she is already so excited to meet you, so don’t worry.”

“If you say so,” you breathe out.

Harry puts Izzy’s stuff in the Rover and soon buckles her into her seat before the three of you hit the road. Harry has a whole playlist for Izzy’s favorite songs so you obviously listen to that along with Izzy’s performance of all the songs, filled with misheard lyrics, but that’s what makes it even better. The car ride is about three hours, which is not that horrible. You need just one bathroom break sometime in the middle and Izzy sleeps through the last hour in the car, allowing the two of you to finally listen to music that’s not from a kids’ show.

“Do you have a song request?” you smile over at him, scrolling through his phone since it’s the one connected to the car, but he has given you permission to play whatever you like.

“Not really.”

“You don’t have songs you like to listen to in the car?”

“Not specifically. Do you?”

“Oh, I have a whole playlist for songs to blast in the car,” you chuckle.

“Really? And what songs are on it?”

“Well, I can just show you.”

You search up your user on Spotify and find the playlist in talk before putting it on shuffle. As the first song starts to play, you peek over at him to see his reaction and you spot the smirk on his lips.

“Black Eyed Peas?” he asks glancing at you shortly.

“Yeah, you don’t like them?” you smirk at him.

“I do, I just didn’t think you listen to them,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Are you kidding me? They give me the biggest nostalgia! I listened to them so much as a teenager.”

“So teenage Y/N gave a concert in her bedroom, singing I Gotta Feeling?” he teases you grinning.

“Not just a concert, a whole world tour.”

There’s a short silence, just the two of you listening to the song, you watch the trees and fields rush by you as you drive down the country road. The song changes to another one and you’ve already forgotten about what you talked about, but apparently not Harry.

“What were you like as a teenager?” he asks. You turn to face him and your eyes meet for a second.

“Um, like a normal teenager,” you shrug, not sure what to say.

“There’s no such thing as a normal teenager,” Harry smiles. “What did you do, what were your favorite things?”

“I was… pretty plain, if I might say. I wasn’t a rebel or too much of a geek either. I had like three good friends, we used to hang out a lot by the little lake near our neighborhood, that was like our spot. I liked going on hikes and I watched a lot of documentaries,” you admit with a small smile.

“What kind?”

“I don’t know, anything that was on,” you shrug. “My mom had this phase where she was trying to act like she was just like all the other mom’s from my school, but they were all at least a decade older than her. She was trying to prove that she was this mature, very serious woman who had her shit together and all that.”

“And she didn’t?” Harry asks peeking at you shortly.

“I mean, she did. She turned thirty when I was twelve. Most women barely just got married and started their family at that age but she had been married for eight years and had a middle schooler and a baby already. She really was mature but I could tell that she felt like she lost her twenties because of… me.”

Sighing you think back to the years when you often felt like a burden to your mom. She gave up a lot of things just to give you the life she imagined for you. She worked her ass off to raise you and later Trevor as well, have a career and do all the works around the house. Your dad was working a lot of night shifts, there were entire weeks when you barely even saw him. You don’t blame him, he was trying to provide for his family, but it’s pretty clear he and your mother grew cold over the years and it had a huge part in it.

“Do you… blame yourself for it?” Harry asks softly.

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not like I had anything to do with being born,” you chuckle. “I just didn’t like seeing my mom struggle so much. So when Trevor was born I was trying to take over a lot of tasks around the house and with him as well. I babysat him a lot, took care of him in the mornings, I picked him up from daycare and later from school… I tried to make it easier for my parents.”

“So this is why you grew so close with him?”

“I guess so,” you nod. “I mean, I surely spent the most time with him,” you add with a short chuckle.

“And do you think this is why you’re so good with kids?”

“What is this, a therapy session?” you ask arching an eyebrow at him, but he just rolls his eyes.

“Just… trying to get to know you. Is that a problem?”

“No, I just… I’m not used to talking about myself so much. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve been in this… talking stage,” you admit with a sigh. “But to answer your question, it might have had some impact on me. I mean, I loved taking care of Trevor. It’s like I had my own baby doll, only that it wasn’t just a toy, it was a real baby I could play with.”

“Did you play dress up with him?” Harry smirks at you.

“I did,” you admit laughing. “I used to dress him as a princess a lot and he seemed to like it! My dad wasn’t really a fan of it.”

For the rest of the ride you listen to your playlist and talk about not just your but Harry’s past too. He tells you about his friends, what he was like in school and the mischiefs he did growing up, that drove his mum crazy sometimes. As you get to his hometown and he points out different places he used to go to when he was younger, you feel so much closer to him, like you’ve just gotten to see another piece of him that was hidden before.

He pulls up to the driveway of a simple townhouse and as you get out of the car you see the front door open and a woman rushes out, squealing in excitement as she runs up to Harry and hugs him tightly.

“Finally! I was starting to get worried!” she breathes out, rocking the two of them to left and right.

“Mum, don’t be dramatic. I texted you when we left and we got here perfectly in time,” Harry chuckles, holding his mum tight.

“You barely just arrived and you’re already picking on me? Typical,” Anne rolls her eyes, letting go of him. You round the car, feeling nervous to meet her. When her eyes finally fall on you, her smile grows even wider as she takes a step closer to you. “And you must be Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you!” she beams, pulling you into a warm hug as well.

“Nice to meet you too,” you chuckle, hugging her back.

“I’m Anne, but I listen to all versions of mum and grandma,” she tells you chuckling.

“Alright, noted,” you nod smiling.

Harry opens the car door of the backseat and unbuckles Izzy who has already woken up from her little nap and the moment her feet are on the ground she runs up to Anne.

“Grams!” She giggles before throwing herself into Anne’s arms who picks her up happily.

“Hi baby, you grew so much! I missed you!” she sighs as the little girl cuddles into her neck.

“Missed you too, Grams. I brought my new toys, do you want to play with them?”

“Of course! We’ll have all the time to play this week,” Anne smiles down at her. “Alright, come on in. Lunch is almost ready.”

Harry grabs Izzy’s things from the car and you all head inside. The house smells good from the cooking food in the kitchen and it’s such a cozy home, you can definitely see Harry growing up here. Above the fireplace in the living room there are a bunch of photos framed on the wall, most of them are from Harry and Gemma, but there are some more of other relatives as well, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. It seems like Harry has a big family.

Harry unpacks Izzy’s stuff in her room that used to be Gemma’s apparently, he is telling Anne all about everything she needs to know about Izzy’s routines and she is listening patiently, though you’re sure she is more than capable of taking care of her. After all, she raised two amazing children already.

While Izzy shows Anne all her toys she’s brought with herself, Harry takes your hand and pulls you out of the room just to go into another one. Walking in you immediately realize that it must have been his once upon a time.

“You know, I can see your younger version in here, the one I saw in the photos downstairs,” you smirk at him, looking around. There are some old posters and pictures still littering the walls, stickers are covering the side of his wardrobe and dresser, some of them are partially ripped off already, he probably tried to get rid of them once he got older, but miserably failed.

“Yeah? I was pretty cute, right?” he smirks, so full of himself.

“I liked the curly Justin Bieber hairstyle,” you tease him and he gives you an “are you for real?!” look to which you just start laughing.

“Justin Bieber had nothing on me.”

“Yeah, sure,” you laugh before he grabs your hand and pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. “Your mum is in the next room,” you whisper against his lips as he leans down, teasing you with them just lingering on yours.

“So what? You never sneaked around your parents before?” he smirks down at you.

“I did,” you admit.

“Oh, nasty,” he comments before finally kissing you. However it doesn’t last long, because you hear footsteps coming from outside so you’re quick to move away from each other, just in time when Anne walks in.

“Lunch will be ready in a few, would you two mind setting the table?” she smiles, oblivious what was happening just a moment ago.

“Sure,” Harry nods, rubbing his nose as his other hand finds your waist and he ushers you out of the room.

Izzy helps Anne in the kitchen while you and Harry take care of the table. When everything is done you all sit down and start the feast Anne was so kind to make for you. It doesn’t take long to see the snickering but loving dynamic between Harry and his mother. Anne likes to pick on her son, call him out for basically anything and though Harry talks back, he mostly just lets her tear him to pieces. With love, of course.

“Izzy, please don’t get whipped cream all over the place!” Harry sighs when it’s time for dessert. Anne has made apple pie, one of Izzy’s favorites and she is going generous with the cream on top of her slice.

“You didn’t have problem getting cream all over you when we were making cupcakes, daddy!” Izzy sasses back, making both you and Harry drop your jaws while Anne starts laughing at her boldness.

“That was an entirely different situation, Izzy,” Harry shakes his head as he helps her with the scream before passing it over to you.

“Grams, you should have been there! Daddy, Y/N and I made a mess in the kitchen, but daddy started it!” Izzy giggles, digging into the pie.

“Is that so?” Anne smirks.

“We were just… playing,” Harry explains.

“Oh, I know how you can get when you’re just playing,” Anne chuckles. “Y/N, how do you put up with two kids in the house?”

“I used to deal with fifteen at the same time, so two is not a trouble,” you smirk at Harry who just rolls his eyes, but you see the hiding little smile on his lips.

After lunch Izzy insists on showing you the dollhouse Anne has set up for her in the backyard while Harry helps his mum with the cleaning up.

“We both know your sister likes to exaggerate stories, so I didn’t believe everything she said about you and Y/N,” Anne speaks up as she is washing the dishes and Harry is on drying duty.

“I’m glad you don’t fall for Gemma’s vivid imagination.”

“But there’s one thing she got right.”

“And what would that be?” Anne turns the tap off as she faces Harry, sighing in relief as she smiles at him.

“That you look happy.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but then just closes it. He does feel happy, even if he is still struggling to accept it. Anne dries her hands and reaching up she cups Harry’s face in her palms.

“Baby, I haven’t seen you like this for a long time. And I know you think you don’t deserve to feel this way, but you do. And Y/N makes you happy, clearly.”

“Mum…”

“No, honey, just… listen to me, okay?” she asks and he nods, giving all his attention to his mother. “It broke my heart to see you so… lost after what happened to Maggie. And I know that it was the hardest thing you ever had to go through, but you need to move on. She would want you to do the same thing.”

“How do you know, mum? You didn’t even like Maggie when I first brought her home,” Harry points out mumbling under his breath.

“That doesn’t change the way you felt about her. I know you loved her and I would have never wanted anything to happen to her. She made you happy and that’s all that mattered to me,” she smiles with a tired sigh. “And I just want you to be happy again. Whatever you two have going on… don’t let go of it, alright? She is making you happy and you deserve that.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say so he just nods before Anne pulls him into a tight, motherly hug that he returns gladly.

“I’m trying, mum. I’m trying,” he whispers into her hair, giving her a squeeze before letting go of her.

You stay a little longer, Anne makes you tea and Harry soaks in the last minutes with Izzy before he is forced to be away from her. You know he is looking forward to spending some time away from his daddy duties, but it’s clear that he’ll miss her terribly too.

“Alright, baby. Be good and I’ll call Grams to talk to you every day, okay?” Harry tells her, giving her one last hug. Izzy wraps her arms around his neck tightly, her face squished into his neck.

“Okay, daddy. I love you,” she mumbles with a pouty look.

“I love you too. Have a good time with Grams.”

“Thank you for everything, Anne,” you tell her, giving her a quick hug.

“Oh, you’re welcome. It was so nice to meet you,” she smiles, feeling a little touched by the goodbye. “Come back soon!”

“I will, thank you.” “Bye mum, call me if anything comes up,” Harry tells her, hugging her as well.

“We’ll be alright, don’t worry. Tell Mitch and Sarah that I wish them the best!” Anne smiles as you and Harry head out the door.

“I will! Bye!”

Izzy stands at the front door with Anne, waving after you as Harry backs out of the driveway and eventually, they are out of your sight.

Harry falls silent and you don’t have to be a genius to know that he is already missing Izzy. You can imagine what it feels like to not see her every day like he always does, when he is so used to having her around all the time.

“You alright?” you softly ask, giving his arm a short squeeze.

“Yeah, it’s just… It’s the third time I’m doing this, but it never gets easier. The first year we did it I ended up driving up here four times that week,” he admits with a chuckle.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. It’s normal to miss her.”

“I know, it just makes me emotional,” he admits, flashing you a short smile before he turns his gaze back at the road ahead of him.

The drive back home is a lot quieter than the way to Anne’s. You play some music again and Harry hums to it sometimes, but he is mostly just deep in his thoughts and you don’t want to bother him, knowing well he probably needs some time to settle with the thought of an entire week without Izzy.

You get some takeout for dinner before arriving home and eat together before putting on a movie to watch in the entertainment room. One movie turns into another and before you could realize it, you’re dosed off on the comfy couch, cuddled to Harry’s side near midnight.

When you wake up something entirely different is playing on the screen since the original movie has ended long ago. Harry is passed out, his head resting against the back of the couch, one arm curled around your shoulders while the other is resting on his stomach. Rubbing your eyes you check the time and decide it’s better if you both just go to bed before you end up spending the night on the couch.

“Hey… H,” you softly caress his cheek before you brush his unruly curls back from his forehead. He scrunches his nose adorably before his eyes flutter open, taking in his surroundings. “We fell asleep. Why don’t we call it a night?” you ask in a soft whisper. Harry sighs, nodding his head, squeezing you to his side before his arm falls from around your shoulders. You peck his cheek before pushing yourself up from the couch. He shuts the TV off and the two of you head upstairs. For your surprise, his hand finds yours on the way up the stairs, lacing his fingers together with yours.

You pad your way up to the second floor and walking past Izzy’s room Harry stops for just a heartbeat before he follows you down the hallway. When you’re about to let go of his hand to head into your own bedroom, Harry pulls you back gently, making you look at him with slight confusion.

“Do you… Maybe you could… sleep at mine, if you want to? Just a thought…” he breathes out, clearly nervous to speak what’s been on his mind.

“I would love to, but only if you’re sure about it.”

“I’m sure. It would be nice to… wake up next to you,” he adds with a shy smile and you notice how he didn’t say waking up next to anyone, he wants you to be there.

“Alright. Why don’t we both just go and shower separately and then I’ll come back to yours?” you offer, giving his hand a squeeze. Harry nods and leaning down he places a chaste kiss to your lips before letting go of your hand, going your separate ways.

After doing your usual nighttime routine you put on a pair of soft pajama pants and a simple shirt before heading back to Harry’s bedroom. The door is slightly open, the lights are still on. You knock on the door before pushing it open carefully. You’ve only been in here a handful of times and it’s strange to come here with the intention of staying.

Harry is standing by his dresser in a pair of sweatpants and a white shirt, his hair is slightly damp from his shower. As his eyes fall on your figure a small smile tugs on his lips before he glances towards the bed.

“Which… which side do you like sleeping on?” he asks and you can’t hold back a chuckle as you walk to the side that’s clearly not used by him usually.

Harry huffs with a smile before going to his side. You put your phone to the nightstand before getting under the covers, making yourself comfortable in Harry’s silky sheets. He sits to the edge of the bed, checks something on his phone before dropping it to his nightstand and he then joins you under the covers.

It’s a tiny bit awkward at first, neither of you really finding your place in such a new situation, so at first you just lie on your sides facing each other. Harry is clearly about to say something, he is just looking for the right words, so you give him all the time he needs.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he softly speaks up. “Not just because… I would be awfully lonely now without Izzy,” he adds with a cheeky chuckle. “I meant it generally. I’m really happy that you’re here.”

“I’m happy to be here too. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you smile at him. Breathing out through his nose he closes his eyes for a few seconds before his green irises meet yours again. Leaning closer he kisses you softly, just another way to tell you the same thing he just said with his words a moment ago. Pulling back he settles his head on the pillow and he pulls you into his arms, making you cuddle to his side similar to the way you fell asleep on the couch earlier.

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Good night, Harry,” you hum back, nuzzling your face into his shoulder, making yourself comfortable in his strong arms.

Harry grumbles lowly when his phone’s alarm goes off in the morning. He might be off from his daddy duties this week, but he is still the CEO of his company and work is calling his name. Sometime during the night the two of you got tangled up in each other. Unlike last night, now Harry is the one snuggled up to you, his heavy arm lying across your stomach, his legs mingled with yours under the sheets as you gently scratch his scalp with one hand, running the other up and down his arm across your stomach. You’re not gonna lie, waking up in a bed with Harry is far more blissful and satisfying than you imagined. Even early in the morning he has such an aura that sweeps you off your feet, the man was surely crafted by the gods.

“You’re gonna be late,” you hum, eyes still closed when he hits the snooze button and snuggles back to you.

“It’s set to when I have to get Izzy ready. We still have some time,” he mumbles against the fabric of your shirt.

You stay in bed a little longer until it really is time to get up. Harry’s morning form is so soft yet still breathtaking, even with his hair tousled and his puffy eyes, he still looks gorgeous and you find it slightly unfair how little effort the man needs to be this perfect.

Harry heads to take a shower and in the meantime you decide to start making breakfast while the coffee is brewing.

“Oh you shouldn’t have,” Harry breathes out with a thankful smile when he arrives downstairs and sees the almost ready breakfast and the smell of coffee hits his nose.

“I have all the time in the world this week,” you chuckle as you fill a plate with eggs and veggies before you slide it over to him on the kitchen island. You fix a plate for yourself as well and join him on the stool beside him.

“So… are you still up for the date?” Harry asks shyly, glancing over at you.

“Didn’t really change my mind since yesterday,” you chuckle.

“Would you be up to do it today?”

“So, eager, huh?” you tease him, nudging him with your shoulder and he just shyly shrugs, trying to push down his smile. “Today works fine for me. What do you have in mind?”

“I’m not ruining the surprise,” he smirks at you, sipping on his coffee.

“Alright, then just tell me the dress code.”

“Wear that lilac dress you wore to that birthday party the other week.”

You know exactly what dress he is talking about, but it stuns you that he actually remembers what you wore two weeks ago. He only saw you for a few minutes before you left, yet he still remembered the dress.

“Alright,” you smile to yourself before turning back to your breakfast.

Though you have a few extra sessions booked for the week, your Monday stayed empty and without Izzy roaming around the house you have to realize that you can easily get bored without her. You got so used to being with her all day long that now being home on your own is so weird.

You spend the first half of the day lounging at the pool, something you’ve been dying to do, but you were too busy with a certain little girl. Then you have a nice lunch and after reading the book you’ve been putting away for weeks, you realize that you’ve run out of things to do. So you text Trevor if he wants a ride home after school and of course he does, so after fixing yourself up you drive down to his school.

“Hi there, how was your day?” you ask when he sits into the car, throwing his backpack to the backseat before he buckles himself up as you back out of the parking spot.

“Fantastic, as always!” he fake cheers, making you laugh.

“Want to get ice-cream?”

“You know I always want ice-cream,” he snorts smirking at you.

You haven’t met Trevor ever since things become kind of… romantic between you and Harry, and you didn’t want to tell him over the phone, so now is the perfect time to break him the news. When the two of you are sitting on the terrace of your favorite ice-cream place, your paper cup filled with chocolate and strawberry ice-cream while he chose mango and cookie dough, you finally start the conversation.

“So, I have news for you.”

“Oh my God,” he breathes out, closing his eyes for a second. “Are you leaving the country?”

“What? No! Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know, but last time you said you had news for me you moved out from home. Figured it might be something similar,” he shrugs, returning to his ice-cream.

“Well, no, I’m not leaving the country.”

“Okay, then what is it?”

“I’m kind of… dating Harry. You know, my boss.” You have no idea why you felt the need to add the last part when he has already met him, but you feel a bit nervous. Trevor is like your best friend and he had a bad feeling about Keith when you started dating him, but you ignored it. If he has a similar feeling about Harry now, you are definitely considering them this time.

“Oh!” his eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean kind of?”

“Well, we haven’t had our first date yet, it’s happening tonight, but things have… changed.”

“So you slept with him?”

“No, I haven’t,” you chuckle nervously. “We kissed. A few times and… we talked about where it’s heading and we both think it’s going to turn into something… more serious.”

“That’s great!” he smiles at you and it seems completely genuine. “See, I told you it’s gonna happen sooner or later,” he smirks coyly, before he licks his spoon off.

“You were just drawing random assumptions because of his looks and wealth, Trevor. But it’s not about that.”

“Oh, I know you’re not a gold digger,” he teases you, making you roll your eyes at him. “So your first date is tonight? What are you guys doing?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t tell me,” you shrug with a small smile.

“Mysterious,” Trevor wiggles his eyebrows at you. “So he is finally ready to get back on the dating scene, huh?”

“Um, he is working on it. It’s a little hard for him, but he’s been changing for the better.” “That’s great. I’m happy for you,” he smiles at you. “Really, you deserve it after that asshole.”

“Yeah, I hope it’ll go well,” you smile back at him with a sigh before you return to your ice-cream.

After dropping Trevor off at one of his friends you head back home. For your surprise, Harry’s car is already parked on the driveway with another one that doesn’t belong to him when you pull up and walking in you find him with Niall in the kitchen.

“Oh, hi boys!” you greet them.

“Y/N! You are stunning as always!” Niall beams, pulling you into a tight hug right away.

“Thanks,” you chuckle patting his back. “What are you guys up to?”

They share a look and it tells you right away you are not supposed to know whatever they were talking about so you just nod smiling.

“Alright, got it,” you chuckle.

“How was your day?” Harry asks, hoping to change the subject smoothly.

“Great! Met with Trevor, just dropped him off.”

“Oh, how is he doing?”

“He is fine, struggling a little with math lately, but he is doing great,” you chuckle.

“So you have a brother. Do you happen to have a sister, maybe?” Niall asks with a coy smile and while Harry just rolls his eyes at his friend, you can’t help but laugh.

“Sorry, no,” you tell him the bad news. “But… I have a good friend and I think you’d like her.”

“A friend? Do you have a picture of her?” Niall beams, already excited about it. Pulling your phone out you show him a picture of you and Heather so he can have a good look at her. You actually think that Heather and Niall would be a good match, she might even be the girl Niall would give up his bachelor life finally.

“When are we having a double date?” he simply asks, making you and Harry laugh at the same time.

“I’ll see what I can do for you.” You let the boys finish whatever they were doing before you arrived so you go to your room, unwinding a little before you have to start getting ready for the date. Around five there’s a soft knock on your door and as you call out, Harry pops his head inside.

“Hi,” he smiles nervously as the rest of his body walks into your sight.

“Hi!” you smile back, putting your book to the side.

“I just realized I never told you the time when you should be ready tonight,” he chuckles nervously. “Is six good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s great.”

“Alright. Then… see you soon, I guess,” he smiles nodding before he walks out of your room. You can’t help a small chuckle at how nervous he seems about tonight, as if he wasn’t still sure about your feelings for him, when you’ve made it clearer than daylight.

You get the best kind of jitters while getting ready for the date. It’s like you’re in high school again and your crush has finally asked you out so you want to look your best. Since Harry already suggested you what to wear, you don’t have to spend an hour standing in your closet, trying to find the right choice. For the makeup you go for a little smokey look and you do a loose bun styles for your hair, remembering the words your mother always told you when you were a teenager.

“A woman’s greatest and most secret weapon is her neck. Men go crazy if you show them your neck and they don’t even realize it!”

You spray some perfume on yourself and put on a pair of nude heels before packing your necessities into a purse that matches your outfit. You finish with everything just in time, a soft knock signaling that Harry has returned. Checking yourself one last time in the mirror you open the door and reveal him standing at the door, wearing a pair of fitted purple dress pants with a crispy shirt on, matching your dress perfectly. And the cherry on top is the bouquet of red roses in his hands.

“Hi,” he breathes out with a nervous smile and his gaze travels down your figure, a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Hi!”

“You look… beautiful,” he smiles shyly and your heart is fluttering in your chest. It’s really happening, you are going on a date with Harry!

“Thank you,” you chuckle softly.

“These are for you. I know it’s weird that I’m picking you up from your bedroom and I’m not giving you this at the front door, but…” he chuckles as he hands you the flowers.

“It’s really nice, thank you,” you smile, taking the flowers before moving into the bedroom to put them in a vase quickly. Harry takes just about two steps into the room and stops with his hands hidden in his pockets as he eyes every movement of yours before you finish with the flowers and let him know that you’re ready to do. He holds out his hand and you take it gladly as you head out of the house.

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going, not even when you try to annoy him and bully him into finally hinting something, but you should have known that he wouldn’t break. He has a four year old daughter who is constantly bugging him, he has endless patience.

When he parks down in front of a modern apartment complex you kind of get really confused, because nothing around seems like the location you’d choose for a date.

“Are you gonna kidnap me and keep me hostage in one of the apartments here?” you ask him with narrowed eyes as the two of you head inside, taking the elevator up.

“It’s not kidnapping, you came willingly,” he smirks down at you.

“That I did.”

When you’re at one of the apartments you are really lost about what he had planned and he finally breaks your suffering and tells you what’s gonna happen as he keys the two of you into the apartment.

“This is Niall’s place, he let us use it tonight. My mum always says that cooking together is a good first date, because food brings people together and you can easily get to know each other,” he explains as you walk into the modern, but definitely very manly home. “I didn’t want to do it at home, because we are always there, so… Niall was nice enough to lend us his place for our date.”

You see that there are two full grocery bags on the kitchen counter and the table is already set for two, you wonder if Harry was here earlier, or Niall did the work for him. Either way, it’s such a thoughtful gesture and a perfect first date.

“Where is he tonight?” you ask with a small smile.

“He is visiting his mother, for a change,” Harry chuckles, knowing well you thought he would be out with a woman probably. “He said he won’t be back until later tomorrow so we can even sleep here, but I thought it would be better if we went home.”

“So what are we making?” you ask curiously as you peek into one of the grocery bags.

“We are going to attempt to make gnocchi with some killer tomato sauce. And brownies for dessert,” he adds with a small smile.

“That sounds great, what can I help with?”

“Let me just quickly pack everything out and then we have to peel the potatoes, yeah?”

“Alright,” you nod, your gaze wandering over to the spacious living room. “Can I look around?”

“Sure,” he nods while he is already elbows deep in one of the bags.

Niall’s place looks like it came right off the pages of an interior design magazine, the furnishing is modern and more on the dark color range, but not too much to make it appear depressing. Right next to his huge TV there’s a floor to ceiling bookcase filled with books mostly about music and art and you realize you don’t even know what Niall does for a living. It just never came up between his heavy flirting sessions.

“I never asked, but what does Niall do?” you ask calling out to Harry.

“Oh, he is a freelancer music producer. Tried to offer him a permanent spot at my company, but he prefers his freedom, like with everything else in his life,” he chuckles. “But he is a good one, we used to make music together when we were younger.”

Just as he says that, you spot a picture of the two of them on the shelves and your lips part in a bit of a shock when you realize that Harry used to have long hair. Leaning closer you inspect the photo better and you feel like you’re looking at two entirely different people. Niall’s hair was bleached blonde which is already enough to make him like another version of himself, but Harry is definitely the biggest shocker. He was rocking some loose shirt with the top buttons left undone, his necklace with the cross pendant peeking out and though the photo ends somewhere above his knees, you can tell that he is wearing skinny jeans, something you never thought you would ever see him in.

“You had long hair?” you ask joining him in the kitchen. Harry’s eyes shoot up to him, then he looks in the direction of the living room, a smile tugging on his lips as he probably remembers what photo you must have just seen.

“Uh, yeah. Yes I did, when I was about 21 or 22.”

“I could hardly believe that was you in the picture, with the long locks and the skinny jeans,” you tease him.

“Yeah, I was a lot different then, but after all, it’s been an entire decade since then,” he sniggles.

“Why did you cut it?”

“Um, I was pretty new in the business back then and had a few assholes telling me that it’s not too masculine and all that. It was a time when I cared more about others’ opinion than I should have so I kind of gave in and cut it.”

“I’m sorry they ruined it for you. But I’m glad you don’t care about others that much now,” you smile at him softly. Harry’s eyes flicker down to his painted nails and ring-clad fingers and you just know what he is about to ask before he even speaks up.

“Does it… bother you? That I paint my nails and stuff?”

“No,” you shake your head confidently. “Not at all. I mean, I never saw you without them, but at this point I think it wouldn’t even feel right,” you add with a small laugh that brings Harry’s smile back as well. Stepping closer you kiss his shoulder softly before turning your focus on the food in front of you. “So, let’s peel these bad boys!”

It’s the first time you and Harry actually work together in the kitchen for more than just five minutes. He is always in control at home, taking over everything with Izzy and you know it’s a good bonding time for them, so you never even tried to push your way into it without their invitation. But now the bonding is all about you and him and so far you’ve been a great team. The cutest thing is that he brought you matching aprons to protect your clothes and you look like you are in some cooking show for sure.

You keep asking questions from each other while working on the food, Harry asks you some more about your childhood and teenage years and he shares stories from college where he had this friend group of five. Niall was part of the group as well and he said he is still in touch with the other boys, but they all do very different things now, the other three are already fathers themselves and live far away, so they don’t get to see each other that much.

You are making the little dumplings while Harry is on duty for cooking them, relentlessly fishing them out of the boiling water once they swim up to the top. When that’s done, Harry starts making the sauce while you take care of the brownies. It all works out well, everything gets done easily and while the dessert is in the oven you start eating what you just created.

“Mm, this sauce is really good!” you hum when you take the first bite.

“It’s my mum’s recipe,” he smiles proudly.

At the beginning of the evening you could tell that he felt nervous, not essentially about being with you, but probably because of the thought of going on a date in general. But as time passed by and he got more and more comfortable in the situation, you could see him loosen up and calm his nerves, so now that you are eating the dinner you made together and drinking a glass of fine wine, talking about anything and everything, you feel like he is actually enjoying something he was probably terrified from before.

When the brownies are done the two of you take advantage of the nice evening weather and Niall’s amazing balcony, moving out to the lounge chairs, munching on the dessert with the skyline of the city in front of you. At one point you start playing a game of would you rather, and after a while you ask each other the most random things, cracking each other up continuously. You don’t even realize and it’s already past ten, you completely talked the evening away, but you don’t regret any of it.

You clean up Niall’s place, leaving it just the way you got it, putting some leftovers into his fridge for him as a thank you for lending you his place before you head out.

Harry keeps a hand on you at all times on the way home, he is either holding your hand over the console, or rests his palm on your thigh above your knee, but either way, he just keeps the physical touch up always. Not that you mind, you are doing kind of the same, enjoying his closeness.

Arriving home you can feel a kind of tension growing, but not a bad kind. You want him. Your desire to go further than just kissing has grown immensely tonight, but you have no idea how he feels about taking it further and you don’t want to push him past his boundaries.

“Want to… sleep with me again?” he shyly asks when you’re going up the stairs.

“Yeah, I would love that,” you smile at him, giving him a quick peck on his cheek.

When you part ways in the hallway he probably expects you to do your night time routine, but you have other plans. Grabbing your polaroid camera you pad your way over to his room, knocking on the door, hoping he is not in the shower yet. When he calls out for you, he is standing at his dresser, the first few buttons of his shirt are already undone, but he is still dressed.

“I just thought that… we could snap a picture as a nice memento of our first date,” you shyly explain to him, holding the camera up.

“Oh, yeah! Okay, how do you... how should we…?” he looks around the room and you step to his dresser, placing the camera to the top of it.

“It’s got a timer,” you explain as you set it up and tell him where to stand so you can check if he is in the frame. When it’s all set, you glance back at him. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he nods shyly. You push the button and step back to him. “What should we…” he starts, but you already know what you want the picture to be like.

Cupping his face in your hands you pull him down and kiss him sweetly, for the first time tonight. You’ve noticed he hasn’t tried to kiss you all night, being a gentleman, but you’ve been craving it since he showed up at your door with the roses.

He hesitates for a moment, but eventually curls his arms around you, kissing you back softly. The timer goes off and the flash indicates that the photo has been taken. Pulling back you smile at him before taking the photo from the camera, setting it to the side to develop. Harry steps behind you, his arms coming to curl around your waist and you turn in his hold to face him.

“Hi,” you smile at him giddily. “Thanks for today.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he answers softly, making your heart flutter. You press your lips at his, kissing him hard and passionate, like you wanted all evening. He is quick to return the kiss with just as much passion as you put into it, his hands finding your waist as he slowly pulls you with him until the back of his legs hit the bed. He sits down and pulls you with him so you sit on his lap straddling him, never breaking the kiss as you settle in his arms, his hands roaming up and down your back.

Your kisses move from his delicious lips to his chiseled jawline and down his neck, your fingers working on the buttons of his dress shirt. You want him, you need him, he is all you can think about and the taste of his skin on your tongue is making you lose your mind.

His hands move up your thighs right to your bum, giving it a good squeeze, making you moan against the crook of his neck.

“Fuck,” he growls, throwing the two of you to the bed, getting on top of you before his lips attack yours, kissing you with a demand heatedly. His lips move smoothly against yours, devouring you with every suck and lick, making you dizzy in the head with such little effort.

He starts kissing down your neck, through your collarbone and whatever is showing in your dress on your chest. Your fingers lace through his messy curls, keeping him close to you as you try to control your moans and gasps. His fingers hook under the thin straps of your dress and he is about to pull them down when he stops, breathing heavily against your skin.

Harry lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he is panting through his parted lips and you cup his cheeks in your hands.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” you tell him softly, knowing well his mind is probably racing right now.

“I just…” he starts quietly. “I haven’t been with anyone since… Maggie,” he admits in a whisper and your gaze softens on him.

“And I haven’t been with anyone since Keith,” you admit truthfully. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I’m fine with just sleeping if that’s all you want to do.”

“No, I want to… I want to do things, I just… I’m not used to it, I guess,” he breathes out as you run your fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay. We can take it slow. Whatever you feel comfortable with,” you assure him pecking his lips softly.

“Is it… Is it okay if we just… touch?” He is clearly feeling a bit embarrassed to ask, but you will not make him feel bad for asking for whatever he wants. Pulling him down for another kiss you smile up at him.

“Touching is perfect. It’s all up to you,” you tell him and see the gratitude in his eyes right away.

Removing yourself off of his lap you climb back on the bed, pulling him with you until he is holding himself up above you. Your eyes meet for a second again before leaning down he kisses you slowly, taking his time with you. He is holding himself up on one arm while his other hand finds your hip, gently squeezing it when his tongue slides into your mouth through the kiss. Your hands move down his chest and you start unbuttoning his shirt until it falls open and he shimmies it off with a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get rid of the dress too,” you breathe out, reaching down for the hem of your dress, pulling it up until it’s off, leaving you in only your underwear. You’re wearing a matching set with a strapless bra and as you lie back on the bed Harry’s eyes basically devour you, his gaze running up and down your body several times.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he breathes out before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand cupping your side before wandering over to your stomach and up to your chest. He runs his hand over your chest, gently squeezing it, making you moan into the kiss.

“And you’re wearing too much clothes,” you grin as you reach down and start undoing his purple pants you ogled him quite often tonight. Harry chuckles as he holds himself up for you to work the button and the zipper on his pants before he takes over the task and gets rid of them himself, leaving him in only his boxer briefs and you have to hold yourself back from gasping when you see the growing bulge between his legs.

You don’t get to eye him for too long, because he is back to kissing you, his body pressing up against yours as you let your hands roam his strong back, his skin burning under your touch. His lips travel down the line of your neck to your chest and his hand snakes behind your back, but he stops before he could do anything with the clasp of your bra. Glancing up at you he gives you a questioning glare, asking for your permission.

“You can take it off,” you softly tell him nodding. His fingers are quick to undo it and a moment later you’re lying with a bare chest underneath him. His hand moves to your chest again and he kneads your breast again, this time with nothing between your skin and his palm. You whimper under his touch, you’ve been so starved to be touched this way and now that it’s happening, it’s hard to control yourself, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind seeing you react to what he is doing.

His lips return to your mouth and while he kisses you with so much passion, he slowly lays himself down next to you, so you’re facing each other sideways on the bed. He pulls you closer to him until you’re flushed against his hard chest and while your hand roams around his shoulders and back, his palm slides down your spine, over your waist until he calms bum, pushing you even closer to him. His clothed erection presses against your thigh and you can’t help but whimper his name at the feeling.

His kisses slow down and his touch loosens on you until he pulls back, seemingly just for air, but you can tell his head is starting to race again, spiraling thoughts taking over his mind.

“Do you want me to take over control?” you softly ask him, pushing his unruly curls out of his forehead. His gaze softens and he nods shortly with gratefulness lacing through his look.

He watches you intently as you push yourself up into a sitting position, he rolls to his back and keeps his gaze on you as you hook your fingers into your panties, getting rid of them before doing the same for him with his boxers. He lifts his hips up as you pull down the elastic material, revealing his hard cock to your greedy eyes. You want nothing more than to taste him, but he said he just wants to touch so you don’t try to overstep his limits, leaving this desire of yours to another time. Instead, you lean down, capturing his lips in a sweet, reassuring kiss that everything is going fine to calm his nerves as much as you can, while you place your palm to his lower stomach, moving down slowly until you find his hard cock, wrapping your hand around his length and giving it a few gentle stroke.

“Fuck,” he breathes out against your parted lips and you can’t push a smile down.

You kiss his lips, his cheeks, his jawline, everywhere around his face while you keep pumping him, spreading some of his precum down his length to help your hand move smoother. Your actions awaken something in him, he grabs your face in both his hands, kissing you hard before he pushes you to your back, becoming the one on top. He parts your legs with pushing a knee between your thighs and while you keep up with your motions, he gets down to action as well. One of his large palms runs down your abdomen, stroking your lower belly gently before it moves to your inner thigh, spreading you even more for him before you feel his touch on your heated and dripping wet core. First, he just teasingly runs two fingers through your folds, testing how wet you are and when he realizes that you are more than ready to whatever he has planned, he moves his thumb to your sensitive clit, drawing circles with the pad of his finger, sending a wave of pleasure up your spine immediately.

“Harry!” you moan his name, running your thumb over the head of his cock that makes him gasp and stop his motions for a moment before he returns to pleasuring you.

He buckles his hips into your touch while his fingers move down from your clit until he is teasing your entrance, just circling around it but not pushing into you. Rolling your hips you signal him that you want the teasing to end and he luckily gets the hint, slowly sliding two fingers inside you, curling them gently and it makes your eyes roll back immediately. He rests his forehead on your shoulder as he starts moving his fingers in and out of you while you try your best to keep up your pumping motion as well, moving your other hand to his balls to give him some of that extra pleasure and he seems to be liking what you’re doing, because your name keeps falling from his lips as keeps fingering you, curling his digits just the right way inside you from time to time.

“Fuck, Y/N, I won’t last long,” he pants, his lips brushing against your neck before he kisses the soft skin above your collarbone.

“It’s alright. Just want you to feel good, H,” you assure him, though you’re getting closer to your release as well.

“Are you close?” he asks out of breath, still holding himself up above you, leaning onto his other arm next to your head.

“Yeah, don’t stop,” you nod, turning your head so your lips could meet for a kiss again.

You can tell he is trying hard to hold himself back, to stretch it out as long as he can. A torturous look tugs on his face and you kiss his temple, wanting nothing more than to see him finally reach the peak.

“Let go, H. It’s alright,” you whisper against his skin and he whines at your words before you feel his cock jerk in your hand and he cums under your touch.

You keep stroking him as he rides his high, gasping and panting your name while he spills his semen onto your naked stomach. His fingers stopped moving inside you as he found his relief, but as soon as you feel him recovering from his orgasm, he goes right back to where he left it, desperately wanting to pleasure you as well.

“Harry!” you moan when he hits a specific spot inside you, tingling your nerves just right, your hands come to clasp onto his broad shoulders.

“Cum for me, babe. Let me see you feel good,” he whispers before his lips occupy your mouth again, kissing you with so much passion and vigor, your senses are starting to overload.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you gasp feeling your toes curl and Harry picks his pace up, his thumb coming in contact with your clit as he tries to make you reach your high.

And then it finally happens. You stop breathing for a moment, the intensity of it washing over your whole body. It’s been so long since you felt this good with anyone, and just the thought of doing this with Harry probably adds a lot to the equation.

He slows his fingers down, but makes sure to curl them inside you every time he pumps them in, and you repeat his name over and over again until you finally catch your breath. Your gaze meets his, and you see a happy and satisfied shine in his green irises as he leans down and kisses you sweetly, pulling his fingers out of you gently.

“M’gonna get a towel,” he murmurs, pecking your lips one last time before he gets up from the bed and walks into the bathroom while you lie on his bed, totally gone and worn out from your orgasm. Harry comes back with a damp washcloth and cleans up the mess he made on you before gently moving to between your legs, taking such good care of you. He drops the cloth to the floor, not wanting to leave the bed again as he pulls the covers over your bodies, pulling you into his arms.

“How are you feeling?” you softly ask, pecking his toned chest.

“I’m good.”

Lifting your head you search for his eyes, wanting to make sure he didn’t regret any of it, but he seems calm and rested for a change. Smiling up at him you push yourself up a little so you can connect your lips before you snuggle back to his side and let yourself slowly drift off to sleep, listening to his steady heartbeat under your face.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

-

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Breaking and Entering

I'll be moving this one over to AO3 at some point (done, available here), but I'll start this off on Tumblr. This is a lighthearted, multi-chapter Jasonette story.

Summary:

Marinette is away from home when a curious visitor drops in. The kwami don't see any problem letting the man in; the question is: what will the guardian think when she realizes an intruder was in her house while she was gone?

Chapter 1 is below the cut.

Chapter 1: What did I come back to now?

Marinette felt a wave of relief hit her as her key turned smoothly in the lock. She was more than ready to unload her bags and take a well-deserved night in after a whirlwind week of consulting with clients in Metropolis. She’d decided to take Tikki and Sass with her and rent a hotel for the week as most of her clients were only available for early morning consultations, and while it was the most effective way to make sure she didn’t miss a meeting, she was glad to be back home.

Gotham may not be as glitzy or have as many potential clients as Metropolis, but it more than made up for that with the anonymity that Gotham allowed her. The local mentality of ‘take no shit’ and ‘mind your own damn business and I’ll mind mine’ allowed the kwami and her freedom that they wouldn’t get in Metropolis, a city crawling with news stations and a baffling love of all things mundane. Half the time when she visited Metropolis it felt like she had a target on her back; the paparazzi were worse in Metropolis than they ever were in her Parisian hero days and that held for her professional pseudonym as well as plain Marinette. It was a wonder that with so many news outlets (and Superman to report on for crying out loud) that she was still the topic of a news piece twice in the past week: once as MDC and once as plain old Marinette. In all seriousness was helping with a local tree planting event for Earth Day that newsworthy?

‘Enough of that’, she thought, realizing that although her door was now unlocked, she’d thought so much about arriving home that she hadn’t even fully opened her door. A slight twinge of embarrassment hit her. Carrying her tiny friends everywhere was always a blessing, but sometimes, she mused, it might be nice not to have an audience for every action she took—no matter how embarrassing.

Letting go of that train of thought, Marinette stepped through and closed her door behind her, feeling tension bleed out of her shoulders. The underlying scent of vanilla and blossom honey hit her nose as she strode over to the kitchen island. She set her bags to the side and took a hold of one of her swinging barstools with the intention to sit for a bit before making any attempt at dinner for the kwami and herself. Absently tracking the path Sass and Tikki took as they flew in the direction of the room where she kept the Miracle Box, she hesitated to sit as she noticed a slowly building feeling of unease hit her. Something, she thought, was off.

Sharpening her gaze and gripping the barstool a little tighter, Marinette scanned her apartment. At first glance, the living space looked unchanged from how she left it; the furniture was where it belonged, and her shelves and wall art were unmoved. As she looked closer though, she saw items around the house that were shifted a bit more than they would be if the kwami had decided to explore while she was away: the living room rug was centered, the dishes she had left to dry right before leaving the house a week ago were put away, and the barstool she was currently grasping was a bit more level than it had ever been, thrifted as it were. The kwami were a joy to interact with and an honor to serve as their guardian, but cleaners and tinkers they were not.

Marinette released her grip on the stool, rounding the kitchen island to open the cabinets. Like she thought, the dishes she had washed a week ago were put away and the towers of plates and bowls looked straighter than they were normally. Her gut churned as the beginning stages of worry started to fill her.

A chorus of greetings from behind her met her ears, disrupting her thoughts. Turning, Marinette saw the kwami flying towards her from the hallway.

“Marinette, did you have a nice trip?” Mullo squeaked.

“Guardian, I hope all went well on your trip. It is wonderful to have you back home.” Wayzz said.

The other kwami threw in their own noises and words of agreement, mirroring Wayzz’s welcome.

Marinette couldn’t help her small smile, replying, “My trip went well, and I am happy to be back here with you all.” She paused, hesitating before she asked, “Did anything happen while we were away?”

“Not much, Pigtails.” Plagg swam leisurely into view, tailed closely by Tikki, both twirling as they approached. “Some fighting outside, and a bit of a showdown on rooftops at the end of the block, but no damage to our building.”

Wayzz intercepted Plagg’s path, floating into the center of her vision to say, “That may be true, Plagg; however, one of the combatants took a breather on our balcony by using the garden for cover. He didn’t seem injured, but he was breathing heavier than was wise. Most of us hid in the box while I continued to strengthen the wards on the outer walls and windows.”

Marinette interrupted, “No one entered the apartment?”

Wayzz hesitated, then said “The man stayed hidden as best he could, but he was quite large, and I could feel the shifting balance; if he stayed on the balcony, he would have drawn fire here. I strengthened the barrier outwards then loosened the barrier on the balcony doors, undid the latch for him, and asked Trixx to hide us from view. He had a protector’s spirit and none of us could feel an intent to harm any but the ones he’d been fighting outside. I am sorry, Guardian, for making this decision without your input.”

Marinette took a deep breath to fend off the impending tension headache, unclenching the hand she had used to subconsciously gripped her other wrist. She loosened the muscles around her eyes to soften her gaze. “It’s alright, Wayzz. I wasn’t there, and I trust your intuition. What did he do?”

“He seemed distrustful of the open door at first but ended up entering almost silently and quickly moved to scan the apartment.”

Trixx added, “I made sure he could not see the Miracle Box and that he was not visible from the outside at any point, but he stayed away from the windows for the most part.”

Roarr piped in, “He has a fierce spirit, and I agree with Wayzz that he has a strong protective streak.”

She heard some murmurs of agreement from the other kwami, some of them breaking out into small discussion pertaining to the man’s character. “If so many of you saw him, did you leave the Miracle Box then? What did you see?” Desperately, Marinette wished that the immortal beings she called friends could get to the points.

“Some of us came out to see, but most of us stayed in the box. Trixx’s illusions held; he didn’t see or hear any of us.” Barkk confirmed.

“Yes, he mostly stayed in the living room. He sat right here for a while!” Saying this, Pollen surged towards the end of the couch, landing with their back to the armrest in a bored sprawl. “Like this!”

Plagg, swaying upside down near the ceiling, lazily added, “He wasn’t much fun. All he did was check his guns then started cleaning the place. Boring.”

“Guns?! Cleaning? Why?” Alarmed, Marinette’s heartbeat started to pound at the picture painted by the kwami. They had let a large combatant enter her apartment and all he did was inspect his guns and clean??? ‘This can’t be real’, she thought. ‘Was I caught up in one of Scarecrow’s attacks on the way home?’

“He had good manners at the least.” Kaalki sniffed. “His gear smelled of money and he fixed that stool of yours that never would have entered the premises if you had listened to me from the start. At least now it isn’t horrendously squeaky.”

“Hey!” Mullo protested.

Kaalki just turned away.

“He needed the protection.” Wayzz apologetically said. “He didn’t seem interested in your workroom and he wouldn’t have been able to find the box, so we observed. He cleaned a bit and left after checking that the coast was clear outside.”

Marinette allowed her shoulders to sag. “Alright. If you’re sure.” Glancing around, she gave the kwami a smile, eyes hesitating on the glass doors leading to the balcony, she absently added, “Thank you for keeping an eye on things while I was gone.”

Striding over to the doors leading out to the balcony, she peered out. Nothing seemed out of place out here, but she couldn’t be certain. Checking the door handles, she noticed that one of the kwami or her mystery visitor must have relatched the lock. Unlocking it, she stepped out and went to sit at her patio table. Leaning back in her chair, she let her head tip back to view the sunset, partially obscured by the balcony two floors above her own. Her apartment building had mostly staggered the balconies to allow more light to reach its inhabitants, a must in Gotham’s dreary weather.

After a few moments, she let her head droop forward to land in her hands. As much as she loved them, the kwami’s survival instincts always seemed at odds with hers. She couldn’t tell whether that was due to her anxiety amplifying everything past the point of reason or that the kwami’s inherent existence rendering most danger obsolete, but while some intruder might not be a danger to beings that could turn intangible and invisible at will, she was definitely a bit more breakable (‘Mortal’, her brain whispered) than them. If she had been here? Who knows how that visit might have gone?

Taking a few more minutes to calm her body’s response, a few deep breaths, and a moment or two of gratitude that nothing bad had happened, she straightened a bit as the evening wind started to pick up and a splash of white started to flutter at the edge of her vision. Glancing up, her eye caught on a piece of paper at the other end of the table that was weighted down with a rock she had decorated a while back with paintings of ladybugs and cats playfully chasing each other across a meadow. That particular rock usually spent time in the catnip bed Plagg had insisted on and Tikki had seconded as a nod to both kwami. Curious, she reached out and grabbed the sheet of paper underneath. Opening it, she read:

Dear Stranger,

I was in a bit of a tight spot and hanging around your balcony when your door swung open. Haunted house, much? Hope you don’t mind, but I ended up using your house as a temporary safe house while you were gone. Don’t worry, I made sure no one saw me entering or exiting, so you shouldn’t have any problems from the type of shit that follows me.

On the topic of haunted houses, are you sure yours isn’t haunted? Your house is unnervingly the calmest- and safest-feeling place I’ve been in a while, but I kept seeing blurs out of the corner of my eye and I was NOT concussed. Might want to talk to someone about that.

I ended up tidying a bit while you were gone, hope you don’t mind. Fairs fair, you (unknowingly, I know) lent me a place to stay, I tidied up a bit. Stay out of trouble, alright?

Cheers,

- Red Hood

The Red Hood? The RED HOOD is who they let into the house? For kwami’s sake, what were they thinking?!?

[cicissketchbook]

Y’all wanna read my Apritello story?

So sometimes when my artistic drive is down, the writing bug will come bite me. I’ve been working on an Apritello story for awhile that currently has three chapters that are up on my Patreon. Eventually I’ll post it publicly, but I want my patrons to have early access. Anyway here’s an excerpt from the first chapter.

It’s kind of angsty.

The summary is, April invites Donnie to join her for a long weekend at the farmhouse, which sounds romantic until you consider that she’s been plagued with visions of his accidental death and is desperate to stop it from happening.

To say there was tension in the air was a drastic understatement. Truthfully, things had been tense for a while. Blame it on cabin fever, or perhaps they were outgrowing their sewer lair, but the brothers had been quick to jump down each other’s throats. 

Leo was especially on edge, and not unlike how it had been since they were kids, his mood had set the tone for everyone else. One thing that differed from childhood though, was that he had been butting heads with Donnie, while Raph remained a mostly neutral third party. 

There was the knowledge that they were getting older and they all had desires to get out there and live their own lives, and then the realization that doing so wasn’t really possible for them in the world they lived in. They wanted what any young adults would want, but they were mutants.  The world still saw them as freaks. They couldn’t lead normal lives the way they wanted to. They knew this, they had known this all their lives. They had all been on the same page about it. They realized that living their lives in the sewer, at least most of it, was probably in the cards. April had always contested this idea, believing that the world would accept them in time. It’s not like people didn’t know mutants existed, but the turtles weren’t willing to take the risk. It’s not like they couldn’t go out and do things like they always had, but leaving the nest for good just wasn’t feasible. And they were content with this. The sewer was all they’d ever known. They’d always been together and they were happy to always be together. 

But like all families, arguments were inevitable. Familiarity breeds contempt, after all. And they were accustom to bickering. But… it was different now. Leo seemed ready to explode at the drop of a pen, Raph never seemed to be able to find enough alone time, Donnie felt like he brought more to the table than the other three combined, and Mikey… sweet Mikey was such an incurable optimist that he sought to find the positive in every situation, but they knew he did this to mask his depression.  

If asked what they were arguing about today, the simple answer would be that they were all just getting on each other’s nerves. Donnie couldn’t even remember how the argument started because they fought about trivial things so frequently, but he remembered the thing that Leo said that set him off.

“God, why is it so hard for you to just do your part? Why do we have to pick up your slack?”

Donnie was silent for a moment, almost unsure he’d heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you never fucking help out with anything!” Leo’s tone implied that there was something else he was upset about that he wasn’t speaking of. 

Donnie, by his best effort, kept his voice calm and composed. “I’m sorry, are you referring to three days ago when I didn’t help clean up the disaster in the kitchen because I was literally putting the microwave back together? Or perhaps last week when you left a mess for me to clean up that you all made while I wasn’t even here? And then you got mad when I didn’t?”

Leo seemed to get more aggravated at the mention of Donnie not being there, but continued on. “C’mon man, there are four of us that live here, it’s really not asking too much for everyone to help clean up around here.” 

“Dude, I clean up after myself more than anyone. The difference is, when I make a mess, it’s in my lab rather than communal space and-“

“Oh, right, I forgot. The huge space you have that’s your’s. That none of us have.” Leo turned to their other brothers who sat near by. “Hey Raph, other than your tiny bedroom, do you have your own creative space that you can do whatever you want in? Mikey, how about you?”

Raph hadn’t spoken, but seemed invested in the exchange his brothers were having. It was impossible to tell who’s side he was on. Before Mikey could speak, Raph stopped him and said firmly, “Leave us out of this, man.”

“So now your mad at me… because of my lab?”

Leo paused, not making eye contact, before he huffed. “No.” He admitted quietly.

Normally, Donnie was used to these arguments making little or no sense, but Leo seemed genuinely angry and he couldn’t understand why. 

“Bro, what is up?” He demanded. “Why are you actually so upset?”

“I just…” Leo started. Donnie could tell there was something he didn’t want to say. Leo crossed his arms and turned away from his brother. “I just want to know… where your priorities are.”

“My priorities?” Donnie was trying not to lose his patience. He had no idea where this was coming from nor where it was going. Which meant one of two things. Either there was something his brother wasn’t telling him, or this was in fact going no where. Like, this had started out a fight about cleaning duties, and now he’s talking about priorities. If Leo did have a point, he wanted him to hurry up and make it because this argument seemed like a waste of time.

“It just…” Leo blew another huff through his nose. “It just seems like… you are… distancing yourself from us, Donnie.”

This statement completely threw Don for a loop. He hadn’t expected that at all. “What in the world are you talking about?” He asked, truly bewildered by the turn in conversation. “Because I don’t want to clean up messes that aren’t mine? Like what the hell-?”

“No, obviously it’s not that. It’s alot of things.” Leo spoke quieter now, not as impassioned. 

“Well, I would love to know what those things are, because I am completely lost here.”

“You never want to hang out with us anymore, and when you do, you act like you’d rather be doing anything else-“

Donnie cut him off with a humorless chuckle. “We’re brothers, we all get on each other’s nerves.” 

“And I get that, but we do all still live together and we all need to contribute to the household chores, and you’ve just been acting like you are so far above doing any type of housework that doesn’t directly effect you.”

“Well, excuse me Leo, sorry if when it rains and the power get knocked out and I have to go topside by myself in the cold pouring rain to fix the power line, I don’t also want to have to mop up the leak in the kitchen when none of you did anything to help!”

“Okay, you keep bring up specific instances, but I’m talking about in general-“

“No, you’re talking alot of nonsense is what you’re doing!” Donnie’s lack of patience was starting to show. “First you’re mad that you think I don’t clean enough, then you’re mad that I have a lab and you don’t? Then you say I’m distancing myself from you all…?” Donnie stood and made a move like he was going to walk away. “If you have something to say, Leo, you better just say it because this whole conversation seems like a waste of time to me. It’s late and I’m tired, so make your point, or I’m going to bed.”

“Are you distancing yourself from us because of April?”

Donnie had already started walking away, as he didn’t expect Leo to actually have a point, so he was halted to a standstill at his words. “What does she have to do with anything?”

Leo looked away again, like he didn’t actually want to have this conversation. After a moment, he sighed and continued without making eye contact. “It just seems like… I mean… I thought we were all on the same page here. We’ve had this discussion, a long time ago. We aren’t…. Human. We’re getting older and it makes sense that we’d want to start living our own lives, but… we can’t. Not really. The world doesn’t accept us, so staying down here is just how it has to be. I thought we had agreed on that. That no matter what the world thought of us, no matter that we can’t lead normal lives, at least we all had each other. But… now it seems like you have other plans, Donnie.”

He finally looked at his brother and Donnie could see the emotions in his eyes. Nothing of what he said had been new information, of course. Donnie knew, painfully well, that the world saw them as freaks and being “normal” was not a luxury they’d ever be able to have. Alot of their friends were at the point where they were starting to branch off, which didn’t help. Karai and Shinigami were currently back in Japan. It was just a visit, but the kind of visit that lasted for a month or two. Casey had gotten a hockey scholarship for a different school than the one April attended. He was trying to go pro, so he poured all his time and attention into practicing. He still came around, but not like he used to. Mona Lisa had left Earth awhile ago, also with promise to return, but they hadn’t heard from her in a few weeks. They were sure it was just a new mission she had, but that didn’t make Raph feel any better. April was the only one who still came around all the time. With most of their enemies gone, everyone was moving on and it felt like the world didn’t need them anymore. 

The pain in Leo’s voice would’ve normal made Donnie want to hug him, but it was the accusation that he couldn’t get over.

“Leo…” He gestured non threateningly with his hands. “Why are you acting like I’m not literally living down here in the sewers right along with you? And I still don’t see what April has to do with anything-” 

“Okay, I’m going to jump in here.” Raph said unexpectedly. “Look, Dude, I know we don’t… we don’t say it enough but… we would be up schitts creek without a paddle without you.” He crossed the room to give Leo a lighthearted punch in the arm. “Wouldn’t we, Leo?”

“…Yeah.”

“So because of that, the idea of you leaving is…. It’s scary.” Raph admitted. He was going to say something else, but Donnie interrupted.

“I’m not going anywhere! What in the actually hell are you guys talking about?!”

Leo rolled his eyes, apparently getting annoyed again. “Don, can we please stop pretending like you’re not going to marry April and then move in with her?”

Donnie froze. To say they touched a nerve was an understatement. April was his best friend, but truthfully, it was very painful to be her friend sometimes. His feelings for her were still just as intense as ever, but for different reason now. In his youth, he’d maintained a kind of innocent hopefulness that they would someday be together, and he never even really thought of the details of how. He knew, even back then, that it wasn’t that simple and when he really thought about it, nothing about it made sense. Which is why he didn’t think about it. Now though, after some soul searching and dropping into a deep depression which he was starting to get better from, he’d resigned himself to the reality that she would never be with him. He’d accepted it, and told himself that it was enough to just be her friend. But the truth was, that pain never went away.  They had such a close friendship, they had developed such a level of comfort with each other, but he knew it would never be enough. The idea of never seeing her again was unbearable, but to be so close to her, knowing that it was as close as he would ever get… it was torture. He didn’t care though, he just couldn’t let her go.

What really hurt was when she would talk about the next stage in her life. She was in school now, but with her grades and what she was studying, she could go anywhere. She wanted to travel, she spoke of it often. She never made any committal remarks about moving away, other than when she talked about the farmhouse and saying how expensive it is to live in the city. Her dad had signed the property over to her for tax reasons, and she would’ve inherited it anyway. She wanted to renovate it.

He was only vaguely aware that Raph and Leo were still talking.

“It’s not like we’re mad at you for finding love, that’s not it at all!” Raph was saying, obviously more concerned than Leo about ruffling his brother’s feathers. “It’s just, we need to be realistic about what would happen if you weren’t here.”

“Yeah, and the reality is, frankly, I think we all feel left behind by our friends, but we didn’t think  our clan would be breaking up as well!” Leo threw his hands up, finally letting his true feelings out. “I mean, all we have is each other, we’re the last of the Hamato clan! I can’t let this clan die, I just can’t.”

“Why do you guys feel the need to do that?” 

They stopped, taken aback by how low and serious Donnie’s voice was. He was done barking, he looked ready to bite. 

“Do what?”

Donnie’s chest felt tight and he had to taken in a sharp breath through his nose to keep his cool. “Why do you guys feel the need to not only remind me of my unrequited feelings for my… our  best friend… but now, you’re holding it against me?”

Raph looked concerned at first, but then sighed. “Donnie, c’mon, don’t act like you wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to get out of here. April isn’t going to stay in New York forever.” 

The statement, while probably true, hurt to hear. “What does that have to do with me?” He said, quieter this time. “I can’t help what April does.”  

“Dude, she is literally planning her future with you in it. Have you not noticed that?” Leo nearly screamed. “You have the opportunity to get out of here and do something with your life, and we’ll be-“

“No she’s not!” Donnie shouted back. “Are you guys smoking crack or something? Don’t say that shit to me! April doesn’t…” He paused, his words getting caught in his throat. “April doesn’t want me. I thought we’d been over this.”

Mikey, who hadn’t yet spoke, immediately picked up on how much pain Donnie was in. “Hey guys, let’s just drop it, yeah?”

Leo pressed on as if his youngest brother hadn’t spoken. “Maybe she didn’t five years ago, but she sure as shit does now.” He didn’t seem bothered by Donnie visible cringe. “I mean, dude, you’ve spent the night, alone at her house.”

“So has Mikey. And Raph once, I think.” Donnie said quietly, and Raph nodded in confirmation. “And she’s spent the night here a billion times, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Mikey and Raph didn’t sleep in her bed.” Leo said accusingly. 

“I did.”  

They all paused and turned to the youngest brother. Raph spoke. “You did?”

“Every time I go over there, I sleep in her bed.” Mikey said matter-o-factly. “Whenever… whenever I’m sad, she let’s me come over and… she’ll listen. She doesn’t try to offer solutions, she doesn’t try and tell me things to make me feel better, she just… listens. And that’s what helps me the most. Then we watch funny videos.”

None of them commented at first. They all knew Mikey struggled with depression, but he rarely, if ever, talked about it. They all had told him at some point that they were there if he needed to talk, but he never came to any of them. One might of thought that hearing that his brother shared a bed with April might make Donnie jealous, but quite the opposite, it made him very happy and appreciative to hear about it. It made sense that Mikey would be more comfortable talking to April than to any of them, and to know that she had been there for him was comforting. Donnie wanted that for his brother. 

“See?” He said finally, more to Leo than anyone else. “April… she’s there for all of us. She cares about all of us… I’m not special.”

“Donnie, don’t say that.” Mikey offered and rose from his seat to place a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Donnie placed his own hand over Mikey’s and squeezed it, staring at the floor.  “She cares about you the most. More than you know.”

“Mikey, please, please don’t.” He said through his teeth. “I can’t… I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation right now. You know how long it took me to accept the fact that I was kidding myself by thinking there could ever be something between us? Of course you guys know, which is why it is so baffling to me that you feel the need to do this.” 

“So if April wanted you to move away with her, you wouldn’t do it?” 

Raph punched Leo in the arm again. It was a strange thing, to see Raph scold Leo for being insensitive. Donnie had had enough though.

“I’m out of here.” He turned on his heel and heading towards the turnstiles. 

...............

Yes, it’s NSFW, of course it is.

[ipuckwithhockey]

Every New Beginning- M. Raffl

a/n: I couldn’t sleep last night so here’s almost 4k words of me missing Raff already. 

summary: You and Michael had a good thing going for nearly five years but when reality sets in you both start to think that all good things must come to an end. 

warnings: Swearing

When you left your patient’s room and headed to the nurse’s station you weren’t expecting to see a six-foot redhead waiting for you. Sure, he’s visited you at work occasionally and you don’t mind that he’s here now, but those visits in the past were always planned in advanced, were usually accompanied with a quick lunch, and didn’t take place at 10pm on a Monday. 

You met Michael a few years ago when you moved to Philly to start your residency at U-Penn’s hospital. You were just out of medical school and still focused on achieving your lofty career goals and Michael was in his prime playing for the Flyers. Neither one of you had any intention of settling down or putting in the time and effort required in a serious relationship and so the two of you fell into a casual relationship that consisted mostly of late-night activities after you were both done with your shifts. 

You were only twenty-five back then, and now you were pushing thirty. Eventually that casual relationship evolved into something more, and now you weren’t just fuck buddies, you were actually the best of friends. But even though you considered each other best friends neither of you ever made any move to solidify what the relationship that had spawned from late night texts had actually become. 

Your family and friends all wondered why you hadn’t settled down and they asked why you insisted on keeping a casual hook up around for almost five years when you were getting the age when a woman should be finding a man to marry. Michael’s family and teammates all pestered him for never making it official between the two of you, and never understood why he insisted that the two of you were just friends. But that’s all you were. You were friends. Friends that liked to have sex, friends that only thought of each other when anything particularly good or bad had happened, friends who spent the little free time they had with each other. 

And maybe the reason why you hadn’t ever stopped sleeping with Michael was because a small part of you knew you had feelings for him, but maybe it was also because you work nearly 80 hours a week and don’t have the time nor the energy to date at the end of the work day. 

Maybe the reason why Michael never tried to make you his was because he knew you were too good for him, too smart, and too beautiful. Or maybe it was because he had tried dating when he was younger and every girl he met was too annoying, too fake, or too greedy. Maybe the dynamic you had together was just too easy to ever change. 

But life isn’t fair, and just like the old saying, all good things must come to an end. 

“Hey! What are you doing here? Everything alright? You look perfectly healthy and I’m a pediatrician so if you’re sick, you’re in the wrong wing of the hospital.” You joke as you walk up to him where he’s waiting at the nurse’s station and you drop off some charts before turning your full attention to the man who had been patiently waiting for you. You still had your nose in your patient’s charts when you walked up to him, and so you hadn’t noticed the tired look in his eyes, and you hadn’t seen him nervously popping his knuckles as you approached. In fact, when you’re at work, especially during a long shift, you’re usually so focused on your patients that you don’t notice much of anything else in general. Which is why you had also missed the phone call and text that Michael had sent you hours prior, and the messages your friends scattered around Philly had sent with condolences and sentiments of shock. 

Michael knows now, with your lighthearted joke, that you don’t know. That you hadn’t seen his call or his text from earlier. And when he doesn’t say anything at first and you see that serious look in his eyes your attitude changes from lighthearted to concerned, “Is everything okay?” And while Michael knows that everything is not okay, he also knows that this isn’t a medical emergency, at least not one that can be fixed. 

“Yeah, I just wanted to come by before heading out.” He says, and even though he knows you don’t know, he doesn’t have the guts to come out and say it just yet. There’s a look of confusion on your face, “I didn’t think you guys left for the west coast until next week? Or are these 24 hour shifts finally getting to me?” You try and make light of the situation even though that look concern is still spreading across Michael’s face. 

“Yeah, the guys don’t head out until next Wednesday…” He says it and he can see the wheels in your head start to turn. That’s when you remember what day it is and your heart plummets. You’ve been working third shift, and you were two hours away from finishing your current 24-hour shift. The last 22 hours have been pretty hectic, and the thought of the NHL’s trade deadline had completely slipped your mind— until now. 

“Can um- Can we walk outside real quick?” You ask and you don’t really give him time to answer, instead you just head down the hall and out the side door to a small courtyard and Michael follows behind you. When you’re both outside, you’re still processing what he said when Michael interjects, “I’m just on my way to catch my flight. I wanted to come by to see you before I left.” 

You nod your head, and you don’t know what to say so you step into him and wrap your arms around his steady body and his arms wrap around yours, “Where are you going?” You whisper against his chest, and you focus on his heartbeat thumping against your ear. 

“D.C.” He says simply. That’s not too far you think. But you also knew that this was a possibility, him getting traded, and you know that his current contract ends this summer. He could end up anywhere in the league next year. 

“I’m sorry.” He says it as his lips place a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you let out a sigh before letting your arms drop from around him as you step back. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” and you say it just as simply. 

“Then why do I feel so guilty?” And that’s what breaks your heart. You’re both standing in front of each other, and after five years you know each other well enough to know that this thing between the two of you is more than just another friendship. And while you both hate yourselves for never making this what it could have been, you also know that it wouldn’t change what’s happening now. You were still working toward your goals and so was he, nothing about that has changed. There’s nothing to say in that moment, nothing either of you could say to make it feel like you haven’t wasted the last five years, and so Michael places his hands on either side of your face before bringing your lips to his. 

It’s a gentle kiss, and as your lips move slowly against his you know that this moment is full of words that neither one of you can speak. When Michael finally pulls away from you he sees the tears running down your face, and you try to to look away even though his hands are keep you steady in front of him. His thumbs gently run across your cheeks and you let your eyes close as he wipes away the tears you selfishly let fall. You know that this has to be harder for him. He’s leaving his life in Philly behind, his teammates, his best friends, and you. 

You bring your hands up to gently remove his from where they still rest on either side of your face, “You’re going to miss your flight.” 

He nods reluctantly in agreement, and he places on more kiss on your forehead before he turns to leave. Michael never was one for many words, and he doesn’t have to say it, you’re sure you know how he feels and you know he’ll miss you just like he knows you feel the same way for him. 

*

Two Years Later (July) 

You finally feel like you’ve settled into your new place, even though it’s been almost six months since you moved. Moving back home to Seattle was an easy decision, especially when one of the country’s best Pediatric Nephrology programs calls and offers you an attending position. 

You set out at an early age to be a doctor. In high school you decided you wanted to be a surgeon. In college you decided you wanted to go into pediatrics. In medical school you decided you wanted to study kidneys. Everything you wanted for your career had happened and now you’re a nephrology specialist and surgical attending at Seattle Children’s Hospital. 

You should be ecstatic. You should be over the moon that everything you thought you could ever want had happened. You should feel grateful that you get to live in the city you grew up in and that you can spend as much time with your family as you’d like. You should be happy, but you aren’t. 

After Michael was traded to the Capitals you stayed in touch, calling and texting when you could. You spent the night together when they played the Flyers for the last time that season, but when summer rolled around, and he signed a two-year contract with them you knew you couldn’t keep holding on to something that would never work. When you called to congratulate him on his contract, he could sense that something was off, he could hear in your voice that you weren’t yourself, and when he asked you couldn’t lie. 

You told him you thought that whatever was going on between the two of you needed to end. You embellished with some lies, telling him that you needed to be focusing on your work and that you were getting too old to have a fuck-buddy, especially when he was living 150 miles away, and when he started to protest you were quick to shut him down. You told him that you both knew that it couldn’t last forever and that it was okay because all good things must end, and as much as you tried to convince yourself that what you were saying was true, you knew that you didn’t believe any of it. You knew that you loved him and that you wouldn’t find another man that knew you the way he did. But you also knew that your worlds were only growing further and further apart. 

The next year or so was hard. You stopped returning Michael’s calls and you distanced yourself from anyone who was associated with hockey. You threw yourself into your work and your patients and before you knew it a year had passed. As much as you knew that you were only barely keeping your head above water, you also had no idea how to fix whatever mess you had made for yourself. You were thirty-one years old, married to your job, and single. Oh, and still in love with a guy you knew you couldn’t have. 

You weren’t sure what to do or if there was anything you could do, but when Seattle Children’s called and made you an offer you took it as a sign. Your parents were thrilled that you were moving home, and you thought that this was a change that you needed. Something to break up the monotony. Something to shake up your life and to help you get back on track. The excitement you had mustered up for your new position was met with an amazing medical program, but you still had that same empty feeling you had when you were back in Philadelphia. So, you did what you did best, and you continued to work your ass off. Morning, noon, and night you were working with patients and roaming the halls of the hospital, but when your shift inevitably ends you find yourself backing your apartment… alone. 

You’ve never been one for TV and now that you try to avoid hockey all together, you don’t usually watch any at all, but tonight you just felt an itch to reach for the remote that rests on your coffee table. You turn on some random sportscast in the background while you scroll through emails on your phone, and you almost miss it but your well-trained ears pick up on the familiar name. 

“Michael Raffl signing a one-year contract with the Seattle Kraken is probably the most surprising thing to come from this off season so far!” The moderator on the TV says and you have to shake your head as if to wake yourself from what feels like a dream. Your hand instinctively reaches for the remote to turn up the volume and you continue to listen to what the talking heads have to say. 

“You know, everyone thought he’d be retiring this year, he’s 34 and has a nice chunk of change in his bank account, I’m surprised he isn’t heading back to Austria.” 

“I think this could actually be a good signing for them. They need some veteran presence on their young team and Raffl brings experience and a solid presence on the third or fourth lines. He could really bring something different to their game.”

“They’re getting him for cheap too! It’s seems to me like he’s interested in the team or just wants to keep playing if he’s taking this kind of deal.”

You can’t believe what they’re saying. Michael signed a one-year contract in Seattle. And while you don’t keep up with hockey anymore, you remember from all the conversations you’ve had with him, he had already been thinking about retiring in a few years back when he was traded to the Capitals. Why would he sign a mediocre contract with a team on the other side of the country for one year? But you don’t let yourself go where your heart wants to take you. You’re sure he doesn’t even know that you’ve moved from Philadelphia and even if he did, you’re sure he wouldn’t have signed with a team just because you were going to be in the same city. 

It’s been two years. It’s in the past. 

*

Six Months Later (December 31st) 

You’re not sure what you’re doing here. You’re in dress that’s probably too short and too tight, and your feet are killing you. But you let your co-worker, Jen, drag you out for New Year’s Eve. She’s a twenty-seven-year-old Nurse from your department and while she’s sweet and fun, she’s also almost five years younger than you and her stamina for nights out is a lot better than yours. You spend most your time at the hospital and when you’re not there you’re with your family or opting for a nice dinner or quiet bar instead of crowded clubs and house parties. 

You’re sure that most of the people in this club are closer to Jen’s age than to yours, but you put a smile on your face anyway and try to have fun. Jen’s fiancé has been stuck to her side all night, and even though some of your single co-workers are out with you too, you still feel a bit out of place. After the fourth twenty-something guy approaches you, drunk, and with a not-so-charming pickup line, you’re ready to head for home. It’s just about 11:45, and you think that if you can get an Uber you can be home before the ball drops. 

You’re just about to make your move toward the doors when you feel a hand snake around your waist. The uninvited hand only adds to your desire to leave, but when you hear a familiar voice in your ear you stop dead in your tracks. The hand is still touching you and his body is now close against your back when you hear him say your name for the first time in years. 

You turn quickly and you swear you’re hallucinating but when your feet trip from your swift movement and he quickly steadies you with his arms, you know he’s really there. 

“Michael… Wh-What are you doing here?”  Nothing feels like the right thing to say. Michael isn’t sure what words to use either, even though he’s replayed this moment in his head a million times by now. He’s practically run through every possible scenario of running in to you. If it was in the grocery, surely it would happen in the frozen section. It would probably be around 1am and you’d both be there to grab a pint of ice cream. If it was at a coffee shop, you’d be ordering your usual latte with almond milk and he would be ordering his black coffee to-go. He even imagined it happening at one of his games. But when some of the young single guys finally got him to agree to come out tonight, he hadn’t thought about the possibility he would find you in a club in downtown Seattle on New Year’s Eve. 

“I live here.” He says it matter-of-factly over the loud music blaring around you and your first instinct is to say, “I know.” 

He knows that coming out here was a risk and he knows that it’s been two years and he knows that you’ve probably moved on, but hearing you say that you knew he had been here all this time and hadn’t reached out made his heart hurt with a pang of disappointment. And for a minute you’re just standing there with people rushing around you, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You’re not sure what this “moment” is for or why now of all times the two of you are faced with each other again after all these years. 

You decide you don’t have anything to say, and you just shake your head, “I can’t do this.” You say it quietly but bluntly before moving from his grasp and weaving through the crowd of people on your way to the door. When you make it outside you don’t realize that he’s followed you and when you reach the sidewalk you hear him call your name as he comes up behind you. 

“Wait. Please.” He begs as he reaches for your arm.  

“What?! What do you want from me?” You ask as your turn to face him, and it’s more of plead because you realize now, in the cool winter air that your chest hurts from heartbreak that’s two years old, and your mind is racing with what he could possibly say to make up for the seven years of avoiding those feelings. You’ve thought about what you would say to him if you ever saw him again, but now all those rehearsed lines have vanished and for some reason you’re angry. Angry with him. Angry with yourself. Angry that you’ve wasted over half of a decade loving him. 

He lets go of your hand and he anxiously runs his hands through his hair, and now, thankfully all those scenarios he’s run through his head are coming to true, “I just want you to know that I loved you.” He says but all you hear is past tense. “I loved you from the first night I met you. God. You were so smart I had no clue what you were talking about, but I knew I wanted to listen. I loved you for five fucking years and never had the balls to tell you.”

“And then reality set in and I got traded and you shut me out- And I don’t blame you for that either.” He interrupts himself. “I don’t blame you for getting tired of waiting or for knowing that you deserved more, and I thought that you were right, all good things have to end. And I really thought that I would get over it and that maybe I’d find someone who was half as good as you who would make me happy enough, but I never did.” His eyes are bright and searching yours for some indication that you’re hearing what he’s saying, but your facial expression hasn’t changed, and you stand there staring back at him blankly. “I never stopped loving you. And I know that it’s selfish but when I heard you moved and Seattle offered me a contract, I had to take it. If not for the opportunity to keep playing, then for a chance to at least tell you how I’ve always felt about you. How I feel about you now.”  

He’s still trying to figure out if you’ve heard anything he’s said but when you let a little laugh and shake your head in disbelief, he knows he’s too late. So he presses his lips together tightly, and lets his head fall in defeat as he starts to turn away from you. 

You’re so taken aback by everything he’s said. It’s like you knew everything he just told you all along, but hearing him say it aloud, hearing him mirror exactly how you’ve felt for the last seven years, you know that this is one of those moments that life gives you that you can’t pass up. And just as your mind is catching up, Michael is moving to turn away from you, but before he can turn his back your hand is gripping his shirt and pulling him into you. 

When your lips collide the weight that has rested on your shoulders for the last two years is finally lifted and your bodies sink into each other the way water fills an empty glass. You’re consumed in each other as your mouths reacquaint each other and your tongues dance together like they did so many years ago just as you hear the city around you counting down, “5…4…3…2…1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!” 

And when you pull apart from each other, his arms still holding your waist and your hands still in his hair, you take a moment to take each other in. He’s older now and the features of his face are deeper, but his eyes still make you feel warm and safe and happy. He swears you look the same as the last day he saw you in Philly, and the warmth of your soft skin against his hands and the way you still have that same sheepish look after he kisses you, makes him feel like that twenty-five-year-old kid he was all those years ago.  And yet, after all this time, now you finally know that every ending is just a new beginning. 

[sweetchup]

💌Acting Naive (?)💌

Type: Shalnark x reader

Prompt: 14—Love potion + 7—Innocent/Corruption Kink

Author Note: Ah! @pastelbear12 I hope you like your request! I made sure it was really good for you! Especially as a fellow writer and Shalnark stan! Enjoy💕💕💕!!

(Valentine’s Day Masterlist)

Blue, Pink, Purple, Green, Blue…

…Round, cylinder, was that a square?

You just couldn’t fathom all the potions this clan of witches had hidden in their basement. Hell, You bet your boss, Chrollo, didn’t even realize there was this much when he sent you guys out to steal them.

“Hey (y/n). How many do you exactly think there are?” Phinks questions, gobsmacked at the amount just as much as you are.  

“I don’t know…” You mumble out, looking around the room, “Honestly, Phinks… I’m not even sure how we are going to transport them out of here…”

“Wel—“ “Oh wow! That’s a lot more than expected.”

You flinch as a familiar happy go lucky voice is heard by the doorway. You thought the boss put him on another mission.

“Oh hey Shal!” Phinks shouts out, just as surprised as you were, “What are you doing here?”

“The boss wanted me to come join you guys since I finished gathering information for him early.” Shalnark explains, walking up to you two. However, even as Shalnark begins to chat with Phinks, you could still feel his eyes flicker to your figure ever so often.

It wasn’t that you hated Shalnark, you just… particularly didn’t like him. Mostly due to the fact, he didn’t give you the best impression when you showed up as a replacement number 4.

According to him, he didn’t understand why you should be the replacement member. You were “cute” and “naive”, not the best fit to replace the former number 4. He also thought your ability wouldn’t work well with the members you were designated to work with.

Honestly, You could have understood where he was coming from, all Shalnark wanted was to make sure the Troupe succeeded. But, you also believed he didn’t have to say all this in front of the whole group with you in the room. It embarrassed you so much, you nearly stormed out of there.

Naturally, of course, this event created a rift between you two. A general dislikeness to the other person.

“(Y/n),” Phinks suddenly calls out, catching your attention, “What did you think of the plan?”

“What plan?” You questioned. Slightly scowling as you see Shalnark’s lip slightly twitch up a little as Phink responds with a sigh. Cheeky Bastard…

“The plan is that I’m going to go grab Fei’s group to come help us. But, In the meantime, You and Shalnark can start taking count of the potions.” Phinks explains, already putting on his pharaoh helmet to get ready to leave.

“Wait. Wouldn’t it make more sense to grab Machi’s group? Feitan’s group is a traveling distance of 3 days away while Machi’s is only 1 day away.” You question out, thinking it was a logical conclusion. However, you were only met with Shalnark letting out a small chuckle. Almost as if what you said was a hilarious joke to him, “What’s so funny?”

“Well, I find it so funny that you are practically rushing to try to get the mission over with. What’s with that? Do you have some sort of date you have to get to for Valentine’s Day?” You slightly flinch as Shalnark happy expression turns much darker; mockingly in a way, “That’s pretty irresponsible of you. You do realize troupe activities come first? Oh wait… You likely don’t care because—“

“Shal,” Phinks barks out, stopping his friend from finishing his sentence. As Phinks comes closer to stand in front of you, you now notice Shalnark has gotten much closer to you than before, “Fighting or attacking troupe members isn’t allowed. You should know this.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t going to,” Shalnark responds with a lighthearted pout. However, you see a ever so slight twitch in his fingers that contradicts his previous statement. It seemed that he was practically just itching at the chance to stab you with his antenna.

Woah, that’s new….

Shalnark has never before given a hint that he hated you that much. Sure, he messed with your missions or denied helping you sometimes but even that was never enough that could possibly hurt or kill you.

However, that seemed to be the least of your worries right now. With Phinks being here, you could at least avoid Shalnark insults or possible attempts to attack you, especially since Phinks can step in to interfere as an older member as well. But if Phinks is still set with trying to leave to go grab Feitan’s group then… you are in big trouble.

“Hey Phinks. How about I just go grab Feitan’s group?” You ask cautiously as you interrupt their conversation (Well, more like bickering). About to explain your reasoning when Phinks cuts you off.

“No, neither of you two are going anywhere. This little feud between you two has escalated way too much. We are going to solve this problem right here and now.” Phinks grumbles out, sending a slight glare Shalnark's way to tell him not to even try to rebut. “Also Meaning, you two are going to allow each other to talk in order to solve this.”

After Phinks stops speaking, a thick silence settles over the room. Neither of you attempted to start to talk to the either and it seemed, from your perspective, that Shalnark wasn’t happy about being forced to participate in this bonding event at all. Well technically you shouldn’t judge as you weren’t happy about this either but, at the very least, you were willing to participate if it solved this petty problem of you two.

“Well…,” You started, breaking the thick silence, “I first wanna know what I did to get you to dislike me so much.”

You watch as Shalnark rolls his eyes in slight annoyance. He wasn’t planning on answering you but a hard swift slap to the back by Phinks makes him think twice about that decision.

“It’s that fake act you do.” Shalnark grumbles out, winching slightly as Phinks puts his hand up again, “I-I mean I don’t like how you act towards us.”

“Pardon?” You let out, accidently. Quite confused at what he was referring to. You’ve never acted a certain way specifically towards Shalnark or any of the members in that matter.

“Don’t act stupid—“ “Shal…” Phinks warns out, cutting Shalnark off. However instead of backing off like before, Shalnark continues.

“You know it. The one where you act all ‘I’m miss innocent and cute, I don’t know things~’. That stupid ass one.”

However instead of understanding what he was saying, you get even more confused. You will admit you can be a little naive at times but you’ve never acted or played into it.

“I still don’t get it. I don’t specifically act—“

“There it is! That.” Shalnark shouts out suddenly as he points his finger accusingly at you, taking a step forward also. “You just titled your head to the side slightly as if you were some confused puppy!”

You can’t help but feel heat suddenly bloom up to your face. You hadn’t even realized you did that sort of thing. God, you must have looked like a fool, an idiot—

“And there’s another one! You just tried to hide your face behind your hands.” Shalnark exclaims again, pulling your hands down and away from your face.

“H-hey. I-I don’t get why all this matt— Oof.”

Suddenly, as you take a step back to keep some space between you and Shalnark, You don’t realize how close you are to the shelves and hit your back hard against one. It creaks for a second and you think nothing of the sound. Well, nothing of it until something hard shatters on top of your head, dosing you in some sort of strange sticky liquid.

“Shit.” Phinks curse out, both his and Shalnark’s eyes blown out wide as they look at you. “(Y/n) are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. Just my head hurts a little…” You mumble out, pulling your hand away from your head to see it was covered in a little bit of blood. Uh oh…, that wasn’t good. That could only mean the potion got absorb into your bloodstream…

“Welp…, it seems like she’s going to die.” Shalnark says matter of factly, making you snap your head up to look at him. However, instead of yelling at him, your words suddenly felt stuck and clogged up in your throat. Ever so slowly as if a fog came over you, your mind starts to grow fuzzy, unable to make you think clearly. What was going on? Was the potion only now taking effect?

However, unaware of your current predicament, Phinks had started bickering with Shalnark. Angry at not only his bitterness towards you but also his unwillingness to help you out just as a fellow teammate.

“Shal, Dude. Her thing isn’t an act. The boss has been over this. She acts this way even towards Kortopi, who, I’m sure you can understand, wouldn’t benefit her in any way.”

“Well, she might be still trying to get on his good side so she—“

Phinks cuts Shalnark off by grabbing him by the collar. Pulling his friend so they were face to face, Phinks speaks again. This time in an extremely serious tone that tells Shalnark there isn’t going to be any more of these ‘if’s’ or ‘buts’ from out of him.

“Shal. Just stop. If she had the choice to attack or use one of us, she would have done it by now. Chrollo has allowed her to guard him alone more times than I can count, just to see if your suspicions were correct. And, in all those times, she didn’t show the slightest bit of desire to get information out of him or attempt to try to fight him. So, Cut. It. Out. This is not only hindering our mission no— Shit.“

Phinks suddenly let go of Shalnark to grab you, who from the corner of his vision was wobbling slightly.

“(Y/n). Sit down.” Phinks mumbles out as he helps you to the ground. As he crouches down to look at you, he can’t help but grow even more worried. You didn’t look good, at all.

So bad, he knew they needed to race to go find Shizuku right at that very moment. And it didn’t reassure him any better that he was the fastest one out of you three at the moment.

“Shal.” Phinks calls out, making Shalnark snap his head to him, “We need to go grab Shizuku from Machi’s group now and since I’m the fastest I need to go. Don’t give (y/n) a hard time and you better try to help.”

Without attempting to hear Shalnark’s response or possible rebuttal, Phinks has already raced out the door. Leaving Shalnark alone to try and take care of you. Something he honestly has never imagined doing.

“S-Shal…” You suddenly stutter out, breaking the man’s attention from staring at the door. Shit, you seriously didn’t look good.

“Yeah?” He questions, still apprehensive to try and help you as he crouched down. Shalnark can’t help but feel a shiver go up his spine as you looked up at him. A hand hiding the front of your mouth told him you were embarrassed. A thing he’s seen you do many times before when you weren’t sick.

Perhaps,... Phinks was correct and the cute things you do aren’t actually an act. You would have definitely dropped it by now with the horrible condition you were in.

“C-can…Can you kiss me?” You suddenly beg out, nearly making Shalnark have to do a double take.

“What…?” Shalnark lets out, unable to stop his surprise at what you were saying—suggesting—for him to do. Have you gone fucking insane?

“P-please.” You mumble out, your words slightly slurred and incoherent as you move yourself, “I’ll do anything.”

Shalnark goes to speak again to quickly deny your request but suddenly feels himself choke on his own words. Slowly, He had to put a hand up to his mouth to check his jaw hadn’t dropped and he hadn’t started drooling. Especially with the position you had moved to because, Holy shit…

With your arms stretched out forward, hands slightly opening and closing to urge him to come near, it looked like you were innocently begging him for a hug. Well, it would have been considered innocent if your legs weren’t opened up as well. With you wearing just a skirt, it gave him a clear view of your underwear that was already dripping in your arousal.

Oh, all the things he was imagining to do to you right now…

“S-see. I’ll do anything you want. I just need you close to me-e.” You beg out, seeing how Shalnark’s gaze was trained on your lower half. Your pleas clearly worked on Shalnark as he can feel himself starting to harden more in his pants. “I-I love you. I need you. Please—“

You can’t help but let out a little gasp as you are suddenly tugged forward by your ankles. The cold feeling of the cement basement ground leaks through your sweaty skin and clothes as you fall backwards, making you also unconsciously arch your back closer to Shalnark.

However, your attention towards the uncomfortable cold stinging the ground produced is short-lived as you feel one of Shalnark’s hands push your underwear away. You let out a small whine as Shalnark rubs your clit, the intense pleasure shooting like fireworks throughout your whole body. It was so much for you, almost painful in a way, making you quickly wiggle away from his touch.

“What’s wrong?” Shalnark mumbles out, his words hardly heard as he presses small wet kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. Trying to hold himself back from completely and utterly wrecking you once he sees how you were helplessly trying to escape from him. Why did he hate your cuteness again?

“I-I’ve never been touched there,” You answer back, making Shalnark’s hand freeze in his ministrations, “Too much-h.”

“Have you ever been touched…?” Shalnark finally asks out after a long pause.

“N-no. Never.” You whine out, gasping as Shalnark snaps your soaked panties back into place. Using the back of his knuckles to rub the fabric against your sensitive folds, only to drag them down and off your ankles seconds later. You are confused as to why he doesn’t choose to throw them to the side until you hear a zipper being undone, “Shal…”

You can’t help but cross and rub your thighs together as you look down to the thing that was between his legs. It sounded childish but you couldn’t help but wonder how that was even supposed to fit inside you.

“(Y/n)... Come here...” Your attention snaps away from your thighs to Shalnark at his sudden call. Oh, so that's what he was using them for…

You gulp as you slowly crawl over to Shalnark, your eyes trained on his hand that was smothering the wetness of your panties onto his dick. As you sat in front of him, you can’t help but shakily reach one of your hands out. As your hand touches the warm flesh, you feel it twitch under your touch. You hesitate for a second before enveloping your hand around it. Unconsciously gulping as you realized you were unable to wrap your hand fully around the shaft due to how thick it was.

“G-good.” Shalnark moans out, his body slightly shaking as he attempts to keep his cool as you add your second hand. Fuck, Your hands were unimaginably soft, driving him insane as they worked their way around his length. And the pure fact you clearly had no idea what you were doing and was clumsy trying to give him pleasure, for some odd reason, turned him on even more.

Damn, you were so cute and innocent. Naive to the point you didn’t understand what he could possibly do to you at a moment's notice. How much he could easily just slip inside of you and turn you into his whiny little thing. Slobbering and drugged up on the pleasure he would continuously induce upon you. Making you beg for his every touch and word until your throat hurts. Begging for him to pump his load in you, to be his pretty little obedient toy.

“Fuck.” Shalnark murmurs out, catching you off guard as he pulls your hand off his length by your wrist. You let out a small whine in rebuttal, wanting to touch him more, until you see that ever so slight lustful haze over his eyes.

Happily you allowed the blonde man to move you around so you were positioned on your hands and knees; your back arched and butt stuck up in the air just for him to see. Honestly if he wasn’t craving to be inside you right now, he would have definitely taken a picture. The sight would have made a perfect new background for his home screen.

As he lines himself up at your entrance, he hears your breath suddenly hitch. Testing to see how you do, he slowly slips only the head of his length in. Woah. Instantly a shiver goes up his spine as he feels your walls squeeze and unsqueeze around his tip, your body struggling to accommodate the sudden intrusion.

He really wanted to go slow. After all, he truly felt bad for how he had been treating you before all this. But once you tilted your head to the side to look up at him with those doe-like eyes of yours, it was as if all his patience had suddenly snapped.

“Shal!” You yell out, your hands balled into fist as you had nothing to hold onto, to possibly ground yourself.

“It will feel g-good. I promise.” Shalnark mumbles out incoherently. Lost in pleasure as he continues to piston in and out of you. His top half eventually draping over yours as he attempts to get even deeper inside you; pressing small encouraging kisses to the back of your shoulder blades as you continued to take every inch of him.

Eventually, Shalnark was right. It was as if things suddenly clicked and everything felt just oh so good. You thought you were in heaven with the amount of pleasure you felt rushing through your body. Even though the man inducing these feelings upon you could hardly be considered a heavenly being. Then again, with what you have done, you weren't much better than him.

“Ah! R-Right there. Please, Please, please!” You cry out, feeling an even intenser flash of pleasure come upon you as he hits a specific spot. “S-Shal!”

It only took a couple more hits to that pleasurable spot to push you over the edge. Turning you into a dazed and drooling mess as you couldn’t stop yourself from whining out how good Shalnark made you feel and how you loved him ever so much.

“S-shit.” Shalnark groans out, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he suddenly feels a hot flash of pleasure come over him as well. His hips methodically grinding against your hole as he works his way through his high. Slightly overstimulating you in a way as his ever so warm white ropes of his cum start to fill you up. You never thought you would enjoy such a primal feeling of being filled up by someone’s cum. Honestly, you could have cummed again from just that alone.

As you feel Shalnark lean his forehead against your back to catch his breath, you slowly feel your mind becoming clearer. As if a strange fog has been lifted off of your senses. However, you honestly wished it stayed as everything that has happened while under that strange potion has suddenly come crashing down on you.

You didn’t know what to do, what to think. Actually, would anyone know what to do if they suddenly realized they had sex on Valentine’s Day with a teammate that hated their guts and couldn’t even stand being in the same room before now?

Then again you should have known that, even in a situation like this, Shalnark doesn’t exactly fall into the category of the average person.

“H-hey!” You choke out in surprise as you feel Shalnark suddenly lift one of your legs over his shoulder, forcing you to lay on your side as he starts to move his hips again. His dick already hardening back up to where it was before.

You wanted to rebut. Wanted to tell him to calm down and to talk this whole strange situation out. But, then again, why would you?

With him already plowing into you deeper than before, mixing and pushing his cum deeper inside you and creating this dangerous cocktail of pleasure. How could you possibly tell him to stop when you wanted to continue?

Especially when he had just referred to you as his good little girl.

[crown-anon]

@hearts1ck my beloved

November 1st

CW: explicit; more CWs under the cut

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; reader has male anatomy; more specifics under the cut

edited 14 March 2021

anonymous asked

consider. okay. CONSIDER. consider masochist george. okay?? okay. okay LISTEN.

I think I have a problem with gimmicks also. because. because. ever since strawberry milk george, I. I have not stopped thinking about strawberry flavored lube. because! listen okay hear me out.

(this is absolutely 110% a response to discovering that you share a birthday with him. what of it?)

I know everyone likes pillow princess george and. that's okay. that's FINE. these are not mutually exclusive.

george looking up at you with The LookTM wearing some pink strawberry milk lingerie. not even lingerie really! just something cute like that

& him being like. "I know you love me 👉👈 but I need you to fuck me like you don't"

so I was. thinking. that brat george is the exact kind of person to say (playfully & consensually) "but I don't wanna give you head, I just wanna fuck >:(" after you've got him worked up, maybe from teasing him throughout the day, or edging him a little. but you still need some type of lube. so you go to apply the first bottle you see and he's pink when he asks you "😳 is that ... strawberry ... ?" and you're confused like ??? bro you just asked me to fuck you into next week why're you interested in the flavored lube

but. but listen. he would get so enthusiastic about it. at first it's just "maybe I can stand to eat them out just a little bit before ..." and then after you come the first time it devolves really, really quickly into the need to just. take care of you. and it stretches on until you've come three or four times, and you're still shaking, and he's just. completely gone in subspace

hmm ... george climbing up onto your lap when he's done with you, going in to give you a kiss, and he tastes like strawberry. and he ends up moaning right into your mouth because he's been so horny but so? understimulated?? that he outright jumps as soon as his dick grazes your thigh. it would only take a couple stuttery grinds before he's finishing on both of your stomachs

and he's just so cute when comes, or when he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet. and it's your birthdays. so, you decide you'll give him a reason to cry. and he'll finally get put in his place! it's a win-win for both of you!!

istg every time I send you an ask I discover something new about myself. you. you have made a dreamteam simp out of me. I am but a shell of the man I once was. I think I should thank you? [👑]

hearts1ck

i say this nearly every time you send stuff in but...... by god you own my soul. all of it. this – i – first of all, the implications of masochist george losing his fucking mind when you’re rough with him? guhhhfjklgjgf. and ,..d,,f,,, ,, ,, george in pink lingerie. i. i . a... pink satin slip maybe or .... ohghfd; oh my god those. that cat panty/bra set. im ascending im losing my brain as i type this i cannot –

okay im back on earth. he’d get into that rhythm and settle like liquid while he gets to work on you, and his subspace face is so self-satisfied and nearly smug so he’s just having the time of his life,,, and he makes such a loud noise when his dick twitches against your thigh and maybe... JUST MAYBE he whimpers extra watery when you drag his hips to grind against where you’re wet and dripping/your spent cock as if he’s the one who’d get overstimulated by it. when he finally leans away, eyelids heavy, you gently fit your hand over his jaw and ask, “did you even ask? it’s one thing to come without permission, but not even caring to ask? georgie, i might just be offended,” and he whines “green”s against your neck before you even check-in

and because u made it abt both of our birthdays ,,,, spanks for each year we’ve been alive methinks ??? and then the scratch down his ass gets him hard again and he’s so embarrassed by it, ,,, , ,, ,, ,, ,, ,

also thank god you’ve joined the george boat. i’m so proud of myself for hopefully being part of the reason you got dragged over here HJFKDHSKD

#👑 anon #(my beloved) #keep #anon thoughts: george #redsick #SHAWTY WANT THE WHOLE CREW SHAWTY BAD

as soon as you said birthday spanks I decided I had to write more about this. and I was going to leave more snippets in your askbox like the fucking gremlin creature I am, but then my thoughts started. actually having structure? and then I started writing it. and I tried to do homework and write on study breaks only but. I just kept coming back to this. this is the polar opposite of writer's block. I think I'm cursed or something. so here I am rushing to finish this so that I may rest in peace!!

yes I've been writing nonstop since I sent you that ask. what of it. what the fuck of it.

when I said I discover something new about myself every time we interact, I. I'm serious. I think I might be insane or something. I'm way too sadistic. you'll see. what the fuck is this? what the fuck did I just write??

this would have done so much critical psychic damage if I had posted it on November 1st in real life, but mental illness says I can't let my horny thoughts rattle around in my brain for that long. so!! it's you guys's problem now xoxoxo

I'm not fucking proofreading this. love you though 💗

I did end up proofreading actually. oops! looks like posting at 23:00 isn't always a good idea.

November 1st

CW: explicit, anal (kind of vague), bondage (collar + leash), corruption, domspace (I think??), edging, handjob, humiliation, masochism, oral, praise, sadism, spanking, subspace, swearing. I call George a whore and a slut at least once. and also, George calls yellow at one point. this one kind of surprised me so just. Be Careful. I cannot believe I wrote this. I don't know where this came from.

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; I use the word "sir;" reader has male anatomy; I use the words "cock," "dick," and "head;" reader can ejaculate

—

dawn shines through drawn curtains, illuminating the tile floor and your robed figure reflecting off it. batter sizzles in the skillet as you flip the last pancake over. this side looks golden brown, like honeycomb or caramelized sugar. that delicious, freshly-baked fragrance mingles with scented candles. it's perfect, you smile. he's going to love it.

you lift the pancake with a spatula, stacking it on top of the others on his plate. you bring it to his seat at the table, along with the butter, the syrup, the honey, the jam…and you go to pour him a drink.

"hey baby," you greet warmly to the sleepyhead rubbing his eyes in the entryway, still clinging to a pillow. his hair's a mess, only wearing socks and a sweatshirt that reaches down past his thighs. you reckon he'd only just crawled out of bed.

"morning…" he yawns, stumbling past you to take his seat.

"milk?" you ask, he only nods. "did you sleep okay?"

he hums affirmatively. "I…can we…"

one track mind, you joke inwardly. but you don't blame him. "of course," you open the fridge.

you hear him pause. "…is it too early for that?"

"no, no!" you give him a lighthearted laugh. "I kind of expected it, to be honest…I want it, too."

he's silent under the noise of you rummaging through the fridge. "I—"

"sorry—it looks like all we have is strawberry milk. is that alright?"

"yeah…yeah, that's alright. I…actually…wanted to try something new." you shut the fridge, he's fidgeting in his seat.

"hit me with it," your expression is gentle. you pass his cup off to him, but he holds his hand over yours a little too long, looking up at you.

"fuck me like you hate me."

you don't know if it's hearing him swear, or the way he said it so calmly, or how he closed his eyes and swallowed hard before his tone could dip down into something lower. but like a match in an torrent of gasoline, suddenly you're burning up.

you only realize you're staring when he bites his lip and looks down. you start to say something, but the words don't form.

he laughs nonthreateningly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "is that a yes?"

you laugh with him. "I…yes, absolutely yes." you turn back around to make your own stack of pancakes. "you should eat first, though."

"what?" he teases. "will I need the energy?"

you smile. "yeah. I think you will." you can practically feel him open his mouth in protest, but he stays silent after that.

and it stays mostly silent while you cook your pancakes. you hear the clinking of his fork on his plate, but it isn't very disruptive. it sounds like he's hurrying to finish his food.

when you go back to the table with your own platter, he's already done eating. he's red down to his neck, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt, looking at you expectantly. you spot a pair of tassels peeking out from under it, just below his hip bones. is that…

he pulls the hem up just a bit, holding your gaze. he smiles, apparently satisfied watching your face heat up.

"I—you should go…go get ready," you manage. he gets up before you even finish your sentence, only stopping to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

except it isn't quick, when he slides his hand down to rest firmly on your collar, and leans in to trail kisses down your neck. "a-and leave that on," you stutter.

he pauses, just under your jaw. "leave what on?" he murmurs.

your breath catches, you shut your eyes. "whatever the fuck it is you're wearing under there."

he's hardly grazing your skin, but you can feel how hot he is next to you. it takes all of your willpower not to shiver.

he pulls back quickly, only his hand lingering. "I don't know what you're talking about." and just like that, he disappears into your bedroom.

you reach up a hand tentatively to your collar, hot to the touch. I'm in way too deep, you decide, and force yourself to take a bite of your food despite your nerves.

—

"that," you hiss. "that fucking outfit. that."

"oh, this?" he bites his lip, hooking his thumb in the keyhole. "this's just what I went to bed in last night."

"fuck you. we both know that isn't true."

he tugs gently on his top, pulling it a little to the side. "what's the big deal? can't I wear something special for my birthday?"

"it's special, all right," and you leave it at that, opting instead to slot between his legs where he sits waiting on the edge of the bed. you bring up a hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb across his cheek. you'll never get enough of the way he looks at you, like you're intoxicating.

…? you frown.

"is something…missing?" he perks up instantly at "missing."

"what…?" he chooses his words carefully.

"the collar—your collar. where is it?" you turn away to start going through your bedside table, but the way his lips quirk up into a sly smile isn't lost on you.

that's lube…that's a vibrator…where the fuck is it…? "w-what collar?" he stumbles over his words.

your mind jumps to say, the collar that came with that outfit, or I know you know what I'm talking about, but you won't give him the satisfaction. you decide to speak a little darker, only a firm "George." you hear him swallow.

"w-well," his voice is shaky, "you only told me to leave on whatever I was wearing under my shirt. and…I wasn't wearing that collar at breakfast…s-so technically…"

you stop looking immediately. you turn to take him in, legs crossed, stance confident, but expression showing uncertainty. you can see the regret on his face. "get up." he takes a shallow breath. "get up."

"I'm—"

"don't I'm sorry me," you snap. "you look for your fucking collar on your own."

he slips off the bed, looking ashamed, but starts digging through the drawer all the same. "I really am sorry," he murmurs. you take his place sitting on the bed. he finds what he's looking for rather quickly: a simple white leather collar with a bell, and a leash. he hands them off to you shyly. "um, here…"

"good boy," you praise. "kneel."

he shuts his eyes and does as he's told. you can see the bliss wash over his face just at being ordered around. his lips part a little as he lets out a heavy breath. if only I knew what this would do to him, you muse, I'd have done this ages ago.

you fasten the collar, revelling in how he shivers at the gentle sensation of cold leather hanging around his neck. you leave it a little bit loose, but still comfortable, and hook the leash in its place. he sits obediently still on his knees, looking deep in thought.

"Oh, I know what I'm gonna do to you," you bait. "how old are you today?"

"mmm. twenty-five." he looks down.

you smile, holding tight onto the leash. "I'm gonna edge you. twenty-five times."

he flinches away immediately, yet hums in pleasant surprise when the leash snaps taught. the bell jingles stiffly. "no way. that's way too much."

"I think you should've thought about that before you wore that to breakfast," you decide, tugging a little. he's caught off-guard and stumbles forward, stopping himself by leaving a clumsy pair of kisses on the inside of your thigh. the metal and leather feel refreshingly cool against your feverish skin. "we've got all day, baby."

you expect to hear some kind of protest, you're crazy. or a playful taunt, I'm better off doing this by myself. but he knits his brows and openly moans at the thought. "all day…" he repeats.

he looks up at you, almost pleading, and you can hear the resignation in his voice when he whispers "alright."

"get up here," you command. "on top of me." as he climbs up into your lap, a little too eagerly, you add, "and take your dick out."

you shrug your robe off your shoulders while he's working on his panties, and without thinking, you ask, "color?"

he stops, leaving his head poking cutely over the waistband. he looks up at you again. "…what?"

"um…color," you explain. "like, how are you doing? is this okay? I don't actually want to hurt you. uhhh…green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop."

he stifles a laugh. "you're such a nerd. I'm okay."

"alright." you blush a little. "we can stop whenever you need to. this is for you…" you think of something horribly unsexy to say. "…birthday boy."

now he's really laughing, with his whole body. you think the way it makes his collar jingle is cute. "oh my god. shut up. just shut up," his expression turns serious, and he drops to a whisper, "and fuck me."

that got you hot again. you pull him by the leash into a kiss, you bite his lip, you eat him up. and you grab the both of you together with your other hand, you moan in tandem. you can feel how you took him by surprise in the way he twitches under your thumb, the way he leans into you with his whole body. you part from the kiss and he leans back on his heels, panting hard, holding on to your shoulders for support. you can feel him shaking a little.

when you move your hand all the way up the first time, you squeeze both of your heads gently, and he practically falls into you. muffled in the crook of your neck, he begs, "god, do that again."

so you do. again. and again. what was a string of stuttered breaths turns into a single broken moan as you jerk the both of you off. when you think you're getting close, you let go of yourself to focus all your attention on him.

"fuck, sir," he whines—hahaha, that sir made your cock leak a little. he shut his eyes tight. "I-I-I think—I think I'm—"

just like that, you stop, and he goes slack, practically laying on you. but he doesn't grind back, or even move to touch himself. that won't last very long.

you let him come back down, knowing edging takes a lot out of you; maybe even more so than actually coming does. slowly but surely, his breathing steadies. you rub between his shoulderblades affectionately, still trying to ground yourself, too.

once you've found your voice again, you question, "are you gonna count for me?"

he makes a sound against your skin, somewhere between excitement and fear. "…o-one." you revel in how fucked-out he sounds already.

"one what?" you prod.

he seems at a loss, like he's forgotten himself, what he said. after a minute or two of pondering, he catches on. "…sir."

it's your turn to moan. your dick jumps at the honorific, still mostly untouched against your stomach. "good boy." and you dive back in. twenty-four to go.

—

it's noon. you're working on nineteen. and your partner's getting much more…expressive. he's started biting his hand to keep himself quiet, but he's still…

"I-I—oh fuck, I'm—fuck, I-I'm—I'm—" he whimpers through his teeth. and he yelps, whole body shaking, bell jingling incessantly, when he comes all over your hand and stomach.

you take your hand off him immediately, and this time he does try to reach down, ride through it, but you grab both his wrists to stop him. he grinds down uselessly against your thigh and your dick. although you're still hard, and only a hairline trigger away from coming yourself, it doesn't stop you from keeping this brat in line. you only bite your lip and close your eyes.

he leans his forehead against yours, moving in to give you a kiss, but you push him away.

"did you never learn how to fucking count?" you growl.

he winces. "I-I-I-I'm…I'm sorry—"

you scowl at your hand, covered in come. "here, slut," you raise it up to his lips. "clean this off for me."

he tears up a little, but takes your fingers into his mouth all the same. pretty quickly, though, he spits them back out.

"it doesn't taste good…" he complains.

"oh? oh, it doesn't?" you mock. "but it felt good, when you came without my permission, like a cheap fucking whore."

a couple of tears spill over, roll down his cheeks, yet he says nothing, only moving back in to lap his come off your hand. you can see it in his expression that he's not very happy about it, but he doesn't protest further.

"is this good enough, sir?" he asks, when it seems that he's gotten it all. it looks clean enough, you agree. you grab him by the chin, hooking your thumb in his mouth. you don't even have to tell him to suck.

"you come without my approval again, and it's over. you can go back to playing minecraft—or what-the-fuck-ever—with your friends for your birthday. do you want to sleep on the couch, Georgie?"

if he wasn't crying before, he's definitely crying now. he doesn't shake his head, but he circles your fingertip with his tongue enthusiastically, as if to say, I'll be good, I'll be good this time, looking up at you doe-eyed.

"bend over for me," you demand. "across my lap."

he does so immediately. he slips a little bit while he's changing positions, you hear the bell ring, and he scrambles to correct himself. he settles with his ankles crossed and his head in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows. you feel a little bad, you admit, but you won't budge; he has a safeword, you trust that he'll use it.

"let's try that again," your tone softens. "I want you to count for me, okay?"

he nods.

you pull his panties to the side, pause briefly, and bring down your hand with a satisfying smack.

"ohhhhhh—" he moans, jolting a little. "—holy shit, did you just spank me?"

your stomach drops, you go to rub him gently where you just hit him. "is that okay—?"

"it's hot, it's so hot, fuck," he shifts in your lap. "um, sorry…one."

seriously, something about hearing him swear awakens something in you, every time. you're fired up. you spank him again.

"mmm—two…" is he…? "three…"

you pause to massage his ass again, and to speak. "you're…you're hard again, aren't you?"

you didn't even spank him yet, but he lets out a moan. "fuck, I—I just. I want you. I want this. so, so much."

you wonder if this is actually the same George who was fidgeting with his pillow in the dining room this morning.

"you're so bad, getting turned on by something like this," you tease. he only moans in response.

"four—five—six—seven…" he chokes out. "it's starting to sting…"

you take a break, kneading the skin where your angry red handprint is starting to take shape.

"eight…nine…but god, it hurts so good…" he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "ten…"

at ten, you linger for a moment, holding a handful of his ass. "does it?"

"yes—yesyesyes," he buries his face in the pillow, and shivers. "fuck, eleven…twelve…"

you pull his panties down to his knees, and switch sides. he lifts his hips up, so I can reach him better, you guess. you don't miss the telltale glint of a butt plug, but you'll get to that later.

"thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen," he moans between slaps. he's gripping the pillowcase so hard his knuckles are white.

in this new position, the way he jumps with every hit makes his cock brush against yours just right. fuck, you're still hard from earlier. this time you're the one who whimpers.

"seventeen, eighteen," he pauses, breathless. you pull gently on his leash, he arches his back and moans, "n-nineteen." his bell jingles.

he grinds down, just for a moment, and the friction is delicious. you're a little dizzy, you think you might've thrust back. you both sigh at the feeling.

"…t-twenty…see? I-I can count…I'm a good boy…I'm good for you…aren't I?"

"you are," you murmur, but you aren't sure he hears you. "you're so good…"

"twenty-one—twenty-two…I-I feel like I haven't done anything right today…twenty-three…"

"…George…?" you hear a muffled sob.

"twenty-four…" he mumbles.

"George?" you start to get concerned. he just keeps crying. "hey…" you whisper. you gently prompt him to turn him over; the pillow's a little wet. you pull the panties off all the way, and get him out of the bra, which had a little stray come on it. you help him sit up in your lap, and pull him into a hug.

"am I really just a whore…?" he asks brokenly.

"you've been so good for me, baby. you've done everything I've asked." you wipe his tears away with your thumb. "are you okay?"

"but I—" he coughs. "—I came too soon, I came without your permission…"

you kiss his hair, and hold him to your chest. "you've been so patient. I'm proud of you."

he finally wraps his arms around you. "I-I'm sorry."

"nonsense," you reassure. "your comfort takes priority. are you okay? color?"

"I…" he searches for the words. "I dunno. yellow? I…that hurt, I think. being…degraded?"

you comb through his hair with your fingers. "I understand. thank you for telling me. I love you."

—

you stay like that for a minute. you grab him a snack and a drink, but for the most part, you just enjoy each other's company, tangled-up together. you don't bother putting your clothes back on.

it's later in the evening. you're straddling him, peppering his shoulders with kisses, and he's giggling underneath you. he turns over to give you a short and sweet kiss.

"baby?" he says, looking expectantly.

"what is it?" you sit back on your heels.

he hesitates. "…I wanna keep going. from earlier."

you're serious again. "are you sure you're okay?" you grab his hand, bringing it up to kiss his fingertips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm alright," he assures. "I remember you promising me an all-day thing, though."

you blush, a little surprised by his forwardness. "of course. I think…I…" you laugh. "I wanna fuck you."

"yeah?" he smiles, leaning up close. "show me how much."

you hold his jaw while you kiss him, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. he tastes like the coffee and cream you made him earlier. you feel his breath hitch. he reaches up to hold your shoulders.

you pull back. "hey, blow me first."

"what? why?" he giggled.

"it's been a couple hours, I'm not hard anymore," you coax. "I thought you liked taking orders?"

he cringed. "but come tastes gross!"

you slid off him and hopped off the bed, opening the drawer. "suit yourself. you get to watch me jack off, then."

"fine by me, I think you look good when you masturbate."

"ohhh, I forget, you're too blissed-out to pay attention to how I look when you're getting fucking owned."

"I am not!"

"you are too!" he sticks his tongue out at you.

you open the lid, pouring a little on your hand, a little on your cock. it's translucent pink, seems a little fragrant. you give yourself a couple of strokes with a sigh.

he's quiet for a second, then, shyly, "um…is that…strawberry flavored…?"

you bite your lip. "I thought you weren't gonna give me head?"

"I was just curious." it's a weak lie, but you say nothing.

your eyes are shut, but you can feel him moving around a bit on the bed, you hear his bell ring a couple times. you feel a hand on your thigh, so you decide to peek. and holy shit.

your partner's made his way to the floor, on his knees between your legs, holding his leash in his mouth, his fucking mouth, what the fuck. his thumb's rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh. the half-lidded look he's giving you should be criminal.

"you—I thought you said you wouldn't…" you can't find the words. you reach out and take the leash from his mouth. you see your hand shake in front of you.

"I'm just watching…" he whispers, looking up at you, mesmerized.

you're only able to get a couple of pumps in before he's joining you, hand over yours as you get yourself off. just the extra sensation of somebody else's touch is enough to make you bite back a moan.

"fuck—!" you jolt when he licks a stripe up the underside. he mouths over the head, jerking you off on his own now. you move to grip the sheets in one hand, his leash in the other. and you come without warning. you see it end up on his hand and your stomach before you shut your eyes tight.

he's quiet while you're coming down, just helping you ride it out, giving you kisses on your thighs. when you look back down at him, he's got two of his fingertips in his mouth, licking them clean. he stands up abruptly, it startles you a little. you see his bell ring. and he grabs you by the hips and leans down to your midriff.

"…I don't think I cleaned you off all the way earlier…" he breathes, and he starts to lap up the mess of his and your come that's been on you since this afternoon.

what the fuck. why is this so hot? why is he so hot? all too soon, your spent cock twitches in interest at your lover. he cups it with a hand, smiling against your tummy. you're so sensitive it hurts. you think you mean to say something, but nothing comes out.

"hmm…?" he bites his lip. "you still want some more?" all you can do is whine. at this point, you don't know if it's in protest or invitation.

you don't get the chance to find out either, because fuck, he's really going down on you now. you don't know what the fuck he's doing with his tongue, or where his gag reflex went, but at this rate you're gonna come again.

"George—George, baby, I—slow down, I-I'm—" you plead. his leash slips out of your hand, you tip your head back.

he swallows.

—

the last thing you remember is coming harder than you ever have in your life. you think you held him by his hair. you might've fucked his mouth a little. he's never let you come in his mouth before…fuck…

it's nighttime now. he's riding your thigh, got one of his legs slotted between yours. the friction between his knee and your overstimulated cock feels embarrassingly good. you're so dizzy, all you can articulate is a loud moan. you don't sound at all like you remember. his bell keeps ringing and ringing and ringing as he grinds against you.

he leans down, one arm holding your hip, the other keeping himself propped up. he bites your shoulder, hard, hard enough to bruise. he comes on both of your stomachs.

"George," you beg. you're losing your voice.

"mmmmmmsir," he slurs. "fuck me."

"George, I…" you don't know what you're saying. the end of your sentence turns into a whimper.

"you need me to get you hard again? you need me to rile you up?" he turns to kiss your jaw, feeling around for your dick. "like this?"

"George," you sound urgent, until he squeezes right around the head, and you forget what you were saying. you're pretty fucking close to forgetting who you are entirely.

he sits up on top of you, grinning. "love the way you say my name, sir."

that name. all it takes is the way he says that fucking name and you're ready to go again. you flip the two of you over, so that you're towering over him instead. "you still didn't. fucking. ask me. if you could come."

he giggles, a little crazed. he hooks his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest.. "so what? so what? you gonna fuck me 'till I behave?"

"yes," you reach down, "I think I will." and you pull out the butt plug he (probably forgot he) had in all day.

"fuck—" he sobs. you watch his dick bob. precome drips into a pool on his stomach. "—green—green—so fucking green."

you're still sensitive from coming twice—you're pretty sure he is too. you lean down to give him a kiss, you moan into each other's mouths. he tastes like strawberries and his and your come. it is a little gross, you admit. but he's so tight and so fucking cute that you can't bring yourself to care. you part, and there's a line of salvia connecting the two of you.

"wait—" you say, but it comes out like a growl. "roll over."

he gets on his hands and knees, reaching back and spreading himself open for you. fuck.

you fuck him like that, holding the leash tight, loving the way he arches his back into the bed. the bell on his collar jingles incessantly.

you spank him, one last time.

"th-that's twenty-f-five—oh, fuck, sir," he growls, clinging on to the blankets for dear life.

you pin one of his hands in place and reach down to touch him. he starts laughing again.

"mmmmmmay I please come, sir? I—fuck—I'm so close, soclosesoclose," his breath stutters, you can hear the breaks in his voice. he buries his face in the blankets.

I'm close, you think, but the words don't make it out. "you're so good—you're so fucking good—come for me—fuck, come for me."

—

you're a mess. there's some drying solution of come and lube on your stomach. not to mention whatever the fuck's going on with your hair. your robe is discarded haphazardly on the floor. you think you've got a hickey, but you can't remember where.

actually, you're both a mess. he's also covered in come, sweat, and lube. he's got a red ring around his neck where you pulled him by the leash a little too hard. he's just covered in bruises. he clings to your arm, still fast asleep. you both passed out pretty quickly after…whatever that was, but you got back up a couple hours later. it doesn't look like he did, though.

actually, your whole bedroom is a mess. a blanket or two ended up discarded on the floor. there's an empty bottle of edible lube somewhere around here. your kitty lingerie set, still dirty, somehow ended up hanging in the closet. the first time you woke up you were both cuddling with a butt plug that you misplaced in the heat of the moment.

you don't think you've ever seen him like that. you can't even put it into words. you've never spanked him. he's never called you sir. you've never come in his mouth. he's never…begged for you like that before. you've never been so exhausted after coming that you both just, just fainted.

you feel lightheaded, and dead tired. you know you both must have gotten back up and gone at it at least a couple more times, but it's blurry, you can't remember. all you know is your vibrator's missing, and you feel…unusually empty, like you do the morning-after getting railed a little too hard.

last night…what the fuck happened last night?

you contemplate getting up, slipping your arm out of his embrace, pulling the covers back up around him, leaving to make breakfast. you're kind of disgusting, several hours after sex without cleaning up properly. you want to get yourselves some washcloths, maybe take shower together, or run him a bath. you know he's gotta be way more sore than you are.

you catch yourself staring, lost in thought; he just looks too cute when he's very clearly roughed up, but still sleeping soundly. and with the way he wanted…the way he needed you yesterday, you don't think he would want to wake up alone.

maybe it's okay if we sleep in a little longer.

you stroke his hair and whisper, "happy birthday, baby boy."

—

edited 14 March 2021

[ackercrushing]

A Little Wager

Ok, I don't usually write. If I do, I rarely complete it. I either have grand ideas that just don't come out or I read something similar that scratches that itch and I don't have to write anymore. But this little fluff nugget has been my constant daydream for a while. There are no warnings for this. It's lighthearted and fun. I suck at writing smut so I doubt I'll continue it. If someone wanted to pick up where I left off and do a shower scene, I would LOVE that! Anyway, here it is. Be gentle :)

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

It was mid afternoon when you and your squad made it to the training grounds.  Captain Levi’s squad was supposed to be done in the next half hour. You like to get your squad there early when the special forces are training to provide a little inspiration.

You choose Emily to lead the squad in stretches before they hit the course.  All the while, they’re watching Levi’s soldiers expertly soar through the air completing maneuvers it will take years for your squad to accomplish. While stretching, you hear the oohs and aaahs, sometimes shocked gasps as another soldier completes in flight stunts that look impossible.  You notice Levi, arms crossed, watching them intently.  He never has to yell out instruction or commands.  His squad is a well-oiled machine.

“Alright guys, what’s the bet today?” you ask your team, breaking their reverie.

“Isn’t it your turn to pick, Captain (y/l/n)?” asks the unofficial leader of the squad, Leo. “Besides, every time we come up with a bet, it’s almost guaranteed defeat.”

“I’m not stupid guys. The tasks get harder depending on what we bet.  If you bet I walk topless through the mess hall at dinner time, Malcolm (glancing over to the brave boy who dared make that wager), you better believe I’m giving you a nearly impossible task.” Malcolm blushes.

“It was worth a shot.” He says sheepishly. Amelia punches his arm playfully saying “That’s gross Malcolm, she’s our squad leader.”

“Anyway, I think you’ll like this offer.  How about you nail all your maneuvers I assigned last week and two more surprise tasks, and I’ll do all your laundry for a week?”  While this bet wasn’t as exciting as a topless Captain at dinnertime, it did get the squad’s full attention.  You knew some of them were wearing clothing for the second, maybe third time between washes and they stunk!  This bet was more for you than anyone.

The slight turn and side eye from Levi let you know he wasn’t watching his squad as intently as you thought. He was eavesdropping.

“But you have to land properly.  No biffing the landings!” You add, hearing groans from some of your soldiers.  More groans when you tell them the surprise maneuvers they are to complete.  They’re difficult but not impossible for their skill level.

“All right guys, I think this is doable.” Leo chimes in, pumping up his squad mates.  Some were already looking defeated, having the most difficulty with their landings. They all circled up and started motivating each other.  Levi might have the elite group, but no one could rival your squad in the heart department. These guys gave it their all every time, training or battle.

You had a way with these “kids” as you called them that few squad leaders did.  They loved your inclusiveness and your no-blame leadership style.  You made sure they knew they were a team.  Mistakes were learning opportunities, even the fatal ones. Those most of all.  And they did happen to all Scout squads.  It was just the nature of the job.

“OK Captain (y/l/n), we accept the bet!  Get the soap ready!  Let’s do this!”  The whole squad was pumped and ready.  You couldn’t help but grin and hope that you had a lot of laundry to do this week.

“Alright, it’s on.  Keep stretching and warming up!” you say as you walk over to join Levi and watch the last of his team’s maneuvers.

“Well, your team is certainly inspiring some young ones today.” You grin and bump his shoulder.

“Is that why you’re always early?”

“Yes sir, I’ll take all the motivation we can get.”

“So what’s up with that bet? Sounds like a recurring thing with you.” He asks, never taking his gaze from his flyers.

“All the motivation I can get, right?  They really respond well to the bets we make.”

“Did I hear mention of a bet that would have had you walk topless through the mess hall at dinner time?” This question did pull his gaze to you with raised eyebrows. You couldn't help the blush that stained your cheeks.

“That was never going to happen.” You outline the tasks you gave your squad that day.

“Yeah, that would be hard for my group to accomplish.” Levi smirks. “Would you like to join us during our next training session? Maybe my squad would like to try betting on something.”

“That would be amazing! Thank you!” You are beaming. Training with the elites will certainly boost your squad’s morale.

“Alright, day after tomorrow at 1pm.”

“It’s a date.” tumbles out of your mouth.  Levi briefly side eyes you with a slightly scrunched brow at your choice of phrase but continues walking to his squad for their debrief.  You are blushing thinking he might have taken that the wrong way.  Oh well, nothing to do now but show up at 1pm in two days.  Your squad was going to freak out!

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

The joint training sessions became a regular once a week thing with the two squads.  The bets initially started out pretty tame.  Levi and you lost several but when they were “Do 100 push ups” or “Clean all the floors in the barracks”, it was ok.  Neither of you minded losing those.  But the soldiers started getting braver with their wagers.

You knew something interesting was in the works when you see Sasha Braus bouncing on her heels and clapping her hands before you both even make it over to them.

“Alright Sasha, what do you have for us today?” Asks Levi, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

“Ohhhh, this is a goooood one!”  Her voice quivers with excitement.  “If we complete all our maneuvers flawlessly, landings included, Captain (y/l/n) has to do 10 push ups.”  She’s so excited, she can hardly continue.

“Sasha, that’s not a challenge.” You add, knowing there has to be more to it. You notice Jean, Conny, and Eren look slightly uncomfortable.

“That’s not all!  With every push up, you and Captain Levi have to KISS!”  She literally squeals. Your eyes grow large.

“Sasha, that only works if both parties are consensual.”  You roll your eyes, knowing Levi will not agree to this.

“What do you mean Captain (y/l/n)?  You wouldn’t consent to that?”

The phrase you could hear a pin drop is very apropos in this moment as all eyes are on Levi with gaping mouths.  You could swear you heard the wind of heads turning.

“You mean to tell me YOU consent to that?” You ask incredulously.

Levi takes your arm and pulls you aside.  “The task fits the bet, right?  Here’s what we’ll have them do.”  He outlines his plan and the butterflies in your stomach still. But you’re not sure if you’re relived or disappointed knowing your squad will definitely not be able to pull this off. Were you hoping to lose this one?

“Perfect. Let’s tell them.” You grin.

You both walk back over, and Levi lays out the maneuvers they’ll have to perform in order to win the bet.

They are obviously shaken but the elites take the young ones aside, and after a 10-minute pep talk and possible strategy session, they return and accept your conditions. Is this task as difficult as Levi thought? They seem pretty confident. "We accept!" Sasha yells.

Levi looks at you and winks. “Alright, get going then.”  In pairs, the two squads enthusiastically enter the training arena.

The last teams are nearly finished.  You look over at Levi nervously.  All the pairs assigned to you were flawless.  How could that be?  The elites really were inspiring, but you realized you might have been going a little too easy on your team.  What a sight to behold.  And your squad was so proud of themselves.  You would have made a bet to kiss a titan for this!

Levi’s mouth is agape as he slowly turns his head to look at you.  You both just stare at each other in disbelief, his expression saying everything you needed to know.  His group was flawless as well.

“Holy shit.” You mumble under your breath, heat now creeping up your neck, your palms sweaty already.

Levi regains his composure, that cool mask of confidence back on his face and in his stance.  He strides toward you looking way more collected than you feel.

“Alright, new strategy.” He says, a sneaky glimmer in his eye. “They didn’t say what kind of kiss, right?”

You pause for a second, realizing what he’s saying and your breath that you didn’t know you were holding is released in a relieved sigh. Is relieved the right word?

“I know where you’re going with this.” You say shaking your head.

“Every time you lower yourself, I’ll turn my head and you kiss somewhere on my face.  Forehead, cheeks, nose.  We’ll keep them guessing.”

“They’re going to be so mad!”

“They should have thought of all the loopholes before they finalized the deal.” Levi stated coolly with a shrug.

Sasha, back to bouncing and clapping, yells “Ok you two!  Assume the position!”

"This is stupid.”-Conny

“I don’t think I can watch this.”-Eren

"Why does Captain Levi get to do the kissing?" -Jean

Meanwhile the girls are giggling messes of anticipation.

Levi lies on the ground, hands casually behind his head like he’s relaxed and getting ready for an afternoon nap. Huh, to feel that relaxed right now. You crawl up his body, your knees straddling his hips and your hands to either side of his neck. Hoots and hollers from the two squads do not help the blush on your face. You raise to plank position, then slowly lower yourself.

Levi’s head remains still until the last second, then turns to the right, offering his cheek for the first kiss.  You lightly feather his skin with your lips before returning to plank.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Sasha sounds so defeated.

“You didn’t specify what kind of kiss Sasha.  Let this be a lesson to you.  Negotiate better next time.” Levi says smugly. “I want to hear you count!  That was 1, 9 to go!”

The next 4 kisses were met with increasingly under enthused counting as the cheek, nose, and forehead barely-there-pecks were administered.

At the start of the 6th, Levi says to you “My turn.”  Your eyes narrow in confusion and he clarifies “I’m going to kiss you now. Move however you prefer.”  You nod, really just wanting this to be over with. You agree with the squad that this is underwhelming.

You move your head so kisses land on both cheeks, your forehead, and your nose.  Time for the final kiss.  As you start to lower your body, Levi removes his hands from behind his head and places them on either side of your face.  Your eyes widen when he says “Let’s give them a little something more, huh?” You feel those butterflies again as you nod your head in agreement.  And time passes in slow motion.  You continue lowering until your lips meet Levi’s.  At first, the kiss is just a brushing of your lips together.  Levi gently pulls your face away just a bit to look you in the eyes, then lowers you again, this time kissing you properly.  You can’t feel anything else.  Your body feels weightless.  His lips part and his tongue grazes your bottom lip.  You open your lips to him and the kiss deepens, tongues swirling and gliding together.  There’s no one else here but the two of you.  The gasps and cheers from the combined squads don’t reach your ears. You have no idea how long this kiss lasts but you can honestly say you don’t want it to end.

The only thing to break the spell is Eren saying “Geez, are they going to come up for air?”  Levi reluctantly pulls away after a few more brief kisses.  You slowly raise your body, as your eyes open and lock with Levi’s.  “Damn” he mutters softly.  You can’t help but grin a little as you complete your final plank.  You blink your eyes a few times, trying to rid yourself of the spell Levi’s put you under.  You push up to your feet, face flushed and lips swollen.  You offer a hand to Levi, who takes it, even though he doesn’t really need it to get off the ground.  Once vertical, you expect him to release your hand, but instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours and says “Ok kids, show’s over.  Hit the showers.”  The soldiers don’t miss the fact that you’re still holding hands as they depart.  Sasha and Mikasa keep looking over their shoulders, hoping they won’t miss anything else.

Levi whispers in your ear “What do you say Captain?  Ready to hit the shower too?”

[justmaybee]

The Phantom’s New Clothes

(Alternatively: ‘I Like Ya Fit, G!’)

A/N: Yes, the spam is gonna end in a dumb fic. No, I’m not confident in posting it. But honestly? I don’t think I’ll ever be when it comes to Fling Posse. So I’m doing it anyways! Because Gen looks like a whole prince, and if I don’t start somewhere I’ll never be able to write them!

Summary: Fling Posse photo shoot time! ~ ☆ and Dice has taken a special interest in Gentaro’s outfit for the day….

Of the many things required by divisions during battle season, one ‘checkpoint’—so to speak—is the creation of promotional materials. A Chuohku-designated event, ‘asked’ of the representative teams from each district.

This is Fling Posse’s second time representing Shibuya, so Gentaro is more or less acquainted with the roadmap ahead of them. And as a group member—and friend—of one Ramuda Amemura, he’s quite used to the mild discomfort of modeling clothes far outside his comfort zone.

Though it had at first been a point of contention in the group—due to some very polarized creative decisions—Gentaro has grown into his role, just a bit. He may never go so far as to call himself a ‘model,’ but he’s done much stranger tasks for the sake of his posse.

Thankfully, this shoot leans decidedly into Gentaro’s style of choice. Unlike Ramuda’s last artistic venture, which had involved a bright yellow top in an aquarium of all settings, this outfit could be described as almost tame in comparison.

The blouse is a loose and flowing white number, tucked into a similar style of black pants. A little tighter to his waist than he’d prefer, but the fabric is soft and stretches down to his ankle—for the most part—so it’ll do. The addition of some colored cords to secure an ash grey cape around his shoulders finishes the look, and Gentaro hums an appreciative note when Ramuda shows him the full look in a mirror.

Ramuda seemed pleased, smoothing out Gentaro’s cape and tucking stubborn hairs back into place before flashing him a grin and bouncing off to help Dice finish dressing.

It’s comfortable, fashionable, and well-suited to his tastes. Gentaro must say, it’s one of his favorite designs from Ramuda so far.

That being said—there’s…one small thing he could recommend be changed.

It doesn’t occur to him until the picture taking is about to begin.

———

“Ya think Ramuda will let me keep it?” Dice asks, impish grin flashing his canine. He pops the collar, striking small poses as the dressing room around them clears out. Gentaro humors him.

He takes his time, stepping forward from behind Dice, peering over his shoulder at their shared reflection. His hand comes to rest on his chin, scrutinizing the tropical pattern with a deliberate trail of the eyes. He continues until Dice’s gaze lowers, until his hands start fidgeting in front of him.

Gentaro finally breaks with a smile, resting his chin on Dice’s shoulder. He can feel the way Dice sags with relief.

“It’s very likely that he will,” Gentaro muses. “This outfit was made specifically for you, and I’m not sure anyone else would wear it willingly.”

Dice nods in a small repetitive motion, absentmindedly checking his reflection in the mirror. The moment he comes to recognize Gentaro’s backhanded confirmation is both visible and audible. His body jolting upright with a pitchy ‘hey!’ tossed back over his shoulder. Gentaro hides a smile behind his hand.

“Oh, Dice. There’s no need to be insecure,” He coos. “From what I’ve heard, sustainable fashion is on the rise! This set may have been a curtain at some point, but your confidence in it is very admirable.”

Dice has that tight-lipped smile on, the one that pushes his cheeks up and makes his squinty faux-glare even more endearing. It says, ‘I know I’m being made fun of,’ but he continues to endure it anyways. Because it makes Gentaro smile.

Still, he’s come a long way since the early days of Fling Posse, and he won’t take things lying down if he can help it. So he sneaks his hand behind him, aiming a light pinch to Gentaro’s side; his comeback of choice since learning of Gentaro’s…sensitivity.

Unlike those recent times, Gentaro quickly back steps, pulling his head off Dice’s shoulder to smother a gasp behind a well-timed fist. Dice blinks, hand still hovering behind him in the empty air where Gentaro once stood.

Then he spins around; the biggest, toothy grin on his face.

Gentaro can feel the butterflies slowly flutter to life in his stomach. His free arm moves subconsciously, to wrap around his front and hide his torso. The longer they hold eye contact, the more his face begins to burn.

And then the photographer can be heard, calling Dice for photos.

They stay in place, gazes locked for a moment longer; then Dice shoots him a wink and jogs off.

Gentaro breathes a shaky sigh, rubbing away the phantom touch.

———

So yes, while it was obvious the outfit had less layers than Gentaro was accustomed to, he hadn’t realized just how much thinner the layers he wore were.

Photo shoots don’t have a lot of downtime, in his experience. There’s always group shots, touch ups, individual shots. While it’s undoubtedly ‘Posse Time’—as Ramuda would put it—he doesn’t get more than a passing word to either of his group mates at any one time.

Which make the times he runs into Dice all the more memorable.

Slipping past one another in the hallway when it’s Gentaro’s turn for solo shots. Gentaro feels a distinct skittering of nails over his flank. It has him stumbling, tripping on his own feet. He can hear Dice laugh as he straightens up and continues walking.

Getting his hair touched up, making sure his pesky bangs stay out of his face. Dice comes to watch for a while, leaving Gentaro with a quick pinch either side of his waist. He jolts so hard, the hair on his left side falls out of place. He mumbles an apology to the poor stylist, eyeing Dice’s retreating smile in the mirror.

In a moment to himself, Gentaro tries to retuck his blouse, smooth out the uneven bunching of ruffles. He doesn’t notice when Dice slips behind him, when he grips onto Gentaro’s hips—too easily accessible through these pants—and squeezes. Gentaro yelps, drops to a crouch to dislodge the ticklish pulses. When he turns with narrowed-eyes, he finds himself alone.

Although Dice has been able to startle a reaction out of him several times today, calling these occurrences ‘uncommon’ would be nothing short of a lie. In his extended stay at Gentaro’s apartment, Dice has been very — thorough in his exploits of Gentaro’s unending sensitivity. One could say that once he got a reaction, he couldn’t will himself to stop.

Also a lie. Well, a half-truth to be more precise.

While it had been Dice’s curiosity and willingness to take a chance that led to the discovery, he didn’t act on his newfound information much at all. While a very physically affectionate lover, he would never go so far as to touch Gentaro in a way that caused discomfort or distress.

No, absolutely not. And so despite many implicit hints and invitations, Gentaro found himself having to get very explicit.

He didn’t dislike Dice’s teasing touch.

No, quite the opposite actually.

It was flustering to a degree Gentaro couldn’t imagine, but…Dice got the message.

He got it loud and clear, and now here they are.

In a game of cat and mouse; Gentaro’s eyes darting toward every movement, hands enveloping his torso at the slightest noise. The fabric on his skin is light, breathable, and silky to the touch; impossible to ignore. His stomach swoops nervously, broiling with anticipation—borderline excitement.

Oh, the monster he’s created.

———

After two hours of lights, cameras, make up, hair, and such; things are finally starting to wrap up.

Gentaro can see the end’s approach easily due to experience. It always comes in the form of Ramuda’s name. Called out by a weary photographer and followed in turn by their leader’s sing-song reply, skipping happily out of the dressing room and into the limelight.

Ramuda’s solo shots are always saved for the end. One must save the best for last, of course.

That being so, it would be a good idea to begin making preparations to leave.

Gentaro can feel the pinpricks in his legs as he slides them off the dressing room couch, uncurling from his seated position. He kicks out, pointing his toes in a stretch, arching his back and spine. The relief pushes a quiet sigh from his lips, leaves him sagging back into the cushions for a moment, suddenly drained.

Time spent in the presence of others can already be tiring, but the looming eyes of Chuohku make things far more intense. Gentaro can find peace in having his posse with him, but the sooner he can get these clothes folded, the sooner he gets his regular attire back—the sooner he’ll be home and out from under the Party’s prying gaze.

It takes Gentaro a few attempts to rise to his feet. His center of balance equals out as Dice makes his way into the room. The timing is very lucky, Gentaro gets barely a greeting out before his arm is in Dice’s hold. Before he’s swung around, in a blur of cobalt blue and floral print.

His back hits the wall with a dull thud. Not hard enough to hurt—Dice would never—but enough to have his breath catch in his throat. The way Dice leans into Gentaro’s personal space—hand still firmly gripped around his wrist, pinning it to the wall beside his head—makes getting air back a bit difficult.

“Hey Gen,” Dice breathes, a soft smile on his lips that completely contradicts the situation, and makes Gentaro melt all the more for it.

“Hello, Dice.” Gentaro’s hesitation is hardly noticeable.

“Whatcha up to?”

It’s so casual — the way Dice speaks, despite their position which has Gentaro’s brain buzzing like radio static. Strangely, it’s somewhat placating, in a way.

“Well — I’d intended on tidying up while Ramuda’s away…” Gentaro musters up a teasing smile, a lighthearted jab. “If you’re attempting to have me fold your clothes for you, I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you right there—”

Dice laughs. The sound does strange things to Gentaro’s heartbeat. Difficult to miss while it thrums so vividly in his ears.

“No, not that.” Dice smiles. Gentaro can’t help but return it.

“But could I—uh—do one thing? Before you go?”

Gentaro can take a fairly good guess at what Dice is referring to.

He shuffles, wrist rotating the smallest bit in Dice’s hold. His grip is strong, warm, and noticeably firm. Dice hasn’t moved, not an inch from his close lean over Gentaro, but he’s suddenly all that Gentaro can see, smell, feel.

He’s trapped.

It’s invigorating.

Gentaro is somewhat proud of the light, careless hum he gets out. A flippant roll of the eyes before his gaze meets Dice’s.

“Oh fine, if you must.”

Dice laughs again. Gentaro feels that familiar swooping sensation.

“I’ve been dyin’ to do this all day.”

Despite the unaffected air Gentaro puts off, his body is already tensed up in wait. Free hand poised to the side, ready to fend off Dice’s experienced fingers. His waist, hips, stomach; they’re all compromised in this outfit, leaving him more vulnerable than even his home loungewear would allow. It’s anyone’s guess as to where Dice may strike.

Which makes it extra shocking when Dice suddenly drops Gentaro’s wrist. When he slips both hands, with a pre-planned speed, into the gaps of Gentaro’s billowing sleeves and under his outstretched arms.

Gentaro is able to clamp his lips together before Dice’s fingers make contact. It makes muffling his surprised shout marginally easier. The same can’t be said for his limbs.

Before he can even think about it, Dice has found his rhythm, spidering feather-light strokes beneath his arms. His fingertips are gentle, calloused, and so very effective in their unpredictable movements.

Gentaro’s shoulders lock up. He chokes back the bubbling wave of laughter, then clamps his arms down in attempted self-defense.

Immediately after, his spine snaps off the wall. Thrusting his torso flush against Dice, leaning in to cover him. He tosses his head back, a squeaky cry pathetically stifled as the feelings grow exponentially.

It takes all of Gentaro’s remaining brainpower to lessen the pressure of his arms against his sides, to bring his elbows a centimeter out from his waist. Because when he tries blocking Dice’s fingers—

Gentaro bites his lip against a particularly loud squeal; Dice using one finger on each hand to vibrate into the center of each hollow. Oh, please.

—when he tries to guard himself, he just pushes Dice’s fingers deeper.

“Mph! D-Dice!”

It’s debilitating. Dice rarely has access to his bare skin in most situations, but this may very well be a first for both of them. The skittering touch under his arms has Gentaro squirming, shaking. Every time his arms twitch down to stop it, he’s stuck muffling louder laughter at the added pressure he’s made for himself.

It’s all Gentaro can do to hold as still as possible; minimize the jerky, impulsive movements. But it’s so hard, and he’s quickly losing the battle with his volume as well.

What were once small, nondescript sounds are now squeaking—almost whining—noises. As Dice continues his careful track, sweeping soft fingers around and around and around each twitching hollow.

It takes Dice vocalizing aloud to get Gentaro to lift his head from the wall, blink one teary eye open and get a look at him.

Dice is smiling sweetly—no doubt a much nicer look than the hot flush and wobbly smile Gentaro’s trying to control—with his head tilted to the side. It leaves his neck and shoulder open, right at Gentaro’s head level.

He takes the invitation for what it is.

Gentaro quickly buries his face into the side of Dice’s neck. If he had the mind to think and the hindsight to see, he might have considered if this was well-meant aid or a well-sprung trap. It really depends how much credit Gentaro decides to give Dice. His scheming side is somewhat lacking.

Either way, it makes things much more manageable, and far less embarrassing when Dice’s fingertips turn to nails and Gentaro finally breaks, spilling surprised giggles into the other’s skin.

“Dihihice! What—whahat are you—ahahahaha! Wait! Th-that isn’t fahahahahahair!”

Dice had never kept his nails long before, not for so long as Gentaro has known him. He had no use for them, and it was much easier to keep clean with nails as short as can be. But he’s taken to growing them out, just a tad, for…special situations.

Situations where Gentaro is foolish, careless. Usually in the comfort of his own home, in clothes that make it too easy for Dice. To touch, caress. Warm hands over soft skin that finds another’s touch one part foreign to ten parts addictive.

Situations where the small scratch of a nail can amp the feeling of a tingle to a spark.

“Dihice, pl-plehease. I—aha! Oh no, oh pleheheHEHEHEASE!”

It’s so much easier to hide; in the warm, familiar grip of Dice’s embrace. Where he can smother his keening laughter and sudden gasps. No care in the world for his pink cheeks and ruffled hair, so embarrassingly genuine after the painstaking process of making him ‘modelesque.’

Where all he has to focus on is the rippling movement, scratching up and down the dips beneath his arms. A constant, offset graze on hypersensitive skin; gentle as can be but more than enough to drive Gentaro past the point of composure.

All too quickly, Gentaro feels his knees go weak. His back slips down the wall a fraction, hands gripping onto Dice reflexively.

Dice responds in kind, keeping him stable, then going the extra step forward. Literally.

He steps until there’s no space between them. Until Gentaro can be held up with no need for his own legs; just the cool, sturdy wall behind him and Dice’s chest against his own. He’s surrounded by Dice’s warmth, by his scent. It’s been only minutes, but Gentaro is panting for breath.

“Hey,” Dice mutters, softly, once Gentaro can focus on him. He tugs his hand free, chuckling along to the author’s stray giggle, before reaching up to cup his cheek. His thumb strokes habitually, eyes staring deep into Gentaro’s — searching. Always searching. Making sure he’s okay.

And he is. Better than okay. That’s not a lie, it can’t be, and the way Gentaro narrows his eyes, sends a challenging smirk Dice’s way — makes that abundantly clear. Dice drops his gaze, laughing to himself. Then he straightens up, thumbs the moisture from the side of Gentaro’s face.

“As I was saying…” Dice trails, locking eyes with Gentaro as he speaks. Watching the way they widen, lips pressing together, when his remaining hand flexes.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction - BONUS MOMENTS

Surprise!!! I'm back with a select few bonus #bamelia moments!! I just couldn't let the love story of Ben and Amelia die, I hope you don't mind. Love Always, Steph xx

PSA: To all new readers, you don't have to read the series (link below) to understand this, however it would help so that you can understand the preconceived emotions behind the chapter!

Champions Again | di nuovo campioni

warnings; none word count; 1865 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. link to fic masterlist here

They had done it, again. The Chelsea boys were lifting their second team trophy for the year, they had just won the Supercup. This was Amelia’s first competition final with the Premier League giants and if she had her way, this wouldn't be last. She was beginning to get addicted to the feeling of winning, of proving to every little girl out there and every sexist male she had ever come across, that anything boys can do, girls can do better. She was letting her results speak for themselves, she was making history and there was nothing that could bring her down from the ninth cloud she was currently riding.

As proud as she was over her own achievements, she was equally as proud of her friends. Whilst she wasn’t part of their Champions League victory, she knew that this moment was just as special to the team that just loved to win. The scenes before her were ones she hoped she would never forget - the look on Jorgi’s face as he lifted his third trophy of the last few months, the crinkles beside Mason’s eyes as he grinned at the camera that was desperate to capture every moment of the evening, the tinge of pink on the apples of Ben’s cheeks as he stood with his hands on his hips while he watched Amelia give her first post-match tactical analysis to the Sky Sports reporter - proud that she was his girl. These were the moments that made Amelia forget all of the hard times, or rather made her realise that all of the hard times were worth it to see her friends, her team, her man smile.

With every great victory comes an even greater after party, and even though the Super Cup final coincided with the start of the season, the boys still believed that they deserved an afterparty to celebrate. Captain Cesar Azpilicueta had kindly offered the grounds of his Surrey home to host the bunch of rowdy boys, and their onslaught on mates and partners on the Sunday afternoon between the Super Cup final and the first match of the Premier League 21/22 season. Whilst they were under strict instruction from the higher powers of Chelsea Football Club (namely; Thomas Tuchel) to keep the drinking to a minimum and to keep themselves out of trouble, the boys were allowed to be boys for one more night.

______________________________________________________________

“Benj, what are you wearing? I don’t know if I should wear a sundress or denim shorts! Please, I need help!” I shouted out to Ben who was currently somewhere in his large house.

“Why would my outfit be able to help you with that decision” I could hear his voice getting closer, his footsteps getting louder as he began to ascend the stairs up to the main bedroom that I had slowly started to take over in the last couple months.

“An opinion is all I’m after - stop being cheeky mate” I shoot back at him as I begin to stand up from my place in front of his wardrobe. It was still his wardrobe, he hadn’t asked me to move in yet so it was still technically his even if it was half full with my clothes. As I got to my feet, I turned to see him leaning in the doorway with his arms and ankles crossed over each other. Wearing a tee shirt and some denim shorts himself with a cap covering his ungelled hair - a request from me because it was much easier for me to run my hands through if it wasn’t laden with gel...and because it gave me an excuse to push it out of his face whenever I felt like it (which was often).

“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed in that outfit to be fair, however, that would also mean we would be skipping this afterparty altogether and be spending the afternoon celebrating in an entirely different manner” He states staring at me while I’m currently standing with my hands on my hips, staring at the shorts and tank top combo I have laid out on his bed - again, his bed not ours - he hasn’t asked me to move in yet so it was technically his even if it did have the new bed sheets I purchased a couple weeks back with the matching throw cushions on it. The barely-there outfit that I was currently sporting and that had him licking his lips as he pushed himself off of the doorway to walk to me and wrap his arms around my body from behind was a bralette and a pair of his Chelsea shorts.

“Ok sorted, you’re in denim shorts so I’m going to wear mine too. Done ok move get off me I need to change or we’re going to be late” I exclaimed as I pushed him off me with my hips. A bad move? Absolutely not. I got to feel all of him against me and remind him of what he gets to come home to every evening, if he choses.

“Wow what's the rush now Mils? Why are you walking around like you’ve got ants in your pants?” He questioned as he tightened his grip on me and turned me so I was facing him, looking up into his curious baby blues.

“And don’t say nothing, I’ve picked up on all of your tells already” He further questioned as he could see the wheels begin to turn behind my eyes, desperate to come up with an excuse to mask my jitters so I wouldn’t have to tell him the truth.

“I regret ever letting you become friends with Fede, he’s spilling all of my secrets...Ok fine. I’m nervous to see Jack. I haven’t seen him since...ya’know and I haven't spoken to him since I gave him a telling off before international break and Ben I promise you I haven't thought about him once but I’m still worried that there's unresolved anger there from him and I don’t want to get into it again just when we’re getting back into the groove of us and it’ll impact your friendsh-” my rambling was cut off by his lips, which were simultaneously reminding me to breathe between my words and leaving me breathless at the same time. He always did have a way with his lips, the power they held over me was unmatched by anything.

“Calm down love, I promise it’ll be okay. Jack and I have had it out already, a long chat on international duties which may have only been prompted because Mase and Dec locked us in the kit room after our first session, sorted it all out.” Ben reassured me as he began to rub his thumbs over my cheeks and his hands held both sides of my face.

“I do know he wants to apologise to you though - so don’t be surprised if he tries to do that early on in the evening. You know just how awkward he can be so he’ll probably spring it on you before you’ve even put your bag down.”

“Oh great, I’m gonna need to do a couple shots before we leave the house - you’re good to drive right?” I said as I walked from his grasp and down the stairs to grab the bottle of vodka for some good old fashioned dutch courage.

______________________________________________________________

Ben was right about Jack, he had approached the couple only moments after they had arrived at Azpi’s house. Amelia had spotted him making his way towards them so she began to walk in a different direction to Ben, stretching their interlocked hands and letting him go as she mumbled something about needing to put her bag down. Ben really knew both of them too well. Jack gave Ben a hug hello, still in the grovelling stage of repairing their friendship.

“Hey bro, how’s it goin?” Jack spoke as he pulled away from Ben.

“Yeah bro all’s good with me, how are you? Congrats on the move again, million dollar geez you are, aren’t ya? Don’t forget me when you're mingling with Messi in a couple years” Ben joked back with the boy who has been literally a brother to him for the last few years.

“Ahhh you’re jokin me, could never forget a brother could I? We’re basically blood at this point I reckon. Where’d Mils run off ta?” Jack questioned with his arm around Ben’s neck, both of the boys looking out into the garden for the girl in question.

“Right here super Jack” Amelia spoke from behind them. During their brief discussion, Amelia had put her bag down and ran inside to grab herself a drink before walking out to face the music of Jack’s apology. Overhearing how lighthearted he was with Ben, coupled with the reassurance that Ben had provided her earlier in the evening plus the two or three vodka shots she had downed in their kitchen before coming to the afterparty had meant that she left her worries at the door.

“Mils, darlin', you already know what's coming but I truly am sorry...to both of ya ya’know. Benny, we’ve already had it out and it took me ages to get over that black eye but please believe me when I tell ya I am so sorry for treating you that way Amelia. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry and I regret nothing more than how I made you feel.” Jack could feel himself getting teary whilst thinking about how he made the girl feel, how he made his best mate and chosen brother feel, how he really put a spanner in the works of their blossoming relationship.

“Jack, I’m not going to say it was ok because it wasn't. But it wasn’t just your fault, I also played a part in it that has me cursing myself every day for ruining things with Benj. I forgive you, Jacky.” Amelia spoke while reaching up and wrapping her arms around Jack’s neck to give him one of her signature squeezy hugs, to truly convey that she was moving on from their tumultuous past and hoped that he could stop beating himself up over it and do the same.

Jack had left the couple to return to the table and grab himself a refill of his drink. Ben’s arm had found its natural position around Amelia’s shoulders as they both stood there looking out at their friends. However, Ben was looking down at Amelia. Without missing a beat and keeping her eyes focused out on the yard, Amelia spoke only loud enough for Ben to hear.

“So, you gave Jack a black eye over me huh? That’s hot”

Amelia took a few steps forward before turning to look at the expression on Ben’s face as she continued to walk away from him, backwards. The slight shock turned into a full on smirk as he walked towards her eager to close the gap between them with a kiss. He knew she loved him with her whole heart, but he hoped that she would understand just how much he loved her right back.

The Proposal | la proposta

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 21

part 1 | part 20 | part 22

a/n: annnnnnd another Day of the Black Sun chapter!! I promise this is the last one. I’m really just putting Y/N through it in these last few chapters aren’t I? writing the chapter like this was not the original plan but i had a dream about it and then a very timely anon asked me if y/n was going to be in a Fire Nation prison and I figured... hey why the fuck not you know?

Also! Haruki is Y/N second oldest brother, and again, Ren is her oldest. 

tw: verbal/physical abuse, fighting. Yes, her dad was always going to be this bad of a guy, I just never planned on them meeting up again.

Y/N huddled between Sokka and Katara as the Fire Nation army dropped bombs over where they hid. Aang and Toph had resurrected a small cliff jutting out of the mountainside to protect them, but even that was cracking under the pressure. 

When the bombing stopped, Katara crawled out first. She pointed out towards the water. “Why aren’t they turning around and attacking? They’re headed towards the beach.” 

Aang joined Katara, Sokka and Y/N at the edge of the path. The four of them watched as the airships seemingly retreated from them, headed in the completely opposite direction. 

“They’re going to destroy the submarines!” Aang shouted suddenly. 

As Y/N watched the Fire Nation balloons fly towards the beach, hurrying to destroy their only way out, the pit in her stomach grew larger. After the rest of the failures of today, Y/N wasn’t even surprised. 

“We’re trapped,” she muttered. 

“How are we going to get out of here now?” Sokka asked no one in particular. He was voicing the same question they all had. 

“We aren’t,” Hakoda said from just under the cliff. He leaned on Bato heavily, still holding his injured side. 

“Then we have to stand and fight,” Sokka furrowed his brow in determination. “We have Aang, we can still win.”

“With the Avatar we could still win, but on another day.” Hakoda, with effort, took his arm from around Bato and pulled himself to his full, brawny height. “You kids have to leave.”

Leave? Y/N’s eyes widened at the thought. Was Hakoda possibly suggesting that they leave the rest of his fleet here to fend for themselves?

“What?!” Katara rushed forward to grab her father’s arms. “We can’t leave you behind. We’re not leaving anyone behind.” 

Hakoda bent down to look his daughter in the eyes. “You’re our only chance in the long run. You have to take Aang somewhere safe. You have to keep hope alive.”

Katara looked away from her father, back to her friends. Y/N could see the tears flooding her eyes at the thought of leaving her father behind–losing him–once again. Y/N’s heart ached for Katara. It ached for Sokka too. He was about to take on so much responsibility. He was also about to shove the full brunt of the blame for the invasion plan not working onto his own shoulders; Y/N could already see the guilt wearing on him with the way he looked at his father.

“The adults will stay behind and surrender. We will be prisoners, but we’ll all survive this battle,” Bato said, his voice morose. 

Y/N felt a rush of urgency roll through her body. As much as she could see that Katara and Sokka didn’t like the idea, they weren’t speaking up against it. No one had an idea that was better. Except for maybe Y/N. She couldn’t let the rest of them stay behind like sitting turtle-ducks, waiting to be picked up and imprisoned. She had to do something.

“No way. I’m not going to let that happen.” Y/N’s voice rang through the troops. She didn’t stop there, not after stunning everyone into silence. She approached Hakoda and Katara stepped away to stand next to him. “I can get you out of here.”

Sokka erupted. “You can’t stay behind! You’ll get thrown into prison. You can’t!” He grabbed her hand like he wanted to plead with her but Y/N was already twisting out of his grip. She didn’t need him to make this harder than it already was. 

“No! I can’t just leave knowing I could have done something,” She shouted at Sokka. Y/N turned back to Hakoda. “I know this island. There are forests and mountains and there are thousands of caves to hide in. I can take us there and then no one needs to get caught!” She stared into Hakoda’s eyes with each word she spoke. 

As much as she wished Hakoda would jump at the chance to save himself, he didn’t look convinced that it was worth risking Y/N’s freedom as well. He opened his mouth to speak, to no doubt turn Y/N’s offer down and send her on her way with her friends on Appa, with the adults left behind in the dust to suffer the consequences. 

But Y/N was faster. She spoke around the lump in her throat. “If you stay behind, you won’t live to see the end of this war. And I know that too.” Her voice was low enough that only those around her could hear her words; Katara gasped at her bluntness. 

Even then, Y/N was surprised when Hakoda gave a curt nod to her, much to Sokka’s disapproval. He didn’t have time to give Y/N the lecture he so badly wanted to because just then, The Duke hollered, “They’re at the beaches!”

Y/N turned around to watch in horror as the Fire Nation airships dropped bombs onto the submarines that they had ridden in not 30 minutes ago. They were completely and utterly decimated with so much excessive firepower that Y/N could smell the burning from where they were. With their only escape officially cut off, a nervous murmuring broke out among the troops, and suddenly Y/N was extremely anxious for herself. 

How was she supposed to get a group as large as theirs around in the jungle silently, looking for a hiding place? What had she just gotten herself into?

---

Their goodbyes were quick. They had to be. Katara hugged her first, squeezing her so tight that Y/N thought she would stop breathing. It was a welcome comfort. 

“I trust that you know what you’re doing.” Katara bit her lip. “As much as I hate the idea.” 

“This is our only chance,” Y/N replied. Because what else was she supposed to say? How could she comfort someone else and when she couldn’t even do that for herself.

Katara squeezed her arm. “I know.”

She left only to be quickly replaced by Toph who gave Y/N a very uncharacteristic hug. “You better come back soon. I can’t deal with all of Sokka’s whining while you’re gone.” 

It was meant to be lighthearted; something that would make Y/N giggle, but there was a seriousness to it as well. Did Sokka really rely on her company so much? They hadn’t been separated for more than a few hours since she had joined them. She didn’t want to think what a few days would do to either of them.

“You got it, Toph. Keep everyone safe for me, alright?”

The younger girl nodded and earthbent herself up to Appa’s saddle. 

---

Aang was still staring off at the burning submarines when Y/N approached him from behind, laying a soft hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Everything is going to be okay. I told you, you’re going to have another chance at taking down the Firelord.”

Aang turned to look at her, his eyes were filled with tears. “Only because I have people sacrificing everything for me.”

Y/N nodded. “Sometimes–” she sighed and chewed on her chapped lips. She didn’t need to give the boy a lecture on the hardships of war. He knew far too much of that already. “We know what we’re doing. We want to do this for you. You’re the most important tile on the pai sho board, Aang.”

He shook his head like he didn’t believe her. “I’m taking everyone to the–”

“No.” Y/N broke in and looked away. “Don’t tell me where you’ll be. Just in case.”

Aang looked at her with sad, grey eyes, knowing exactly why she didn’t want to know the location of where he would be hiding out. He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged her before airbending himself to Appa. Y/N watched as he hid his head in a way so that he didn’t have to look at anyone that he was leaving behind; his shoulders shook with sobs. 

---

When Sokka approached her, Y/N unstrapped her sword from her back and held it out to him.

“What are you doing? You might need this.” He said, surprised. His voice was thick with unshed tears. Y/N could tell he was trying to stay strong at the thought of leaving behind so many. His jaw was set and he couldn’t quite look at her directly. 

 Y/N did the same, looking everywhere but Sokka’s eyes, after realizing that was the only thing that was going to stop her from crying in the moment. “I have my knife. Besides, this is assurance that I’ll come back to you. I wouldn’t let you keep it forever.” Y/N let out a watery laugh. 

She wrapped her arms around Sokka and hugged him like she’d never hugged anyone before. She felt so much more grounded when she was around him. She felt like she was finally accepted. It was so hard to let go of that feeling that she had been searching for her whole life. She wanted to remain there, bathed in warmth forever, but she knew she would have to let him go sooner than she wanted to.

“I’m sorry. I’ll see you later.” She whispered the words into his shoulder, because saying goodbye made it too real. 

A quick kiss to the lips and then Appa was gone, carrying her friends and disappearing in the smoke like they had never been there in the first place. Which is exactly what she wanted. 

Y/N allowed herself to take a shuddering breath in and out. She wiped at her tears with the back of her hands and turned to face the troop of warriors she was meant to lead to safety. 

“Let’s go.”

---

They moved as quickly as they could for a group of 20-some-odd warriors and a young girl at their helm. 

In those early years, before she lived at the palace, she would explore her new home in the Fire Nation with her brothers; before Ren joined the army and before Haruki got mean. That meant she knew the terrain well enough to get them around, but keeping them hidden, well that was a whole other story. 

Every time that Y/N heard a branch snap, her head would turn back expecting to see them overrun with Fire Nation soldiers, but it hadn’t happened. And the farther they got from the Royal Caldera City, the easier she began to breathe. That was until she heard shouting in the distance.

Their words weren’t discernible from where she was at, the wind was whipping too hard in the tops of the trees above her, but it was clear that they weren’t safe yet. She had the men pause and crouch down as she pressed a finger to her lips, signaling them to be quiet. It was a pointless motion, no one had said a word since they’d left the cliffs behind. 

“There’s some large caves about 100 yards ahead through the trees,” Y/N whispered to Hakoda. She clamped her lips together as she heard another yell, off in the trees. Much closer this time. 

“Why are you telling me?” Hakoda shook his head. 

“Because I’m going to go draw those soldiers away so you can take everyone there?” Y/N stood up and drew her knife. 

“That’s not a good idea, Y/N.” Hakoda warned.

Y/N wasn’t sure it was either, but she’d made it her duty to get these warriors to somewhere where they could hide. She made a promise to herself that she would do it. “I’m fast. I’ll meet you back there.”

Y/N took off before Hakoda could say anything else to her. 

---

Y/N found the soldiers. She hid between a fork of trees watching them traipse around making far too much noise to be any good at tracking. It didn’t matter though, if they saw them they’d capture them. Y/N chewed on a nail as she thought of a plan to lure them in the opposite direction just to give Hakoda and Bato extra time to lead their group to somewhere safe. 

Y/N flinched as she heard the snap of a twig behind her. She ducked further down into the brush, hoping that the black of her armor and the setting sun would hide her. 

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and Y/N whipped around with her knife ready to embed it in the poor soldier who decided to mess with her.

She pulled back just in time to save Hakoda’s face from a fresh wound. 

She dragged him down next to her in the brush quickly to avoid being seen. “Why did you follow me?”

“Why didn’t you go with the other kids?” He retorted.

Y/N looked away ashamed. She didn’t know how to answer him. How was she supposed to admit that if she had left she would have felt like she was running away. Even though she didn’t think that of Sokka or Aang, she felt it about herself. She never would have been able to justify leaving people behind for her own sake. She deserved it. It was her punishment to stay behind and risk her life. Punishment for leaving Azula, punishment for even thinking like that still, punishment for asking Azula to come with her, punishment for getting Suki thrown in prison. Y/N couldn’t stop the sins she had committed from filling her brain and swirling around until her ears rang. 

“So what’s your plan?” Hakoda asked, interrupting her from her thoughts.

Y/N hadn’t gotten as far as already having a plan made but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “You shouldn’t have come. You’re still hurt.”

“I’m not going to leave you out here alone.”

“You should,” Y/N muttered. 

“Come on,” Hakoda bumped her elbow. “I’ll go around to the other side and we’ll split up and lure them off in that direction.” Hakoda nodded his head in the direction of Capital City. “Then, we’ll double back and head to the cave.”

Y/N nodded and waited for Hakoda to get in position, then she took off running, cutting directly through the group of Fire Nation soldiers in front of her. 

Y/N made as much noise as she possibly could as she ran away from the soldiers, snapping branches and kicking bushes to make sure they were following her. She could hear the pounding of their boots as they chased her through the thicket and distant yelling as they ordered her to stop. Y/N’s heart raced everytime she slipped in the mud or stumbled over roots, thinking that every second would be the one where she was caught. 

What eventually caught her attention was the sound of silence in the forest. Well, as silent as a forest could get. Sure, she could still hear birds in the trees and the wind blowing, but the only sound of footsteps were her own. 

She spared a glance behind her and didn’t see anyone either and so Y/N began to slow to a jog. She was very suddenly aware that if no one was chasing her anymore, the only other person there was to chase was Hakoda. 

But then Y/N ran into a wall.

Except that wall was a person in Fire Nation armor.

And he was grinning like he had just won the lottery. 

---

Y/N pulled her knife but before she could take a stab at him, he grabbed and twisted her wrist, forcing her to drop it. She shrieked as her wrist popped; any more force and it would have broken. Y/N kicked the soldier in the shin and the man grunted, but never let go of her hand. She pulled and pulled against him, but he was easily twice her weight and it was no use. 

Y/N grabbed at his fingers and began pulling them off of her wrist. “Let go!!”

“Stop!” The soldier made a grab for her other hand and Y/N kicked out at him again, trying to keep him as far away as possible. “Stop kicking me!” He yelled.

“Then let go!!” Y/N growled as she grabbed his pinky finger and bent it backwards.

He did at that, yanking his hand away from Y/N’s fingers hastily. 

Someone grabbed her from behind and spun her around to face them. An orange flame danced much too close in her peripheral. Y/N froze in fear as a voice muttered, “If you keep that up, you’ll lose those fingers.” 

---

Y/N didn’t have much to say after that. She allowed the two soldiers to tie her hands behind her back and lead her to a small clearing where the rest of the soldiers waited. Kneeling in the middle, was Hakoda. 

He looked rough. There was a fresh bruise above his eye and there was fresh blood on his shirt; Y/N thought he might have reopened his previous wound on his side. 

Y/N was so embarrassed that she couldn’t even meet his eyes when she was shoved to the ground next to him. Instead, she focused on what was being said around them. Behind her, she could hear the soldier’s whispering about them. They knew who Hakoda was; that one was apparently pretty obvious with his Water Tribe armor, but her, she was an anomaly to them. 

“It doesn’t matter,” one of the soldiers who had captured her said. “They’re both going to the same place. The commander is going to want to talk to anyone who was possibly involved in the invasion. Then he’ll send them off.” 

---

Y/N wasn’t sure if she recognized the compound or not. She’d visited so many when her father was first moved to the Capital City and all of them looked the same. Large stone walls, look-out towers where guards were stationed, gates with metal bars as thick as Y/N’s arms at every entrance and exit. 

The sun was gone and it was pitch black, save for the lanterns lit around the grounds. The cool air had settled and Y/N shivered as her metal armor did nothing to keep her warm. Her hands were still tied behind her back so she couldn’t even wrap her arms around her torso to provide some windbreak. But then again, she also could have been shivering at the anticipation of what was going to come next. 

They were met outside a set of large doors by someone who was high ranking; Y/N could tell by the way the soldier at her side stiffened up at his arrival. He stood just outside of the lamp light and Y/N’s eyes strained to get a look at him. 

“Sir, we found these two running through the woods near where the invasion force was sighted.”

“And the others?” his voice was gravelly and familiar. Y/N held her breath awaiting the answer.

The soldier shook his head shamefully. “No sign of them.”

Y/N was able to relax for a second. Okay, the rest of them were still safely hidden.

The man took that moment to step out of the shadows and Y/N gasped. She knew him, and he knew her by the smile on his face. She flashed back to stuffy dinners at her house where they entertained army officers almost weekly. This was one of her father’s best friends, and if this man was here, he would be too.

“No matter.” He unfolded his hands from behind his back and grabbed Y/N’s chin gruffly. “Look who we caught.”

Y/N jerked her head out of his hand and glared. He pretended to not be perturbed and motioned for the other soldiers to take Hakoda away. 

Y/N freaked out. She thrashed around and did everything in her power to block the soldiers from even touching him. 

“You can’t take him!” she screamed. “Leave him alone! He wasn’t a part of this!”

It took two of them to hold her back.

“Y/N,” Hakoda said. His voice made her grow quiet, her legs felt like jelly underneath her. The look he gave her was grave and it made her heart thud with uncontrollable worry. “It’s okay. Don’t—“

They were already pulling him in the opposite direction they were taking her.

“I know!” She yelled back. He had to know that she would follow his instructions, he had to know that she would do everything in her power to keep quiet. She wasn’t going to turn on them at the first sign of trouble. Never. 

She chanted the words in her head like a psalm: Don’t say anything about Aang. Don’t say anything about the invasion. Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything.

---

Y/N was led gruffly through one set of doors and then another and shoved onto her knees in an office. She was left alone, which wasn’t at all surprising. She was about to get interrogated by the only man she’d never been able to fool. And he wouldn’t want anyone around to witness his disgrace of seeing his own daughter being the enemy.

The door behind her was opened so forcefully it nearly fell off the hinges and Y/N flinched. He took no time walking around her and leaning on the front edge of the desk in the corner. 

Y/N couldn’t see him though, she’d only heard the stomp of his boots on the floor. She had turned her face into her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting with bated breath for the yelling.

She could feel his eyes travel over her short hair, her black armor, the red clothes that she still wore; as if she couldn’t choose between familiarity or blatant treason.

With a stroke of bravery that came from within, Y/N took a deep breath and faced him. “Hi Dad.”

---

Y/N was sure flames were going to leap out of his eyes. He was dressed in all his Fire Nation armor as if he had just stepped onto the base from his ship. Y/N used to think it made him look important and regal, the high points on the shoulders of his chest-piece and the arm guards that had had the Fire Nation symbol up the sides in gold. All of that coupled with his build and height made him an intimidating man. Y/N wanted to be like him for so long; now it just looked like he was compensating for his own inadequacies. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her father’s voice shook with anger. Each word he said was clipped like a punch to the gut. 

“I’m saving the world.”

He scoffed. “You’ve always thought that you were more important than you ever were.” 

“I’m finally doing something for myself.” For some reason Y/N felt like she needed her father to see the reasoning behind her actions, as if he could understand them, he would be more sympathetic. But he’d never been sympathetic towards her. 

“This is the opposite of for yourself!! You’re working against us! Against your family! You’ve betrayed us all, worst of all you’ve betrayed me.” Y/N’s father began to pace in front of her. 

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever disappointed you,” Y/N muttered. 

“I always knew there was something wrong with you. I thought when you became friends with the Fire Princess, you’d finally found a purpose, but you’ve always been weak-minded. You’re so easily swayed one way or another by the words of others.” 

“No one said a word to sway me in any direction! I made this choice for myself!” Y/N shouted defensively.

“It’s why you can’t firebend,” He continued, not listening to a word that came out of her mouth. “You’ve never been strong enough, you don’t have an inner fire.” 

Y/N sighed as the same song and dance of her childhood circled around her. Her father had always believed that the only reason she was a non-bender was because she simply wasn’t powerful enough to produce flames, not that it was possible she just wasn’t a bender. 

“Why does the conversation always lead back to–”

“Silence!” Y/N’s cheek stung as the back of his hand collided with it. 

 Her father stood in front of her and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You always make me so mad, Y/N.” he said, almost sadly. “I tried to take care of this weeks ago, the second I learned of your rebellion–”

“What?” Y/N whimpered, she looked up at him through wet eyelashes. “What do you mean take care of this? Did–did you send those men after me? To kill me?!”

“You think I wanted to?!” Her father shouted. “You’re a traitor. You turned your back on your nation. You’ve embarrassed me enough. What are they going to think of a commander who’s 15 year old daughter attempted to stage a coup with the Avatar and the Water Tribe savages?” 

Y/N felt lightheaded. She wasn’t even listening to his words anymore. Azula didn’t try and kill her, her own father did. She had blamed Azula for so many things and this was one thing that she was completely innocent of. 

Finally, he turned his back on Y/N. The action was terminal and unwavering. “No one can know you were involved. It will ruin my reputation and I’ll be damned if you do anything more to tarnish the family name.”

Y/N dropped her chin to her chest and let her tears flow freely, now that his eyes were off of her. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think that her father would do anything as drastic as this. She wouldn’t expect forgiveness from him, that just wasn’t his way, but he was still her father. 

What would he have done if Kaito had been successful in his attempt on her life? How could her father have gone home to Y/N’s mother and acted like he didn’t have a part in her death? Would it roll off like water on a duck’s back, or would he have regrets? 

The worst part was the waves of disappointment that rolled through Y/N’s body. She wrestled with anger and embarrassment for her part in it all. She fought her whole life to gain the approval of the man standing in front of her and with one fell swoop she had knocked down everything she had already built up as if it was nothing, not the blood, sweat and tears she had put into it for so long.

Nothing could ever remedy the choices she had made in her father’s mind. Once he put his mind to something, he wasn’t one to change it. And while Y/N still stood by them for being the right decisions, she couldn’t help but think of the possibilities that could be, had everything been different. The outcomes were endless, but one thing was always certain; her father couldn’t have ever really loved her if he was so easily able to dispose of her.

----

A/N: so where do you think she’s going? lmao, y’all get One Guess. sorry not sorry for the angst. 

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[maybedefinitely404]

For You Became My Lighthouse

Genre: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

Pairing: romantic Prinxiety

Content: food/wine, Patton and Logan offscreen, anxiety attacks, argument, crying, fear of breakup.

Word count: 4k

Note: Not proofread. We die like men. Also part two is coming soon~

5:24

It definitely wasn’t every day that Virgil spent the early evening dancing around the kitchen while making dinner. But today was no ordinary day, and he was just too damn excited to stay still.

Figaro sat on the floor in the bedroom doorway, licking his paws and glaring disdainfully at the speaker system that had disrupted his nap. Virgil spotted the dark cat and grinned, dancing over to scoop him up. He hummed along to the music, bopping the disgruntled cat to the beat (much to his chagrin). Once upon a dream, Figaro might have fought tooth and nail at being used as a dance partner, but living with Roman for years had worn down his resolve. And after Virgil had entered their lives, he’d completely given up fighting their excuses for attention. Instead, the cat just yawned and went limp.

“Aw, did I wake you up, Figgy?”

The cat did not answer. 

Virgil let him hop from his arms onto his scratching tower and went back to slicing spinach on the counter, humming along to the music. He wanted it louder, loud enough that it numbed the excited tremble in his hands and drowned out his internal butterflies, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with noise complaints. Again. 

Instead, he opened the drawer in front of him and ran his fingers over the small box he’d placed in there hours ago. As he’d done countless times since, he opened the lid to make sure that the ring inside was still there, still perfectly centered and shining as brightly as it had been when he’d picked it up earlier that morning. 

Roman would never expect him to propose. Ask anyone who knew them and they’d agree that the romantic, outgoing, type-to-propose in their relationship wasn’t Virgil. Plus, he’d dropped no hints. Any time he met with Logan to plan, or went to the jewelers, and the million other things he’d had to do before this, he’d chalked it up to ‘having a bad day’ or ‘needing time alone’. 

He felt… a little bad, knowing in the recent months many of Roman’s attempts at dates had been turned down, only half the time due to actual bad days. But it would all be worth it in the end. The plan was to start with dinner; the meal they’d had on their first real date, followed by Virgil suggesting a walk. As they put on their jackets, he’d sneak the ring box into his pocket, and innocently lead them past a cafe for dessert, “coincidentally” the spot where Roman had asked Virgil to move in with him. Finally, the park, strung up with fairy lights and electric candles Logan and Patton had set up just before. It was their perfect mix of solitude and ‘extra’. Virgil would propose, and Roman would hopefully say yes, and everything would be perfect and amazing and-    

The oven timer beeped. There was fifteen minutes left for the dough to set; time to make the filling for the ravioli. But he’d barely started cooking the spinach when his phone chimed, alerting him of a text.

Hey V, dinner and a movie tonight? You can choose.

Virgil bit his lip and sighed, thumbs hovering over the keyboard for a second. As old as the excuse was getting, he needed to side step Roman’s plans one more time. Just one last time.

not feeling well. anxietys been all over the place. sry. 

He laid the phone back on the counter and returned his attention to the frying pan, flipping the greens and watching them wilt slowly. One eye on that, he pulled out his other ingredients from the fridge. He’d rather be ahead of schedule than behind. 

Ding ding.

Yeah, shocker. What else is new.

Virgil felt his heart drop. That wasn’t… at all in character for his boyfriend. Yeah, he’d used the excuse more often lately, but was it that much? He stared at his phone, hardly breathing, trying to think of some way to answer that, when a burnt smell reached his nose. 

“Shit,” He hissed, trading his phone for a spatula and turning the spinach once more. It was just on the brink of being overdone, just the edges turning a tad too dark, but nothing he couldn’t save. He scraped the pan’s contents into a bowl to cool and dumped it in the sink. The hiss and steam of the hot pan in water made him wince (he’d been told a million times it was bad, but he couldn’t recall why), but he left it on the bottom of the sink to fill and soak. Scrubbing dried spinach off it tomorrow would really put a damper on the ‘recently engaged’ mood.

“Mrow?”

Virgil shut off the water and turned to the trill, cursing when he realized Figaro had abandoned his tower in favor of sniffing the food on the counter.

“Figgy, no! Get down!” He plucked him away from the bowl just as he looked ready to pounce inside, much to the cat’s annoyance. “You would just spit it out, you big baby. Don’t look at me like that.” It probably wasn’t safe to keep cooking with the cat around anyways, so he went to their room and left him on their bed with a soft order to behave. Figaro blinked once at him with indignation before the door was closed, and Virgil hurriedly pulled out his phone.

Real mature, not answering. 

Virgil took a deep breath to push down the rising anxiety. He’s… probably just playing around, right? It’s probably meant in a lighthearted way but he was just misinterpreting the text harshly. It’s not malicious. Right?

sry, put figgy away

He paused for a moment, before shooting another quick text.

ur not actually mad right?

The typing bubble appeared.

And went away.

And popped up again.

And vanished.

That was enough confirmation to get Virgil’s heart pounding, all hope that Roman was just fooling around out the window. He was typing again, and this bubble was staying for longer, but now it was too long to be a simple affirmation.

I don’t know, Virgil. You used to actually contribute to this relationship, and now I’m the only one really trying. We barely ever go out, for like a couple months now. You always dodge my plans. I miss the old you, because right now I feel like I barely know you. I’m getting sick of it. 

Now Virgil properly couldn’t breathe. That sounded like the beginning, if not the entirety, of a breakup if he ever heard one. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck his stupid ideas, his stupid plans, fuck all of it. This is his fault, and Roman’s about to dump him, because he took his overdramatic proposal too far and it was about to end their relationship.

I’ll be home late. 

Okay, that wasn’t… a breakup? Unless, of course, he was going to do it in person, and needed time to plan how it was going to go. 

Cognitive distortions, is that what Logan had called them? Magnifying? Is that what was happening right now? There was a solid chance that Logan would agree with him, say that he wasn’t actually sure what Roman planned, and it would probably be okay, but it was very hard to be objective when he was in the middle of it.

how late?

Another deep breath. He placed the phone next to his mixing bowl, screen up so he would be sure to see the notification, and absentmindedly added in the ingredients he’d pulled from the fridge earlier. Shit, did they have thyme? 

Of course they did, he’d gone shopping for all the ingredients like two days ago. He needed to get out of his own head. 

The final timer went off, signaling the dough was ready to be used. Before he unwrapped the ball and got his hands covered in the stuff, he checked the lock screen on his phone. Nothing. 

It was fine, it was fine. 

Rolling out the pasta into one thin sheet took far more effort than he would have thought, and it took embarrassingly long before he was able to lay it out on the big ice cube tray he was using in place of an actual ravioli mold. He checked his phone. Nothing. 

Once he got the hang of filling the molds without making a huge mess, it was actually an easy process. He finished three and a half trays-worth before running out of dough and filling simultaneously, but that’s more than enough for the two of them. No answer yet. 

ro?

He set a pot on the stove full of water but didn’t turn it on; it would just be one less thing to do when he was ready to cook the ravioli. For now, he placed the pasta in the fridge so it didn’t dry up. Roman generally got home from work at six, which he had prepared for, except on late rehearsal days when he was held back an extra hour. That’s what Virgil consciously chose to believe; he meant he’d be home late because it was a longer day. He wasn’t answering now because he was on stage. Technically it all made sense, but it wasn’t enough to relieve the icy grip around Virgil’s lungs. 

romans gonna be late. push back an hour?

Logan sent back a thumbs up followed by his ‘-Logan’ sign off. Virgil sent a quick apology but didn’t bother to check the response when his phone lit up, focusing back on his plate of raw ravioli.

So, at five to seven, he’d boil the pasta and warm up the tomato sauce. It had been finished that morning and had been waiting in the fridge all day, because Virgil was a firm believer that it would taste better having had time to sit. Plus, he’d been excited, and had needed something to do with his hands. 

But now he needs something to do with his hands again, but instead of excitement, it’s a tingling discomfort spreading through his limbs and curling in his stomach. Convinced that there was nothing else in the kitchen he could do, he untied the apron and pulled it over his head, pleased at the stark black button up he’d successfully kept flour-free. The satisfaction doesn’t last for long.

Now that he’d acknowledged his shirt, it was impossible to ignore the way it wrapped far too tight around his neck. It’s fine, he thought as he unbuttoned the top button, I still look okay.

He may as well set the table. Patton, similar to Roman in regards to going above and beyond, had insisted Virgil go all out for the dinner. Stark white table cloth, silverware set perfectly next to the plates, and a tall, white candle as the centrepiece. Virgil had cringed a bit at the idea, but after being assured that Roman would love it, he’d reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t his style but, well, the night wasn’t supposed to be about him, no really. 

Watching TV did nothing to relieve the knot of uneasiness in his stomach, even when he unrolled his weighted blanket from the side basket and huddled into it. It brought a calm familiarity with it, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could pretend that someone was holding him. Patton’s soothing words, or Logan’s gravity, or Roman’s warmth or Roman’s safety or Roman’s gentleness or Roman-

6:53

Time to throw in the ravioli. He shut off the television, he hadn’t been watching it anyways, and turned the water on to boil. As it heated, he scuttled back to the table, some of his excitement returning. Sure, things had been tense on the phone, but Roman would be home any minute, and the rest of the night could go as planned. He pulls a small crinkle out of the white fabric and recenters the candle, stepping back to admire his work. It’s okay. If Roman had done it, it would probably look better, but who cared. It was fine. 

7:01

Virgil sighed, looking over his final creation once again. A part of him was cringing with the cheesiness of it all; the lit candle, food already plated, a bottle of wine fresh from the fridge. Getting a new wine may have been too much of a giveaway, so the feature was a half finished bottle from their last date… a few months ago. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if it would pair well. He didn’t even like wine. But it was Roman’s favorite, so it would have to do. 

He’d bitten three nails down to the nub by the time he figured he could add the tomato sauce over top. Roman was never later than seven, so the pasta wouldn’t even have the time to get soggy. 

In a combination of unfortunate events unlike any Virgil had experienced before, the tomato sauce bubbled the moment he grabbed the handle, dozens of pinpricks of heat burning his hands. He yelped and dropped the saucepan in favor of grabbing his scalded hand, jumping back as the pot hit the side of the counter and sent tomato sauce flying directly into the open drawer next to it. In his search for a match to light the candle, he’d left open the drawer containing the ring box, and in moments, the velvety exterior was coated in a fresh layer of marinara. 

“Fuck!” Virgil shouted. 

Heat be damned, he grabbed the box from the steaming puddle around it and rushed it to the sink. Running it under water would just be asking for the situation to be worse so he tried to scrape off the mess with a dishcloth. Was this even salvageable? 

No, it turned out. The white velvet had stained a shitty orange in a way he definitely couldn’t play off as the original color, and even though the interior (or god forbid the ring) hadn’t been touched, he found himself trying to fight off tears. This wasn’t fucking going well, and now… 

7:28

Roman was never this late, not without telling him. Virgil checked his phone and, nope, only the previous message from Logan and a newer one, asking if they could set up yet. He sent a quick:

no, hes not home yet

Panicking was not a move he wanted to make right now, despite how his brain was trying to convince him otherwise. Roman was probably stuck in traffic, right? And Virgil was always getting on him for texting and driving, so that could be why he hadn’t said anything. Sure, the route from the theatre to their house was barely ever busy, and yeah, it was way too late for there to be real holdups, but there was a first time for everything.  

He made quick work of cleaning up the disaster of marinara sauce, surprised that a decent amount was salvageable. Apparently in his panic he’d righted the pot before it had all spilled, so there was maybe just enough for the meals. The inside of the drawer was a stained, orange, mess, and the area under the burners was caked in dried sauce, and that was just too much work for right now. He slammed the drawer shut and threw a towel over the element. Out of sight, out of… well, not out of mind, but maybe it would take a backseat on ‘worries for the night’.

Might as well get a head start on dishes, he thought, since the thought of texting Roman is daunting and his whole body is aching for something to do. One second more of standing still and he may very well have combusted. He couldn’t even summon up the will to turn on music, the mood from before totally vanquished. If he could just get that burnt pan done, perhaps the tension in his chest would ease up a bit. 

But he cleaned the pan, and the rest of the dishes, and scrubbed the sink, and Roman still wasn’t home. At some point when he’d decided to just finish all of the dirty cookware he’d rolled up his sleeves, which he quickly lowered and rebuttoned around his wrists. The dishes were drying; nothing left to do there. 

He swallowed thickly. How was the shirt still too tight around his throat?

Virgil unbuttoned the next one down, hoping to ease the ball of fear in his throat. It didn’t help.

The food was lukewarm, at that point. It was still edible. It was microwaveable. It was fine. Again, the thought crossed his mind to text Roman, but what if he was driving? He might check it and get pulled over, and that would not help the uneasiness in their relationship right now. What if the phone’s light distracted him and he got into a car accident? He couldn’t lose Roman, not when their last words had been so strained, and it would be his fault on top? Not a chance. He’d be home any second now. He had to be. 

Virgil quickly found himself under his weighted blanket once more, watching whatever sitcom was on with dissociated interest, arms wrapped around his waist in a vice grip and feet bouncing under the covers. This time, though, the television worked less as a distraction and more as grating noise in his skull and he muted it, but that didn't stop the sudden stream of noise. Water was running through the pipes under him, some of his neighbors were shouting, and the fridge was humming and the lights overhead were buzzing and it’s all so loud-

His sound blocking headphones were also in the basket next to the couch and he shoved them over his ears. The world went quiet except for the sounds of his shaky breathing; breathe in, and out, and in, and out…

8:07

With the thick padding over his ears, the only sound he could hear was his breathing. It was somewhat reminiscent of Darth Vader’s, seeming far too loud, but also a steady foundation for him to ground on. Without the outside distraction, it was far easier to focus on his breaths, to slow them down, to get into a rhythm of long inhales and longer exhales. Bit by bit, the swarm of butterflies that had clasped around his heart gave way, allowing the anxiety to morph into numb sadness.

If Roman had come home on time, would they be in the park already? Would they be engaged? Maybe they’d already be back home, sharing the news to their families. Roman would probably already be gushing about wedding ideas as Virgil nodded along in amusement. They probably could have convinced Patton and Logan to come home too, and they could have had a great rest of the evening, finishing the bottle of wine and reliving the past and…

Were they even going to get engaged at this point?

He fumbled for his phone and sent a text to Logan.

plans off. sry

The headphones were overly effective in silencing the world, now amplifying his thoughts too much, so he slid them off. He took a deep breath, the sound now camouflaged in the rest of the apartment’s noise. A lump formed in his throat as he took in the arrangement of the dining room, and the more he pushed it down, the harder it was to stem the tears that were steadily filling his eyes. 

Virgil didn’t like feeling helpless, but that was all he felt at that moment.

Fuck.

Without forethought, he rubbed at his eyes, and instantly froze.

He drooped his head with a sigh that bordered on a groan, reluctantly lowering his hands from his face. Mixed in with his intercepted tears were the smudged remains of his makeup smeared across the web of his hands. 

Might as well; everything else went to shit anyways.

Usually, Virgil didn’t spend more than a minute removing his makeup. But that day, he spent an inordinate amount of time scraping off every streak of color until his face felt raw, watching his hard work be erased. He’d spent forever getting it perfect.

Even after he finished, he couldn’t get himself to move. That familiar weight of anxiety was settling again into the pit of his stomach as rushes of adrenaline, but he found it impossible to tear his eyes away from the mirror. As he stared into his own eyes, he vaguely remembered reading somewhere that looking at yourself in low lighting could trick one’s brain, causing the face to morph into something totally different, oftentimes not human; monstrous. Something about the brain trying to find faces everywhere, and creating them where it can’t see one properly. 

This didn’t happen to Virgil.

All he saw in the mirror was someone who had messed up his hope for a future. 

Huh. So maybe a ‘monster’ wasn’t too far off.

He laughed humorlessly and finally flicked off the bathroom switch, reentering the living room. The candle was still burning strong on the table, a good half way down. Virgil blew it out.

9:12

The state of apathy Virgil had sunken into was violently replaced with sharp anxiety when he finally bothered to check his phone, realizing it was past nine o’clock. Once more he considered asking Roman if everything was okay (heh, as if anything was okay) but he was quickly reminded why he hadn’t in the first place. Light distracts a driving Roman, bad things happen, it’s all his fault… 

Instead, he replied to Logan’s response.

Why? Virgil, what happened?

-Logan

we had a fight

His feet led him by their own will, pulling him to the wall so he could flip off the lights, dousing the apartment in darkness. Using the light from his phone screen, he stumbled to their room- or was it just Roman’s now? Would he have to move out? Oh god… where was he going to live?- ignoring Figaro’s mewls for pets. 

What did this fight regard? 

-Logan

idk. a bunch of stuff.

He stripped out of his formal shirt, hands shaking so bad he could barely undo the buttons, and exchanged it for his favorite hoodie. It may be too hot to sleep in, but he felt the need for comfort more than he was concerned about heat. 

Virgil dropped onto the bed next to the clothes, finally relenting to Figaro’s complaining and stroking down his back. In the stillness of a silent apartment, it was suddenly harder than ever to not completely break down. At least he wiped off his makeup.

This was over dinner?

-Logan

no. over text. he never came home.

He allowed the first tears to fall.

Maybe this had all been building up for a while and Virgil had just been too dumb to see the signs. Was this the night he lost everything? Would the one person he never grew tired of, the only person he had truly loved, leave him? He didn’t know what he’d do without Roman and somehow, he didn’t think he’d have a hope of ever finding someone like him again.

The tremors and blurry vision made it difficult to type.

i think romans going to break up with me

It took barely half a second after it sent for his phone to start ringing, Logan’s name showing up on the caller ID. 

Later, Virgil wouldn’t even remember pressing the answer button. The moment he heard Logan’s voice over the phone, his unusually concerned voice overlapping with Patton’s questions, the dam broke. He sobbed his way through an explanation the night, the text messages they’d swapped, and his snowball of anxiety.

To no surprise, the two on the other line immediately offered to come over, but Virgil declined. There was still the tiniest part of him, the littlest hope, that Roman was still going to walk through that door any second. If (when, when, when) he came home, they would need to talk, and it would complicate matters if Logan and Patton were there. 

When he eventually yawned in the middle of a sentence, he was encouraged to go to bed. He really didn’t need to be convinced; he was more than ready for this evening to be over. After promises that he’ll update them first thing in the morning, and multiple reminders that Patton loved him, he was left alone in the apartment once again. 

He curled into a ball on his side of the bed and cried himself to sleep.

Part two HERE!

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

🎄 This may be a little (read: a lot) cliche, but could you do a blurb on where you don’t think Tom is going to make it home for Christmas but he surprises you by knocking on the door? Thank you lovely!!!

Request 2: Tom with “I won’t make it home for Christmas” for your sleepover. I love some angst, tho maybe a fluffy ending?

A/n: The first day of blurbmas! This one is coming early because I couldn’t schedule it. These requests have been sitting in my inbox for a year so again I’m really sorry it’s late. I also got a little carried away with this and I was in the mood for dad!Tom so... 

WC: 1.8k 

Warnings: Some mild angst but other than that cuteness overload

12 days of Blurbmas! 

Christmas was your favourite time of the year and had been since you were little. It just felt so magical, like anything could happen. 

When you were younger you used to wish for things like a new bike or that new CD of the artist you really liked but you had never felt like you wanted anything more than your wish this year. It was something you knew Santa could never bring you and this close to Christmas you would think it near impossible but still you hoped. That was until you got a phone call a few days before Christmas. 

You were just wrapping some last minute presents when your phone rang. You smiled at the picture that flashed onto your phone and answered the call. 

“Hi darling.” Even just the sound of his voice as tired as it was could lift your spirits and make you smile.

“Hi Tommy. How’s filming going?” 

Your fiancé had been gone for 2 months now filming his next movie and whilst you missed him like crazy there was no doubt how proud of him you were. Tom hated being away for so long especially since Emma had been born but you reassured him you were both fine and sent updates about your little girl everyday.

“It’s going great.” Tom’s voice sounded strained, feeding more into your doubt that something was wrong. 

“Baby what’s wrong?” 

He sighed through the phone and you could tell he was running his hand through his messy curls and probably tapping his foot. You waited patiently for his answer but your worry grew more by the second. 

“I-I don’t think I’m gonna make it home in time for Christmas. I’m so sorry my love.” 

Your whole heart sank to the pits of your stomach, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you looked at the present you had just wrapped for him. You took a deep breath and tried to hide all emotion from your voice as you spoke to Tom. 

“Oh baby, that’s okay.” 

“No it isn’t.” He knew you too well. He could pick up on the smallest change in your voice or expression, he knew that his news would make you feel disappointed and upset. “I want to be home with you and Emma but there’s no flights going in or out anytime soon.”

You bit your lip and nodded mostly to yourself. You had heard about the snowstorm in Atlanta but you’d hoped it would die down before Christmas. Wishful thinking, you thought.

“I can still facetime you on Christmas day. I know it won’t be the same but-” 

“Tommy, it’s okay.” You couldn’t stop the sniffle that escaped you as you tried to hold back your tears. “We can just celebrate when you get back.” 

“O-okay.” Tom was doing his best to sound okay too and you were both thankful you weren’t facetiming right now. Just as you were about to try and change the subject, a loud sound went off in the distance from the other end of the phone. “I have to go back to set, I love you darling.” 

“I love you too baby.” 

As soon as the call ended, you let the tears fall and took a shaky breath. Usually you could deal with Tom being home later than usual or even missing your birthday but Christmas was your favourite time of year and you’ve always spent it together. 

You were just fiddling with the ring on your finger when you heard the door creak open. You quickly wiped your eyes and put the presents out of sight. 

“Mummy?” 

You turned to see your 3 year old daughter walking into your room in her unicorn pajamas, holding her spider-man plushie that Tom had gotten her close to her chest. 

“You should be asleep, little miss.” You whispered but held your arms open anyway. Emma smiled and cuddled into your arms as you picked her up. She caught a stray tear falling down your cheek and frowned. 

“Why are you crying Mummy?” 

You looked at your daughter’s little pout and smiled at how much it reminded you of Tom as well as her messy brunette curls. You cuddled her close and kissed her head, choosing not to tell her until morning otherwise she’d never sleep. 

“It’s nothing.” 

Emma gave you a look before seeming to accept your answer and cuddled into bed with you. She looked so small on Tom’s side of the bed as she snuggled down which made you smile. She gave a small yawn as she closed her eyes, muttering the one question you wished you hadn’t asked.

“When’s daddy coming home?” 

You sighed and ran your fingers through her curls, humming softly. “Not soon enough.” You let out a watery giggle and Emma smiled before quickly falling asleep next to you. 

When you did eventually tell Emma that Tom wouldn’t be home in time for Christmas, her little eyes filled up with tears so quickly that it broke your heart. She didn’t stop fussing and crying the entire day, kicking her legs and refusing to do much that you asked. It wasn’t until you went to bed that you let yourself really feel your emotions and cry, making one last wish that Tom would come home. 

Despite the emptiness of Tom’s presence you still tried to make the most of Christmas eve. You made your famous hot chocolate, put on Emma’s favourite christmas movie and made sure to bake extra cookies so you could have some as well as Santa. 

Tom facetimed you from his hotel room and it almost felt like he was really there except for his warm arms around you and kisses he would try to steal whenever he could. Emma loved talking to Tom on facetime because they would always pull funny faces at each other and talk nonsense for the most part. 

Emma ended up falling asleep on your lap after the film finished and you got to spend some time with Tom. You both tried not to talk about the obvious or how much you missed each other, trying to keep it lighthearted since it was Christmas eve. 

“Oh I got Emma this amazing present. Just wait until you see her-”

Tom and you both looked down and sighed. 

“Sorry, I-i forgot for a minute.” You apologised, fidgeting once again with your ring which is something you did whenever you missed Tom. He noticed the behaviour and bit his lip, wanting so desperately to be there with you. 

“It’s okay. I’ll try and be home as soon as I can.” 

You nodded and put on a smile, both of you knowing there wasn’t a lot he could do in the middle of a snowstorm. You could see it still flurrying past his window. 

After the phone call ended with your usual “I love you’s” you carefully picked Emma up and put her to bed. You kissed her forehead and said goodnight, making sure she was really asleep before going down to set up for christmas. You ate the cookies, drank the milk and put the presents under the tree so that it was all ready for the morning before going to bed. You wore Tom’s hoodie and snuggled close to his pillow as you fell asleep that night. 

You woke up the next morning to a loud knocking sound from downstairs. Before you could even register what day it was let alone the time there was another knock, louder this time and more persistent. 

“Jeez I’m coming.” 

You sighed as you looked at your alarm clock and got out of bed, yawning sleepily as you walked downstairs. The floor was too cold for your feet and you were ready to have a go at whoever was on the other side of the door for making you wake up this early.

“You do know it’s 6am on Christmas morn-” You mumbled grumpily as you opened the door, your eyes not quite catching up with your brain as you expected it to be a neighbour or the mailman. 

“Hi darling.” 

Your eyes shot open as you looked up, your heart thumping loudly in your chest as it started to race. There standing in your doorway as Tom. His hair was mess under his beanie which was covered in snow like the rest of him. He looked tired and cold but the smile on his face couldn’t be clearer. 

Before you could decide whether it was a dream or not you wrapped your arms tightly around Tom. His arms wrapped around you and held you tight. Neither of you needed to say a word as you held each other, the snow falling down around you in a perfect flurry. 

When you finally pulled away, both of you smiled at each other. You shook your head and held him close as a million questions rushed around your brain. “H-how?” 

“I have my ways and I couldn’t miss Christmas with my girls.” Tom smiled and cupped your face with his gloved hands. He rubbed his thumb over your cheek before planting a sweet kiss on your lips. You smiled and kissed him back, your fingers tangling in his curls.

You wanted nothing more than for this moment to last forever but soon enough you heard little footsteps coming down the stairs followed by a loud scream.

“Daddy!” 

You pulled away and giggled as Emma ran over to Tom. He picked her up into his arms and cuddled his daughter close, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. 

“Hey princess.” 

You smiled at the sight before Tom pulled you into the hug, kissing both of your heads. “Merry Christmas my loves.” 

You stayed like that for a moment before the cold began to sink into your skin and you pulled Tom inside. He took off his cold clothes and changed into his christmas pajamas as per tradition. Meanwhile, Emma finally spotted all the presents and started jumping excitedly. 

Once you were all downstairs, warm and most importantly together you told Emma she could open her gifts. Tom wrapped his arms around you and kissed your head as he watched and opened his own gifts too. 

He also gave you and Emma the presents he had brought whilst filming and you smiled at him in surprise. 

“You didn’t have to baby.”

“I wanted to. Open it.” 

He stole a kiss and held you close as you opened the box. You gasped softly as you saw the stunning silver necklace with a small H on it. 

“It’s a H for Holland.” He smiled, a small blush painting his cheeks as he put it on you. 

“I love it.” You smiled wide and kissed over his face, holding him close. Emma was already fascinated with the singing Elsa doll that Tom had given her which made you both laugh. 

The truth was you didn’t need all the presents under the tree because you’d gotten your Christmas wish that year and your family was all you needed.

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[shipmistress9]

8 -hiccstrid 😊💜

HICCSTRID

8. Interrupting with a kiss

This is actually a story idea I was pondering over for a good while now. But it fits this prompt, so I had a great excuse to finally write it down. ^^

Fateful Heights

Speak of the devil and he shall appear…

Hiccup couldn’t help but marvel about this saying as he threw a cautious glance down into the gaping abyss below his dangling feet. Or, well, the rest of the funfair, but it certainly felt like a gaping abyss…

Earlier, when they'd waited in line to get onto the Drop Tower, they’d all joked about how scary it would be to get stuck at the top. Then, when Snot, Legs, and the twins were getting onto the first ride while he and Astrid had to wait for the next round, he’d joked about how it would actually be funny to watch them get stuck and get sick now. It had been mainly to interrupt the awkward silence between him and Astrid, the girl he’d had a crush on since forever. But she’d laughed and agreed that it would be hilarious to watch.

Now, however? Now, it was him and Astrid being stuck on this stupid tower. For ten minutes now, the thing hadn’t moved even one inch. Every now and then, the operator called up instructions or reassurances over a megaphone, but in all honestly, that didn’t help the feeling of dread in his guts one bit.

It wasn’t even the height per se that bothered him. He absolutely loved heights. Snot had even jokingly commented before that Hiccup got high on heights, and, well… he wasn’t so far off. Of all the rides they’d planned to go on today, this one was the one he’d been looking forward to the most.

No, it wasn’t the height that made him feel queasy. It was the sense of helplessness. To be out of control and at the mercy of someone else, something else.

The wind, usually a highly welcome sensation when blowing around his face, now made him clutch so tightly at the handle that his knuckles stood out white. One person a few seats to his right had dropped their shoe, and it had taken a disturbingly long time to reach the ground.

And it was no exaggeration when he thought that the only thing keeping him sane was Astrid sitting next to him.

“Hey, look over there,” she now said, her hand awkwardly pointing to a spot on the horizon. “There’s a ship coming in. I bet the people on the ground can’t see it yet, not even those right at the harbour.”

His eyes followed her finger and his quick mind did the calculation without him even having to think about it. “That’s a bet you would win,” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible, to not show how scared he truly was. “My guess would be, that it’ll still be up to three hours before that ship is visible from the pier.”

Next to him, Astrid shifted in her seat and somehow managed to peer past the safety harness to throw him a bemused look. “You’re such a nerd,” she eventually chuckled.

Hiccup blushed, but wasn’t too bothered by her comment. He was a nerd; no point in pretending otherwise. And as long as she said it like this—with the undertone of teasing affection instead of as an insult—she could call him whatever she wanted, anyway.

A few minutes passed in relative silence. Around them, people were chatting, crying, one even screaming, but Hiccup did his best to blend them all out. Instead, he focused on Astrid who was humming to herself. It was a little off-tune but somehow still the most relaxing noise he’d ever heard.

“Hey, look!” she suddenly exclaimed. “I found the other’s.”

Hiccup glanced down in the direction she indicated.

“Over there, between that building with the red roof and the yellow-and-blue-striped tent.”

“Ah, yes, I see them.” Hiccup thought for a moment, the map of the funfair before his mental eye. “They probably got themselves an early dinner. The building is the pizzeria, I think.”

“Huh...” Astrid grunted, and even though he couldn’t see her face, he could imagine how she would narrow her eyes right now. “Yeah, you’re right. We’re locked up here, possibly about to fall to our death, and these idiots are eating!”

“At least, they didn’t get popcorn,” Hiccup muttered. He liked his friends, but at least Tuff wasn’t beyond finding their situation entertaining. Snot probably too.

Astrid snorted. “They know better than to risk that. I’d haunt them for the rest of eternity. Hey, do you think I can spit onto their pizza if I aim well enough?”

Again, Hiccup’s mind did some quick calculation out of reflex before he shook his head. “I’d say you can’t,” he said regretfully. “Not to insult your aim, but from this height and with the wind, it would be all but impossible to predict where your spit lands, if it reaches the ground at all. And as much as I’d pay to see Snot’s face when you ruin his pizza like that, I wouldn’t wish the same fate on anyone else.”

Astrid sighed. “Fair enough. But if he gives me the slightest reason, I will hit him.

“I won’t stop you,” Hiccup chuckled. He was unable to fully put his feelings into words, not even inside his head. But he knew that without Astrid, he would have gone insane. How she managed to be so lighthearted in their current situation was beyond him, but her jokes and generally good mood were all that kept his own despair at bay.

Their rescue didn’t take too long after that. Maybe it had just been an error in the software, but from one moment to the other, they were moving again. Initially, there was even more screaming, some surely fearing they were all going to crash to their death now. But their decent was slow, gentle, and only a few minutes later, they were all back on solid ground.

On shaky legs, he and Astrid were ushered to the side, to a hastily erected tent where medics were waiting for them to make sure everyone was physically unharmed. Mentally might be another question, though.

Once he and Astrid were allowed to leave, Hiccup let out a deep breath. “Oh, what a trip. I always loved these Drop Towers, but now, I’m not sure I’ll ever want to—”

He broke off when Astrid suddenly grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t a gentle one, teeth digging into his lips from how hard she pressed herself against him.

Hiccup was stunned, unable to react other than let his hands land on her waist. Of all the things he’d expected from this day, Astrid kissing him had been even further down the list than getting stuck on a ride. But here she was, clinging to him, and he even thought he could feel her heart pounding against his chest.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it had started. Hiccup was still trying to comprehend when she released his mouth and instead buried her face against his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Oh, Gods,” she gasped, voice nearly breaking. “I thought we would surely die here.” She was shaking he now noticed, and so he wrapped his arms more firmly around her, holding her in a comforting embrace. Did this still count as comforting, though? It was meant to be comforting, at least.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he tried to soothe her. “We made it. Nothing happened, we got off with no more than a fright.”

Astrid’s grasp grew even tighter. “How did you do it?” she gasped. “How did you manage to keep so calm up there? I was so scared that my brain stopped working completely. I think I was babbling the entire time but can’t remember a thing I said. But you? You even did math up there. I…” She trailed off, took a deep breath, and calmed down at least a little again. “Without you staying so calm, I would have gone insane.

Hiccup, still caught in how surreal this situation was, awkwardly patted her back. “Honestly, I was just as scared. Only coped because of all the jokes you made.”

Laughing a little shakily, she eventually pulled back. “Looks like we both helped each other then.”

She turned and made a step toward the exit, but Hiccup couldn’t let her go now. Not with like this, with this one moment hanging between them. “Astri?” he called her back, picking up all his courage as she glanced back at him. “Why did you kiss me?”

She blushed and, ducking her head, swiped a strand of loose hair out of her face before she answered. “You… didn’t miss that, huh? Of course, you didn’t.” She let out a weak chuckle. “It’s… I—I wanted to ask you for a long time and promised myself that, should we get off that tower alive, I’d do it. But I guess my mind skipped a few steps there. I-I’m sorry, we can pretend it never happened if you—”

She didn’t get the chance to say any more. Hiccup bridged the distance between them with one step, cupped her face with both hands, and pressed his lips to her mouth. This kiss wasn’t as harsh as the other had been, soft and gentle. Astrid didn’t need long to catch up, her lips twitching into a grin before she kissed him back. It was a chaste kiss, sweet with only lips. But as her arms slid around his waist, Hiccup felt as if this had to be the best kiss of his life so far.

When they parted, Hiccup let his forehead rest against hers, unwilling to part just yet. “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen,” he murmured. “I’m glad it did.”

Astrid nodded, then pulled away and threw him a warm smile. “Okay. So… should we go back to the others now? But I warn you, I stand by what I said. Or at least I think I said something like this. If your cousin makes even one stupid comment, I’ll hit him.”

Chuckling, Hiccup reached for her hand, inwardly rejoicing when her fingers closed around his without hesitation. “Again, I won’t stop you.”