#I love these two so dearly but I genuinely feel like a single parent with them

[marvelstoriesepic]

Latte (He)art

Pairing: Barista!Bucky x Coworker!College!Reader

Summary: Your sweet coworker at the café you work at part time is the only thing able to brighten your day. So it’s only practical that he always ends up in the same shift as you.

Word Count: 7.8k 🐻☕🧋🍪

Warnings: Reader having College stress; mentions of a single mother (not reader); some coffee is spilled; Bucky is a sweetheart; Bucky is worried

Author’s Note: This little piece is written for @elixirfromthestars writing challenge. I actually planned to write this a month earlier but life got in between lol. Here it is now. I dearly hope you enjoy what I made of your lovely prompt.

🤎Coffee Cup🤎 “So we’re swapping our cups, and after a while, we’re swapping a glance. And I can think nothing better than starting the year with a drop of romance.” -Anthony Lazaro

Masterlist

The windows of the coffee shop receive more of your attention than the assortment of pastries you’re supposed to prepare to showcase behind the counter.

It’s fifteen minutes before Bucky’s shift starts and your belly flutters at the thought of seeing him again.

The early morning sun filters through the windows, offering a soft glow that casts warm beams of light to sweep across the floor and catch the glistening frosting on the cinnamon rolls. Their sweet, spiced aroma laced with hints of vanilla and brown sugar wafts through the air.

However, your gaze is more drawn to the street outside, scanning the road for a short mop of chestnut hair.

You like to snag shifts before the classes of your day start, relishing in the early morning hours and being satisfied with getting some work done before studying. But in the two and a half months since you started working at ‘Barnes Brown Beans’, you had come to recognize Bucky seems to prefer working in the morning as well. So, he actually may be the main reason.

Also, you’re usually, coincidentally - or so you tell yourself - paired with him anyway.

You’re grateful for this job. The shop’s close proximity to your university makes it an easy commute and the wages are fair. That’s a blessing in itself. But more than that, it was George and Winifred Barnes, the owners, who initially made it easy for you to love this job.

Winifred had greeted you with sweet enthusiasm at your job interview for a part-time job, making you instantly feel more at ease. After asking a few routine questions and warmly assuring you that the position was yours, she shifted the conversation to your studies with genuine interest and asked if you were good with balancing work and university life - a mother's worries.

It didn’t take long for her to start gushing about her children. She explained to you how her son, Bucky, had been helping out at the coffee shop ever since high school. Instead of pursuing college, like many of his peers and his best friend Steve, he chose to stay in New York to help manage the family business. “I’m sure you two will get along well” she had said with a kind of knowing grin you couldn’t make sense of.

She even shared with you that his little sister, Rebecca, always had a burning passion for studying architecture abroad. Unfortunately, the Barnes simply couldn’t afford a college education for both children, so Bucky decided to step up, taking on more responsibility at the shop so his parents wouldn’t be overwhelmed and relieving them of some stressful work, allowing his sister to follow her dreams.

She spoke with so much love and gratitude she held for her son, it almost made you tear up. She mentioned that Bucky never once showed resentment or regret for the path he chose.

Instead, he took pride in his role, and you could see it too. During your brief time working with him, you noticed how he carried himself with a quiet determination. There is genuine joy in the way he treats customers, always kind and attentive, and he always puts so much care into every small detail of his work.

He also loves to tell you about the exams his sister passed, and the friends she made; pride in her success evident when he speaks about her.

You admire him. He’s selfless, hardworking, and full of heart.

So it’s just logical that his parents gave him so much responsibility early on and made him part of the management.

You don’t mind that one second though, because he takes his authority incredibly seriously and usually shows up for his shifts earlier than he needs to.

It’s why your gaze is drawn to the panes of glass at the front once again.

You got in at 7 today, getting enthusiastically greeted by George - as he told you to call him on your first day - and tasked with the usual morning routine. So, as he disappeared into the small office room at the back of the shop, you had started prepping the food equipment and putting it on display.

The shop wouldn’t open until 8, so you still had some time to breathe before the morning rush would start, but you always feel some kind of gratitude at the way George lets you handle yourself at the front while waiting for Bucky to arrive at 7:30 to help out.

Admittedly, you didn’t get that much done yet, caused by the thought of seeing Bucky walk in through the door at any minute.

You saw him just 4 days ago at your last shift, but the giddy anticipation is all the same and you only have three and a half hours with him today before you have to leave for your classes.

The buttery, sweet, and slightly nutty smell of the freshly baked croissants you’re currently rearranging wafts from the trays and reaches your nostrils, but gets ignored the second you hear keys jiggling outside, and your attention snaps to the door.

“Morning doll!”

Bucky’s smooth voice comes through the door with him, cheerful as always as he greets you with a charming smile, and your chest flutters. A rush of cool air hits your exposed skin from outside, but his grin is warming you back up quickly.

You fumble with the croissant in your hand, but recover in time and throw him a smile of your own, hoping you’re able to mask the excitement you tried to hold in all morning.

“Morning, Bucky,” you greet him back sweetly, turning your attention back to the pastries, pretending to focus on your task at hand.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Bucky pulls off his coat and then makes his way over to you, hovering over your shoulder, while putting on his apron. You try to hide the way your hands get a little clammy in the see-through gloves you’re wearing while touching the food.

You tend to the fruit danishes, their glossy, golden crust filled with rich cream cheese and topped with plump raspberries, blueberries, and apricots.

Carefully placing each in its designated spot, you only manage to breathe a little easier when you feel Bucky move over to the coffee machines, their steady hum filling the quiet space as Bucky busies himself.

“Smells amazing, doll,” he calls over his shoulder and you can hear the grin in his voice.

You let out a soft laugh, glancing at him briefly before putting your head back around. “Didn’t make them, Bucky,” you explain, tone playful but modest.

Brewing coffee and clinking mugs are the only sounds you hear before Bucky’s hum reaches your ears. “Maybe you should,” he states, teasing laced with a hint of sincerity. “Bet they’d be gone in seconds.”

You’re grateful that Bucky isn’t in your line of sight because you feel heat creeping up your neck, coloring your cheeks. Your laugh is a little breathless, a little more insecure than you intended.

A few weeks ago you had casually mentioned your love for baking when Bucky had asked about your hobbies, and ever since he loved to bring it up every once in a while.

“I don’t know about that.” You try for nonchalance, but the blush doesn’t leave your face.

“Gotta give yourself more credit, doll,” he replies easily, his words wrapped in that effortless charm of his. You hear some more clinking of cups as he makes one for himself, just like every day. “Want coffee?”

He asks every time. You decline, like every time. Though he never fails to ask.

And it never fails to make your morning feel just a little bit brighter.

****

Watching Bucky create his latte art has become one of the highlights of your day. There is something mesmerizing in the way he moves, pouring the steamed milk with such precision and focus as if each cup would get graded by an artist.

You’ve noticed how much care he puts into it, the way he pauses before finishing, always needing it to be perfect.

You can tell when Bucky isn’t quite satisfied, like right now, as he holds up the cup that looks flawless to you. But there is a twitch of his mouth, a slight hesitation in his hand as if he’s debating whether to start over or risk making it worse with one more pour.

It’s adorable, really. To you, they all look perfect, but he holds himself to a standard that’s somehow both admirable and endearing.

Today, Bucky was the one already there when you arrived at 8 am, along with the first customers of the day.

The scent of fresh coffee had filled the air as you stepped inside, a soft murmur of conversation around you setting the tone for the morning rush.

He was stationed behind the counter, together with one of your coworkers, Peter. It didn’t escape your notice that Bucky caught your eye immediately, flashing you that warm, easy smile even before acknowledging Mr. Nakajima, a frequent visitor.

It was a small gesture but it excited you nonetheless.

Mr. Nakajima, or Yori as you’d heard Bucky call him, now sits in his usual corner, peacefully sipping his tea; his quiet presence a constant in the shop.

The older man always seems content to watch the people go in and out of the shop, observing the ebb and flow of the crowd, wrinkled hands wrapped around his cup as if savoring the warmth.

Bucky often took time to sit with him when things were slow, sharing long and comfortable conversations that seemed to be meaningful. There is something about the way Bucky treats Yori that tugs at your heart.

It seems, that right now Bucky is comfortable with leaving Peter and you to attend to the ebbing crowd as he makes his way to Yori's table and slowly lowers himself in front of him.

You deliberately turn away although there isn’t much to do for you right now since the morning rush is over and Peter attends to the only customer in the shop right now. So, you mindlessly wipe down the counter, not because you’re not interested, but if you spend any more attention on the guy you might get overwhelmed by the awe he arises in you.

The way Bucky smiles when he talks to the old man, the way his face lights up with that blinding, heart-stopping grin - it has a dizzying effect on you. And the laugh he lets slip every so often, low and full of warmth, makes it hard to concentrate on any coffee orders.

Bucky stays at Yori's table for a while. Every now and then you make out his face turning in your direction, lingering a little but you stay focused on your work.

“Y/n?”

The sound of Peters's voice makes your head snap over to him, blinking in expectation.

“Sorry, uh, you seemed a little distracted for a sec,” Peter says with a shy laugh, scratching the back of his neck, eyes flickering not so subtly over to Bucky.

Alright, maybe you have looked a few times. Whatever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, doing your best to ignore the knowing grin spreading across Peter's face. Thankfully, a girl around your age approaches the counter, saving you from the growing awkwardness. You flash her a smile and focus on her order.

More customers start to stream in, the café again beginning to buzz with activity. Bucky, noticing the crowd building up, excuses himself from Yori’s table with a friendly pat on the old man’s shoulder. He steps back behind the counter, his easygoing demeanor never faltering as he joins in beside you. You share a quick smile.

Working with Bucky always makes it fun in some sense, time slipping by too quickly. Before you know it, it’s time for you to head out for your first class of the day.

You step away from the counter, untie your apron, and grab your things, already feeling reluctant to leave Bucky’s side.

“Already time to go?” Bucky asks, turned in your direction, his voice carrying that familiar deep drawl. There’s a slight disappointment laced in his tone, that doesn’t escape you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “first class is-“

“History,” he finishes for you, without missing a beat.“I remember.”

You hadn’t expected him to recall such a small detail about your schedule, surprise registering on your face. But you quickly push out a smile, nodding at him, your heart doing a little somersault.

“Hold on,” he insists quietly, already moving to snap up a to-go bag and carefully placing a croissant inside. With a casual grin, he holds it out for you to take. “On the house.”

This isn’t the first time Bucky has given you something to go, insisting you take it as a gift. But it never gets easier to accept his small acts of kindness. You hesitate, not making a move to take the bag and Bucky’s smirk only deepens, playing the same game you’ve had before.

“Take it, doll,” he drawls, dangling the bag in front of your face with a playful glint in his eye. “Can’t let you go to class hungry, now can I?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes with a smile tugging at your lips, and snatch the bag from his hand with mock annoyance. “Fine, but this is the last time,” you warn, rather weakly it seems, considering the way Bucky leans against the counter with his arms crossed, smirking at you in an amused manner.

“You know it’s not. Can’t fault me for taking care of you, doll. You haven’t eaten anything all morning.”

His words are casual, but the way he says it, the unspoken concern that lingers, makes giddy warmth rise in your stomach, spreading to your face and heating your skin.

You hope it’s not that obvious, so you just sigh again, dramatically, and exaggerate an eye roll as Bucky lets another cup get filled with coffee, eyes remaining on you, a chuckle fleeing his lips.

You make your way to the door of the shop, knowing you’d just pay him back by slipping some money into the tip jar when you’re in earlier than him.

“And no leaving dollars in the tip jar, sweetheart,” Bucky calls out behind you, the smug amusement clear in his voice. “Ma told me about that.”

Busted.

You turn you head with a faux helpless look, which only sends him into a fit of laughter, the sound rich and full, echoing through the shop, and your heart bursts, ignoring the people standing in the line wearing looks between confusion and annoyance. Laughing quietly yourself, you let the warmth of the moment fill you up, then quickly slip out the door before the flustered grin on your face can betray you any further.

With the door closed, the sounds of the café seal off behind you and you find yourself lingering just a second longer than the last time.

****

“Girl, I’m telling you, that’s nothing! I accidentally made a girl’s latte with cow's milk although she’d ordered oat. Chased her down the street like a lunatic, I mean she could have had an allergy and whatnot. Turns out it was just a preference and she didn’t mind. Talk about embarrassing.”

You chuckle along to Gina’s story, dusting the cappuccino in front of you with a sprinkle of cinnamon, scents mingling together.

Regina - or Gina as she prefers - is always someone you enjoy working with together. She’s incredibly open-minded and carries that vibrant energy you need to get through the day. She’s got a few years on you but never fails to make you laugh.

While brewing coffee and selling them, she loves to tell you about her little boy, Nikita. You’ve seen pictures of him on her phone and he’s adorable with puffy cheeks, dark curls, and dark green eyes. He must have those from his father.

You know she is a single mother and you admire the way she takes it with pride, finding peace in her situation and insisting that she and Nikita are better off without his father.

You’ve also come to find out that 'Barnes Brown Beans' wasn’t the only job she had but that George and Winifred are so much fairer than her other boss, being supportive and trying to give her shifts that accommodate her schedule so she could pick up Nikita from kindergarden early enough to still have time with him every day.

Another thing that makes this job so valuable.

Earlier was a brief lull in the crowd, allowing you and her to chat. The conversation had drifted into the realm of embarrassing work stories. You shared one of your own, recalling how, in your first week, you had prepared a to-go coffee. You felt that nervousness that comes with starting a new job and as you tried to slide the cup over the counter to the customer, your aim had been far too enthusiastic. The cup sailed past the edge, spinning gracefully through the air before landing in the trash bin.

You hoped that perhaps nobody really saw what happened besides the slightly perturbed man in front of you. But since you shared this shift with Bucky and he always seems to have an eye on you, of course, he was a witness. You remember the way his laugh had erupted, uncontainable, filling the air behind the counter. He had leaned against it for support while you stood there, cheeks burning.

He didn’t make you feel bad though, helping you remake the coffee and almost sheepishly adding that the same thing happened to him once. Only, in his case, it was a porcelain cup. And it didn’t land in the bin. The image of it crashing to the floor, shattering into tiny pieces as coffee splattered everywhere, was enough to make you feel a little less embarrassed.

“Something funny?”

The familiar voice catches you off guard and you look up from the register. Sure enough, Bucky is strolling up to the counter, hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets and that handsome grin on his face that always causes your stomach to do flips.

“Bucky?” you ask, a soft, confused laugh escaping you. You feel your heart jump in excitement and try to tone it down. He wasn’t supposed to come in for a few more hours, and you had already resigned yourself to the disappointment of missing him today. You’d seen the shift schedule last week and the realization was like a cloud casting a shadow over your mood.

So, seeing him standing in front of you only makes a smile stretch wide without even thinking.

“I think you’re a little early,” you assess, voice light as you ring up the girl standing at the counter. Handing her the cappuccino, you glance back at him, the small transaction barely registering as your attention stays fixed on Bucky.

His grin only widens as he shrugs with a kind of faux nonchalance, letting his gaze sweep across the room. His smile stays in place, even as he steps aside for a middle-aged man approaching you.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he teases with that signature edge of playfulness that always gets to you.

As you start to prepare the man’s coffee, you can feel Bucky’s gaze on you, watching your every move. It’s a weight you’ve grown fond of - his silent observation that makes you more aware of yourself, in a good way.

You flash him a quick smile before refocusing.

“Also had to know how that exam went,” he adds casually, leaning in just a little, but you’re aware of that curiosity his voice always carries when he asks you about college. Or anything about your life, really.

You huff out a small laugh, ringing up the man’s order and sliding his coffee across the counter before turning your full attention back to Bucky. “Wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be,” you answer him, a hint of relief in your tone since you had been stressing about this exam for weeks. “I think I did okay.”

Bucky leans against the counter now, propping himself up in that relaxed way of his, eyes never leaving yours. You’re glad you get to talk to him, glad that Gina attends to the only current customer right now and you have a second with Bucky, but the unknown power his gaze holds over you threatens to overwhelm you.

“What’d I tell ya, doll? Of course, you did great. Smartest girl I know.”

You snort, but your heart races. He always seems so sure of your success, having this confidence in you, that you feel you lack sometimes and it makes warmth pool in your gut. “Well I guess I’ll have to thank you, then,” you reply, smile present and voice light but the gratitude is real.

His scent - a mix of something warm and clean, almost earthy, and his cologne - cuts through the usual aroma of coffee beans and pastries. It’s grounding and you have to remind yourself to focus as you move toward the coffee machines.

“Do you want coffee?” you throw over your shoulder, fingers already hovering over the buttons.

Bucky straightens up in your peripherals and you make out the shake of his head with that soft smile on his face. “Don’t wanna keep you from work. I’ll make it myself, thanks doll!”

The door to the café swings open and three girls walk in together, laughter filling the room as they make their way over to you. Bucky’s movements snap your head back to him as he casually slips behind the counter, stepping up to the coffee machines and you head back to the register, keeping awareness of his presence as always.

Since Bucky’s shift doesn’t start yet, he stays lingering behind the counter and engages in conversation with Gina when he notices you getting busy again. From where you stand you can hear snippets of their conversation - Bucky asking about Nikita and when he gets to see him again.

You never realized they are that close but the thought of Bucky caring about that little boy instantly heats your skin. There’s a softness to imagining him in that role, and you can easily picture how good he must be with kids.

After all, you’ve seen it before - the way his face lights up when he catches sight of children toddling along beside their parents, the way he bends down to their height, engages them in little conversations that always leave them giggling or grinning from ear to ear. It’s endearing and really no wonder that every child he talks to seems to adore him.

But what really tugs at your heart, what causes a flutter deep in your chest, is the subtle way Bucky’s attention keeps drifting back to you.

Even in the middle of his chat with Gina, you can feel his gaze lingering on you. There is a quiet fondness in the way he watches you go about your work, always wearing that soft expression.

It’s not like he’s checking if you’re doing your job right - nothing about it feels critical or scrutinizing. Instead, it’s as if he’s simply enjoying observing you, absorbing the way you move through your tasks, as though he’s eager to learn all the little details that make up your routine.

And surprisingly, it doesn’t make you as nervous as you might have believed. If anything, there is something soothing about his attention, like a silent reassurance you never knew you needed.

Occasionally, throughout your shift, Bucky strikes up conversations with familiar customers - frequent flyers whose names he already knows by heart. You catch bits and pieces of their easy small talk, but even then, his eyes always find their way back to you.

And every time you meet them, your heart swells with hope that perhaps the reason he came in early for his shift might be you.

****

Your week has been nothing short of overwhelming and frustrating - packed with assignments, papers to write, and facts to memorize. To top it off, a fellow student had yelled at you for breaking his pen, and you still remember that disappointed glint in your professor's eyes after failing to give him satisfying answers in class.

It feels like you are constantly juggling everything at once, and somehow, the balance has tipped entirely.

Sleep has become a rare luxury, replaced by caffeine-fueled study sessions that stretch into the early hours of the morning.

As you walk to the café for your afternoon shift, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, the exhaustion settling in your bones.

You rarely work afternoon shifts, but this one fits perfectly behind your friday classes and you have been too swamped the rest of the week to pick up any shifts at all.

Your pace is slower than usual, feet dragging slightly on the pavement. There is no real need to hurry today. Normally, your steps would quicken as you approached the café, that familiar, sweet sign with its three big B’s always managing to lift your mood.

But today the excitement isn’t there. Not when you know Bucky has the day off. Without him there, the urgency to get to work just isn’t the same.

But, thinking about it, it might be for the best that Bucky is not around today. You can’t imagine you look all that appealing right now, with dark bags under your eyes - the kind that no amount of concealer could hide. Your skin has that worn-out, dull shimmer to it - the kind that no amount of caffeine could mask.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in a shop window as you pass and wince slightly. The fatigue shows in your features, and for a moment, you’re thankful that this day won’t include the possibility of Bucky catching sight of you in this state.

You’re partly relieved to have a shift where you can simply focus on getting through it without feeling self-conscious. There is no need to hide how utterly drained you feel because you really couldn’t care less how your appearance would affect your customers. You just need to make it through these few hours, go home, and hopefully, finally get some rest.

You pull open the door, gathering what little composure you can muster. The all-known blend of rich coffee, baked pastries, and warm, cozy air greets you as always, along with the chatter from the packed room. It’s busy, as expected for this time of day, but the environment surprisingly helps ground you as you weave your way through the crowd, slipping between patrons.

Your eyes catch Winifred at the back, her beaming smile a quick but comforting sight before she disappears behind the office door with a wave.

Side-stepping two men chatting near the line, you get a clearer view of the counter and freeze - feet refusing to continue.

Thanks to the work schedule you know who your coworkers are today. Peter was assigned, as well as Wanda, a nice, but slightly odd girl with a thick accent and laser-like focus on her task.

You had prepared for them both. But it isn’t Wanda standing next to Peter behind the counter.

It’s Bucky.

Your heart jumps into your throat and you’re not sure if it’s because of the surprise of seeing him or because of how unprepared you feel in this exact moment. You didn’t even check your hair in a car window before entering.

He’s here - on his supposed day off - laughing with a guy on the other side of the counter as he works the espresso machine, his movements smooth and practiced; no surprise there. His presence is so casual and effortless that you find yourself thinking your tired eyes might have looked at the wrong day on the schedule and perhaps you aren’t even supposed to work today. Though Winifred wasn’t at all surprised to see you.

Your head spins at the simple thought and yet a ripple of warmth shoots through you at the sight of him, making you momentarily forget just how drained you are.

While every fiber of your being wants to feel self-conscious about your tired eyes and the imperfections on your skin, craving to stay hidden between the line of people, the longer you watch him work, it gets overtaken by something else.

That same old lightness that seems to follow him wherever he goes and sticks to you when you’re near enough, soaking into your veins and filling them with energy. You can practically feel them fizzle.

You would have liked to linger in this moment just a little longer, but it’s cut short abruptly when he spots you. His polite smile brightens instantly, eyebrows moving up slightly as his eyes lighten up.

You flash him a smile in return, though you can feel it wobble at the edges, probably more sheepish than anything else. Maybe it even comes off as a grimace with the exhaustion weighing on you, but you quickly break eye contact and resume walking.

For a moment, you make out Bucky’s hand pausing mid-motion, hovering above the counter before he slides a to-go cup to the waiting guy on the other side.

Passing by, you can feel his gaze trailing after you, burning softly against your skin, a quiet but intense presence that follows you even when you’re not looking.

You busy yourself with dialing in for the shift, wrapping your apron around your waist, doing your best to shake off the fatigue and the flutter that Bucky’s unexpected presence elicits in you.

From behind you, you catch the sound of his voice, though it sounds a little distracted, asking the next customer to repeat their order.

You glance back, quickly greeting Peter as you pass, but your focus is drawn to the pastry case, where a small woman waits for service. You keep your hands moving, bagging up her choice of pastries - two croissants and four scones - but make out Bucky’s head turning in your direction a few times.

You steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye, noticing the slight furrow in his brow as he works. He’s a little slower now, less sure in his movements than when you first walked in. It’s subtle, but you can tell his focus is slipping. Something about his energy has shifted.

Minutes pass and the three of you stay busy with the steady stream of customers. You remain behind the pastry case, preparing the treats for the eager crowd. In between transactions, you notice Bucky taking a step in your direction, hesitating each time like he wants to step closer but keeps pulling himself back at the last second.

He returns to the register every time, tending to the next person in line, but there is an urgency in his movements now. His hands got quicker again, fingers tapping impatiently against the counter as he waits for the coffee to brew and his gaze falls back to you every so often but you avoid it.

Another few minutes tick by and you begin to settle into the rhythm of the shift when a sudden shout rings out from the front.

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto the group of people stepping back from the counter hastily, startled by the splash of coffee that arcs through the air.

The cup that had caused the commotion clinks against the counter, slipping in Bucky’s hand and his other one shoots out to hold it steady before it can meet the ground alongside the coffee that was in it moments before.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Bucky exclaims, his voice thick with frustration as he shakes his head at himself, wiping the spilled brown liquor from his hands. He quickly puts away the cup and apologizes again to the man it was meant for and the crowd of people who got startled.

The customer, a guy who looks to be in his mid-twenties, holds up his hands in a placating gesture, clearly not bothered by the accident. His jacket sleeve is stained with coffee, but he brushes it off with a casual shrug. “No worries, man, really. Nothing happened, you’re good!”

Bucky doesn’t seem to relax. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders are still tight as he remakes the drink with stiff, almost mechanical precision. You’ve never seen him so rattled but then again, he has been unfocused ever since he saw you.

Work continues steadily for the next half hour, with the rush of patrons finally starting to taper off. The café gradually empties, the throng thinning out until only a handful of people remain, some of them sitting in booths going on with their conversations.

You catch sight of Bucky leaning in closer to Peter, murmuring something you can’t quite make out. Peter nods, and without another word and a small pat on Peter’s shoulder, Bucky steps back from the counter.

This time, his hesitation is gone as he strides over to you.

He stops beside you, eyes on your profile. “Hey,” he speaks softly, voice low.

You finish helping a boy, thanking him for the tip before turning to Bucky with a small smile.

“Hey,” you reply, voice matching his softness but quieter. You turn your attention to the young girl in front of you, requesting a cookie. Reaching for a bag to tuck the treat inside, you continue the conversation, though your eyes stay focused downward.

“Didn’t expect to see you here today,” you comment, sensing his gaze on you.

“Yeah, uh, I took Wanda’s shift,” Bucky responds, his voice a little more tentative now. You notice him shuffling slightly beside you, standing up straighter.

He offers no further explanation as to why he picked up the shift, and you don’t feel the energy to ask about it. For some reason, the simple act of bagging a cookie while talking to him feels like a juggling act your tired brain isn’t quite up for.

So all you manage is a noncommittal hum in response.

The girl leaves with her cookie and Bucky stays beside you, solid and unyielding in his gaze. It presses on you like a weight as the moments pass.

Your stomach flutters uneasily when you realize there’s no line left to distract you, no excuse to stay busy.

You move automatically, reaching for the paper bags, rearranging them with a bit more force than necessary, trying to give yourself something to focus on, something other than Bucky’s eyes burning into you.

“Are you okay?” he asks finally, slowly and lowly, as if the question is something private meant only for you. It is. You feel the shift in his tone, the way he leans in slightly as if he needs a sincere answer to his sincere question.

It pulls your attention to him and you reluctantly lift your head, your heart twisting at the sight. Bucky gazes down at you with an expression far more serious than you’ve ever seen. His blue eyes, usually filled with a glimmering light when he looks at you, hold an amount of concern that seems to have an impact on his stiff muscles.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you declare gently, smiling at him in hopes it’ll reassure him, though even before the words have left your lips completely, you felt it wasn’t entirely convincing.

Bucky studies you a moment longer. His eyes trace your features, dark brows hanging low, but you don’t take your words back.

Then, after a pause he lets out a long drawn sigh, hanging his head in defeat. He obviously doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push it. The concern in his eyes remains but he lets it go, stepping back from you slowly.

He walks over to the coffee machines, deliberately trying to feign casualness. He grabs a cup and turns the familiar button after checking if Peter needs some help at the register, the whirring sound of brewing coffee filling the brief silence between you.

“You want some coffee?” he asks, like clockwork - just as he does every time you work together.

Without thinking, you open your mouth to decline, as usual. It’s almost muscle memory at this point, your automatic response. But then, mid-through, you pause. Another shot of caffeine can’t hurt. You can use the energy to get home safely without passing out after this shift.

The cup fills, steam rises, and Bucky turns to you when you take too long to answer.

You hesitate for a beat, then shift your gaze away, feeling a little awkward. “Yeah, I’ll take one,” you decide, stepping beside him to grab yourself a cup, eyes not moving to him.

But before you can reach for one, Bucky’s hand wraps gently around your wrist, halting you. The touch is light, but enough to make your pulse quicken. “Hold on,” he remarks, his voice filled with concern rather than confusion. “You never want coffee when I ask.” His intense eyes search your face again.

“If you always expect me to say no, then why do you keep asking?”

Bucky doesn’t respond immediately. He just keeps looking at you, quietly pleading for honesty. “That ain’t the point,” he softy counters but his voice carries insistence. “Something’s wrong.”

You sigh. God, you’re tired. You really need that coffee and you’d certainly feel terrible for getting annoyed at Bucky. He’s just trying to figure you out. He cares. That thought alone presses against the wall you’ve been trying to maintain all day.

Gently, you pull your wrist from his loose grip, and he lets his hand fall back to his side, though his gaze doesn’t waver.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Damn, that came out hollow. “I’m just a little stressed,” you add when he starts to shake his head, “and I could use a cup. It’s just coffee, Bucky.”

You see the muscles in his jaw tighten and his hand comes up to run through his hair.

“It’s not just coffee, darling,” he sighs. There’s a pause in which he assesses you again, then he continues. “Alright. Don’t take this the wrong way, doll. You know you’re a beautiful gal, but… you look like you’re about to drop dead.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. It looks like tiredness comes with an attitude, because your mind foregoes the part where he called you beautiful, only hearing the other side.

“Well.” You draw out the word. “If you don’t want me to drop dead, then let me have some coffee.” There is a bit of edge to your tone you hadn’t exactly intended, but you’re too tired to smooth it out. You also don’t wait for him to respond, quickly reaching for another cup and pressing the button before Bucky can grab your arm again.

Bucky stays quiet for a moment, watching you with those piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through your walls. He doesn’t look angry - just worried.

As the coffee pours you hear him take a breath. “Alright,” Bucky says quietly, almost under his breath. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he adds after a short pause. Firmness, sincerity, and perhaps an amount of regret are all wrapped in his tone.

He used your name. You haven’t heard him say your name since the first time working here. And never with that much conviction.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just… worried.” His voice softens even more, it sounds almost pleading and he takes a quick glance back at Peter, who was busy attending to the few patrons mingling about, before refocusing on you, his hand brushing over his hair. “I’ve seen you stressed before. Like when you kept going on about how worried you were for that exam. I watched you go through the stuff you had to learn in your head while remaining so incredibly focused and sweet during work. I admire that, Y/n. I must’ve told you a thousand times you’d ace it, but you wouldn’t believe me.” He chuckles lowly, sheepishly, and he licks his lips, before continuing. His gaze leaves you, mind seemingly far in his memories.

“Or your first day here. You were so nervous about making a mistake. You asked so many questions, were so interested in everything. I kept thinking about you all day. Every day, really.” He took another deep breath. It comes out a little unsteady and his eyes quickly flicker over to you, not quite meeting your own, but still searching your features.

“But this… this is different, and- I don’t know. I don’t like it. Hate it, honestly. Seeing you like this.”

His words hit you deep. The genuine concern and sincerity in his tone make your chest tighten, throat closing up and you feel yourself losing your breath as he takes a small step closer, eyes now fully on yours again. The nerves in his voice that had been there are gone now. Because he’s sure of what he says next. It’s clear in his tone.

“But, sweetheart, even through it all, you still manage to be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Drop dead gorgeous, honestly.”

You let out a surprised huff of laughter, partly because it’s easier than acknowledging and processing the meaning of his words. Heat creeps up your cheeks and all you feel like doing is bolt out of the door at the other end of the room but your feet are rooted to the spot. Perhaps, the floor would just give away and you’d fall deep down into the unknown.

That still would be kinder than standing in front of Bucky right now after his heavy confessions, feeling too vulnerable under his soft gaze.

You’re not able to meet his eyes, dropping your head. You know he is still looking at you. You don’t have to feel it to know it. That gentle expression, the reassuring smile - like he’s silently conveying that everything’s okay.

“Let me make you feel better, yeah?” Bucky’s voice is barely above a whisper, gentle, yet filled with intent. He gives you a moment, letting his earlier confessions sink in, before taking hold of the now full cup that is meant for you. Your eyes widen slightly when you see him grab the can of freshly steamed milk, an almost eager smile tugging at his lips.

“Are you pulling your latte art on me?” you ask with a light laugh, some of the tension in your chest loosening. There is a little bit of a teasing note in your voice now, your heartbeat beginning to slow.

“Sure am, doll!” Bucky grins proudly, lifting the cup higher. His brow furrows in concentration as he carefully pours the milk with a steady hand, his tongue briefly poking out as he narrows his eyes to get the design just right. You had seen him do this many times before but never for you.

The precision and dedication he’s giving to something as simple as your coffee makes your heart swell. You’re the one watching him now with a soft smile, utterly mesmerized by how serious he’s taking it.

You take a glance at the other cup - the one Bucky had made for himself and an idea hits you. Steam still rises from the liquid inside, the scent of fresh coffee meeting your nose.

You look around the counter, spotting the milk pot Peter had just set down and, without a second thought, you pick up Bucky’s cup, ready to return the favor. You lift the milk and begin to pour.

“What are you doing, doll?” Bucky’s gaze stays fixed on the cup in his hand, but his smile is beaming, curiosity lacing his words.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that,” you retort, your voice playful as you guide the milk with careful precision, weaving your hand in the practiced motions until you’re satisfied with the design.

Bucky’s chuckle is warm and soft and for a moment, it feels like the world shrinks down to just the two of you, the quiet intimacy cutting through the noise of the ebbing café.

Bucky finishes his work and sets the milk pot back down. There is a slight hesitation in his movements as he hands over the cup for you, a touch of nervousness creeping into his stance. You smile up at him and offer the cup in your hand to him. His hands are a little clammy as they touch yours. You swap coffees.

Your mouth falls open as you take a glance down into the cup. In the creamy white foam, a delicate rose is perfectly etched, its petals spiraling gracefully outward. Surrounding the rose are tiny, intricate hearts, floating around the bloom. The detail is so mesmerizing that all you can do is stare at it.

“This is incredible, Bucky,” you breathe out, voice filled with amazement. When you look up, he’s already watching you. He’s breathing deeply and his smile is in place. But there is also something in his eyes he doesn’t try to hold back - pure adoration, shining clearly like he just can’t hide it anymore.

He holds his own cup carefully, as if it’s something precious, something fragile, as if even the tiniest movement would mess up the heart in white swirling in his cup. Though, you feel like the simple heart pales in comparison to the masterpiece he’s created for you.

“It’s beautiful,” you say quietly, a hint of shyness in your tone. You feel a tiny amount of embarrassment but Bucky just keeps smiling, so warm and incredibly fond, that any hint of insecurity melts away.

“Learned it for you,” he admits it softly, his words slipping out like a secret he’s been holding onto for too long. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening slightly before you look back down at the cup, tracing the design over and over again with your gaze.

“I love it, Bucky. I love these little hearts,” you address admiringly, almost dreamily.

Bucky is beaming above you, and although he shakes his head softly, his smile never leaves his face. He takes in a deep breath, seemingly needing to compose himself and looks down at his own cup, at the heart in it.

“Well,” he vocalizes, affection surrounded by a playful edge, “my heart’s bigger.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes. It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

He chuckles, that vibrating sound, that always makes your chest feel lighter. “I can teach you,” he offers, his bright blues looking deeply into your eyes, so full of affection that it makes your breath catch for a second.

And in that second - because that’s all it takes - everything shifts. For the better. Always for the better, because it’s hard to feel anything negative when Bucky smiles at you the way he does.

“you deserve

the kind of love

like hot coffee between your lips

that loves you gently

but makes you bold

and gives you life between the sips”

- a.b.

[malarign]

jake as your boyfriend!

(soft moments with him)

contains: bf!Jake x gn!reader | genre: fluff | tw! kissing, mention of alcohol and its ingestion | wc: 1,3k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreaciated!!!

other members’ versions: LHS - PJS - PSH - KSW - YJW - NRK

➶ tracing his fingers on your face *ೃ༄

Jake loves staring at your features with pure adoration in his eyes while gently tracing them with the tips of his fingers. Would to that ever so delicately all with a most genuine smile and love striking through his eyes. Does that usually when you’re cuddled against each other, keeping comfortable eye contact accompanied by intimate. His fingers are light like a feather, a touch that is almost tickling, yet conveys nothing more but his unconditional love for you.

You laid in bed after a long and exhausting day under the bedsheets. Next to you was none other but your lover, Jake. He was silently scanning your face, eyes following his fingers that traced along your delicate features.

“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he whispered suddenly, voice soft yet the sound pierced through the quiet room.

You opened your eyes and saw Jake staring at you with pure awe painted on his face. You smiled at his compliment and placed a kiss with no rush. He responded immediately, molding your lips with his.

“I love you so much,” he spoke and once again trailed soft patterns on your skin, the sensation of his touch giving you butterflies.

➶ looking at you while his friends are talking *ೃ༄

For Jake, nothing is more important than you and your comfort. That’s why he can’t help but look at you, even when he’s around his friends, always checking if you’re doing okay. He would look for any sign of uneasiness or discomfort in your expression, just to be able to help you with it. And when he sees you’re enjoying the company of his friends and talking comfortably with them, an uncontrollable and full of adoration-smile creeps on his lips, making it a perfect target for teasing.

You wouldn’t lie - you were extremely anxious about meeting Jake’s friends. Even though he often told you about them and them about you, somehow you couldn’t help but stress about it, almost as if you were about to meet his parents.

It didn’t escape Jake’s notice, your expression giving your feelings away. That made him gently rub your shoulders in order to calm you down, which always worked.

But all your worries turned out to be pointless. His friends greeted you cheerfully, just like they had known you forever, making not only you feel reassured, but also helping Jake feel peaceful.

He watched as you talked passionately about things you had in common while smiling from ear to ear. Jake didn’t even notice when his lips curved into a smile while watching you attentively.

His state didn’t go unnoticed by his friends though.

“Wow, Jake is really whipped, huh?”

➶ running up to you because he missed you *ೃ༄

One thing about Jake is his heart that longs for you every single minute you’re apart. It could be a busy week when his schedule is packed making him unable to visit your place, or just a day full of work without your touch and love. That’s why whenever he sees you after any separation, he runs up to you to take you into his arms and spin you around. His hugs never fail to express his love and longing for your presence. What copes with it is a lingering kiss that says nothing but: “I missed you dearly.”

You never thought you will have to miss Jake for so long, yet there you were almost tearing up at the thought of finally seeing him. After two long weeks, full of distress and longing you finally were able to meet and once again find comfort in each other’s arms.

“Y/n!” You heard a familiar voice you loved so much from the distance. looking in its direction you saw Jake already running up to you. You braced for the impact of his body hitting yours and finally, you buried your face in the fabric of his hoodie that hugged him.

You smelled his perfume, the smell you almost forgot you mumbled a quiet but loud enough for him to hear: “I missed you, Jakey.”

He pulled away only to cup your face and place a long kiss on your lips. He leaned his forehead against yours and whispered: “I missed you, my dear.”

➶ holding you close and whispering compliments *ೃ༄

Cuddling sessions with him are always full of low whispers that send shivers down your spine and make your knees weak. Jake loves doing that not only because of your cute reactions but mostly because all he says is nothing but true. Compliments not only your looks, always finding a way to talk about your personality traits and giving utter to them in the most romantic way.

Parties were never your cup of tea, resulting in you sticking to your boyfriend most of the time. That’s when you were comfortable and confident enough to socialize with the rest of the people. Your tongue seemed to loosen even more when you participated in games that usually included drinking alcohol. Your tipsy state made you even cuter than you were normally and all Jake wanted to do apart from taking care of you was teasing the soul out of you. Knowing how weak you get whenever he compliments your looks, personality or habits. It does affect him too. Suddenly the world stops and he just lets his heart and mind speak.

“My dear Y/n, you truly are my biggest blessing, your presence alone makes me feel so at peace.”

➶ holding hands all the time *ೃ༄

Jake will always find a way to take your hand into his. This small form of skin-to-skin contact makes his heart feel full, leaving him amazed how they seemed to be sculped to fit right into his. It doesn’t disturb him that your or his hands will get sweaty, all that matters is that he can draw small circles or hearts with his thumb on the back of your palm.

Recalling your todays activities with Jake you noticed one thing - he never let your hand free. Shopping together, watching a movie at the cinema, doing your groceries. Even now when you were just chilling next to each other in your living room, your arm was locked with his, while he was busy playing with your fingers.

Deciding to put him to the test you suddenly removed your hand leaving him flabbergasted. He turned his head ever so quickly sending you a glare accompanied by an annoyed frown.

“Why?” he simply asked, his cute expression and tone making you giggle.

You snuggled against him and said: “Sorry, just wanted to see your reaction.”

He bit his inner cheek with a smile and sighed.

“Don’t test me, my darling.”

➶ reading with and for you *ೃ༄

Whenever it’s time for bed or both of you are just chilling on the couch in the living room, one of his favorite activities to do with you is reading sessions. He gets to have you against his chest as you read and see you in your glasses, which for him added so much charm to your already stunning visuals. His heart beats faster whenever you ask him if he could read for you, especially if it was a book both of you wanted to read. His ears would go all red, seeing in the corner of his eye how you attentively listen to his voice and look at him with a smile.

“Are you starting a new one?” you asked as you saw Jake taking a new-looking book into his hand.

“Yeah, I finished that one recently,” he answered pointing to the book on the top of your bookshelf.

You smiled and put the one you intended to read and leaned on his shoulder instead.

“I also wanted to read that. Would you mind reading out loud?”

You looked at him with puppy eyes, knowing that even without it he wouldn’t have a heart to say no. He nodded and started reading, his voice smooth like honey reaching your ears, sending a bliss to your mind. You looked at his lips as they moved when he spoke, trying to focus on the book, but the view seemed to be so much better.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

permanent taglist: (send an ask to be added) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @kpopstanmeg, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl, @edensgardenn (in bold can’t be tagged)

[presbierue]

Sometimes I wish Star Wars had gone in a more cultish direction with the First Order because I think having a friendship (an unhealthy, dysfunctional and toxic one) between the First Order triumvirate would have been kinda cute in an off putting way but also a good source of angst and I love angst. Like, cults prey upon those who lack connection and are looking for a sense of purpose, and I think that would have played into the big connection themes in Star Wars.

Like, little Ben Solo looking for belonging, feeling lost and like he cannot possibly measure up to his family legacies and he meets two young people equally driven to live up to Imperial Legacies. Phasma is a common First Order child soldier who fascinated by Boba Fett who did whatever it took to win. She wants to be the best fighter, to be noticed and seen by others, and will do anything for it. She is already well on her way at a young age. Little Armitage Hux has a mild god complex, believing (knowing) that he could make an unbeatable Death Star, that he can fix the weaknesses of his family legacy (less of an unwanted child in this version, more of a single survivor of his bloodline deal) and restore his family name to greatness. He misses his family dearly and resents the hell out of the New Republic quietly though (would probably prefer his actual family back than greatness but lacks EQ to realize this).

Snoke offers Ben everything he wants: like minded peers and a chance to be as great as his family. That would be hard for a teen to turn down, especially as Snoke would be hiddibg the fine print of this deal.

Hux, Phasma and Ben would likely exist for long periods of time with minimal conflict between them as they aren’t direct competitors. Hux does a lot of the planning and scheming, Phasma runs the pragmatic and social game, and Kylo leads the spiritual and visionary role of the group. Yeah they probably quibble over what they specifically want and need for their own power and plans, but it would probably be low grade jabs that teens usually trade in. More “your stormtroopers are well trained in treason” than force choking and blaster fire. Cooperation would be the best way to increase their power and influence.

I feel like having both the good and bad guys have the whole “power of friendship” on their side would have been an interesting dynamic when contrasting them. Rey and Hux both want their families back but can’t have it so they cling to their friends, Finn and Phasma are ultimately just trying to survive in abysmal conditions (one goes high visibility violent to deter others from attacking her where Finn goes avoidant, only fighting long enough to flee), and Kylo and Poe are trying to reconcile their family legacies with their own personalities and abilities. The difference is that the First Order triumvirate is a much older and well defined connection that is adjusting to new changes and pressures; Hux won by the start of TFA he built an even better Death Star (I think having it blow up in the First movie was ultimately the wrong move it would have been more threatening if it hung in for all three movies to emphasize that the First Order isn’t messing around) and that puts pressure on Phasma and Kylo, who are still not at Legendary Boba Fett/Vader levels. Like, your friend rising to the top of the heap before 40 when you’re still trying to reach previous levels would sting. On the other hand, Hux might genuinely resent Kylo for killing Han, because Hux feels his victory is empty without his parents and siblings around to see it. Phasma and Kylo are probably too self conscious and jealous after Starkiller success to actually acknowledge that Hux did the thing until like movie 3 when there might be some emotional resolution for that group, so Hux is probably just sitting with a hollow victory all movie 2 and is now just fully depressed as the one thing he thought would make him happy didn’t. This could be resolved by end of movie 3 or blow up in their faces when their relationship can’t hack the pressures anymore.

Flip that to the tensions you could do with Rey, Finn and Poe. Poe feels like his mother and other rebellion sacrifices were for nothing since the First Order took over in like a week, so he feels like a failure which results in him taking bigger and bigger risks, threatening his own life. This freaks out Rey who is PETRIFIED of losing the people she cares about again, and Finn goes to an avoidant attachment style where he starts trying to not care about either of them and does a Han Solo Hoth exit (he comes back again quickly but it freaks Rey out even more so she’s not ending the middle movie in a good place). I think the end moral ends up being something like “Avoiding one kind of pain leads to another, be open about what you’re going through so people can help because you’re never completely alone” kinda thing. Maybe you can’t be the perfect Jedi who avoids fear entirely, but fear is a gift that tells you what you care about and you can work with that. The First Order Triumvirates cardinal sin is that they’re pursing outdated markers of success and security that they think will protect them and the people they care about, but it worsens their relationships and self worth instead.

IDK man this feels like an AU that I could develop into a full rework of the sequels but it is half baked at best. I just think it would be fun to Rey and Finn screeching at Luke to give them combat training while the whole time Luke is just bouncing Grogu and other Jedi younglings around and asking them “So do you feel like you can really trust each other, or do you trust that the other is useful in filling a gap in your own life?”. Just relationship counselling the shit out of everyone. Like, recontextualize the whole “can you control the darkness in yourself” Yoda question as “can you build a support network strong enough to support you and your loved ones when you feel the darkness”. Because while Leia, Han and Luke all tried that, they built networks that only worked for them, not the people they loved, which resulted in isolation and deterioration of their relationships over time (Leia rebuilt Alderaan, Han built a semi legal shipping company and Luke built his Jedi school, but none of those things had room for the people they loved).

Edit: also, it adds a degree of Kylo having to think it through at the end where he either has to actively destroy Phasma and Hux, the people he is closest to or back down. He has to actively do all the things that made Vader as miserable as he was (lose a parent, kill the one he loves most, betray his mentor/father figure) to HIMSELF. And that’s an interesting question: is this character actually resilient enough to go through what Vader did? Can you do it completely alone, with the knowledge that no one else could do this to you but you? When does self hatred become that destructive?

[sofearahim]

Weekly Journal 2 (My First Love)

I met him when I was in high school. He was the first guy who taught me what a gentle and soft love feels like, being with him was always so fun and enjoyable. He knows me too well, he knows what’s my favourite food, he knows what’s my favourite song, he can tell when I’m actually not okay. We used to hang out every single day after school ends. He was my best friend. When I’m losing my control and when the city spins around, he was the only one who slows it down. We also worked together after SPM, we basically just couldn’t leave each other alone because we were each other’s support system. He’s such a good man because he treats me so well. We were together for 2 years and I will forever cherish that 2 years with all my heart. However, love is not always about the good times, we were just two dumb teenagers in love. Things started to change when we further our studies. They said distance makes the heart grow fonder but I guess not for us. Being far from each other is not easy for us. We fought a lot and it’s actually tiring for both of us. We gave up but I know deep down both of us still loves each other dearly but maybe being together is not the right time for us now. I genuinely hope that someday we will meet each other again when we’re both already mature enough to be in a relationship again. I will wait for that time to come but for now I just hope that both of us will succeed in our studies and make both of our parents proud of us.

[dumbbitchfrommars]

Travelling means I journal on my phone.

I am just……… I’m hurt. I’m triggered. I’m insecure. I’m upset. I am angry. I am frustrated.

I’m not ready to be a slut. I’m a slut… but I’m not a slut. I was a slut - but I wasn’t clever about it. And now I’m traumatised, and I don’t want anything to do with men, despite wishing for all the validation from them, and I can barely defend myself.

Like when you gaslight me by asking me where we are, and I answer your question, and you say you know in irritation. I ANSWERED YOUR FUCKING QUESTION.

Or when you call me out on not knowing what it’s like to have a friend to look up to, instead of always being the one who is looked up to. Like I know nothing. Like I have no friends. Like I’ve had nothing real or genuine or mutually beneficial in my whole life.

When you say behind my back that you had no idea I was so swayed by men. That I needed their validation more than you once thought. Or that you never realised how much it did matter to me what they think about me, whether they accept me or reject me.

Try being rejected by boys your whole life like I have been.

Try watching girls like you, with big tits and girlish clothes who show their skin get all the positivity and attention and respect (is it really?) - all the HELP the help I’ve been desperately wanting and seeking, beyond anything I’ve ever received, simply for existing - imagine experiencing that constantly. Imagine hoping for something difference and still being let down every time amongst the people you love most - surely you’d slowly find yourself growing resentful of such a thing????

I feel like Chloe might not want to be my friend anymore after this trip.

It would hurt me deeply but I also wouldn’t give two shits. Because she hurts me so much sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. And she’s not even trying to or intending to. But that just makes it hurt even more. Because it’s me. And I’m projecting, and I can’t seem to stop doing it. I might be worse of a person than I first thought I was. I’m completely flawed and horrible and resentful and mean and angry.

I would miss her all the time but I’d also be so glad because I wouldn’t have to compare myself to her anymore. To feel insecure or hurt by the thought that there is something about me thwt makes me less worthy than her - and that is why she receives so much different energy than I do.

I need to remember that in my own person with my own identity and my own dreams and goals and beliefs about the world. I like indie music. I’m a classic indie pop rock girl. I also am a Sri Lankan girl in the middle of three. There’s so much that is special and unique about me. I need to step away from the consumption of another person. As much as I love her…

I’m frustrated. I’m tired. I’m so tired…… I wan5 to go home. I want my own space. Is that such a crime??? Sure… it’s expensive to live in Australia. But I spent my entire savings from the past few years on this one single month long trip away. How long will it take me to save that up again? Wait I lie… it actually took me a year. Idk.

I’m definitely more well of than I once thought. I’m a lot more well off than I once thought. I’m blessed. My parents provided me with opportunities I could never have had elsewhere. Definitely not back home if they’d stayed in Sri Lanka. Which is crazy…. Because now I want to move back there. And Chloe hated it there. But she loves it here. And she’s been working her men into her plans the entire time, and leaving us to figure it out, when we would’ve anyway, if she wasn’t so anal about every movement we made and deciding what we did including was fucking water we drink. The gaslighting is what gets me the most though. She’s fucking crazy - but only in bursts- and that’s what is scariest. Because I forget. I see the good and excuse the bad again and again. And while I love her so dearly and excuse that bad. She still has gaslit me multiple times on this trip. She has had episodes of narcissism where she non stop talks about herself with zero space for interjection or conversation about angone else purely for the fact that she can’t stand the attention being on someone besides herself for more than a single moment. Which is actually fucking insane. Cause how do you not realise that about yourself???????

Idk. Idk.

I’m tired. I’m on my period. I’m hurt. I’m upset. I’m irritable. I’m frustrated. I’m angry. I’m betrayed. I feel like I’ve been dealt a short straw that makes no sense. Like I’m being treated less than for reasons that make no sense. Because of reasons that aren’t valid or what I deserve because I am a princess - and boys don’t want to treat me how I deserve. I’m a Sri Lankan fucking princess. Ugh. Maybe I’m not entertaining them enough. Could explain all of this tbh.

I could really go for some pizza. Some Hindley street kickons pizza right now would really hit. Anyway.

At least I get a whole double bed to myself tonight. Even if I am shivering.

I just want to return to my mind hole where all my fantasies live and my perfect men who are completely obsessed with me and do the work to win me over some way and some how. Whatever it takes. Because they’re head over heels and completely dedicated to me and only me. That’s what I want and need and expect. And I won’t expect any less. I won’t ACCEPT any less. And I won’t laugh and smile and nod away any less because they want me to, because they want to feel accepted in only giving the bare minimum.

I deserve better. I know I deserve better. And I won’t accept any less than that. And that’s where I am different to you, Chloe. I won’t accept a single ounce less than what I know my value is.

Even if it is just for fun.

[britcision]

So this is the thing:

I’m absolutely sure you’re right and she very genuinely does care about Kabru, love him dearly, and fully believe he is but a naive child who maybe shouldn’t be trusted to make decisions unsupervised

(I also fully believe he still gets an allowance from her he has not a single fuck to give for treasure)

She did eventually let him go explore the dungeons after all, despite her own history with them

(Would not be surprised if he took advantage of her getting a new, younger kid to sneak off though)

He can get away with murder to her, and he’s allowed to go and do things she doesn’t approve of… although she can find him whenever she wants, without warning

So either they’re still in regular contact and she just doesn’t tell him when she’s coming, he tells her where she is, or. She finds him by other means.

I’m completely certain that she believes she loves him exactly like a mother with a young child - which is he, by elven standards - letting her baby go out and explore for a little while, and checking in to make sure he’s having fun on his playdate with Rin

(Dangerous adventure playdate but canonically to the elves 2 years is “I’ll be right back” and he’s not been gone long - or getting far in the dungeon)

But it feels like part of your premise here is that people don’t genuinely love pets, or at least don’t care about them in the same way they’d love a child, which leads into two things:

1) you’re either blissfully unaware of or did not consider the most obnoxious “pet parents” who take their dogs for “walks” by putting them in a stroller and not letting them out and insist everyone else must refer to and treat their pet as their child

(Including throwing a birthday party and demanding everyone bring gifts for said pet, honourable mention that one AITA)

2) the difference Otta strikes between herself and Milsiril when she says Milsiril treats her short lived kids like pets isn’t that she literally thinks of them as cats or goldfish, or that she doesn’t love them in her own way

It’s that Milsiril doesn’t see them as people in the same way she sees elves

Otta sees half-foots (and presumably other short lived folks we hope) as full people, who become adults on their own biological timelines, and should be treated like full, actual adults - respecting their abilities to make decisions for themselves, including being able to consent to a sexual relationship

We know explicitly that this is an extremely uncommon viewpoint for elves not only because of the reaction to Otta and Marcille as a half elf, but how the story and Kabru specifically constantly hammers home that most elves think anyone who lives less than 200 years are permanent babies

They’ll take the dungeon away before the poor short lived people hurt themselves is the main bogey man for the first chunk of the story, and Kabru was willing to risk not having the dungeon sealed right away, which was his overarching goal, to stop it from happening

(Hence his and Marcille’s matching “oh fuck this is all my fault” meltdowns at the end)

It is Kabru’s main concern, and Kabru is the one who most espouses that elves just cannot understand anyone with shorter lifespans - and notably, he doesn’t disagree with Otta when she says it

Now, that doesn’t mean Otta’s 1000% literally correct or that Kabru sincerely believes Milsiril treats and thinks of him as a pet! He calls her his mom and 10000% behaves like a teen whose mom has come to bother him at work when she shows up

He’s not remotely afraid that she’s come to take him away from the Island, or to stop him from living his life the way he wants to; he’s just annoyed and embarrassed that she came all this way and is totally gonna talk to his friends and fuss over him

It’s that he sees the parallels between the example Otta’s given, that Milsiril will never see her “kids” as fully actualised adults and her equals, and his own certainty that elves just aren’t capable of understanding short lived people

That’s not even a malicious certainty; he’s not mad about it, upset by it, or even especially resentful. It’s just a fact of life that he takes as a given, and makes his own plans to work around rather than directly challenging it until he has no other choice

(And then spends a week babysitting an elf with the self regulation of a toddler, fun for him and also telling that along with never having chores, Kabru probably also never babysat a younger adopted sibling)

It’s also pretty telling of how other elves think about what Milsiril is doing; it’s a well known fact about her, yet another thing that makes her an oddity, and the Canaries react to Kabru being her kid by fussing over him and offering him treats

Since we’ve established that at least most elves never think of short lived people as adults, the kids being treated as Milsiril’s weird pets isn’t a huge leap

The one thing we all agree on is that Milsiril’s not a good mom; even cold, starving, and in imminent danger, Kabru was never once tempted to go home

I just think the line between “pet” and “child” isn’t as clear as it sounds, and that Milsiril is closer to the side of “treats her puppy like her kid” than “treats her child like a pet”

She’s overbearing, a bit of a helicopter parent, and plainly loves and worries dearly for Kabru, but she’s not completely controlling (anymore; he wasn’t allowed to present an Utayan dessert in that one comic about regional food)

She’s not forcing him into a career of her choice, or withholding her love and affection until he does what she wants

But she has left Kabru completely certain that she sees some fundamental divide between them that can never be crossed, where she can’t seem to understand that he’s not a little kid anymore and accept he’s an adult with all the baggage that comes with it

She could be a much worse parent, but she could also be a much better one

And she does have absolutely immaculate villain vibes, she’s perfect evil stepmother material and whatever your Kabru ship, Rapunzel AU with Kabru as Rapunzel practically writes itself

The funniest part about Milsiril is that she acts like a real mom. My mom is somewhat sane, but tons of people have doting, overbearing moms that see them as children or drop by unannounced.

I honestly think she favors Kabru over the other kids she's adopted. She teaches him to swordfight and took him to see her family, a thing she avoided for decades.

You don't teach a pet to swordfight. You tell it to shut up and eat cake.

Milsiril isn't a good mom or a good person, but I think she genuinely cares about Kabru to a degree.

[kelpiemomma]

I love my stinky babies 💚💚 Mae's been intermittently under saddle/ridden since January, started at 3.5 years old- she'll be four May 1st. Malik will be 5 in October. I ponied the boy around just to do it with him since he's a nervous baby, and to get Mae used to ponying another horse. They both did super well 💚💚💚

[sashi-ya]

~💟 Sashi's Valentine's Corner 💟~

🧩 Mini Story Sfw ~ Donquixote Rosinante x F! Reader ft. little Law~ A Feverish Date

a/n: So as promised this is the little side story from Law's interactive one: Locked Love! You can read this one if you haven't read the interactive one, though! (I swear it is even sweeter if you read both).

a/n2: So, this is as always the same family I've created with Cora, little Law (7 -10 y/o), Reader & their baby Lammy. There is a whole series of fics where there are featured, you can find them here.

tw: Only love and fluffiness.

wc: 1,7K

“Help me, Law!! You call me Corazón and I can’t think of something romantic enough for mamma” Rosinante begs, rolling on the ground, throwing a tantrum so his son can help him. “I’m just a kid, Cora-san. How the hell am I supposed to know what the fuck buy to her for valentine’s?” a little bean of grey eyes and caramel skin protests.

“Law! Language!” Rosi scolds him but keeps looking at the kid with puppy eyes.

“Fine… fine… I’ll think about something”

Law is no older than 10, yet he has a mature way of thinking already. He has overcome his illness three years ago and now lives a happy life with “Cora-san” and (Name), his adoptive parents. The little bean, despite being intelligent and mature, is still a child and enjoys dearly his mom and dad’s cuddles and smooches. Law got a new chance in life, and he will live it as long as his body allows him to do so…

“I know, you can take her on a cliché date, like the ones she sees when watching dramas” the bean tells his dad, who has tried to stand up and fall back as he has stepped on Lami’s Legos. Lami, Law’s little sister is already two years old and is now with her mom spending the afternoon at the shopping mall.

Rosinante runs to his phone, hitting his pinkie with the table but still manages to open the explorer to search for some romantic restaurants. “What about this one?” he asks, showing his child a romantic Thai restaurant on the screen.

Law frowns and narrows his eyes. “You know Thai food is mostly spicy, don’t you?” He questions his dad. “So?” Cora asks, genuinely confused. “MUM HATES SPICY FOOD!!”

“FUCK!” Rosi swears, feeling guilty for forgetting such an important detail about his wife. “LANGUAGE….” Law says, trying to outsmart his daddy with a rogue smirk. Soon the kiddo runs from his sister's room towards him as Rosinante runs behind him to trap his sneaky smarty boy.

Since Cora had more than a week since Valentine’s Day, they quickly forgot and went downstairs to prepare dinner for the princesses of that house that night…

Some days after…

Little Law waited for his mum to go to sleep and soon snatched her phone to text Cora. He was serving duty during that night at the Marine base, so Law expected for his dad to be up at the office.

▶ Law: Cora-san, I was thinking about the perfect date for mum and you. And I made an itinerary for you to follow. 📎 1 file attached:

▶ Cora: Son, you are amazing. I didn’t know you were such a romantic “man”… ▶ Law: take it or leave it. I studied mum’s k-dramas to the fullest for research. ▶ Cora: son, you actually shouldn’t be watching those… and about not having any more sisters… Law we should speak about it… ▶ Law: I know how babies are made, I’ve studied that already… and ew… you and mum… just EW! ▶ Cora: Law!!!!

After the messaging session in which Cora realized his son was still awake at 2 in the morning and sent him to sleep right away, he started searching the web in order to find the best gift for her lover…

“Should I buy her something she needs? or maybe something to eat?” he asks himself, scrolling endlessly through every single web page advertising the perfect surprises for wives. “Maybe something spicy… we haven’t had any good interaction since the kids want to sleep with us every night”

He felt absolutely naughty for surfing such websites, as innocent as Cora can be, the simple thought of ordering some “vibrating panties” and “chocolate flavoured lube” made him blush in embarrassment. Yet he still placed the order that was supposed to be there the next day, perfect timing for a steamy valentine’s date… maybe Law didn’t want a sister, but surely Cora wouldn’t mind trying for another one…

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ…

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my beautiful wife” the soft, sweet voice of your husband wakes you up. Cora kisses your cheek, while the beautiful sun rays filter through the window. A cold morning in February with him always feels like an eternal spring day. “Morning, sweetheart. Happy Valentine’s” you mumble, snuggling against his chest. Cora has arrived from his night shift some hours ago and sneaked into your bed softly enough not to wake you up (frankly, that’s incredible. Rosinante always stabs his pinkie with the bed and wakes you up).

“What time is it? Have you slept for a few hours, baby?” you ask, getting drunk with the scent of his skin. Your fingertips trace the little remains of old scars all over his skin and thank God for him being next to you every morning.

“I have slept enough, it’s 10 am. The kids are still asleep…” he mumbles, in a weird but suggestive tone. “Rosinante Donquixote… are we celebrating from this early? I love it” you giggle, so ready for a little couple time.

He covers you both with the blankets, creating a perfect refuge of love and passion. Sloppy kisses, full of love, cuddling romantically… “Wanna try for a new baby, mommy?” he asks, whispering, all naughty and hyped. “Bet!” you mumble, excited, so ready for it… “HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY MOMMY AND CORAAA!!!” you hear, two bouncing weights, no more than 30 kilograms in total over your and your husband’s legs. “I definitely don’t want any more babies…” you think, while your son and daughter jump over you.

“GUYS, GUYS! STOP IT” you tell little Law and baby Lammy, because when they are together, they are absolutely unstoppable.

Lammy jumps over Cora, smearing boogers over his dadda’s cheeks. Law, grimacing at that image and while clenching over you informs you about your daughter's diagnosis (because he acts tough, but whenever he needs cuddles, he turns into full kid mode)

“Mum, Lammy seems to have a cold” he tells you. “Uhh… apparently. What about you? Are you feeling sick? You look a little blushed” you ask him, because a mother’s eye (and a paediatrician’s) never fails to identify a fever.

He instantly jumps off bed. “I’m ok, mum!” he assures and runs out of the room. You hear him sneeze over the hall, and Cora and you look at each other, with suspicious looks.

The thing is Law hates to be sick. He doesn't want to put a single foot on a hospital if it’s not for learning or working -thank God he is still in third grade-. Ever since his saturnism was gone, he hated to be medically treated. He despises needles on his body (we will see when he turns 18 and the tattoo craze hits him) and he denies every pain or slight cold not to worry you…

The day went by with Law getting out of his room only for lunch and the bathroom. You checked on him several times, but as long as he didn’t show any sign of fever you wouldn’t intervene. Law needs his space, he is not a normal child.

After Cora surprised you with the dinner invitation it was time to get the kids ready for their little trip to Sengoku’s house…

“Lammy, come here, let me blow your nose” you tell your younger baby, while checking on her to see if she was running a fever or not. Luckily, she isn’t. But there is another child to check up on.

Cora and you have decided that if any of the babies felt a little bit bad you will go have dinner another day, and Law wasn’t very fond of the idea… “I CREATED THIS ITINEDADY BY MYDSELFD! I DOND’T WANTD TO RDUIN THE DATE, CODA-SAN! IT’S JUSTD A DITTLE FEVED” you hear Law shouting from the other room. Lammy looks at you scared, sure his Law-ni was throwing the biggest tantrum.

You finish cleaning your daughter’s nose and take her hand to walk to the other room.

“What’s going on?” you ask, seeing Law absolutely annoyed with his dad, and Cora trying to act like a strict parent -failing miserably, because he is just too sweet to scold his son-. “SON, YOUR BRAIN WILL MELT! YOU ARE RUNNING A HIGH FEVER!”

And indeed, the poor kiddo has his eyes glossy and his cheeks red. He is of course running a fever, and his stuffed nose makes him talk in a funny way. “Law-ni? ade u feeling okeid?” his little sister asks, making Law realize you are watching him shout from the door.

You walk lovingly towards him, placing your palm on his burning forehead. “A future doctor denying the dangerous side effects of having a high fever?” you question him, using the best vocabulary that Law could understand; a doctor’s one. “I am dot… but… I dond’t wadda ruin dyour date… you ad in dlove and I’m duining this” he confesses, with sad eyes.

Cora smiles sweetly, your child is amazing…

“Law… It doesn’t matter where you go and what you do when you are in love, it only matters to be together with the person you love the most…” Cora says, hugging his son.

“That’s right, son. This house, you and your sister, are the people we love the most…” you tell him, kissing his forehead.

Lammy, as little as she is, after his brother taught her how to use it, comes running with your Polaroid camera and takes the sweetest photo that Law brings on his wallet up until today… ❤ ~

Happy Valentine’s Day! ~

[lilith-of-rivia]

The Bards Sister  Geralt XFemale!Reader Part 1

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Masterlist 

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadnt seen since she was 5. The journal is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. I know i am trash at summaries.

Trigger warnings: NONE a lot of Geralt and Jaskier in this first part. Your charicter doesn’t come in till closer to the end.

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,095 longest fanfic I’ve ever written!!

A/N: hello my loves!!! I got my Insperation back!! I’m hopping i will be regularly posting agin!!! I ove you all so much you consistent love and supoort has not gone unnoticed. The constant likes and reblogs truly means the world to me. I love every single one of you so much. Thank you for believing in my writing the way you do. All my love -Lilith ps. I have reviewed and edited but I will be doing a more in-depth review soon!

“Where are we going, Jaskier.” The Witcher’s brooding voice echoed threw the flowered valley. His horse trotted not far behind his companion. Jaskier looked back at him and just rolled his eyes.

“How many times have you led me on endless roads, towards the middle of nowhere speaking little to no words to me no matter how much I ask?” Geralt said nothing. Jaskier snorted looking back towards the road.

“Exactly. No shut up, your brooding is giving me a headache.” The bard was giving the witcher a taste of his own medicine. The idea that Jaskier was leading him to somewhere he had no idea of the location, made him uneasy. Did he trust his bard? Absolutely without a doubt. Would he ever admit it to him? No never.

Their travels continued till the sun was barely hanging in the sky. The air had grown crisp replacing the harsh burning of the full summer sun. Jaskier pulled his mare to the side of the road, climbing off her, tying her to a tree. Geralt followed, realizing they were stopping for the day.

“We still have a couple hours of daylight left.” Geralt said as he took Roach’s saddle and tack off.

“We don't need a couple hours, we are nearly there. Maybe an hour and half.” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier.

“Then why did we stop?” Jaskier pulled his saddle bags off his horse, putting them beside a log as he gathered some sticks for the fire.

“Because I have to debrief you as to who we are going to see and you must bathe before we do so. The stream here will do the trick.”

“Gods Jaskier, will you just tell me where we are going? The secrecy is bullshit.” The broot of a man was losing his patience with his friend.

The duo had been on the trip for nearly two weeks. They left Tramieria and headed east. Much further east than Geralt could ever remember traveling. Yet the bard seemed to know exactly what turns to take and when. The closer they drew to their destination the more the witcher could hear his heart beat faster.

“Jaskier if this is some stupid plot for me to protect you from some man who’s wife you slept with again-“

“It's not Geralt-“ Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose, his stress causing a minor headache. “Just go bathe then I’ll tell you everything.” Geralt studied his friend, his eyes searching his face, his ears tuning into his heart beat trying his best to figure out what he was getting himself into.

With a low grunt the witcher grabbed his last set of clean clothes and the bar of soap from the bard's hand before stomping off to the river.

“Clean EVERYTHING!” Jaskier yelled over his shoulder. Only getting an unfriendly finger in return.

Nearly an hour later, the sun was completely hidden behind the canyon, the glow of the fire Jaskier started illuminating their small camp. Jaskier’s fingers strummed mindlessly at his lute, his eyes fixed on the stars that were making their presence known more, humming to himself softly. He heard his friends footsteps as he approached, his hair was wet at his shoulders. A fresh white Cotton tunic hugged his muscular build, black trousers hugging his legs. He smiled nice for once. All thanks to the lavender and honey soap Jaskier had received as a gift.

“Now don't you look better.” Jaskier said with a chuckle. The witcher sat down across the fire from him, his golden eyes staring heavily at the bard.

“Spill your guts Jaskier.” Jaskier rubbed his hands over his face and nodded. His eyes looking anywhere but at his friend.

“I haven't been completely forward about my family life.” Jaskier’s eyes landed on the moon above them. It was nearly full, he was doing well with time. He knew they would reach their destination well before the next full moon.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s harsh voice broke the silence. With a loud sigh Jaskier finally looked his friend in the face.

“I’m royalty Geralt.” The Witcher’s expression did not change. He just looked at his friend. He could hear Jaskier's heart beat become uneven and unsteady. At first he thought it was a joke but the nervous energy radiating from his long time friend made him think better.

“My family, they are wonderful people. My mother, bless her, taught me everything I needed to know about writing and music. Convinced my father to let me train at Oxenfurt Academy. My father is a noble and loyal king. He served our people well. Still does to my knowledge. I haven't been back in nearly 20 years…” the bard trailed off, his eyes fixated on his hands, his fingers twildilling with a ring he had on. The ring was that of his family. Their crest engraved into the gold.

“I was never meant to be a noble. I lived for adventure, for more than just sitting on a throne and watching people come and go. I was never fit to be king. My parents knew that. They understood. Understanding people they are.” His voice trailed off again, hopping his friend would say something. Ask a question. Anything. He didn’t know where to go next.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Geralt finally asked.

“Because it never came up. My family never needed me. I never needed them. I love them all dearly of course. But we were never the closest people in the world. Well, my sister and I were.” That caught the Witcher’s attention. His eyes narrow slightly, he made sure to not let his expression scare the bard into not telling him more. He was genuinely curious about his family. But he couldn't lie and say he wasn't disappointed that in the 7 years they traveled together he never heard of them.

“You have a sister?” The bard's eyes lit up. His memory raced with images of his tun little sister chasing him around the courtyard screaming, yelling his name. Her giggles and laughs pulling at his heart strings.

“Yes. Her name is (Y/N). She is about to be 25. Big age for a princess. I havnt seen her since she was very little.” His heart started to break softly. His neglect to his baby sitter weighting heavily on him.

“I write her often, as much as I can. She was...well, a surprise to my parents to say the least. I was 15 when she was born. I left home at 20. I was only around for her toddler years. I never got to see her grow, blossom into a young woman. I missed so much.” Jaskier had to fight back the tears, his throat becoming tight and dry. His body filling with regret.

“I just kept pushing it back Geralt. I alwasy said I’d make it home. I alwasy had it in the back of my mind to go back and see her. But I never did.”

“Why now?” Geralt asked.

“She wrote me a few months back. It was nearly a book. It was filled with tales of her new travels around our country. She had been training heavily with an unmanned matester of combat. She traveled the countryside with the man. She referred to him as an uncle. In the letter she asked me if it was true that I’d been traveling with you. She said the songs and tales of Jaskier the Bard traveling with the White Wolf made it to her ears.” Jaskier stopped talking for a brief moment, rummaged around his rut sack and pulled out a notebook. He untied its string and a large pile of papers fell out into his hand. He unfolded the parchment and scanned the writing.

“I wrote her back that week. Only to receive this in return.” He began to read;

“Oh dear Jaskier!! I cannot believe its true. I thought he was only a legend. The white wolf. Please tell him he is a hero here. We love his stories. Many have written books of him. Children run round calling themselves the butcher of Blaviken here to save the damsel and distress. I love his stories, mainly because they involve you. Please come visit me this year. I miss you terribly. I want to hear of your travels with the wolf. Mother said he is more than welcome to stay if he wishes to travel with you. I do miss you Jaskier. More than I think you know. I do not mean to guilt you or make you feel bad as i know you are traveling the world to your heart's content and would never want you to feel as though I do not support you-“ Jaskier stopped reading for a brief moment. A small tear dripped onto the page he was reading. Geralt listened to every word he read. He couldn't help the small tug of his lips when he read about the children pretending to be him. It was a breath of fresh air for the witcher. He had constantly been told he was a monster. To hid your children from him. Yet here was an entire country that loved him, yet he had no idea. Jaskier cleared his throat and continued. “But i miss my brother. And maybe, just maybe. I could come with you. If you deem me fit. I have been working tirelessly with a friend of fathers. He trains me in not only swordsmanship, but Herbology, and monsters as well. I can name nearly every monster that has inhabited the Continent and how to slay it. He thinks I’m ready to leave the nest and I think mother and father are getting a bit tired of me as well. I cannot stand another somber, dull, dinner party with nobles who look at me like a piece of meat. So please. Visit me soon. Come and stay a few days. Catch up with your dear sister and maybe, if he isn't too busy and if it doesn’t inconvenience him, bring the Wolf with you. He’d be a welcomed hero. All my love dear brother. Xoxo Love always, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz

Jaskier folded the letter, placing it inside his notebook before safely storing it inside his sack again. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes slowly moving from his hands to his best friend. They sat in the silence for a while. Geralt’s brain replaying the words he had heard from his friend.

“You could have told me about her Jaskier. Why didn't you? You’ve been in contact with her all this time, planning to see her and your family again. Bringing me along for the ride, yet not a single word in 7 years. Do you not trust me with such a secret Jaskier?” Jaskier was taken aback by his friend's words.

He never knew his secrecy would have such an impact on his friend. When it came to Geralt he learned long ago, the little words, the better. The witcher can only handle so much before he loses interest and stops listening or walks away. He never in a million years would have thought he cared about his life that much. It warmed the bards heart to know his dear friend, the only brother he ever had, cared that deeply for him.

“It has nothing to do with not trusting you Geralt. Is has everything to do with the shame I hold for not seeing her sooner. For treating her like a dirty secret form the world. There is no logical reason for me to keep my family such a big secret. Yet I have. For 20 years.” Geralt’s hands rubbed together softly as he listened to his friend. He understood the secrecy. He was a box full of secrets that nobody could get into.

“Its okay Jaskier. I understand the secrecy. Is that where we are going tomorrow?” Jaskier nodded, a smile appearing on his face.

“Her birthday is the next full moon. I’m hoping my gift will be a good start in time lost.” Geralt looked at him curiously. He hadn't noticed any major item in Jaskier’s possession that could make a good gift for a young princess.

“You’re her gift Geralt. I wrote her back after that letter and told her I’d be back for her next birthday. But that you simply were to busy with your work. I told her that you greatly appreciated her support and that youd consider writing to her in the future. She has no idea your coming with me.” Geralt didnt know how he felt about being a gift. He never ever saw himself as a gift to anyone. More of a burden the a gift. He shook his head at Jaskier and tutted at him.

“Jaskier if your that broke you could’ve asked me for a few extra coins for a real gift.” The witcher attempted to joke with the bard. It made Jaskier smile more. Geralt could be funny, but his humor was incredibly dry, much like Jaskier’s father.

“Geralt! Did you just try and joke around with me??” Geralt rolled his eyes, laying down stretching his muscles as he looked up at the starts.

“Best get some sleep Jaskier, you’ve got a rather big family reunion tomorrow.”

The next morning Jaskier was up and awake before Geralt, a rare sight. He truly hadn't slept more than a couple hours that night. His nerves kept him awake. He feared his sister wouldn’t be as loving as he pictured, she had every right to be mad at him, hate him even. By the time Geralt was up, Jaskier had bathed, changed and had his horse completely ready to go.

Geralt had to do everything in his power to not laugh at his friend. He looked rather ridiculous. His normal bright attire was replaced with a royals outfit. A green and blue velvet tunic and some extremely uncomfortable looking black trousers. His hair was combed back and his face was freshly washed. He even cleaned under his fingernails. He looked rather ridiculous in Geralt’s opinion. He couldn't help the low chuckle that left his lips as he put his bed roll away.

“I don't understand why you're laughing. I have some clothes for you to put on as well.” Geralt’s expression changed instantly, from humorous to angry.

“No. Absolutely not. What I’m wearing is perfectly fine. I’d wear it to meet any king or queen.” A bag was chucked at him, he barely caught it before it smacked into his face.

“This isn't any normal king and queen Geralt. This is my family. And besides, you are no ordinary witcher in my kingdom, you’ll be treated as royalty there. You may as well look the part.” Geralt huffed and threw the bag of clothes back at his friends feet, glaring daggers at him. He hated dressing up with a burning passion. Everything was too tight, not easy to fight in. If anything happened he’d have to rip the seams on every piece of clothing to be able to maneuver his weapons properly. And fancy clothes dont have space for weapons. He didn't like that one bit. Jaskier looked at his friend. His eyes pleading with him.

“Please Geralt. Just for today and her birthday. I couldn't care less what you wear at any other point on this trip.” He had walked closer to Geralt now. About a meter away from him. He extended his hand, the bag in his hand. Geralt looked from the bag to his friend. His teeth and jaw clenched.

He let out a loud huff and grabbed the bag from the bard.

“Fine.” He said through gritted teeth and began taking off his clothing. Jaskier smiled before turning his attention to Roach, getting her stalled and tacked so when Geralt was dressed they could leave.

“If we move with a bit of a haste we could make it there before breakfast.” Jaskier said as he mounted his horse, looking at his friend. His hand slapped over his face. The witcher looked utterly ridiculous in his new attire. The bright red and orange vest a-top a cream tunic, his legs tight in some disgustingly ugly corduroy pants. The pants were obviously smaller than the seamstress he bought them off claimed them to be. The ends of the pants came nearly mid calf on Geralt’s legs. His pasty white ankles and feet shining in the early morning sun.

“Jesus Geralt. Those are worse than the ones I got for Pavetta’s party.” The bard could no longer hold in his laughter. Did Gerarlt look like a nobleman? Sure, but his size, white hair, and bright yellow eyes really didn't help the situation.

“Jaskier, I will kill you for this.” Geralt grumbled angered as he pulled his socks up his feet and over his calves. Luckily for him (and Jaskier) his boots went higher than his pants, making it harder to notice that the pants he was wearing were way too small.

“At least I’m not making you wear a big hat with a feather, those are truly hideous.” Geralt mounted Roach, more carefully then he normally does in fear his pants could bust at the seams.

“I had to wrap you up nice and pretty to present you to my sister.” Jaskier commented as he led his horse; Napoleon to the main road, Geralt and Roach in tow.

The two men rode in a comfortable silence for some time, but as they got closer and closer to Jaskier’s home, all Geralt could hear was his frantic heartbeat. Jaskier’s palms get sweaty and his throat dry, no matter how much water he drinks from his water skin.

“Jaskier. You need to calm down. Your fucking heart beat is driving me insane.” Geralt hissed. They could see the end of the valley they had been traveling in. Geralt looked out in the distance, his eyes saw the castle first. It was very far, but he could tell how beautiful it was from where they were.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t listen to it then.” Jaskier barked back.

“You know I have no control over it, idiot. Take a deep breath. I know you're scared, I understand. But from the sounds of it your sister desperately misses you, I don't think she would ask you to come see her if she was going to hate you.” Geralt didn't talk much at all, that everyone knew. He was a man of few words. But when he did speak it was wiser than most people ever expected. People tended to forget the age of the white haired man, as he stopped ageing physically in his late twenties.

Jaskier smiled softly at his friend's words, he listened to him and took a few deep breaths, calling himself down. Geralt was right. His sister seemed eager as ever to see him again.

The two men approached the entrance to the city. Geralt was more than shocked. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen a city so beautiful in his entire life. The streets were lined in beautiful stone, flowers, vines, greenery all around every corner. The banners that were hanging on the outside of the main gates caught Geralt’s eyes. The crests on them were brightly colored in greens and blues, a very large diamond in the center. Their horses rode into the entrance of the town. Jaskier’s heart was calm, steady, his face was bright and had a smile Geralt had never seen on him before. He was finally home.

“Welcome to Inritha (In-Rithe-A) the capital of Unthya (Un-The-A) Geralt. Welcome to my home.”

Their horses traveled down the stone brick road slowly, the city was buzzing already even with it being the early hours of the morning. Geralt was surprised to see everyone look so...happy, care free. Enjoying their lives. They looked as though nothing was a fret, no monster looming. Geralt was mesmerized by the city. The buildings were built out of what looked to him like limestone, a building material he so rarely saw in other parts of the Continent. The buildings were being taken over by vines and moss, flowers all over. He’d never seen so many butterflies in his life.

“Jaskier-'' his voice was barely a whisper, the bard turning to look at him as they rode side by side. Jaskier couldn't help but smile as his friend admired the beauty he himself had so easily forgotten over the years.

“I know, it's beautiful. I've forgotten myself.”

The two men continued riding their horses up the road closer and closer to the castle. The longer they road tho more attention they got from passer buys. Geralt could hear their whispers.

It couldn't be. Could it?

THE Geralt of Rivia? Here in Inritha?

Mummy look! It's the butcher!!

Has Prince Jaskier finally returned home?

For the first time in what seemed like his entire life, the hushed whispers Geralt heard as he rode through a city were not of hate and disgust. But of admiration and curiosity. The entire time Geralt and Jaskier rode through the city, he never once had the urge to grab either of his swords that were at his side.

The two men approached the gates of the castle, four armored guards stood outside. The put their hand up in motion for the men to stop. One who looked as tho to be the commander of sorts stepped forward poking between both men. Eyes lingering for a long while on the two.

“State your name and what business you have in Inritha at this early hour.” Jaskier dismounted his horse, waking a few feet forward.

“My name is Jaskier Alfred Pankratz son of Dastrill and Alvere Pankratz. This is my companion Geralt Of Rivia, we are here on behalf of my sister, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz’s 25th birthday.” Jaskier bowed his head lowly, keeping eye contact with the commander in front of him.

“Prince Jaskier?!?” The man clearly looked flustered and embarrassed for not recognizing the prince of his own kingdom. All four men quickly bowed their heads.

“Please accept my apology your highness, we welcome you home. As do we welcome your honored guest.” Jaskier smiled and told the men to not trouble themselves with an apology. Geralt continued to watch from atop Roach, still not use to being idolized instead of feared. Honored guest. Geralt thought to himself. He could get use to the new treatment. Jaskier remounted Napoleon the gates to the castle walls opening. The both road threw, all four men bowed their heads as the two walked threw. Not once did they threaten Geralt’s life. They were led by a guard to the stables where they left their horses.

Geralt could hear Jaskier heart beating again in his chest as they were led inside the castle. Geralt tried to concentrate on his friend, to be there for him but he couldn't help but let his eyes wander all over the castle's walls, it was a bright exterior. The walls polished, candles everywhere. Large windows allowing for natural lighting. Nothing dark or gloomy about the castle at all. He felt uplifted..cheary almost. As they neared the entrance to the grand hall where the King, Queen, Princess along with some others were. Geralt could hear the light conversation, and the clicking of silver on plates, they were eating breakfast. But he could still hear Jaskier’s heart beating in his chest. Geralt placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder as they walked, giving it a soft squeeze. The action made Jaskier more worried if the witcher was feeling alright, as it was abnormally out of character for the man. But he said nothing, appreciating the gesture.

They got to the door and just as the guard was about to push the doors open Jaskier grabbed his arm.

“Could we maybe skip the loud over dramatic announcements of my arrival? I have not seen my family in years.” The guard only nodded, bowed his head and walked back outside to his post. Jaskier looked over at his friend, as he put his hand on the door ready to push it open.

“Now or never.” Jaskier said as he opened the door. Both men walked into the large room, the talking stopped almost instantly. Geralt stood at the door, not wanting to impose on the important reunion of his friend and his family. He followed Jaskiers gaze to the table ahead of them in the front of the room. The room was lined with huge floor to ceiling windows, the light of the early morning sun shone brightly making the marble floors glisten.

“JASKIER!!!” The loud scream of a girl nearly made Geralt jump out of his skin, his hand reaching back for a sword that wasn't there in instinct.

It made Jaskier jump but the smile that covered his face was even bigger than the one he had seen as he walked through the city. Geralt followed Jaskier’s gaze to a young woman. The sight of her alone made Geralt want to pass out. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. Her hair was the same chestnut brown that Jaskier had, but it was long, hip length. She had it pulled back slightly out of her face, a few baby hairs framed her face. Oh her face. Geralt thought as though he was looking at a living breathing angel. He heard her chair scrape roughly on the ground before it loudly crashed on the floor. She raced around the long table from her mothers side and sprinted to her brother. She practically threw herself on him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, stumbling back a few steps. Everything was quite as the two embraced. Geralt's eyes went to the king and queen who were now standing. The queen looked just like (Y/N) but her hair was black, long stripes of grey peeking through her hair. The crown atop her head glistened in the light. Her right hand was tightly around her husband's arm, her other hand placed softly over her mouth as she looked at her children. Her husband looked much like Jaskier. His hair was the same color as both of their children, but much like his wife’s, much of it had turned grey. His eyes were the same cornflower blue that Jaskier had.

Minutes passed in silence before Jaskier put his hands on his sisters shoulders, pulling her away from him. He put one hand on her cheek as he examined her features. Her pale cheeks were damp with tears. But not sad tears. Tears of joy.

“My sister, how you’ve grown.” Geralt could hear the tears in the bard's voice. He couldn't see him but he could hear everything.

(Y/N) fingers gently brushed over her brother’s face as she smiled at him.

“My brother, how you haven't aged a day. You look just as I remember you. Maybe a few more wrinkles.” She teased. He laughed softly. Wiping his eyes with his hand before pulling her into another bone crushing embrace. She was much shorter than Jaskier, barely shoulder level with him. Geralt was shocked to remember she would be turning 25 in two days. She was still young in the face, beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to see her more up close.

While the siblings spoke their parents moved from the spots at the table, standing behind (Y/N). Alvere was the first to pull him into a tight embrace after her daughter let go. Her fingers gently combed through his hair as she inhaled his scent deeply.

“My dear son how I've missed you.” She whispers slowly into his ear. Geralt was starting to feel bad for eavesdropping. Not that he could help it. He was still standing at the entrance to the grand hall yet he could hear everything.

Jaskiers father hugged him next, it was not nearly as long as the outer two but both men were okay with it. Understanding that their relationship had never been one for long father son hugs.

“It is good to see you again my boy.” His hand clasped down on his son's shoulder.

The four of them stood close together, smiling more than Geralt ever thought possible. It almost made his heart turn. Deep, deep, deep, down the witcher longed for a family that would look at him the way they looked at Jaskier. He often cured the universe for not giving him an option when it came to what he had become. He clung to the few memories he had of his mother. But as years passed they became harder and harder to remember, more painful. But he had. Made a new sort of family over the years. From Jaskier, to his brothers at Kaer Morhen.

“(Y/N), mum, dad, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” Jaskier turned his head towards the door to the hall. Geralt stood tall, shoulders pressed back, his hair framed his face gracefully. Even in the entirely ugly attire he was in, he made himself as presentable and as proper as possible. (Y/N)’s eyes grew bigger when her eyes met his. He once again was taken aback by her beauty. Her eyes were a powerful emerald green matching similarly to the color of her brother's tunic, but brighter. Her mouth fell slightly agape when she realized who it was. The eyes were a dead give away that he was in fact a witcher, but once she saw the silver medallion that rested on his chest, she knew.

Jaskier nodded his head for Geralt to walk forward and he did, his footsteps were light, his pace slow and steady as he walked closer to the royal family. (Y/N)’s hand gently covered her mouth in excitement. Her eyes flickering to her brother who grinned at her.

“A bit of an early birthday gift.” He winked. Once Geralt was closer to the group Jaskier turned so he could introduce them, at his sister's side. All eyes were on him. Even the few people who were still seated at the table were looking at him. He started to feel a bit more uneasy. He started to remember how far away his swords were if he needed them. This alone was beginning to make him panic. He was not used to being welcomed into royal courts unless it was specifically for a hunt.

“This is Geralt of Rivia, one of the most feared, renowned, and skilled Witcher’s the content has to offer. And also my best friend.”

Geralt's eyes were back on (Y/N)’s, his worries dropped more when she smiled brightly at him. Her eyes gleamed.

Geralt bowed his head to the three of them, “ it is an absolute pleasure to meet you, your highnesses.” (Y/N) was nearly blown over by the sultry sound of his voice. She had only heard stories of the witcher. Never see him for herself and definitely had never heard him speak. She never expected a monster hunter to be as handsome as he was. She admired every feature he had. Her eyes fixating on his chiseled jawline, the light gray stubble across his chin and cheeks.

“My, what a pleasure it is to meet such a famed warrior as yourself Geralt!” The king spoke before (Y/N) could, which she was happy about as she did not trust her voice to not waver at his beauty in that moment.

“You my dear are very popular around here. Your stories are legendary. The school children even host yearly plays, Reenacting your most beloved stories.” (Y/N)’s mother added her finger pointing light hardly at Geralt. Her hand came out gracefully from her side to shake the Witcher’s hand. He gently took it, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His attention returned to (Y/N).

“I’m terribly sorry I’m the birthday gift from your brother this year.” She shook her head almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Do not be sorry Geralt-'' the way she said his name made him feel as though he could keel over. “I would like to thank you, for protecting my brother for the years you have. He never skips on his gratitude for you in his letter to me. For that we are all eternally grateful for you.” She reached her hand out. Geralt wasted no time in grabbing her hand, shaking it gently. He was dying inside, but he couldn't let her or anyone else see. He took a gentle step towards her, his head lowering softly, his soft lips were placed on the back of her small hand. The small action made the young girls' faces burn red. Her eyes flicked to her brother who smugly smiled, knowing danm well his gift was going to take the cake.

“Well, you both should come join us, we just started eating.” The king said with a smile, with a quick wave of his hand two more places we set.

(Y/N) gently removed her hand from Geralt’s. Walking towards the table, both men in tow. As she reached her spot she moved her plate and glass to the middle seat that had been prepared, leaving Jaskier a seat next to their mother and Geralt a seat next to her. They all sat and waited as food was served to them. (Y/N) could feel Geralt watching her as she ate, her brother deep in conversation with her parents about his most recent travels. But she wasnt listening. Her attention was only on the man seated to her left. She looked over at the man, eyed him up and down then turned to her brother. For the first time she noticed how ugly their attire was.

“Gods Jaskier who dressed you two?” She asked as she sipped her orange juice. Both men looked at her. Jaskier looked a bit hurt and Geralt only snorted.

“I told him the clothes were horrendous.” Geralt said beside the young woman making her giggle. The sound made his heart beat faster. This was also when he realized how sensibly everyone else in the room was dressed, and how much they stood out. (Y/N) was in a thin white cotton dress, it was around knee length and a light sweater was on her shoulders. Her mother and father dressed similarly. Their clothes looking normal, comfortable.

“Oh my dear brother. What have you done to the poor witcher.” She laughed, turning her attention to him. She could see how uncomfortable the clothes made him. The vest was way too tight and he was practically bursting out of his pants, not that she minded, she gladly enjoyed the view.

“He is torturing me. That's what.” Geralt scoffed and she couldn't help but giggle again.

“You're so dramatic Geralt it's truly not that bad.” Her head flicked to her brother.

“Jaskier don't be rude.” She tutted him like a mother, it made Geralt snort under his breath as he took a bite of his eggs. She stood and walked behind him. He was stiff at her movements.

“Do you mind?” Her fingers were on the strings of the vest. He shook his head no and she quickly untied the tight strings, and it fell from his shoulders. She took it off and handed it to one of the maids

“You can burn that horridly ugly thing.” She said as she sat back down.

“I do not remember you being so rude, little sister.” Jaskier quipped.

“What I think is rude is how you made sure you got the more presentable clothing and dressed your poor friend in those horrendous colors. Have you seen his pants, Jaskier?? It's a miracle he can still breath.” Her eyes looked towards the witcher who was already looking at her with a cocky smirk on his face, glad she was putting Jaskier in his place for the ugly outfit choice.

“I can take you to the seamstress later today, if you’d like Geralt.” Her smile was like a drug.

“I’d appreciate that m'lady.” He said softly.

“And I can show you around the city, both of you. But in return I would like to hear some of your stories, first hand if that’s doable.”

“That sounds like a reasonable trade.” Geralt quipped back.

“Then it's a date, Witcher.”

“A date it is.”

[t-lostinworlds]

Dear Santa (Tom Holland)

a/n: this made me want a baby, preferably with tom but anyway. here’s my gift to you lot for the holidays! i hope you enjoy this one <3

pairing: dad!tom holland x female!reader trope/genre: Dad AU; slight angst; fluff summary: It’s a yearly thing for Tom and your daughter to write letters to Santa together on what they want for Christmas. Only this time around, it was over video call given that Tom was miles away from his two—three, including Tessa—beautiful girls. Santa did get the letters though... warnings: tom being such a dad (which is a warning in its own right), a dash of ‘missing you’ angst, it’s so fluffy that i died a couple times, bad pun/dad joke & a lil steamy in the end. word count: 7.2k+

masterlist in bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

"Dada!"

"Hello, angel," Tom gushed, heart warming up ten times over as he looked right at his four-year-old daughter's beautiful and chubby face. Her little hand waved enthusiastically while she sat on the tall chair in the dining area, her beam turning brighter at the sight of him. "How was your day?" He slid himself in the little nook he had in his trailer, placing his laptop on the table in front of him and getting himself comfy as he listened to her tiny voice babble. Some of her words were mispronounced, sentences cut short and randomly stringed together but Tom listened to every single one of it with much interest.

"What?! She didn't," he gasped exaggeratedly when she talked about Tessa sitting on her while they played in the living room, the pup barking soon after to make her presence known.

"She did! 'N Tessa so heavy dada."

The young lad heard your sweet giggle next and his whole body softened even more at the sound. He leaned back on the seat with the brightest smile he could ever wear. Although Tom could feel the sting in his chest gradually grow when you came into view.

The curve on your lips was tender and sweet, one that he could never get enough of even after years of seeing it, one that he's so dearly missed seeing in person. Tom felt his heart ache the more he stared at his two precious girls, both looking at him with smiles. But still, he can see it, the tiny specks of sadness in your eyes all because he was thousands of miles away, five days before Christmas.

He would absolutely do anything to be in the same room with you two right now. Hell, even to just be in the same country but alas, work and duties. Tom has been away for roughly five months and the last time he's seen you two in the flesh was two months ago when you came over and visited him on set. Now, it was the holidays and he's still not home. And Tom can attest that it's one of, if not the worst feeling in the world.

It wasn't in his plan to be so far away at this time but his schedule is ever changing which led him to still be at work nearing Christmas. He'd done the best he could to try and make it before or on the 25th but it wasn't set on stone. No real and solid plans until the actual day which was very gut wrenching.

It was the first Christmas he's away, after all.

But at this moment, Tom has been lucky enough to have a few hours off this afternoon given that night shoots were the agenda of the day. And even though he should be using this time to get a few hours of sleep in before a very long night, of course, Tom took this opportunity to video call over instead. He just got done eating lunch but it was already dinnertime back in London, and he so badly needs to see your beautiful faces before you went to bed.

"Thalia, sweetie, go wash your hands for a sec, yeah?" you hummed, running your fingers gently through her curly hair, one she got from him. Although her eyes, her smile and overall beauty? It was all you, Tom thinks so at least. Well, except for that cute nose that she got from him as well. The more she grows, the more it shows how she's the perfect mixture of her parents, and it honestly makes his heart soar. Thalia is the reminder of the love you and Tom have, one that's pure and strong that blossomed into this joyful, precious and beautiful little girl.

She looked up at you with a soft pout, pointing towards the screen as she shook her head. "Bu—"

"I'll be right here pumpkin, don't worry. Listen to mummy," Tom chuckled softly. Upon seeing the apologetic smile you flashed him, he knew that you saw the flicker of sadness that crossed his features. You always do see right through him. He shot you a small reassuring nod, a silent way to tell you it was okay.

"No go anywhere," Thalia warned, narrowing her eyes at him.

Tom felt his heart break even more but he flashed her a wide grin, crossing his finger over his heart and said, "I promise."

Thalia reached a hand out for you to take, a sweet smile on your face as you curled your fingers around her tiny ones. "There you go," you said, helping her off the seat.

"Thank you," she hummed, tugging your hand to urge you to lean down. A lovely giggle vibrated in your chest once Thalia placed a wholesome smack on your lips, the sight making Tom's heart skip a couple beats.

"You're welcome, angel," you said. Thalia disappeared from the screen, Tom assuming she had swiftly made her way over her little stairs that he had built for her a couple months back, just so she could reach the sink. "Careful," you called out, the soft grunts of the little girl echoing in the kitchen along with Tessa pitter-patters on the tiles. Tom knew she was in a rush up the stairs, eager to get her hands clean so she can go back to talking to him. He doesn't know if the thought made his heart soar or break a couple more pieces.

You turned back to look at him through the screen, a shy smile erupting on your features the moment you saw him already gawking at you with the proudest grin on his lips. He just can't help but admire the goddess before him. You just look so stunning and gorgeous in a simple knitted sweater, you, his wife.

That alone was honestly enough to make Tom combust with the love that fills him up ten times over. But then, by the heavens above, you're such an amazing mother. He genuinely doesn't know what to do with himself. You make him feel like he's on top of the world. Both you and Thalia make him feel so, so happy.

"Damn, how did I get so lucky," he gushed, gaze locked with yours with adoration coating his orbs. "I mean, look at you, the fact that I get to call you my wife? Whew." He shook his head in pure disbelief, blowing out his cheeks in the process. You let out a bashful laugh with a roll of your eyes, his smile only growing at your reaction. It makes Tom's heart melt whenever you get all timid when he showers you with compliments and affections, all the more reason for him to keep doing it as often as he can.

"All clean!" Thalia exclaimed as she climbed back onto her seat with your guidance, showing her palms to him with a bright smile.

"That's my girl," Tom said proudly, shooting her a wink with a grin to match.

You moved the laptop farther so Tom could see both of you clearly. Disappearing for a moment, Tom heard you speaking to Tessa, handing the doggo her dinner he presumed. You came back into view soon after with two plates on hand, placing one in front of Thalia—to which she adorably clapped with a soft 'thank you'—and setting yours right beside hers. Tom simply watched with a smug smile as you handed the young girl her utensils before you sat yourself down. Your little girl waited for you to get situated without touching her food. Then you and Thalia locked eyes, lifting your spoons and taking a bite at the same time with giggles coming out of you both.

The amount of times Tom could literally die and resurrect at the adorable scene before him was immeasurable. He was unable to wipe the love-struck grin painted on his lips, cheeks hurting but totally worth it.

"Oh, that was a very big bite," he commented when Thalia took another spoonful. Tom adjusted the sleeves of his flannel shirt, pulling it up his forearms for him to easily prop his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm as he admired his two precious girls.

"Hmm, so good!" Thalia nodded enthusiastically, eyes all squinted with her cheeks puffed out as she chewed her food as thoroughly and as carefully as she could. Although a little bit of it still managed to stick to her chin, Thalia quick to clean it up with the napkin you placed right beside her plate.

God she's growing up fast.

Tom felt his eyes sting at the thought of his little girl growing to be not-so-little anymore. Not long ago he was the one who'd wipe the little crumbs and mess off her face, but now she can do it all on her own. He could honestly cry.

"You know what, I'm so jealous of you young lady," he huffed, leaning back with his arms crossed and a deep crease on the middle of his brows. "It's unfair how you get to eat mummy's cooking every day."

"I sent Sam some of my recipes, didn't I?" you asked, amusement laced in your tone as you furrowed your brows at him.

"Yeah, but it still isn't the same when it's you cooking because then I can give you hugs and kisses during the process." Tom pouted. "That's one of my favourite parts aside from eating."

"Ew, dada, cheesy."

Tom's mouth fell agape as his gaze snapped towards Thalia and then at you—to which you only shrugged with a giggle—and back to his daughter. "Okay, who taught you that?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"Uncle Haz!" Thalia exclaimed proudly, nodding her head as she continued eating.

Tom shook his head disappointedly as he locked eyes with you. "I've been telling you, love, Harrison is a bad influence on her," he grumbled, jokingly of course.

"Oh hush, it's not like what she said was a lie," you pointed out with a knowing smile.

"Hey!" He pouted.

Thalia giggled at his reaction. "Dada cheesy," she repeated.

Tom sighed, shaking his head but the smile never did leave his lips. It never could whenever his eyes are on you two. He was going to confront Harrison about that though; makes Tom wonder what other things that blonde lad has taught his daughter.

"How was your morning, bub?" you asked with a soft smile.

Tom relaxed in his seat as he proceeded to recount the events that happened earlier all while you both continued to eat your dinner.

"—and then we got to visit the children's hospital and gave out presents, which was nice."

"They met Spider-Man?" Thalia queried.

Tom gave her a nod with a wide smile on his face. "Yes, they did."

It's still surreal to him how he's managed to now have the fifth movie of the franchise. It was the last installment which was somewhat bittersweet on its own right. Nonetheless, Tom was very thankful with the run of his career as the famous web-slinger. Lucky and blessed would be huge understatements to describe his life. Even more so now that he's got a wonderful, beautiful daughter and an amazing, gorgeous wife.

"Dada a real life superhero."

Yup, he definitely couldn't get even luckier than this.

Tom let out a coo, bottom lip jutted out as he looked at you and then at Thalia with a little gloss in his eyes. "I could literally burst into tears right now. You own my heart, darling," he gushed. Eyes glancing back at you, he sighed, "You both do."

The warmth and love you held in your eyes glowed some more, his smile widening at the beautiful sight as he tilted his head at you sweetly. Turning back to his daughter, Thalia flashed him a wide smile, setting her spoon and fork down with a satisfied hum.

"Finish already?" Tom asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "It's letter time!"

Tom can't help but chuckle. It's been a yearly thing for him and her to write their letters to Santa every 20th, always the same schedule which was after dinner. Thalia has grown accustomed to the tradition real quick despite only doing it for only a few years. Well, she is just four.

"Alright, alright, why don't you help mummy clean up while I'll go get my pen and special paper," he said with a wriggle of his brows. The young girl clapped cheerfully as she grabbed for your hand before hopping off her seat, gently taking her plate from the table and carrying it to the sink.

"She's getting so big, love," Tom breathed out, looking at you with his bottom lip jutted out.

"I know," you sighed, eyes on Thalia before you tilted your head at him with that gorgeous smile of yours, nothing but adoration coating your orbs.

Smile turning into a mischievous smirk, he wriggled his brows at you. "Should we make another one?" he purred, voice low and guttural but quiet.

"Thomas!" you hissed as softly as you could. You looked at your little girl briefly and Tom literally saw the relief that washed over your face before you turned back to him with a death glare. "She hasn't asked about that yet and I swear if you're the reason why she starts now—"

"Tessa, not the spoon!"

Your head whipped towards the direction of that little voice before you turned back to Tom with narrowed eyes. "You behave yourself, Mr. Holland," you warned, raising a brow at him and then walking off screen.

"Love you, Mrs. Holland!" he called out with a chuckle.

***

"Dada don't peek!" Thalia gasped once she saw Tom craning his neck teasingly. She glared at him as she covered her paper with her little hand, which was honestly the cutest thing ever.

"I'm not, I'm not," he chuckled, going back to writing his letter.

He wasn't really asking for presents. Well, realistically, he doesn't need to. Of course he could pretend and not write anything at all but he feels a little bad lying to his daughter. So, he resulted to jotting down the things he already has rather than asking for more. All of his yearly letters had consisted of nothing but gratefulness as he lists down what he's been blessed with and was so thankful for, you and Thalia always at the top of that list.

The party has been moved to Thalia's room now, the little girl fresh out her bath and was wrapped in her PJs. The laptop was right on the little desk she had in the corner where she practices her writing, reading and even drawings.

It was where they always write the letters. The previous years, Tom would sit right beside her in one of the tiny chairs as he helps her write. But now, instead of side by side, they were looking at each other through the screen, which honestly makes Tom's heart ache. To add to that, she was writing on her own too, a bittersweet feeling coursing through his bones. Because as much as how he feels so proud to see his little girl know—slowly but surely—how to write, there's always going to be a part of him that clings to the memory of her little hand encased in his much larger ones as he helps her navigate the pencil around the paper, letter by letter.

God, she needs to slow down on growing up. Tom can't honestly handle it.

"You peeked again!" she squealed when she saw Tom lift his brows with widened eyes as he tried to get a look at her paper. Thalia quickly glanced over her shoulder, pointing at the screen with a pout, so obviously telling on him which made him let out a hearty laugh. You came into view right behind the little girl, toys on hand which Tom knows you got off from the floor. There's always so many of them littered around her room. Well, he admits, he does spoil his little girl, sometimes.

"Dada, no peeking," you scolded playfully, raising a knowing brow at him, Tom's heart melting at the seams at your use of the nickname.

"I didn't see anything, I promise." He threw both his hands up in surrender, scrunching his nose at Thalia who only stuck her tongue out at him in response. You disappeared from shot again, continuing what you were doing, Tom assumed. He turned back to his daughter. "Now, write your name at the bottom so Santa knows who it's from. And then put it in the envelope and give it to mummy," he instructed.

Thalia scribbled a few more lines before taking the paper in hand, folding it up as best as she could—all wonky and uneven which is so darn cute—and then carefully sliding it in the envelope provided for her. She then lifted it up to you once you made your way back over to her desk. "Done!" she exclaimed proudly.

"Great job, angel," Tom commended. "Now, time to brush your teeth."

Thalia nodded before turning behind her to catch your eyes. "Mama, help please." She pointed towards the laptop as a way for her to say that she wants to bring it with her, never wasting any time to talk or just see him. Again, Tom doesn't know if his heart could melt or break at the thought.

You nodded with a hum just as she rushed towards the bathroom across the hall, you right on her tail as you carried the computer in your arms.

"Ugh, my heart literally soars every time I hear her call you mama," Tom groaned as he shook his head. "Never gets old."

"Stop being so adorable when I can't kiss you right now," you muttered.

Tom smirked, shooting you a teasing wink to which you only responded with a playful roll of your eyes before you placed the laptop by the sink. Thalia was back on screen again, already brushing her teeth like a pro. Tom knows he's being a broken record but she genuinely needs to stop growing up too fast.

It's not good for his dad heart.

"Smile, sweetheart," Tom hummed once she saw her finish, the little girl showing her rows of teeth at him proudly. "Very pretty," he cooed.

"Thank you," she said with a cute giggle. The little girl bounded back to her room and climbed on the bed, you following suit with the laptop in hand. You gently placed it at the foot and on an angle so Tom could see you both clearly as you tucked her in. "Tessa!" Thalia squealed, tiny fits of giggles escaping her lips soon after as the pup circled around to find a comfy spot before settling right next to her.

The lovely doggo has become Thalia's best friend, personal cuddle buddy, and bodyguard. Wherever she goes, Tessa is always in tow. They always, always sleep beside each other every night and it's honestly the most wholesome thing in the world.

The room became dim when you turned off the main light, leaving the lamp on as Thalia wiggled a few more times before finally settling down. "Story, dada?" she yawned.

Tom nodded with a smile, leaning over the table as he switched up his voice a little. "In a kingdom far, far away..." he started, Tessa resting her head on the little girl's tummy as if she wants to have a piece of the story as well. His smile widened when you sat beside your daughter, your fingers caressing through her hair lovingly as you listened.

Tom can't help but pout at you, missing the way those same fingers feel against his scalp as you run them through his hair. You shook your head with a soft laugh, raising your brow to urge him to keep going with the story.

Gasps and giggles escaped out of Thalia as she listened to him all throughout his impromptu fantasy world. She made sure to throw in her two cents, turning the story to how whatever way she sees fit.

"...and then the princess climbed on her dragon with her new found freedom as she flew into the sunset. The end," Tom finished, his little girl letting out another yawn with her eyes now barely open. He can't stop his heart from melting at the sight. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you," he cooed.

"G'night dada. Love you too," she hummed, eyes fluttering close as she threw her arm over Tessa.

"I'll see you soon my princesses," Tom whispered, eyes flickering over at his pup and daughter with a bittersweet smile.

Tom caught sight of the stars that circled around the room when you switched off the lamp and turned her night light on. You flashed him a smile as you took the laptop in your hand and ventured out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind you.

***

"How about you, my love, what's in your letter for Santa?" Tom asked as you settled yourself down on your shared bed, back against the headboard with the computer on your lap. The screen really doesn't do you much justice on how gorgeous you look, especially now when you got changed and opted on wearing his hoodie.

"I just want you home," you whispered, hand going over your mouth in realization that you said it out loud. Tom saw the guilt spread across your features once you locked eyes with him.

"I'm trying, darling," Tom sighed, hand running through his hair dejectedly, ache coursing through his chest at the sound of longing in your voice.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," you rushed.

"No, nothing to apologise for, love," he said, flashing you a sad yet reassuring smile. "It kills me too, being so far away from you both. But I'll see what I can do okay?"

You shook your head, brows furrowed in worry. "You've already done all that you could, Tom."

"But I feel like I should be doing more," he admitted, frown settling on his lips as he held your gaze. Oh how he wished he could take the sadness away from your orbs, to feel your warmth as he pulls you into his embrace. He wants nothing more than to cover you with kisses, to whisper sweet nothings onto your skin to replace your frown with those giggles he adores. "I miss you so much," Tom sighed.

"I miss you too—"

"Tom—oh, hey, Y/N."

You smiled softly. "Hi, Harry."

"I hate to be the one to say this but they need you on set now," Harry said in dismay, shooting you and Tom a guilty smile.

Tom looked at the clock, shock befalling him on how fast time had passed. It didn't even feel like he's been sat in this little nook for five hours, didn't feel like he's talked to you enough at all. He thought he had a few hours more, not a couple minutes left.

His eyes landed back on you briefly and you only flashed him a small smile. Tom turned to his brother with a nod. "Yeah, okay, I'll be right behind you," he said.

"Tell Thalia her favourite uncle said hi," Harry said to you with a proud smile.

Tom shook his head at his brother's bold claim given that Thalia hasn't said that at all. She hasn't shown to have favourites, nor does she have anyone who she likes to spend time with, more. But being competitive lads, it was natural for his brothers—which includes Harrison, Tuwaine and Jacob—to compete for the title of her favourite uncle. She's just spoiled to bits really.

You let out a laugh, though it was a faint one, smile not as wide as you nodded at the twin. "Will do, Harry."

Harry flashed you one last smile before he turned to give Tom a curt nod, hand coming up to give his shoulder a comforting squeeze. Tom smiled at him gratefully, patting his hand before the younger lad made his way out of the trailer. Turning back to you, Tom felt his heart drop to his stomach.

"Darling, please don't cry," he whispered, hand instinctively reaching for you, a harsh foot stepping on his heart when his fingertips only got as far as touching the screen.

"I'm not," you muttered, blowing out your cheeks as you leaned to the side, so obviously trying to wipe your tears off screen. Tom still saw it though, and even if he didn't, he knows you like that back of his hand. The smallest change in your voice could tell him all.

Tom did his best to keep himself together, flashing you a small, comforting smile once you met his gaze again. "I'll see you soon alright?" he said. "I love you so much, darling."

You nodded, frown settling in your lips as you sighed, "I love you too, Tom, oh so much."

"Goodnight, my love." Tom tilted his head at you with a knowing grin. "Dream of me," he teased, earning a small giggle from you.

"Always."

***

"Is dada not coming home, mama?"

It was the 24th of December and your heart could do nothing but ache at your daughter's question. You tried your best to not let your frown be so prominent while you tucked her to bed.

"We don't know yet, lovie," you sighed, hand caressing her cheek tenderly. "But maybe dada will be here the moment you wake up tomorrow," you added, shooting her a knowing wink despite the sharp stab in your heart given that it was still uncertain.

Tom hasn't called at all the whole day. He only sent you a text earlier this morning explaining that he was going to be busy, hence why he won't be able to call. Strings of apologies buzzed through your phone even despite telling him over and over that it was okay. You know that guilt is eating him up whole right now, know for a fact that he's beating himself up black and blue by still not being home on Christmas Eve.

Thalia flashed you her sweet smile and a nod in response, not pressing anymore about her father's absence.

She's really smart for her age, so you wouldn't doubt it at all that she understands why Tom is away right now. You did tell her that her dad wasn't going to be joining dinner this time and she simply said, ''S okay. Dada is a superhero and superheroes are very busy.' And it honestly took everything in you to not start bawling at the dinner table.

"Story time, mama," Thalia hummed, taking your hand in hers as she tugged you closer.

"Okay, scoot a little you two," you said, both Tessa and Thalia making room for you to sit on the edge of the bed. "Once upon a time..."

***

With Thalia fast asleep, you treaded towards the door, leaving it slightly open—for Tessa in case she has businesses to attend to in the middle of the night—behind you and made your downstairs, turning on the little lights on the steps in the process. You went inside the living room, walking over to the wooden stool by the Christmas tree to take the plate of cookies and the glass of milk. You emptied the glass as you made your way to the kitchen, placing the cookies back in the jar and then putting the dirty dishes in the sink.

Venturing into the guest bedroom, you took out the bag filled with the few gifts you had wrapped up the day before. It wasn't a lot, just a couple of toys for both Tessa and Thalia. The little girl really hasn't asked much this year aside from a few toys she saw on TV or at the mall. And what she had on her letter...it was a bit difficult to get.

You slipped back inside the living room, placing the gifts under the tree along with the few sweets inside the stockings. Once you've turned off the electric fireplace, you went over to the tree lights next. But before you could even get to the plug, you suddenly heard the creaking sound of the front door opening and then closing, making you shoot straight up and freeze in your spot. Your heart pounded against your chest, hands trembling at the thought of a break in. Your mind ran a hundred miles per hour as you thought about what to do, ready to sprint upstairs to get to your daughter. You felt your breath hitch when you saw a figure emerged in the entryway.

But then you saw that it was him.

"Tom?" you gasped, eyes wide and glossed up, mouth opening in closing in pure shock as you stared right at your husband.

His face was now in full view as he pulled the hood of his hoodie down. A loving smile played on his lips, one you missed seeing in person. Your heart stuttered as you held each other's eyes, so many emotions swimming in those brown orbs but the love and satisfaction outshined everything else.

"Hi, darling," he sighed in pure content, that voice you love so dearly clear and real, not muffled by the poor quality of the laptop speakers. "Do I not get a welcome home hug?" he teased when you stayed in your spot, unmoving and simply gawking at him. Tom opened his arms wide for you to easily jump into.

Once you've got a hold of reality, you just ran to him full sprint, a sob escaping your lips as he caught you right in his embrace. Tom wrapped his arms around you with a shaky breath, squeezing you oh so tightly as he rocked you side to side. You breathed him in, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck, hands fisting the material of his hoodie from behind as your body raked with soft sobs.

Tom pulled away briefly to cup your face in both hands, thumb wiping away the tears that sat on your skin. He smiled at you all adoringly, eyes turning glossy before he swiftly pressed his lips right on yours. You let out a whine as you melted into the kiss, fingers taking home in the mesh of his curls on the back of his head as you held onto him, to physically feel him, just to make sure that he was actually real.

"I fucking missed you so much," Tom groaned against your lips, arms back around your waist to pull you inhumanely closer. His warmth was quick to coat you both inside and out, the feeling of his lips on yours familiar but never fails makes your head spin. His embrace felt like home and oh how much you've missed it.

You pulled away to give into your lungs' needs, but only just a little, both of you in dire need to keep each other as close as possible. The tips of your noses brushed against each other as your chests heaved, though the smile on your lips never did waver.

You stared into his brown orbs, your brows furrowed lightly in question. "But how—"

"Once they gave me the go I took the first flight home," he said, pressing his forehead against yours as he stared right into your eyes with utmost love and the widest grin on his lips to match. You placed your hand on his cheek, Tom turning his head to press his lips against your palm briefly before he leaned into your touch.

"I can't believe you're actually here," you whispered.

"I couldn't miss spending Christmas with my two—" Tom stopped himself when he heard the pitter-patter of paws down the stairs. You turned to see Tessa bounding towards your direction, jumping right at Tom as he crouched down to greet her with a chuckle, "Right, three favourite girls."

Then a small voice spoke, "Dada?"

Tom's head shot up, his handsome face glowing even more, remaining crouched on the floor as he spread his arms. "There's my sweet pumpkin."

Thalia ran to him as fast as her little legs would let her. Laughs came out of the young girl, the sweet sound echoing around the room as Tom lifted her up and spun her around.

"Yay! Santa got my letter!" she cheered, both hands up in the air.

Tom settled her in his strong arms with a soft furrow of his brows. He looked at you confused.

Later, you mouthed.

Tom nodded as he turned back to his little girl. "I missed you so much, my princess," he said, littering her face with loud kisses to which Thalia squealed and giggled in response.

You wrapped your arms around yourself with a satisfied hum and a wide smile on your face. To see Tom be such an amazing and loving father never fails to make your heart grow twice its size, never fails to make you fall even deeper for your man, your husband.

The lovely sight of him and Thalia made your body tingle in more ways than one, a thought crossing your mind, a feeling in your bones telling you that it was the perfect time. It made you smile wider, heat dusting your cheeks as you tilted your head at your husband and daughter.

Tom caught you staring, a proud smirk erupting on those lips of his as he shot you wink. You can't help but roll your eyes at his smugness.

Of course he knows the effects he has on you, knows how him being such a dad makes your heart flutter. But also, how it makes your body fill up with heat and want that you'd have to resist the urge to pounce on him. It probably was obvious in the way you look at him, easily sees it in your eyes because he knows you, he is your husband after all.

But then again, maybe he knows because he's just the same, if not much more intense. The amount of times he's gushed over and over how he wants to put another baby in you whenever he sees you taking care of Thalia goes to prove that point.

It's an equal reaction really, both of you just as whipped for each other.

"Come here, darling." He beckoned you over with a sweet smile, resting Thalia on his hip as he held a hand out for you to which you gladly took. He pulled you closer, giving you a soft peck on the lips before snaking an arm around your waist. You wrapped your arm around the small of his back, chin on his shoulder as you looked at him with utmost love. He shifted his eyes from you and Thalia as he sighed, "It feels so good to be home."

It was such a picture perfect moment, a pure family in love. There was nothing but wide smiles on all your faces, happy to finally be in each other's embrace after so long. Plus, Tessa sat right in front looking at her humans lovingly with her tail wagging enthusiastically.

Thalia's head fell onto her father's shoulder as she let out a loud yawn, tiny fists rubbing over her eyes before she wrapped her arms around his neck. Your heart melted at the adorably sight, a soft coo escaping your lips as you reached over to brush the stray her that landed on her face.

Tom chuckled, turning slightly to give his daughter a kiss on the forehead. "Let's get you back to bed yeah?"

***

Tom came inside your shared bedroom just as you slipped the envelope inside your drawer. Closing it, you leaned back against the headboard with a smile, eyes landing back on your man who stood still in his place.

Tom had his back pressed against the closed door, staring right at you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"You going to join me in bed or are you just going to ogle?" you teased, raising your brow at him with a tilt of your head.

Tom chuckled, pulling himself off the door and sauntering over to you all while slowly stripping off his clothing, starting with his hoodie to his shirt and leaving them across the floor.

He's lucky you miss him too much to call him out on that, willing to give him a pass since he did just got off from a flight. He'll probably pick them up tomorrow though. If not then, he'll definitely hear from you.

By the time he's reached your side, he was left in nothing but his boxer shorts.

"She asleep?" you asked, looking up at your husband lovingly as he towered over you, standing on your side of the bed.

"Mm-hmm." He bit his lip with a smirk as he leaned down, hands on either side of your thighs that were hidden under the covers. "I've got such a beautiful wife huh," he muttered, brushing the tip of his nose against yours all adoringly before he captured your lips in his with a satisfied hum.

You giggled between the kiss, fingers lost in his hair as you pulled him closer, lips moving in sync like they've never been apart for so long. Tom nibbled at your bottom lip, a low groan erupting in his chest when you let him in, your tongues meeting as his hand landed on your thigh with a hot squeeze. You basked in his taste for a few moments more, letting him explore your mouth just to feel him closer, especially after months of being deprived from each other. Your hands slid down to rest on his broad shoulders, giving them a squeeze before you pulled away.

"Before you get too excited, I suggest you read Thalia's letter first," you said with a soft giggle.

Tom let out a hearty laugh, nodding in agreement and giving you once last peck before he jumped over you as threw himself on his side of the bed. The whole mattress bounced due to his weight, earning a pointed eye roll from you. Always a dork no matter what.

He slipped himself inside the covers, settling back against the headboard just as you rummaged through your drawer. You handed him an already opened envelope before you laid your head on his shoulder, slinging an arm over his naked torso as you snuggled to his side. Tom took out the piece of paper, a smile erupting on his lips once he unfolded it, eyes catching sight of his daughter's messy handwriting.

His strong arm wrapping around your shoulder, Tom pulled you closer, giving you a tender squeeze before he read the letter out loud:

Dear Santa,

Please bring dada home.

Me, mama and Tessa miss him so much and I don't want mama to be sad anymore.

Thank you, Santa.

Thalia

Tom tore his eyes off the paper to look at you with a pout, brown orbs glossing up as he placed the paper back in its envelope and set it aside. Snaking both his arms around your form, he gave you a loving squeeze. "Such a sweetheart with a big heart, just like her mother," he hummed, leaning down to give your forehead a sweet kiss.

"I read that at the mall when I did last minute shopping. I had to rush to the bathroom to get myself together. I got so stressed because I don't know if you were coming home or not. Which would then go down to explaining to her that Santa didn't get her letter and I really didn't want to break her heart like that," you elaborated, Tom's fingers caressing your arm comfortingly. "And then I was walking past this comic book store and saw this life size cardboard cutout of you as Spider-Man with the mask off. I was really contemplating if I should just get that instead," you laughed.

"You should've," Tom chuckled.

"And creep her out? No." You shook your head with a giggle. You pulled away from him slightly, his hands sliding down to rest on the small of your back once you did so. With your palm flat against his toned chest, you gawked at his handsome face with nothing but love. "Yet here you are, always here to save the day," you hummed.

Tom smiled widely at you, hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek fondly before he pulled you down for a passion-filled kiss.

"Now," he murmured against your lips, hand sneaking down and under the covers, fingers hot against your bare thigh. He gave it a pointed squeeze before he pulled away slightly. "What do you want, my gorgeous wife?" he purred, a certain glow in those brown orbs as his smirk grew.

With a quick peck on his lips, you release yourself from his grasp for a second so you can reach inside your drawer. You gave him another envelope, a sealed one this time, Tom taking it with a confused look on his face. Lying down on your side, you propped your head up with your hand as you waited for him to read it.

Brows furrowed, Tom opened it and pulled out the letter, pupils moving slowly as he scanned the words. You can't help but giggle once you saw the shift of emotions on his face, his eyebrows rising as he stared at your handwriting wide-eyed.

Dear my lovely Tom,

Thalia is due a younger sibling, don't you think?

Love, Y/N ;)

Never have you ever seen Tom move so fast in your life.

Your sweet laugh echoed around the room as he immediately pulled the covers off your body so he could get himself on top of you without any hindrance. He hovered above you with a wide smirk on his lips, strong hands gripping your thighs as he threw them around his waist, body slotted in between your legs with ease.

He didn't waste any more time as he swiftly dipped his head to capture your lips with utmost love but also, need. The kiss was hot, rushed, a little messy and filled with absolute fervour.

Arms taking home around his shoulder, you pulled him closer into you, your heels digging into the small of his back, both of you groaning at the familiar closeness, bodies fitting perfectly together like two puzzle pieces.

Tom slipped his tongue in your mouth with ease when rutted his hip once which earned a gasp from you. He did it again with a low growl, to make you feel just how badly he needs you. And oh you can feel it alright, feel it really hard. There was the obvious desperation coursing in you both; it's been months after all.

Pulling away for a moment, Tom wriggled his brows at you with lust-filled eyes and a love-struck smirk. Your chest was heaving as you stared right into those brown orbs, ones that turned even darker as his hands took hold of the hem of your—his—shirt. He was ready to pull it off of you but not before saying,

"I guess Santa isn't the only one emptying his sack this Christmas."

"Thomas!"

-:-:-:-:-

♛ Overall/Everything Taglist: @theunwantedomega @badreputatiom @fallinfortom @disneysamara @avengersficwriter @musicalkeys @apatheticanvas67482 @camimndess @tom-hlover @jjandreidsgirl @caramelscoffee @thenoddingbunny-blog @sarcasticallywitty15 @call-me-baby-gir1 @miraclesoflove @tanakaslastbraincell @itstaskeen @hollanddolanfangirl ♛ Tom H. Taglist: @hollandfanficlove @averyfosterthoughts @2018shawn @darlingspidey @namoreno @spacebitch2 @keepingupwiththehollands @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @unbelievableholland @kittenruby @sunkisseddreamer @worldoftom @quaksonhehe @big-galaxy-chaos @clara-licht @dummiesshort @imanativeofswlondondahling @sonofabitchstyles @peaches-parker​ @geminiparkers​ @parker-hollandx​ @arivera-30​ @rebekkah4766​ @particularnarry​ @iwannabekilledtwice​ @prettyintopeerpressure​ @spideyspeaches​ @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ @asoftie4bucky​ @dandelionxgal​ @peterspideysstuff​ @zspideyy​ @lmaotshollandd​ @sluttytears​ @likearainbowinthedark @hommyy-tommy​ @madz-holland​ @becicamina​

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[nolanell]

Apartment 9: Writer Wednesday September 8th 2021

Writer Wednesday: @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape

Pairing: Maxwell Lord (WW84) x Female Reader

Length: 2.8K

Warnings: Mention of divorce, being a single parent, brief consideration of being a woman alone in a big city. A lot of this takes place in a lift. Allusion to an age gap (not a big one, and reader is of age). Aside from being female and other characters describing her as pretty, there are no other descriptors of the reader. There is one kiss described, but no other physical intimacy.

Author's Note: My first ever Writer Wednesday submission! I hope you enjoy. I have read a few soft and fluffy things for Max Lord recently and he's just been in my head. Inspiration struck me with this week's prompt and I just went with it!

--

You didn’t know much about the man who lived down the hall. What you did know, you didn’t know if you could fully believe as a lot of it was snippets of lift gossip you had heard as you went to and from your apartment to the ground floor. That didn’t seem reliable, or like it would be particularly kind in the way it painted a picture. But if this gossip was to be believed, he had recently lost everything except his son, who he loved dearly. Essentially, he had made some bad decisions and was now paying for them.

You hadn’t seen him in person yourself until he had been there about six months. It so happened he was running for the lift and you held the door for him. You didn’t know who he was at first.

‘Thank you,’ he smiled softly as he stepped in.

You smiled back.

‘Have you… have you lived here long?’ he asked.

You turned to him and raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with the question, but you couldn’t be too careful, a woman living on your own in the big city.

‘I- I just meant I’ve been here six months and we’ve not met before,’ he explained.

You softened a little bit. Whoever this was, was just trying to be friendly. ‘Two years, nearly,’ you replied.

The lift door dinged as you reached the ground floor. He motioned for you to go first. You paused a second, a little taken aback at his politeness, but walked out of the lift, turning around to face it once you came out. He stepped out after you, not quite sure what to do given you had stopped. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

‘You live on the eighth floor too?’ you asked, a little surprised.

‘I do,’ he nodded. ‘Number 11.’

‘Number 9,’ you pointed toward yourself.

‘Wow, practically neighbours for half a year and we’ve only just met!’ he laughed. He had a genuine smile, but his laugh seemed a bit restrained, a bit guarded.

You couldn’t help but break into a big smile at the absurdity of it. ‘Right? How crazy!’

He seemed to perk up a bit at your smile; seemed to stand a bit straighter, his smile starting to reach his eyes a bit more. He pushed his floppy, blondish-brownish hair out of his eyes and smiled again.

‘I’m Max,’ he offered his hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

You offered your hand in return and gave your name. ‘Nice to meet you too, Max.’

‘I’ve got to get going, I’m picking up my son,’ Max said, moving toward the exit.

‘Where from?’ you asked. Couldn’t be school at 10am on a Saturday.

‘From his mum,’ Max explained. ‘I get to see him this weekend.’ The smile on Max’s face showed just how happy he was about it. It was a much more genuine smile this time, and very infectious.

‘I won’t keep you then,’ you smiled back, moving to catch up to him. ‘Have a lovely time together.’

‘Thank you,’ Max was still smiling and this one had reached his eyes fully; he looked genuinely pleased at your remark. ‘Have a good rest of the day yourself.’

You parted ways as your came out of the apartment building. He seemed pleasant enough. Just a single dad, clearly loved his son, trying to get by, as far as you could tell. And after all, wasn’t everyone in the building just trying to get by? And if the lift gossip was true, was that really your business, or anyone else’s, for that matter? Max seemed nice enough to want to say hello to, and hold the lift door for again.

You didn’t see him again for a couple of days, and this time you were both waiting for the lift to arrive. After exchanging the standard ‘hello’, the silence was a little difficult; you weren’t one for inane small talk. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Max stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at his feet. He looked… nervous?

Come on, you must be able to think of something.

‘How was your time with your son?’ you asked, glancing over at Max.

He looked relieved that you had said something. ‘It was great, thank you,’ he smiled. ‘How have you been?’

‘Not too bad,’ you gave what you hoped was not a tired smile. ‘Just trying to get by.’

Max nodded. ‘I hear that,’ he agreed. ‘Just one foot in front of the other, it feels like some days.’

The lift dinged and the doors opened. Max motioned for you to go first again. ‘To the ground?’ he asked as he went to hit the floor button.

You nodded. ‘Are you seeing your son again today?’

‘No,’ Max said, more than a hint of sadness in his voice. ‘Just out for a walk and a coffee.’

‘There’s a great place round the corner from here, if you haven’t already been. Maria’s?’ you furrowed your brow trying to remember the name.

‘I think I’ve walked past it,’ Max nodded. ‘I’ll check it out. Anything exciting planned for you today?’

You shook your head and laughed. ‘I wish. Just errands.’

‘Never ends, does it?’ Max agreed.

The lift doors opened and again Max motioned for you to go first. As you left the building, Max wished you a nice rest of the day and that he would see you later. You smiled and nodded. You only had two interactions lasting less than five minutes, but Max seemed much nicer than the lift gossip suggested. Which is exactly why you tended not to not give it any credit. At least next time you had something to ask about; whether he tried the coffee at Maria’s, and what did he think of it. You found yourself hoping you saw him again fairly soon; it was nice to have someone to talk to who didn’t just want to gossip about the building residents. Or was it that he was kind of cute? Sure, he was a little older than you, but the way his hair flopped forward when he looked down was adorable. He had a nice smile too. But, you reminded yourself, he was just trying to get by, one foot in front of the other.

But weren’t you, too?

You didn’t see Max for a few days after that and even then, only very briefly. You were coming out of the lift having come up, as he was waiting for it to go down. There was a boy with him you assumed was his son; there wasn’t a huge resemblance, so you assumed he must look more like his mum.

‘Hello Max,’ you greeted him as you stepped out.

‘Hello,’ he smiled at you. ‘I’m so sorry, we’re in a bit of a rush.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll hold the lift for you soon,’ you smirked over your shoulder as you walked to your door. You heard the lift doors close behind you, but not before you heard a chuckle from Max and a young voice ask ‘Dad, who is that?’. So you’d finally met Max’s son, sort of.

You did in fact hold the lift for Max a couple of days later, but on the way up this time. He was carrying a couple of grocery bags and smiled at you over the top of them.

‘Thank you,’ he said as he tried to hold the bags without anything slipping out.

‘Told you I would hold the door for you soon,’ you laughed softly. ‘Can I give you a hand?’

‘Would you mind?’ Max looked relieved. ‘Only if you’re sure, I wouldn’t want to impose.’ You motioned with your hands to pass you one and took the one in his left arm from him.

‘How was the coffee at Maria’s? Did you go in the end?’ you asked, once you were sure the grocery bag was secure.

‘I did, it was lovely,’ Max smiled. ‘Definitely one of the best I’ve had since I got here.’

‘It’s my favourite,’ you agreed. ‘Oooh, and it’s nice to see your son has your curiosity.’

Max blinked at you and looked genuinely confused. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘A few days ago, you were in a hurry as I was coming out the lift? He asked who was that as you got in?’ you explained.

‘Oh! Sorry, yes, I’d almost forgotten,’ he said as recognition crawled across his face. ‘I keep telling him to use his indoor voice. He does keep me on my toes.’

The lift doors dinged, and before stepping out you asked Max if he’d like some help carrying them to his apartment.

‘If you’d hold on to it while I get the door open, that would be wonderful,’ he said, motioning for you to leave the lift first. He followed you as you stepped out and nodded in the direction of his apartment door.

As you got to Max’s door, you were standing either side of the door itself, facing each other as Max fumbled in his pockets for his keys. This was the first time you’d properly looked at him, and you found yourself picking up details you’d not noticed before. His floppy blondish-brownish hair flicked down toward his eyes, that you’d seen before, but you hadn’t noticed how beautiful his deep brown eyes were, and you hadn’t taken in his gorgeous golden skin, and the size of his hands on the grocery bag…

Girl, get it together. This poor guy is probably reeling from who knows what, given he is a dad not living with his son he very clearly loves, and describes living as one foot in front of the other. He does not need you looking at him like that.

You heard Max say something.

‘Sorry, what was that?’ you ask.

‘I… I said thank you so much for helping,’ Max said, his skin a little pink.

His front door was open. He’d found his keys and opened the door while you’d been gawking at him. Your cheeks burned slightly at the thought he might have noticed.

‘Oh! It’s no trouble,’ you smile. ‘Want me to bring this in?’ You raised the bag you were still holding.

‘No, don’t worry, I’ve got it from here,’ Max chuckled. He seemed to be avoiding your gaze.

You straightened up and smiled again as you passed the bag over. ‘Okay, I’ll leave you to it. See you later, Max!’

‘See you later,’ Max replied, as you were already walking back to your own door.

Later turned out to be a couple of days later, and again you met Max going up in the lift. He had his son with him again.

‘This is Alistair,’ Max beamed proudly, after introducing you to his son.

You knelt down, and smiled at Max’s son. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Alistair,’ you hold your hand out.

‘You too!’ he smiles in that adorable, excited way most children do, and shakes your hand.

You stand back up again as the lift dings and you all get in, Max holding Alistair back as he lets you go first again. In the lift, Alistair presses the button for the eighth floor, and looks up at you.

‘Can I press the button for you?’ he asks.

‘You already have,’ you smile down at him. ‘I live on the same floor as your dad.’

Alistair smiles. He gets this expression on his face you can’t place. You don’t dwell on it as you hurriedly try to think of small talk; what can you ask that doesn’t ignore one or the other? Then it hits you.

‘Alistair, has your dad taken you to Maria’s?’ you ask him, a smile teasing at the corners of your mouth.

‘The coffee shop?’ Alistair looks at you, confused, as you nod. ‘No, he says coffee is for grown ups,’ Alistair rolls his eyes.

‘That’s true, but you know what? Maria’s also does amazing milkshakes,’ you grin as you look at Max. He smiles at you.

‘Ooooh,’ Alistair gasps.

The lift dings. Max motions for you to go first. You step out and kneel down to Alistair again. ‘It was nice meeting you, Alistair. See you soon?’

Alistair nods with a smile. You stand up and smile at Max ‘I’ll see you soon,’ you say as you walk toward your door.

‘Dad, is that the pretty lady from number 9?’ you hear Alistair’s voice, and you’re glad you’re walking away as your face flushes red.

‘Indoor voice, please, Alistair,’ you hear Max sigh, as their footsteps move away from you.

--

You’re beginning to think Max is avoiding you. It’s been almost a week since you met Alistair and you’ve not seen him. You’re standing in the lift waiting for it to start moving, staring at your shoes, as you hear someone get in. Your eyes flick up for a second and you see Max standing in the lift with you.

The lift doors close and it begins descending.

For the first time, you actually feel like there is an awkward silence between you two. You dare another glance at Max and he is doing the same as you, staring at his shoes. That gorgeous hair has flipped forward again, hands stuffed into his pockets…

You clear your throat. ‘Do you normally tell Alistair about all the pretty ladies you see?’

Max’s head whips round to you, so fast your surprised he’s not given himself whiplash. ‘I’m… I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.’

You smile kindly at Max. ‘Not at all,’ you reply. ‘But that’s not what I asked,’ your expression turns into something of a mischievous grin.

Max blushes. Those stunning eyes meet yours. ‘I… I told him… well, you’re the only one I’ve ever mentioned.’

It was your turn to flush red. ‘Really?’

Max nods as the lift dings for the ground floor, and gestures for you to go first. ‘And even then, it was his idea.’

‘What?’ you ask, confused.

Max looks at the floor, smiling nervously. ‘Remember when we were on our way down, when we were in a rush? Well, he asked who you were, as you heard, and I explained you lived at number 9 and we got the lift together sometimes.’

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

‘And Alistair really does keep me on my toes because he said you were really pretty, and I agreed. And of course he decides to remember that at the point it would cause the most embarrassment,’ Max sighs, risking a glance over to you.

‘I think it was more the lack of indoor voice that was the problem,’ you giggle.

Max laughs, another genuine one that reaches his eyes, and he nods in agreement. ‘It certainly was,’ he smiles, a sweet little dimple emerging on one side of his face. He was so cute, and you were starting to think he had absolutely no idea.

You both stood there for a few seconds in silence, not really knowing what to do next but also not really wanting to end the encounter.

‘Where are you off to?’ Max asks you.

‘Nothing too exciting, just a walk and then coffee at Maria’s,’ you reply.

‘What a coincidence,’ Max smiles. ‘Would you mind if I join you?’

‘Of course,’ you nod. ‘Who would turn down the gorgeous guy from number 11?’

Max flushes red. ‘I don’t know about that. But I’m glad the pretty lady from number 9 wouldn’t.’

Damn, he really had no idea how cute he was, did he?

As you step out of the building, Max offers you his arm, and you loop yours through it as you walk down the steps from the entrance. You pause at the bottom, smile and gaze into those incredible dark brown eyes. Before you know where you are, your lips are on his and you’re running your hands through his hair, curling your fingers at the back of his neck. His lips are impossibly soft, his hands finding their way to your waist, holding you close to him. His tongue gently brushes against your lips, seeking permission, and you are all too happy to grant it. He’s gentle, almost hesitant at first, but his kiss deepens into something so passionate you’re glad he’s holding your waist, as he’s making you weak at the knees.

Eventually you pull back, breathless, giddy, smiling. ‘Wow,’ is all you can offer.

Max smiles and blushes for about the third time in five minutes. ‘Wow indeed,’ he agrees. ‘Come on, let’s go and get a coffee and you can tell me about this gorgeous guy at number 11.’

You roll your eyes, loop your arm in his and start walking. ‘Sure thing, but only if there’s more of those kisses in it for me,’ you tease.

[chocolate-parfait]

I adore your writing so I was wondering if I could get headcanons for some Ikesen boys (Mitsuhide, Kenshin, and Nobunaga)?

When MC first comes through the wormhole she doesn’t have her son with her and her entire stay is her stressing about it since he is only 5 years old so as soon as the wormhole opens she’s gone before they even blink. They don’t expect her to come back but she does! and with her son this time!

Thank you so much bub! I missed writing for ikesen and honestly, I’m a sucker for anything involving parenting :) Thanks for requesting!

Also I,,, I really went all out for Nobunaga huh

Mc coming back with her son - ikesen headcanons (Mitsuhide, Kenshin & Nobunaga)

words: 2.9k / tw: mentions of injuries and violent behavior / female mc

Mitsuhide

How could possibly someone as clumsy as his little mouse be a mother? Jokingly, he asks you whether it was you taking care of your son or the other way round. He teases you a bit, only enough to gain some strands of information here and there; he may find the excuse that, as the man in charge of security and secrets, that was only part of his job, when in truth he’s actually worried about you. He gathers that your child isn’t with you, and this only serves to fuel his curiosity and worry even more. Nonetheless, he doesn’t pry. You must have your own reasons and secrets, and for once, he's willing to leave you to them.

Once he notices your feelings for him, he becomes sure of the fact that, whether you had a husband or not, he definitely owned your heart no longer. He’s acting more confidently and boldly than before, adding more intensity to his innuendos and subtle flirting. Then, you tell him you’re from the future and you get closer, spending the days basking in each other’s company and usual teasing banters.

...but, oh boy, before he even knows it you’re disappearing in the thickness of the fog and coldness of the rain. If the wormhole had opened when Sasuke had predicted, then you probably would have told him about your plans. You needed more time to mentally prepare yourself, but when Mother Nature decides to open her time-traveling black holes, it's not your choice to make. Mitsuhide will be okay, probably... or at least, you hope so. ok but boy teased you too much, this is his payback

After you're gone Mitsuhide needs a couple of seconds to register what had just happened. In truth, he expected it, kinda (or at least, that’s what he wants to believe), and although it hurts, he’s not one to complain. First off, it could have never worked between you two. He’s... he’s quite the despicable guy, with tons of enemies and secrets. No one in their right mind would want to stay with him for more than 2 minutes, but he had never really cared. Until you came along. And how could he even wish to hold the first place in a mother’s heart? It went without saying that your son was your top priority, and it was fine, it was bound to be that way.

He puts on his habitual facade and moves on with his day, but don’t be fooled; he has no intention of ever forgetting you nor he's completely at peace on the inside. He feels a stinging pain buried deep underneath the arid soil of his heart. The heart wishes what the heart desires, and even when one has resigned to keep a distance from everything it longs for, the pain persists, and it's probably ten times even harsher in the melancholy of it all.

(Hideyoshi obviously catches up on his act, and almost headbutts him out of exasperation when he sees he’s not letting out even the tiniest of sighs)

The days pass by, and Mitsuhide is sure you won’t be coming back. But you do. Once more you catch him by surprise, you destroy his expectations and act outside of the box. And when you finally face him for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, your son by the hand and a wide smile on your face, he stares at you bewildered, wide eyes and an unusual expression of genuine surprise on his features.

“You... you’re really something, little mouse” It’s all he says before striding over to you and hugging you to his chest. His words may conceal them, but you can feel his true feelings in the tightness of his embrace, the thunderous pace of his heartbeat, and the barely noticeable shaking of his sigh.

Maybe he can let himself feel some happiness, after all? Surely, he will have to work extremely hard to protect it, to destroy anyone who might try to bring harm over you, but Mitsuhide is a man of many ways, and he knows how to reach his goal.

Weirdly enough, your child quickly grows fond of Mitsuhide, and it's not long before he starts calling him “Papa”. He's always staring in awe at whatever he does, even the tiniest of tricks will make him giggle excitedly with surprise. On the other hand, your lover is unsurprisingly good with kids. Probably because they're so easy to please and to fool with lies (like a certain someone). He could tell the little boy that you're the Moon princess and the courageous Mitsuhide saved you by a sea of horned monsters, and he would totally believe him without even questioning it first. Maybe it's a family trait?

He does not expect to find himself with a family out of the blue, but by the fond look of his golden orbs, you can tell he's grateful for it. Whenever he kisses you goodbye before going to work in the morning or ruffles your son's hair with playful tenderness, you know it's a silent vow, renewed each time. He's going to do everything in his power to assure your happiness. You've given him a warm place to return to, a spot in the light, love, and gratefulness; protecting it all is the least he could do to return such blessing.

Kenshin

You tell him about the wormhole, about the rain and the lightning, about why you have to go back. Kenshin may have been on his way to healing, but when he hears of your son he recesses 10 steps back. The dark part of himself he was trying so hard to chase away pushes towards him feelings of jealousy and anger (you had, after all, loved another man and bore his child; moreover this man was not by your and your son’s side for whichever reason, leaving you both alone), but the other half of his heart, which loved you so dearly, could not tolerate depriving you of your son.

He’s afraid of you leaving him forever, no matter how much you tell him you’ll definitely come back. He wants to trust you just as much as you trust him, but once more his darkness haunts him and clashes with his sober side. He could lock you up forever or he could let you go, you’d be safer and happier without him. Maybe you will actually come back, or maybe you will forget about him as soon as you step back to your time.

This whole issue causes him to isolate himself from everything and everyone. He needs time to think and come to terms with his feelings, but he’s oh so aware of the quick passing of time. Soon, he’ll have to make a decision that will impact his whole life forever, and yet he can’t really seem to find a proper solution. Not alone, at least.

Stay by his side, patiently put up with his negative thoughts, and comfort his fears away. Promise him over and over again that you will come back, that you wouldn’t forget him for anything in the world. Eventually, he’ll be able to convince himself and fully abandon himself to his trust for you.

When the fateful day comes, he does not expect you to slip away from his arms in the blink of an eye. Your warmth disappears and the cold air hits him with the full realization of what had happened. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart down. All he can do is wait. It might take you days, months, or even years, but he’s willing to wait.

During your absence he drowns his loneliness in sake, he fills the vacant spot in his arms with the white bunnies you used to found so adorable and occupies his time with sparring matches. Then, one day, coming back to his room from a council, he slides the door open and he’s met with two identical pairs of eyes staring at him.

One can only imagine the plethora of emotions hitting him all at once. Before you know it he’s throwing himself to you with the speed of an expert warrior. He hugs you so tightly you can barely breathe, reluctantly letting you go only to get a look at the face he had so longed to see, pressing a deep kiss on your forehead. What stops him from ravaging your lips with even stronger passion is the child’s presence. Maybe it’s better to keep some things for later, you tell him, and he accepts with the cutest of pouts gracing his delicate features.

For some time he’ll be the clingiest he has ever been, though he doesn’t forget your son, whom he now considers as his own. You two look very much alike, and knowing how much you cherish him, he quickly becomes fond of him, too. They spend a lot of time together, forming a bond pretty quickly. Kenshin teaches him all there is to know about the samurai world and the way of the sword (not that he has any intention of throwing him in a battlefield, yet. He’ll let your son accompany him to war only when, as an adult, he’ll be wholly aware of the dangers he’s going to face). Oftentimes you can see them sparring together in the practice room, a rare and soft gaze blessing your lover’s eyes.

Now that both of you are with him, he knows better than to let his fears win him once more, for thus he knows you won’t leave him again. He confesses to you his deepest feelings and thoughts on this matter during quiet, tender moments of intimacy. Maybe one night you're sharing a drink with him while gazing at the night sky from his room; there, he’ll turn his mismatched irises on yours, cup your cheek with his strong hand and tell you, with the most love-dripping tone you had ever heard come out from his mouth: “Thank you for coming back to me, my love. I swear I won’t let you face any danger as long as you two are by my side.”

Nobunaga

So his favorite fireball has a baby fireball? What a surprise, indeed. It's only a single piece of information, and yet it brings to his mind so many possibilities that he can't help but fall deep in thought. Do you have a husband, then? Did he perhaps leave you? If so, how did you manage to take care of your son? He knew life wasn’t easy for a repudiated woman, and one could see it with their own two eyes just by taking a stroll in the poorer neighborhoods of the city. (well, that was something he was trying to change)

Then, he asks himself whether the night of the fire you had been so reluctant to go with him because of your motherly duties. You could have just said so earlier, he would have taken your son to the castle, too. Quickly, you add more interesting details to your story, telling him of the wormhole, your time-travel adventure, and the future.

He half-forces you to make THE bet, the one you cannot ignore, with the added risk that if you lose, you won't be able to see your son ever again. Pretty cruel, right? In your eyes, it might seem so, but truthfully, he's going to let you go at the end of the month, independently from whether you win or lose; he just thinks it'd be spicier to not let you know this very important detail. 

What our grand lord does not expect, is to be hit by Cupid's arrow and cursed with the love of a lifetime. His feelings are so strong he has to stop himself multiple times from directly confessing to you. He blames all the flirting, the sensual touches, the longing kisses, and his affectionate gaze on the bet. You are nothing more than a physical distraction, he can’t let himself love you, and you don’t love him. This way, you'll be able to go back without regrets and doubts. He won't let you, his soulmate, suffer over such a heart-wrenching decision.

Such a prideful and haughty man lowering himself to such tricks only to keep the smile on a woman's face. Pretty ironic, isn't it? Unfortunately for him, anyone can guess the contents of the Demon King's heart, and you are no exception. If you had solemnly promised your return, he would have believed you, that is the type of man he is, but Fate acts before you can take action, and anticipates your departure to the most unexpected of times.

So in the end, you truly did leave him. His beloved fireball, vanished in the same way she had appeared, like a bolt from the blue. He's going to miss you so dearly, and his loneliness will surely take away his sleep at night, but there are still so many things for him to do. You will probably have your fair share, too, though he's sure you'll manage. If it wasn't for his obstination and pride then maybe he would have the humility to deny the same for himself. Maybe one day your path will cross his once again, but who knows, maybe by that time he will have already conquered the whole land, maybe a lethal blow will have taken his life, maybe he'll see you on his last, dying breath. Anyhow, he's going to wait. Patiently and calmly, and he promises himself that were you to return by his side, he won't be denying his love any longer.

It's almost been a year from your departure, and now the snow is slowly falling once more to cover the roofs under its soft embrace. Nobunaga is sitting on the balcony of his tenshu, looking at the city yet bustling with life even in the frigid cold. Just like Azuchi, he hasn't changed much. A couple more scars have appeared somewhere on his body, and the skin just under his eyes has gotten a little darker, but his heart is forever the same. With his thicker haori shielding his lower body from most of the cold air, he brings the red cup of warm sake to his lips, mind wandering to the same, old thoughts of you. Suddenly, his vision turns dark. A pair of warm hands are covering his vision, but before he can reach for his sword, your voice tickles his ear in a low whisper. “Guess who?”

Turning to face you, as a hand rapidly flies to cover his ear from the sudden attack, he quietly basks in the view of your smiling face before slowly erupting in a loud laugh. What an unpredictable one he has fallen for! He must be equally as foolish if he let someone sneak over to him as he was thinking about you.

He takes you in hir arms and keeps you there, where you naturally belong while pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Your smell, your softness, your body that fit with his like a sword and its sheath. “Welcome back, fireball” With you by his side, everything will be completely different than before. No more sleepless nights or lonely sighs; now he'd have a companion by his side at all times. Sometimes even two.

Nobunaga does not exactly care about the fact that your son is, genetically, not his. Blood is only important to the fools that only view you as an heir-making machine, but he values bonds and the singular individual way more. If he had prioritized family over what was important to him, he would've been killed by his brothers years ago, but it did not happen. What I'm trying to say is that he becomes the fatherly figure your son needs, and he treats him no differently than he would with his biological son. Although yes, he would like to, one day, have another little demon (or a baby angel, depending on whose genes are stronger) running around the castle, to him, yours is already the perfect family.

Nobunaga passes down his views (he doesn't force them, it's more like when a parent explains something to his baby and the baby absorbs everything) onto your child, and makes sure he receives an education fitting for a noble of those times (an open-minded one, possibly). Since he views him as his biological son, once he grows up it will be up to him whether to help his father unifying the country and then, eventually inheriting and ruling everything one day. Growing up in those times though will probably make him accustomed to the idea of fighting even at a young age, so unless you're strictly against it, there will be high chances of him becoming a samurai and following in your lover’s footsteps.

Leaving the gruesome matters aside, Nobu and his son are one hell of a pair of troublemakers! Buy some throat syrup because Hideyoshi will be screaming his lungs out. The man lectures your husband and your own son twice the times you do, either because of their sugar consumptions, their life-threatening activities such as running in the halls, or just general shenanigans. They're quite the headaches, frankly. One of their favorite and safe (because Nobu is there) activities to do together, is going horseriding. The demon commander will sit the boy between his arms and let his horse run at full speed. By the time they come back, the wind will have made a mess of their clothes and hair, but both will have the biggest and purest of smiles on their faces.

(Additionally, for all of them: if they ever catch anyone talking shit about either you or your son, they won't hesitate to slice them up with their swords on the spot.)

[withoneheadlight]

oh man that one with billy convincing steve to skip work has got me thinking trophy husband billy

Oh, anon! 💗💗💗💗adkahdshdhdkhkhdYESSS. I LOVE this idea!

And I’m SURE he would be the happiest trophy husband. And also the kind that's showy. Has so much fun going over the top with it, being gossip material. All cliché-y, and Diva-like. Basically confirming what everyone thinks about him (about them) precisely because it’s the diametrically opposed to what it really is.

Doing things like:

Mowing the lawn in mini-mini-shorts. Working on his tan on their lovely backyard on the sunny Sunday Summer mornings (in that exact spot where –coincidentally– Mr. Walker, their blatantly homophobic next door neighbor, would have to get out of his own backyard with his eyes closed not to see). Being reaaaally polite with everyone around (Mr. Walker included), smiling and waving his hand like “Hiiii, Janice! How did that new face treatment go?” because they live in a Nice Place now, six years after Robert Harrington made Steve climb his way up the company ladder right from the bottom “Exactly like everyone else”, both as a punishment and a trial; after working their asses out of their shitty one-bedroom apartment, having to prove themselves in every single step (as Steve and Billy, but also as SteveandBilly), but,

Here they are.

And now Steve has a very good job, one he’s genuinely good at, one that pays for much more than hardly the bills and maybe having dinner out from time to time. And they’re happy and they are together and they fucking made it, despite barely anyone around them given two shits. Now, Steve slicks his wild hair back from Monday to Friday, wears the nicest suits, so fitting and sexy and oh so preppy Billy sometimes gets a hard-on just from seeing them all together in the dressing room, hanging in a perfectly tidy line, made of the same material of sins.

So. 

He just doesn’t see the point in not treating himself every once in a while.  Make Steve run late for work or not getting there at all. In no letting himself enjoy the way those tailored beauties emphasize the shape of Steve’s glorious ass. Enjoy the certainty that in a big, stylish, impeccably neat office downtown, Steve’s dad is rolling his eyes all the way back into their sockets.

And also.

In not letting himself revel in the exhilarating feeling of sliding full into this ‘hot-mess trophy hubby’ persona almost everyone around them assumes he is. Steve’s Harrington boy-toy. “That California scum. Must be real good at sucking dick to get a deal like that.” Make the rumors roll down the small streets of Hawkins and under the door of his own father’s house. Thrive in the knowledge that every time Neil Hargrove hears any or those rumors or gets even the tiiiniest glimpse of them two together, going out and about holding hands,  feels like he’s about to puke his guts out thinking about what his son has ‘become’.

And aside from that, he kind of––enjoys, this trophy husband thing, to be honest. It’s been ten years since they got together now. Billy likes to keep things spiced-up. So when Steve is promoted and they move to be close to the new office, along with the house Billy buys a pair of powder pink slippers, fluffy ball of floating fur on top, and a see-through, fur-riveted robe to match. Some days he goes to his morning cockteling&tanning session in the backyard wearing only that (“Heeeey! How ya doin’ Mr. Walker?”). Kisses Steve goodbye long and filthy at the door, where everyone can see, opening the robe wide to wrap it around them both together, pressing their bodies flush, biting at his ear and whispering “Bring me a diamond when you come back, honey bunny” making Steve snort but say "You deserve a million of them, babe" making Billy melt, feel a bit like he's dripping love out of all the pores of his body, making a puddle that will permanently stain the glamorous white marble of the entryway as he waves Steve goodbye, scratches with feign indifference at the trail of fair hairs coming out his flashy-green pants to counteract the way Steve's killer smile makes him blush as hard as the first time, a whole decade away, that cold November night when he grabbed Billy by the collar of his T-shirt and said "I'm gonna kiss you. And then you're gonna punch me. And I don't care.”

It’s like a fucking fairytale. The way things were going? The most Billy expected out of life was live if fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse behind. But now, he’s got the guy of his dreams. He’s got a life he could have never dreamed of. He’s got Steve, now. Steve, who’s good, is caring. Always fights him back. Doesn’t buy any of the shit he tries to pull off. Steve, who's got lips like that moment the earth forgets about gravity when you’re riding down the hill of a rollercoaster. Got eyes that can rip out of you promises you never thought you'd make (like: I do and forever and not even death). That always see Billy when they look at him.

And now, he gets to wake up every morning before he does, put the Moka pot on the stove. Gets to see Steve’s sleepy face right after rolling out of bed, hair still untamed, pouty lips, bare feet dragging over the floor. See the way he beams, smile wide and devastatingly sweet when Billy tells him “I made you coffee, babe”. Gets Steve kissing him like a daydream, laying him over the kitchen table, fucking him before even touching breakfast with his fancy pink robe on.

And Billy thought he would have to change. Give something, to have something. Didn’t really mind. Too lucky to complain. Thought he would have to stop being mean once they got married. Play the tamed part. Thought he was going to have to behave to fit into the rich and respectable life they had landed at. But. No-No. Rich people? They’re way meaner than regular people, turns out. Billy’s just been upgraded to play for the Asshole’s World Championship Cup.

And he’s always been good at sports.

So he goes to the hair salon the afternoon before any important event. Gets a facial. Does his nails. Buys new clothes. Gets all Pretty Woman on himself just so Steve can show him off. And oh. OH. OHHH. Steve does show him off. To his dad. His mom. The whole party. Doesn’t give a fuck about whatever people keeps on whispering behind their backs. Offers his arm to Billy and Billy clings to him, keeps his chin up. He’s never been as afraid of anything as much as Steve not loving him back. He’s fearless now. Because here they are. So he lets Steve walk him through the crowd as the King he was born like. Brilliant. Proud. Letting Billy to deal with the vultures if he fancies to do that.

“Awwww. But look at you!! Anyone can tell you two are soooo in love!”

Fake boobs. Fake Louboutins. Fake Smile. Billy is Queen Bee now. He’s got this.

“Oh, no Miss Treadaway. I dearly appreciate you noticing how good my acting skills are. But it’s exactly as you said to Miss Walton the other day. I only married Stevie here because he’s got a big dick and it’s loaded. And he only married me because of how good I look on all fours. You’re too perceptive to hide it!”

But with Steve’s parents? With Steve’s parents Billy is relentlessly n i c e.  When Robert Harrington won’t even look at him. When Crystal Harrington blows saccharine all over him like in a bad magic trick, deceivingly sweet when she says, “Well William. Maybe it's time you get a real job too now our Steven is running his own branch" cold war buzzing between them when Billy spreads his most honest, open smile, not a millimeter of animadversion showing “But I already have a real job, Crystal. I take care of your son. And there’s also, you know, that side thing I do of running Garage” making her fingers clutch hard around her cup of fine champagne, making Steve’s lips fight to repress a grin, eyes fond, and soft and in love. And Billy will do whatever it takes, endure whatever he has to, if what he gets in return is this:  the way the narrow space keeping them apart feels like inevitability when they're about to kiss.

And everyone thought he was going after the money, when they married. Most still do. But Billy never actually asked for diamonds. Well, not for real. But he gets one anyway. Tenth anniversary and counting. It shines unreal on his finger, as much as this life he has now, as the liquid shine of Steve’s eyes when he says “They come from fire, just like you. I always thought they would fit so well. And looks like I was right” and just a few years before, Billy would have said “This is too much, I can’t take it” too afraid Steve would get the wrong impression too, too afraid to not be up to him. But now, he understands, that this is just another way Steve is trying to take care of him, to show him love. So now, Billy lets Steve spoil him as much as he wants. Take him out for dinner without reason. Hand him a sealed envelope saying, “What about showing me that ocean you love so much?” Kissing him in front of everyone, all the time, ringed fingers intertwined.

Lets him buy them a California King just to make a stupid joke, get Billy Hargrove to blush.

“We can ditch all of this, if you’re not happy. You know that, right? I don’t care about anything else as long as it’s you and I”

Billy shakes his head. “I am happy, pretty boy. Happier than I ever thought I could be” Tickles Steve’s nose with the fluffy, pink fuzz all around his robe until he sneezes and chuckles. “But I wanna know,” he says, tone pouty and tragic “It is true, what everybody says? Am I really a trophy husband?”

Steve shuffles closer, rumbles low in his throat. It’s an early Sunday morning. They’re gonna spend all time left until breakfast fucking in bed. Then cockteling&tanning together ‘till lunch. And then, after, he’s sure he can convince Steve to put on one of those gorgeous suits, let Billy grind against the soft fabric, make a mess out of him. Make him beg and squirm. Pull down his fly real slow, down on his knees. Suck him off. Eat him out. Make him moan I love yous brighter than diamonds when Billy gets inside him. But right now, Steve just kisses him silly, lowers down the covers to take a look down, at his leopard print, see-through, hideous new briefs. The cheapest ones he could find.

Because Billy’s trash. Will always be trash.

“Oh yeah, babe. You are. A fucking trophy. The best anyone could have”

But he’s posh trash now.

💎

The original post (xxxx) xD 💍

[bogkeep]

Hey! I'm the one who asked the poorly worded art process question. I'm here to give it another try by being more specific. The problem is . . . that's hard. Because that was about a specific as I can get, since I kind of want to know everything about how your art works.

Big things, like how you come up with ideas, or how you design characters. But small things, too, like what tools you use for drawing, how you balance between traditional and digital art, and how you decide what color to use for your unique and beautiful line art.

I want to be more specific so you can answer, but the question in my head is too vague and broad for me to be specific about it. So . . . here are some subquestions of my question, I guess! Maybe that helps?

Sorry this is so weird, and thank you, your art is amazing

first of all, thank you so much <3

and yes, this is far more answerable! i hope i can satiate some of your hunger for insight without writing a whole book.

HOW DO I COME UP WITH IDEAS?

this is obviously going to be very different for everyone. i very rarely have to dig for ideas or sit down and brainstorm, unless of course i am trying to achieve something very specific, like fulfill art contest criteria or working on a commission. my brain is very visually wired, so a lot of my ideas literally just pop up in my head (i know of several artists with aphantasia - some people don't have any visuals in their head at all and I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT'S LIKE AND I AM IN AWE OF THESE ARTISTS), sometimes i see a character or character design and im like HNNNG i need to draw them, or i just... have a concept i really want to Exist and i'm going to figure out how.

my biggest problem is that often, when i get an idea i want to DRAW IT, NOW NOW NOWNOWNOW, and that's just Not Feasible. sometimes because i'm Literally In Bed, sometimes because i have too many things i need to do or draw first... but i need to clear up space in my head, because my Urge To Draw will be like, beeping and whirring until i satisfy it... so i write it down on my TO DRAW-list! it's a real list that exists on my phone and i have to use it frequently. if i keep scrolling down i start finding weird notes that i have NO idea are supposed to mean anymore, but that's fine. i can't satisfy every Art Urge. sometimes i need to let them pass.

HOW DO I DESIGN CHARACTERS?

this one might vary a bit, but it can often be boiled down to "i sketch around until i figure something that Works." many of my characters, especially my older characters, became characters by accident when i kept drawing them over and over and i was like Ah I Like Drawing You... You Exist Now. that's how sparrow spellcaster happened, at the very least. this could happen because i had school and i would focus in school by doodling/sketching while listening to class. since i no longer go to school, pretty much all of my new characters are far more intentional. Timian and Vinta specifically exist as a result of a "favourite character fusion" challenge, and a lot of iphimery characters started with a Purpose rather than just harnessing the vibe of something i drew multiple times without thinking.

it helps to write down elements or tropes i want to include, like "sturdy-looking" or "VILLAIN OF EVIL SCARY MAGICS but it's a little girl and the dark magic is bright lightning and not shadows" or something. it can vary from a tiny visual detail to their role in the story. whatever i want to Achieve. my Intent. because my brain works so visually, i just really need to sketch somethign repeatedly until i nail it and can be like Yes That's It.

sketchbooks look a little messy but that’s what they’re for.

WHAT TOOLS DO I USE

for digital art, i’m currently using an ipad pro and procreate. i use a lot of the brushes that came installed, like Mercury is my primary lineart brush, and Moorilla is my primary sketching brush, but i also buy a lot of custom brushes on the hunt for More Delicious Textures (DAUB has a lot of good ones, especially if you want some that imitate traditional art). i have also used Huion and XP-pen tablets and generally recommend them, as well as clip studio paint as an art program (i love it very much and if it wasn’t subscription-based on ipad i would still be using it).

for traditional art, mostly just whatever sketchbook i have + my trusty mechanical pencil. i mean i have two: one with softer lead (it comes out darker) and 0,7 mm thickness, and one that’s 0,5 and harder lead for more light sketching, or if i’m going to line it with ink.

i also have a trusty pentel brush pen that i love DEARLY and feel bad for not having used in a while for reasons i will get to.

when i work on calendar pieces traditionally, i like to draw lines with ink - i use a dip pen with exchangeable nibs - and then color with watercolors. i have several sets because they’re all slightly different and i want the Range.

i sometimes travel with a little sketchbook in my bag and an assortment of pens, so that i can sketch Anytime, Anywhere. i think doodling with a pen can be very useful because you gotta become comfortable with the mistakes and imperfections and keep going anyway. if i doodle at work that’s the tools i have -  regular ball pens and a bunch of paper lying around.

HOW DO I BALANCE BETWEEN DIGITAL AND TRADITIONAL ART?

currently, i... don’t, really. it was easier when i had school, and i would just doodle freely and then maybe use some of my sketches as thumbnails or concept ideas. it’s harder now that i need to intentionally sit down with my sketchbook, and tbh... the ipad works very well for sketching. it’s so CONVENIENT and i have WORK all the time and my time to create art has become much more limited than it was. i miss going to my weirdo art high school where we would try out a whole bunch of different tools and methods. sure, yes, i had to paint with Acrylics My Beloathed, but getting to play around in different mediums is VERY valuable.

i genuinely want to be able to make more time and space for non-digital art again, but i just don’t have the ability to right now. it’s also different now that i’ve moved away from my parent’s place - i used to have an enormous desk and my mother has a large collection of art tools and there was a lot more storage space for whatever i created. digital art is very convenient and very accessible. ah well!

HOW DO I DECIDE ON THE COLOR FOR MY LINEART?

i usually line in black or a very dark color, and when i’m done coloring + shading i might play around with the colors and see what works. if you lock the layer you can just throw all the spaghetti at the wall you want. i decide on whatever fits the piece. i tend to be pretty fast and loose about it too, sometimes you can probably spot parts of my lineart that have slightly mismatchy color, but it’s like... done is better than perfect! i don’t have the energy to overlook every single pixel of my piece or else i would drive myself utterly mad.

HOPE THIS ANSWERS ANYTHING AT ALL!! THANKS FOR ASKING!!!

[getyouasenju]

Dearly Beloved

We gather here..

Warnings: Profanity, Angst

Word Count: 3k

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I smiled at myself in the mirror. wow. I looked gorgeous, I had to admit it. I wasn't the most confident woman in the world, but even I had to give myself props. Ino was a truly miracle maker with that makeup brush of hers. I calmly brush my fingers across my face as I admired the woman standing before me. Running my hands down my sides, I feel the lace and beading of my beautiful white dress. It was perfect, I was perfect- not a hair out of place. The dress, the hair and the makeup were to die for. Reaching out, I grabbed the beautiful earrings to complete my look. Glancing at the clock on the wall in front of me, I start to worry. When would Ino be back with my bouquet? As if my mind were being read, the door clicked out. I smiled widely to myself in the mirror. I knew she would come through! "How do I look?" I start to speak as I turn around to greet my maid of honor, and my breath caught in my throat.

"You look stunning."

I backed up and placed my hand on the wall for support. This was not ino. I furrowed my brow and looked at the man standing before me. "W-what are you doing in here!" I half shouted at the man, "You shouldn't be here." I finish. My eyes run over his body, analyzing him. He was dressed up, grey turtleneck, black suit, a handkerchief neatly folded within, and his regular pony tail. He almost looked ready for the wedding. Except for the fact that he wasn't invited. We stood in silence for a moment before he fully stepped in and closed the door.

Now I was pissed. "Hey! You open that door right now Shikamaru Nara!" I shriek at him, but he still stays silent as he looks over my body. I was getting frustrated as the time went by, what the hell did he want? Pushing off the wall, I crossed my arms over my chest and sneered at him. "How did you even get in here?" He shrugs his shoulders and gave me a short reply, "Doesn't take a genius to figure out." I scoffed at the cocky man. How could he be making comments like that in a this like this? In a place like this?

"Well, what do you want? I have somewhere to be- obviously." I tried keeping my resolve even though my entire body was humming with anxiety from his presence. He sighed, wiping his hands down his handsome face. "I can't let you do this." he finally pushes out. So that's what this is about. I laugh at him, he has officially lost his god damn mind.

"Let me? You can't let me do this, huh?" I shake my head, insulted that he would even think he could make any kind of demand to me. Maybe once upon a time, long, long ago- but not now. "and why is that Shikamaru? Because you love me so much right?" I finish. If he thought he could just waltz in here on my wedding day like this... and where was ino with my flowers god damn it! "If you're done making an ass out of both of us, then I think it's time for your grand exit. If you leave right now, I'll forget you ever showed your face here." I try to bargain with the pony tailed man, waving my hand in his face as I turned back to the mirror and primping myself.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and he took a couple of steps towards me, but I held up my hand in the mirror. "That's close enough, Nara." I commanded. "J-just what are you trying to pull here!" I nervously let out, keeping my head down and my expression out of his view. Taking his hands out his pockets, he quickly stepped forward ignoring my warning and placed his hands on my waist. Oh absolutely not!

With a quick spin I smack his hands off of me “Keep your hands to yourself!” I growl out, balling my fist up and shaking it in his face. Jamming my finger into his chest I straighten up and look him in the eyes, “You had your chance. You made it clear that you and I want different things ....or maybe you just didn’t want them with me.” I whispered that last part. What ever his situation was, I didn’t want to hear it at the moment. I just wanted to walk down the aisle, say my vows, eat my wedding cake and go on a much needed vacation. What I didn’t need was a wedding crasher.

He looked stunned. “So that’s what you think? That I don’t love you? That I don’t want to be with you? Look at me (Y/N), I’m here! Isn’t that enough?” I look up to him confused at his outburst.  I scoffed again “Okay, so what now? Are you going to marry me yourself now Shikamaru?- Oh wait!” I suck in a gust of air, placing my finger on my chin as I fake being in deep thought, “You don’t want to marry me! There, case closed, are you ready to leave my presence yet?” I was becoming impatient, we’ve already had this conversation before and I wasn’t about to repeat it.

Closing his eyes and letting his shoulders drop slightly, he opens his mouth to respond “There’s more to life than marriage, (Y/N).” My eyes widened as I paused. Suddenly I let out a loud bitter laugh as I stepped closer to him. “More to life than...” I couldn’t contain myself, next thing I knew- I was beating my hands on his chest yelling at him. How could he make comments to me like that? “How dare you! How fucking dare you say that to me!” I shout in between my assault. “You were with Temari a year! one single fucking year before you proposed to her! I gave you three years of my life and got nothing!” I screamed. 

Glaring at me Shikamaru snatches my hands in his own. “Yeah, and look were that proposal got us? Do you see her anywhere?” he hissed out at me. Snatching my hands back sneering at him I bark out a reply. “Why must I pay the price for her fucking mistakes! You’re a fucking genius yet you can’t separate her and I.” Leaning forward and pointing my finger in his face once again I continued. “Now where have your actions gotten you, huh? You’re crashing your ex girlfriend’s wedding when It should be you waiting at that altar for me!” Wait, that’s not what I meant to say! “Oh yeah? and you think you’ve got it all figured out, right? You can’t separate love from marriage!” He challenges back at me. Oh you little.. “If you loved me, you would marry me Shikamaru, It’s not that hard.” He was the one sneering at me this time around. “And when you pull your head out of your ass, you’d realize a title doesn’t mean shit.” he hisses out at me. “Yeah, well it means a lot to me..” I quietly reply. My chest was heaving at this point. Who the hell does he think he was? “More than what we have?” He asked me. “Had” I corrected him sighing.

“Temari and I were fine before I proposed, everything was perfect and that stupid fucking proposal ruined everything! I don’t want that to happen to us- It complicates everything!” I was baffled that he was still mentioning her to me. “Oh because everything is so peachy between us right now? I’m standing in a fucking wedding dress aisle ready- for another man!” I screech out. He groans loudly “Yeah because you’re so blinded by your want to be connected with your parents that you’re too blind to see we already have what they did and we don’t need to get married to prove it!” He was breathing hard by this point.

“Am I not good enough to be your wife? Is that what you came here to do? Rub it in my face that I’ll never be enough for you Shikamaru?” He steps extremely close to my face “That’s the entire point. I’m trying to tell you that being together is enough, you’re enough for me. Always have been, always will be.” It felt like my heart was touching the back of my chest. “But it’s not enough for me Shikamaru.”

Our heads snapped to the door as it popped open. “I got the flowers (Y/N)! Aren’t they just beau-” Ino stops mid sentence as her eyes land on the scene before her. The two ex lovers standing awfully too close. “Oh.. Shikamaru, what are you doing here?” Taking in his dressed up appearance she continues, “Have you come to attend the ceremony?” She asked him genuinely confused. I snorted wiping my nose. I hadn’t noticed I’d been crying until now. My makeup! leave it to him to ruin things! Ino takes notice of my ruined face and quickly placed the flowers down. “Shikamaru, I think you should go find a seat now. I need to fix her makeup. Shoo!” She dismisses him as she moves to fix my ruined face. He hesitates, looking at my face while I avoid his gaze before he slowly makes his escape.

Sitting down, Ino gets to work on me. The once light and joyful mood was now dark and gloomy. Ino steps back and stares at my face. “Is it that bad?” I joke with her. She shakes her head and I was puzzled, what? “He loves you a lot, ya know.” I deadpanned “Well I sure hope he does cause the wedding is in like forty minutes.” Ino sighs and puts the makeup brush down, gently grabbing my hand. “Not him, but I think you know this.” I grimaced “Not you too. I just can’t catch a break today, geez.” Rolling my eyes I pulled my hand back gently.

“He’s just.. I think he’s just scared.” She continues. “Ino... you know how much marriage means to me. He knows that too.” I sigh and wrap my arms around myself. It was true, marriage meant so much to me. My parents were married for twenty one years before they died in the war. I wanted what they had so bad. I promised myself I would have that. “I know, I know. You want a love like them, something strong, But let me ask you. You might get the marriage you want today, but will you get the love you deserve tomorrow?” My heart sank. Omoi was a nice man, I met him through Chōji when he and Karui started dating, they were siblings. He was strong he treated me well, he was respectful and he wanted to marry me. It seemed like a dream.

“He was so distraught when Temari broke the engagement, but then he fell for you. I was so sure you two would make it.” I looked up form my hands to the blonde as she spoke. “I know he doesn’t do things by the book, he was never one to pay attention in school.” We both giggle at her remark. “But I know he loves you more than anything in the entire world. Omoi is great- don’t get me wrong, but If you’re just marrying him because he wants to marry you, then I don’t think you two would be anything like your parents, (Y/N).” I was confused and a little upset at her comment, I went to speak but she went on.

“Your parents married for love, true love. Not saying you don’t love Omoi, but not the way you love Shikamaru.” She was right, I was still in love with the idiot. He words resonated with me.. I wanted what my parents had- love. They had a genuine love for each other, I don’t think a marriage defined that. I was basing my happiness off of title, not the work that goes into it. My face started to heat up as I stared back at ino, realization coming to my mind. I wanted to be with Shikamaru, ring or not, but I was terrified. My anxiety started to creep into my chest, everyone was waiting for me to walk down the aisle and I couldn’t. And I had already sent Shikamaru away.

The door opened again revealing my other three bridesmaids, Hinata, Sakura and Tenten. Turning my head to look at them, one glance and they already knew. “She isn’t doing it is she?” Sakura asked with an... excited tone? “Well, good cause this dress is killing me!” Tenten says with a smile. “(Y/N), are you okay?” Hinata asked with concern, but I could see her grinning. I go to answer when Sakura yells out, “Pay up Ino!” What the-. “No fair! I was sure she’d figure it out by last week! You only won because you two days were closer!” Looking back and forth between the two I spoke up “You two bet on my marriage?” I face palmed as they laughed nervously. “Who else was in on this!” I asked loudly. Sakura spoke up counting on her fingers “Well you see, there was me, Ino, Tenten, Naruto, Kiba, Shino, Sai-” I held my hand up, “Yep, that’s enough information for me.” Hinata speaks up “Sorry (Y/N), we just knew you two would end up together!”

Ino grabs my shoulder smiling widely, “Don’t sweat it girl! We got the wedding covered!” The others chiming in with their sounds of agreement. I facepalmed once again. Oh I’m sure they did...

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I nervously fidgeted with my fingers as I waited at the door. The white dress was long gone and was replaced with my usual favorite hoodie. I sigh as I go to tap my knuckles on the door once again when it suddenly opened revealing the disheveled man.

“Hi” I nervously breath out. He looked at me confusion, quickly glancing down at the watch on his wrist. “Shouldn’t you be saying your vowels right now?” He slowly asks me. Okay, I guess it was my turn to be the one intruding, but my words were failing me as we just sat there staring at each other. Breaking eye contact and looking down, I sighed. “I couldn’t do it.”

I got no response from him, I deserved it I guess. Maybe I should just give it up and go home. Laying face down in my bed for a year in shame seemed just about right at the moment. I hear foot steps and look up to see that he’s stepped aside to let me in. I hesitantly step inside the house, It looked almost identical to what it was a year and a half ago. Hearing the click of the door I turned to look at him. I was nervous.

“Why didn’t you marry him (Y/N). Isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted?” He asks me while leaning against the door. I pondered his question for a minute before responding. “I wanted what my parents had.” He shakes his head at me, crossing his arms and taking a rather defensive stance. “Yeah, I get it. You want marriage and my love isn’t enough for you. I got an ear full of your troublesome speech today.” He snaps at me. I cautiously took a step near him, testing the waters.

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” I made eye contact with him. “I grew up hearing my mother and my father address each other as husband and wife... watching how in love they were.” I shrugged my shoulders. “When they died I wanted to keep their love going, I felt like a strong marriage would be the way to honor them, to honor what they wanted for me, what they represented.” I let out a breath. “Back there I told you that you couldn’t separate Temari and I- How I shouldn’t have to pay the price for her actions.” I shook my head at myself. “....When I’m the one who couldn’t make the separation between my parents and us.” He looked surprised.

“Shikamaru, you were right. The marriage- the title, didn’t make them into the couple I idolized. It was the love for each other that made them so strong, that made them bring me into the world.” I step even closer to him as I continue. “I don’t want a marriage if I can’t have what we had, it’s more than enough for me.” He was quiet.

“Have” he replies soon. What? I was confused what does that even mean. “Shikamaru, I don’t underst-” He swiftly cuts me off. “Have, you said what we had. We still have it.” My eyes widened as he closed the gap and embraced me, wrapping his arms around me, and dropping his lips to mine. Pulling back he grabs my chin with one hand and wipes my eyes with the other. There I go crying again. “This whole day has been a drag. I thought you were going to be a married to another man by the end of it, how troublesome.” He groans at me, but I was too starstruck to care, I had my love back.

“Don’t ever leave me again.” He sighed burying his face into my neck. “Well I did walk out of a wedding for you so...” I could feel his low laugh in my neck. snuggling into him I smiled brightly. Pulling back and looking up at him I grinned. “But I can’t let you take the blame for all of this.” I was taken back by his sudden outburst. “(Y/N), I want to marry you.” I was shocked, we went through all of this for him to want to marry me now? “What do you mean?” The words slip quietly out of my mouth.

“I can’t let what happened between Temari and I control my relationship with you. Maybe It didn’t work out with her because I was always meant to be with you.” He says confidently. I was overwhelmed... He wanted to marry me. “Are you just saying this because you’re afraid of losing me? I already told you I’m here for good.” I hesitantly replied. Stroking my face he leans closers to me “Am I sure I want the girl I love to share my name? For sure. I want everyone to know you’re a Nara. I want our family to have the same name.” I could feel the blood rushing to my face and he chuckled at my expression. “H-hey! Don’t think you’re getting off the hook so easily!” I say as I wave my finger in his face. He was puzzled as he furrowed his brows at me, “huh?”

“If we’re gonna do this.. then you still owe me a real proposal, Idiot!”

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Damn I might as well be a Shikamaru account to be honest. Gonna have to start rolling out the tobirama fics soon!

Masterlist

Until Next Time! xxo (▰∀◕)ﾉ

[ragingbookdragon]

Should Judgement Come To Pass

Asra x M!Apprentice

Word Count: 2.8K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author’s Note: My spin on Book 20: Judgment, 1. The Red Room. Enjoy! -Thorne

           It was the oppressive emotion that kept his throat tight, heart hammering in his chest as he gazed from his plate to the other members of the Devil’s dinner party. Even if he wasn’t under the compulsion like Asra and them, his movements made him feel like he was. Too focused on trying to fit in, to keep the secret of his freedom hidden, it was eating away at his usually reserved demeanor. His eyes shifted to Asra, just a second is all it took for the other to nod and he inhaled deeply, glancing towards the Devil, an inviting smile growing underneath his mask. And the Devil smiled back, but it was anything but friendly.

           “See, (Y/N). All of this isn’t so bad.” He raised the silver goblet in his hand, and (Y/N) took a moment to glance at his own wine, imagining one of those vampire eels swimming around in it.

           “There’s food and wine, all of your favorite people in the same place. What more could you even ask for?” (Y/N) knew he had to play this by ear, and his answers had to seem like the most selfish he could possess.

           “I’d like…power.” He allowed a mock look of greed to come across him, voice dark and lusting. “If this is how it’s going to be, I want power.” The Devil burst into a roaring laughter, Valdemar and the others following.

           “Power!” The Devil repeated with a low chuckle. “Perhaps you and I are not so different after all, (Y/N).” He gave him a knowing look. “I bet you want to return to the great monster hunter you were before, hmm?”

           (Y/N) took a moment to think it over. “I can’t deny it’s crossed my mind.” His eyes flitted to Nadia and he sent a silent plea that she would play along. “When I was as powerful as I was three years ago, I had princesses tripping over themselves to make me their consorts.”

           Nadia was one smart cookie because she scoffed and spat, “You are just the same as Lucio.”

           He winked and flashed a pearly grin. “I can’t deny that power has its benefits.”

           “All mortals want power, Nadia,” the Devil tutted before turning his attention back onto (Y/N). “You desire to crush your enemies and to befuddle your betters…” his eyes darted to Asra. “To protect the ones you love dearly.”

           A bolt of white-hot anger thundered in (Y/N)’s chest, but he merely smiled through his clenched teeth. “What can I say? I’m a greedy bastard.”

           Some of the attendents laughed, and that was when (Y/N) felt the cool whisper of Asra’s magic was over him and Faust. Averting his gaze, he absentmindedly ran his pointer around the rim of his wine glass.

           “So, Devil?”

           The dark, maroon eye fell on him. “Yes, (Y/N)?”

           “Can I ask you something before the world is shot to hell?”

           The Devil snorted. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. The world isn’t going to end, it’s just going to be…altered.”

           (Y/N) met his stare head on. “Why go through all this trouble? You’re an Arcana. You have control of an entire realm, and anybody stupi—understanding enough of magic to deal with?”

           Tutting once more, the Devil sighed. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N). Do you have any idea what any of what you just said means?” He scoffed. “Of course you don’t, do you? You’ve never even stopped to consider it. We Arcana are masters of our own realms, but in the rest of existence, we are confined. Restricted to our unchanging roles.” The Devil offered a sympathetic look. “Surely someone as talented and smart as you can see how awfully tiresome it would become to stay unchanging all the time?”

           (Y/N) opened his mouth to respond when he heard a voice that sent his heart pounding against his chest.

           Help!

           Before he could even do a thing, Asra jolted in his seat, knee banging the underside of the table, fork clattering against the porcelain dish. The Devil was silent, but (Y/N) could tell that in the way his crimson eyes focused on Asra that he was suspicious.

           (Y/N) sucked in a breath, eyes darting wildly around to find some form of distraction, all the while Asra and Faust were conversing. It was too confusing, trying to focus on them while trying to distract the Devil. If he didn’t find something to say, something to do, they were doomed. They were—

           “…no one wants you here, Devil.”

           The voice was quiet but firm, and (Y/N) turned his attention to Muriel who gave him a small nod. It was just the distraction enough because the Devil turned on Muriel, but he met the glare with defiant green eyes.

           Across the table, Julian cleared is throat too, voice carrying over the table. “He’s right you know. I can party with just about anyone, even Lucio, but you have to be the exception.”

           Soon, everyone was following along, and Nadia was the next to get her shot in. “And I do not recall inviting you to my Masquerade. You have been such an ungracious guest.” (Y/N) fought viciously to keep the smile hidden as he looked over his frien—no, his best friends.

           The Devil paused a moment to regard them all, as if he genuinely cared what they were saying to him, though the way his clawed hands started clenching and unclenching told him otherwise.

           “Courage in the face of inevitable fate.” His voice turned downright mocking. “How…admirable.” Smiling, he added, “I hope something of you remains when the new world dawns. Perhaps I’ll have new toys to play with.”

           A flickering next to (Y/N)’s silver chalice caught his eye, something that could’ve been a trick of the light, but he knew what it really was. The red wine rippled, then stilled, and next to him, Asra slumped back in his seat, exhaustion seeping down his body. (Y/N) inconspicuously lowered his hand to Asra’s thigh, trying to pour magic into his lover. Whether it worked or not, he didn’t know, but the way Asra sighed in slight relief made his heart calm. Cool snakeskin ran behind his ankle as Faust wound her way up.

           Done…

           Even she sounded exhausted. His heart picked up again, but he was too afraid to even look in Asra’s direction for fear that a single glance would give them both away.

           The Devil raised his chalice and smiled. “To all of you. Thank you so much for playing the wonderful parts you’ve been given.”

He passed the chalice to Julian, and try as he did to resist, the compulsion was too strong, and he took the goblet. His normally pale complexion seemed to whiten even further after he swallowed the wine. The chalice made its way around the table, and one by one the dinner guests drank from it before it finally reached Asra and (Y/N).

           Raising it, Asra said, “To you, (Y/N).” he took a long sip before passing it over into (Y/N) hands.

           He took a long look at it, the dark crimson stains across the sides of the polished silver made his stomach curl. Before he lost his nerve, he grunted and knocked the remaining wine back, forcing himself to keep the sickly saccharine liquid down.

           Asra’s hand fell to his, worry in his voice. “Are you alright, my love?”

           He didn’t have a chance to respond as the Devil chuckled and shook his head, eyes falling on the two of them. “Love. Tell me Asra, what do you think your love managed to accomplish?” With a clawed hand, he vaguely gestured to the rest of the guests at the table. “Everyone is here. Everyone drank the wine. Even your darling (Y/N).”

           Grinning evilly, he finished with, “All your efforts were for naught. You and your love achieved nothing.”

           And that was the bridge too far. (Y/N) could take the Devil mocking his failures, but not those of Asra’s. His lover had worked for too long, worked far too hard, and suffered enough to be subjected to such abuse.

           The screeching of his chair sounded through the room as he stood to his feet and to his full height, ripping the mask off his face so the Devil could look his straight in the eyes.

           “You’re wrong,” (Y/N) condemned with the most withering glower he could muster.

           “Oh?” the Devil merely looked amused as he steepled his fingers. “Indulge me then, (Y/N). Tell me how wrong I am about this mortal delusion you call love.”

           Everyone fell silent, and with the weight of their gazes on him, (Y/N) inhaled and exhaled before he picked up the empty goblet and turned to Asra.

           “Asra, the first thing I remember in this new existence is the feeling of your arms wrapped protectively around me, the relieved and joyous tears seeping into my shirt.” He reached out, taking his lover’s hand. “You have always and will always be the greatest part of me, the truest friend and partner. The man I love the most.”

           (Y/N) raised the chalice to Julian. “We discovered the truth and redeemed an innocent man…not that he made it easy on us.” Julian’s face flushed a light pink as he laughed and gave a dramatic bow.

           “We have traveled across the realms of magic with nothing but our wits and ability to save us. We saved your parents and unraveled numerous mysteries great and small.” Asra’s eyes shone with crystal clear tears and he squeezed (Y/N)’s hand with all he could.

           “I couldn’t’ve done this, any of this, had you not been by my side the entire time.” Flashing him a smile, “Well, I probably could’ve, but not as stylishly of course.” Asra merely giggled and nodded.

           Sighing indulgently, the Devil glanced at them. “Yes, yes, this all so very touching. Dare I ask what even your point to all this is, (Y/N)?”

           (Y/N) tossed the goblet away, not caring that it bounced along the marble floor with a clang. The Devil’s eyes briefly darted to it, then back to him, an anger drawing into them.

           “Love’s the one thing you don’t understand Devil. It will always matter, even if you can’t comprehend it.” He tugged Asra to his feet and turned his attention to the beautiful mauve eyes he as well as his own. “It’s important to me. Important to us. And that’s all I need to be happy.”

           Raising his free hand, he caressed Asra’s cheek. “I don’t need anything else as long as you’re by my side, beloved.”

           “Is that so? Love has driven many passionate mortals, the same as you, into my open and waiting arms.” He grinned deviously. “Always craving more pleasure, more novelty, more control. Your kind are never sated. You’re greedy—like me.”

           (Y/N) shook his head, but never took his eyes off Asra’s. “The feelings you’re describing aren’t love. That’s pride and arrogance. Greed and loathing.”

           Finally, he looked over at the Devil. “However, I’m not surprised that the likes of you can’t tell the difference. It’s almost pitiful. But it makes me see just how delusional you’ve become in this whirlwind of a masterplan.” Expecting a barb back at him, (Y/N) was unnerved to see how conspicuously silent the Devil became.

           Asra looked as though he was seeing the sunrise for the first time after a life in the darkness as he confessed, “(Y/N), you didn’t have to say all the on my behalf.”

           He grinned at his lover. “Probably not…but it made me feel all manly to defend your honor.” Pressing a quick kiss to his cheekbone, he murmured, “Like a knight in shining armor defending his damsel in distress.” Asra snorted, pressing his face into (Y/N)’s shoulder to muffle his laughter, and it made his heart feel bubbly and light despite the gloom and darkness around them.

           “Well, I do feel safe and defended, so thank you, (Y/N).” Peeking his head up, he gazed into (Y/N)’s eyes. “And remember, whatever comes next and becomes of us, I love you too.”

           His heart swelled in his chest and it was only then that (Y/N) realized that everyone was watching them with grand smiles on their faces. It was enough to stun him and Asra, mainly because they’d forgotten they weren’t alone—Asra more so.

The Devil on the other hand was barely containing his annoyance. “Are you quite finished filibustering, (Y/N)? I’ve an agenda to keep up with.”

           (Y/N) shrugged and deadpanned, “Technically you asked me, asshole.”

           Ignoring the insult, the Devil huffed, “A moment of idle curiosity, nothing more than so.” Not wanting to push the envelope farther, (Y/N) fell silent and let the conversation stand. “Nevertheless, now that your sickenin—heartwarming display is over…”

           With an earsplitting ring, the Devil’s hands clapped together. (Y/N)’s teeth rattled, ears ringing as every nerve ending was set aflame. By the shock on Asra and the other’s faces, they felt it too. As quick as it came over, it was gone, and Julian was the first to break the silence.

           “Uh…was something supposed to happen? Because I don’t think it’s happening.”

           “Patience,” the Devil commanded. “One can’t rush these things.” Clapping his hands again, the same outcome applied. “What…is this? It should work.”

           (Y/N) sighed wistfully, and with humor. “Ah well, performance issues are not uncommon.” Asra choked on his spit as he tried not to laugh. “Running an apothecary, I’ve seen it’s about one out of five. I could recommend—” A deafening screech echoed through the room and they all spun to see Volta screaming at the top of her lungs.

           “Oh! Oh, what is happening to Volta? Volta feels…light? Volta feels so strange!”

           They stared in shock as the other courtiers started squirming uncontrollably in their seats, even Valdemar who was the strongest of them appeared particularly rattled. Something didn’t seem right with them to (Y/N) and before he could speak his concern to Asra, his vision fell into a hazy red, nausea threatening to turn his stomach inside out. What reeled him more was the true visage of the courtiers—constructed shells, thin as frost, and barely containing their real, nightmarish forms. He drew his eyes away only to catch sight of the ghostly chains binding everyone to their chairs. The vision began to fade, and the chains started unraveling, link by link by link.

           When it all cleared, the first thing (Y/N) saw was Asra’s face. “Come on, (Y/N). Deep breaths. You’re here. You’re with me.”

           He breathed a sigh of relief. “Asra, we did it. The plan worked.”

           “What? How do you know? What did you see?” Asra’s questions were rapid-fire.

           Nadia cut off any response, rising from her seat gloriously like a phoenix from the ashes. “Whatever you hoped to accomplish has failed, Devil.” Her voice held a barely contained, seething rage. “If you are quite done with this perverse little charade, get the hell out of my Palace.”

           Everyone began to rise as though they were awakening from a long, hellish dream, standing as they were no longer bound by the ritual. Asra and (Y/N)’s smiles grew by the moment.

           Asra looped his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, hugging him tightly. “We did it! It worked!”

           (Y/N) yanked off his mask and took hold of Asra’s chin, sealing their lips in a searing kiss. As they pulled away, Aisha and Salim leapt from the chair and ran over to hug them.

           “Oh, thank the Gods you’re both alright!” Aisha exclaimed, pressing kisses to both their cheeks.

           “What of you two? Are you hurt?” Asra’s hurt was palpable. “I’m so sorry we didn’t come sooner. We—”

           Salim rested a hand on Asra’s shoulder. “Asra, don’t be sorry. We’re alright. And you two did marvelously.”

           “And we’re so very proud of you two,” Aisha added with a smile.

           “Ahem.” The Devil exaggerated and everything fell silent once more. Asra took his place before his parents, and (Y/N) before him.

           “We drank your wine and ate your food, and nothing has happened. The ritual has failed. It’s over. Let us go.”

           All at once the shadows darkened as he rose from his seat, form distorting until he towered over the guests.

           “Over?” he laughed coldly. “Never.” He reached out a shadowy clawed hand to seize them, blackened fire erupting around the room.

           (Y/N) raised a hand, instantly cooling the fires around Asra and he. “It’s over, Devil. Fate says it is. We say it is.” His eyes narrowed with determination and he fiercely declared, “I say it is.”

           “You’re not going anywhere you foolish mortals,” the Devil countered and (Y/N) willed the magic to his fingers, an ethereal blade forming in his hand.

           He pointed at the Devil, took Asra’s hand in his free one, and dared fearlessly, “Watch us.”