#I spent most of my viewing screaming “I LOVE YOU FOUR SO MUCH”

[meraki-yao]

I'm re-watching RWRB for the Nth time and I never fail to be in awe of this movie

because WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS SCENE WAS TAYNICK'S CHEMISTRY TEST

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY DID THIS SCENE WHEN THEY MET FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

A New Light (Angst/Fluff)

(First Gen)TLR!Turtles x reader

A/N: I just had to. Had to show the babies some love, making them fit into my writing in some way. One family that sticks together😭🖤💚

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You’ve lost your turtle to the war, and now, many years later, you’re part of a new family, helping your friend April and her daughter Casey Marie with raising their four small turtles.

Warnings: Loss of loved ones and everything that comes with it.

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So many years had passed since you last saw him. So many years since the cruel war took him away from you. So many years since this cruel world decided to take the love of your life away from you in the most brutal way possible. Taking his last breath and taking the light straight out of his eyes. Oh, how you had spent many nights crying, screaming out in agony over your loss. Why did he had to go like that? Why did the world have to be so evil? You used to ask yourself those questions a lot as the world fell apart around you.

But even though it had been many years, you never forgot his eyes. You never forget his voice, his smile or the way his arms felt around you. And you had promised yourself that you would never let yourself forget his smell, using his old t-shirts as pillow cases on rough days. Heck, you even managed to get April to help you move his old mattress into your room, reminding you of all the nights you had spent in each other’s arms, dreaming about your future together. Oh, how bright everything had seemed back then. You were both so young back then. Young and in love with the whole world in front of you, just waiting for the two of you to take a chance. And looking back, you probably should have taken that chance sooner.

All those I loved yous, all the kisses and all those dreams of living and growing old together. Sometimes you wondered if those dreams was ever meant to be reality. Like said before, the world was cruel, and to you and the man you loved, it had decided to be extra hard.

There were times where you wondered what you would have done if you hadn't found April after the explosion. Who knew, maybe you wouldn’t even had been there to this day today. With everything that happened before and after, you weren’t exactly sure. But you were grateful for April. She had always been one of your closest friends, and in those dark times of your lives, the two of you became especially close. Both of you had lost your friends, your family and the men you loved. It was hard, but you managed it.

During those times, one of your brightest lights was Casey Marie. You and April did everything in your power to keep her safe, watching her grow up to become a strong, beautiful and independent woman. And even after the world crumbled before you a second time, she stayed strong, reminding you how there was always light after the dark. How life was a constraint circle, with new opportunities and new beginnings making themself visible after something has ended. And how well that was proven with the turtles.

When Casey Marie became a mother, you were joyous. Not just happy for the woman that you had started to view as a much younger sister, but for the children she had brought to the world through the work she had put in, in her own mother’s lab. Four bright and happy baby turtles, each with their own distinct personality, likes and dislikes. With their presence the lair grew lighter in color, as flowers and fresh water made their way in, creating a picturesque palace for you and your family to live. And oh, how these turtles reminded you of them. And most importantly, they reminded you of him.

Much like Leonardo, Uno was quick to learn from his mother’s training, proving himself to be quite talented when it came to training. And like Leo sometimes would do, Uno liked to show off. Except, Uno did not know how to keep it subtle, often doing handstands for the most mundane things, causing his siblings great frustration when he told them high and mighty, how much better he was than them. But while Leo was patient, never making any sudden decisions, Uno was the total opposite. He was impatient, quick to call his siblings names, especially Odyn, or make sudden rash decisions. If he didn’t do push ups or did rounds in the lair, he would become fidgety, nagging his siblings for attention, which usually became Moja, whenever the poor girl just wished to be left alone.

Speaking of Moja, the small music loving turtle, reminded you a lot of Raphael. She liked to keep to herself, often walking around with a pair of headphones on her head, listening to whatever cassettes she could get her small three fingered hands on. It calmed her down and kept her focused, just like Raph’s knitting used to do. It was like a hobby for her, searching her uncles’ old stuff through for something to listen to. You still clearly remembered the day she came and asked if you knew anything about Joy Division. Just like Raph, Moja was not about to let any injustice pass by, often getting mad at Uno for calling their brother a so-called fatty. And just like Leo and Raph, Uno and Moja butted heads a lot, often getting into fights over small things, such as whether or not they should train during their free time. Yet somehow they were also the bestest of friends, enjoying each other's company while playing on whatever device they had managed to sneak into the kitchen.

Yi, sweet, wonderful little Yi. You had never seen someone's eyes shine as bright as her’s at the mention of a garage. But Yi’s did, and they did so every time. At times you wondered if that was how Donatello used to have the same sparkle in his eyes, whenever Splinter brought him something to open up and pull apart. Maybe his insides tingled more at the sight of machinery than his eyes did. He had always been more reserved, where Yi was loud and spontaneous, with a constant big smile on her face. But as spontaneous as Yi could be, she still had a hard time when things were out of order. When Sensei Casey told her to do something, she did the exact thing, no more, no less. Nothing else would go against the words of her Sensei, and Yi simply could not handle that, getting anxious at the thought. But just like Donnie, she was ambitious with any ideas, all waiting to be explored in grammy April’s garage.

And then there was Odyn, the big turtle with a heart of pure gold. He reminded you of a young Michelangelo for several reasons. Other than his love for food, and his immense hunger that could cause him so much pain that he almost became immobile, Odyn had a heart too big for the world around him, just like Mikey used to have. Odyn was a peaceful turtle, often just wanting everyone to get along and become friends, just like his chess pieces had done, much to Yi’s dismay. He was like this big walking teddy bear that just begged to be hugged, and oftentimes he would do just that, reaching his arms out for a hug. He had these big round eyes that looked at you with so much innocent love and curiosity. And you swore, that sometimes that you felt like you were looking directly into the eyes of Mikey himself.

You could not help but let a tear fall as you looked through your old pictures of you and them. You, him, his brothers and his father. All of you, Casey and April, together like the happy family you were back then. Just as happy as the one you had now. How you wished they would have been here to see them. How you wished he would have been here with you, watching his nephews and nieces train just like he and his brothers did. He would have loved them. They would all have loved them.

“Aunty..?”

You looked up from your photos and towards your door, sitting up in your bed at the sound of the small voice. Yi stood in your door, her hand still holding onto the doorknob right above her head, her eyes watery.

“Hey, sweet pea”, you smiled, quickly wiping away your own tears. “What’s up?”, you asked.

“I had a nightmare”, she sniffled. “Grammy April is not home right now, and Sensei is reading Master Michelangelo’s journal”.

“That’s okay, sweetheart”, you smiled, tapping on the bed beside you. “You can stay with me if you want”.

Leaving the door open, Yi walked into the room, climbing onto the bed. She was quick to notice the pictures that were laying about, picking one of them up. “Is that our uncles?”

“Yes”, you smiled a little bittersweet, looking at the selfie Mikey had taken of you, him, Donnie, Leo and Raph, all smiling at the camera. “It’s them”.

Yi studied the picture closely, her childlike wonder making her eyes light up, before she went on to the next picture, having forgotten everything about her nightmare, as she held a third picture up to you, once again asking who was who and what you were doing.

“Yi”, Uno’s voiced sound from the open door. He yawned as he rubbed his eyes, blinking so he could get used to the light of your room. “You woke me up”.

“Then go back to sleep”, Yi said, finding yet another photo.

“I can’t”, Uno grumbled, crossing his arms. “Odyn is snoring, and Moja would let me borrow her headphones”.

“You can just get your own”, Moja’s voice sounded in the hallway, before she too came into view in the doorway. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Just looking at pictures of our uncles”, Yi said, leaning up against you with a photo up in front of her eyes.

“Ow! Can we see them too?”, Uno asked.

“Of course you can”, you smiled, gesturing towards your big bed. “There’s space for everyone”.

Moja was quick to find a spot beside Yi, looking at whatever picture she had in her hands. Uno, the ever active turtle stood on the end of your bed, flipping through the pictures in his head, looking up just as Odyn came through the door.

“Hey”, the large turtle whimpered. “Where did you all go?”

“Into aunt (Y/N)’s room, obviously”, Uno said, not looking away from the photo in his hand.

Odyn looked over the bed, before making his way over to your other side, cuddling up against you. “Well, I don’t like being alone”, he mumbled, pulling your arm around him, making him feel safe.

“Then it’s just your luck that I always have space for you”, you smiled, hugging him against you, making the large turtle laugh.

“Aunty (Y/N)”, Yi asked, holding a photo up to you. “Why is our uncle kissing you?”

Your heart fluttered and broke a little at the sight. It was you and him, in the same lair, in the same main area. He was hugging you from behind, a large smile over your face as he kissed your cheek. You clearly remembered that day. It was Casey who had taken the picture while none of you noticed it, bringing a printed copy to you a few days later. For a long time it stood in a frame in your boyfriend’s room, just on his bedside table. But after everything that happened, it was hurting you too much to have the picture standing out in the open, so you packed it away with the other pictures, only bringing it out on bad days.

“Obviously because they were together, dummy”, Uno said, letting himself fall down on the bed in order to sit down.

“Be nice!”, Moja snarled at her brother, holding her sister tight, making Uno mumble something along the lines of “whatever”.

“Together?”, Odyn asked, his eyes big in excitement. “Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yes”, you smiled down at him. “Just like boyfriend and girlfriend”.

“I want to hear! I want to hear!”, Yi yelled, throwing herself onto your lap, with a smile so big she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

“What do you want to hear?”, you asked with a laugh.

“Everything!”, she yelled, throwing herself onto her shell, stretching her arms out like a sea star. “How you met! First kiss! I want to know! - Gasp! Did you get married?! Please tell me you did!”

“My ears”, Uno whimpered, covering his ears with both his hands, making Moja growl at him once more.

“I also want to hear”, Odyn smiled, his big eyes shining.

You smiled at the four turtles, and how they all looked at you with anticipation. Odyn with his big eyes, Yi who was already crawling onto your lap for a good seat, Uno that had started rocking himself back and furth, and Moja who calmly rested her head against the headboard, waiting for you to start your story. It was during moments like these, that you realized how lucky you was. Though the pain of losing the love of your life and his brothers still stung in your heart, you couldn’t help but feel grateful to the world for bringing these four wonderful kids into your life, shining a whole new light on your everyday life, healing your pain more and more with each passing day.

“Okay”, you smiled. “But listen up, there is a lot. It all started when me and your uncle was 15. Back then, I had never heard of such a thing, such as a teenage mutant ninja turtle…”

[eowyntheavenger]

Do you guys want to hear about my trip to Pohnpei?

It’s been about a month since I came home, and I’ve told my friends and family about it, but I still have to scream about it more because IT WAS AMAZING.

First, a brief explanation of the geography. Pohnpei is one of the four states of the Federated States of Micronesia, a Pacific Island country north of the equator. The FSM is made up of more than 600 islands spanning 1,700 miles of ocean.

Not many tourists go there because it’s so remote, but it’s a fascinating country with wonderful people, amazing food and stunningly beautiful landscapes, and I loved it so much. I’ve spent YEARS reading and writing about this country, and this was my first time ever visiting. It was everything I had hoped it would be and more!

I went there for work—to do research. I learned so much and I made a lot of friends and it was amazing to just be there. We had four days of meetings, and then the weekend. That’s when I finally got to explore the island, and I had not one, not two, but THREE of the best experiences I think I’ve ever had in my life.

Visiting the ancient city of Nan Madol

Climbing a giant basalt rock at sunset

Hunting for World War II anti-aircraft guns in the jungle

This is a long post—with photos!—so it’s going under the cut.

The first was going to Nan Madol, which is a beautiful, ancient city built out of basalt about 800 years ago. It lies on the southwest side of the island, about an hour away from Kolonia, where we were staying. My coworker and I rented a car and drove there, and the whole way we saw beautiful views of cloud-wreathed mountains in the island’s interior. Fortunately, when we got close to Nan Madol we got directions from a very nice Micronesian couple, because there were no signs telling us where to go. We paid the landowners the fee to cross their land, as is customary, and then we walked on the path through the mangrove forests towards the city.

When I first saw it, I literally could not believe my eyes, it was so incredible. I didn’t know it would be so big! Some of the structures are crumbling into the sea, but many of them are intact, and stand as tall as 30 feet. The pieces of basalt that form the structures are also gigantic. The city is crisscrossed by canals, and at low tide you can wade in them to get from place to place. There are many trees and ferns among the ruins, but the city has clearly been well taken care of. It was completely quiet except for birdsong and the sound of the waves.

I felt like I had stepped through a window into the past. It was indescribable. My coworker and I were the only people there. We were there for two hours, and didn’t come close to seeing it all—there was too much to take in. It was amazing wading in the canals and walking around the giant structures and looking at the moss-covered stones. It was one of the most majestic things I have ever seen. When we were getting ready to leave, I got a photo of a gorgeous bright red honeyeater called a Micronesian myzomela.

Later that night my coworker flew back to the US, so I spent the next few days having solo adventures. And they were ADVENTURES.

The next day I went hiking on a peninsula across the water from Kolonia. It forms a tall ridge and ends with a giant basalt outcrop called Sokehs Rock. First I climbed the ridge from the southwest side to see the view from the top and the Japanese anti-aircraft guns that are still there in the jungle. It was stiflingly hot. The climb up the switchbacks was a 45 degree angle. The ridge is 600 feet above sea level, and the view was absolutely spectacular—I could see all of Kolonia below, and the mountains in the interior, and an expanse of bright blue ocean with Pohnpei’s northern islands scattered across it like little jewels.

At the top of the ridge I finally entered the jungle. There were towering trees, giant ferns, and bright purple orchids, and the air was full of birdcalls. I had a map, but I quickly realized that the path to the Japanese guns was gone: it hadn’t been used in years. So I struck off into the jungle looking for them, hoping that I wouldn’t get lost. I decided to walk where the trees appeared less thick and hope that was where the path used to be. It was very muddy, and I walked face-first into MANY spiderwebs, and it was so fun and exciting.

I started getting close to the western side of the ridge. Then I saw something unmistakable, but hard to believe it’s still there after almost 80 years: a bomb crater from World War II. It was at least 30 feet deep and 30 feet wide, and blanketed with leaves, but it was obvious what it was. I knew I was getting close to one of the guns, so I started going faster, and nearly tripped over it! The barrel was jutting out across the grass, the body of the gun hidden in a cave-like bunker cut into the side of the ridge, with long grass hanging down over the opening. It was incredible. I climbed down into the bunker to get a better look at the gun, and I took a lot of photos, but I was assailed by some very angry bats that did not like being awakened during the day, so I climbed out. (There is no rabies in Micronesia, thankfully.)

At this point, it was getting late in the day, and I still wanted to climb Sokehs Rock. I knew that the next few days it would rain, so I had to do it now. I went back down the ridge and caught a taxi to the end of the peninsula where the other trail was located. The driver told me that no one had climbed Sokehs Rock in at least ten years, but I didn’t believe him—I had heard it was the popular thing to do here, so how could that be? (I was soon to learn my error.)

I started up the trail, only to find that there was no trail. I thought it had been hard to find a path through the trees earlier—this was worse. The trees were all much too close together and covered in strangling vines. It was incredibly steep—five minutes after setting off I was already climbing on my hands and knees over boulders and under fallen trees. But I didn’t want to give up! I could see the basalt cliff above me through the canopy. I knew that I could (or rather I was stubbornly determined to) make it to the top of that cliff before sundown. I wanted to see the view! And I didn’t want to waste my efforts so far. So I pressed on.

It was NOT easy getting through those trees. I had a map of where the path USED to be, but the forest was so wild, it didn’t really matter. Finally I reached the bottom of a cliff that was about 35-40 feet tall. There was a rope attached to a tree high above me. I had read about this (on a hiking blog written ten years ago—a fact I suddenly remembered) so I knew I was in the right place.

Climbing the cliff was incredibly fun. There were some handholds and footholds, but I was grateful for the rope. I was very careful. I had not expected the hike to be so harrowing, and the last thing I wanted was to break my ankle (or my neck) alone in the middle of the jungle. I made it to the top of the cliff safely, and I was rewarded by an incredible view of the basalt cliffs rising on either side and Kolonia down below as the last rays of the sun pierced through the forest behind me. There was a terrifying drop off to my left, so I sat very still and took some photos.

I knew I had about fifteen minutes before sunset and total darkness. It was both exhilarating and peaceful, being up there alone. The wind was blowing in the branches, and the lights in Kolonia were twinkling on. The ocean was turning a dark blue in the fading light. I knew it was stupid to go hiking by myself, climb a cliff by myself, and then—yes—climb down the ridge in the dark. But sometimes you have to do foolish things. I put myself in this situation, and I accepted the consequences. At least I had enough common sense to climb down the vertical cliff part of it while there was still a little daylight left…

There was enough light for my eyes but not enough for my camera, so I used the flash. This is looking straight down the cliff, about a 35 foot drop onto jagged boulders! Yes, I know. Poor choices were made.

I reached the bottom of the cliff and maybe five minutes passed before it was pitch black. I turned on my flashlight. I had to be very careful about every step I took: I didn’t want to step on a stone that would give way, or a fallen tree that would give way, or get tripped by a vine, or fall in a ditch. If this forest was difficult to get through in the daylight, it was much worse in the dark. At one point I ended up waist-deep in vines and tangled tree branches, and I felt around for the ground and realized I had somehow wandered over a ravine and there WAS no ground beneath me—I was standing on branches, and I didn’t even know how far down it went. That was very disconcerting. I remembered that scene in the Hobbit when they’re in Mirkwood and I practically heard Gandalf’s voice scolding me: “Don’t leave the path!”

Not that there was a path, of course. But I did find my way back onto solid ground after that. I stood still and turned off my flashlight just to see what it was like, and I saw bioluminescent insects on the leaves of the trees. The forest was just as loud with birdcalls as it was during the day, and when I turned my flashlight back on it illuminated some bats swooping overhead. I started recognizing the same boulders and trees that had given me trouble on the way up, and now instead of being annoyed by them I was reassured. Still, it was very difficult getting out of that forest.

I finally saw the glow of a streetlamp through the trees, and I found myself wandering out of the forest onto the road. I was absolutely covered in mud except where sweat had washed it off. There was a cricket inside my shirt that I had somehow failed to notice. I was so tired. I felt so alive. I went back to my hotel, took a shower, and went straight to sleep. I was oddly unscathed: just a few scratches and cuts on my hands.

Here is a photo of Sokehs Rock that I took on a different day, with an arrow to the part that I climbed:

On Monday I was supposed to take a day of leave, but I had more meetings that spilled over from the week before—not that I minded! They were really interesting. And it was raining like hell. In the afternoon I went to see a waterfall.

But what I really want to recount is my final adventure.

On Tuesday, the day I was going to leave Pohnpei, my eyes snapped open at 5:30am and there was one thought in my mind: ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUNS. I had to go back to Sokehs Ridge to see the other two anti-aircraft guns—I had only found one of them before. I knew I would be disappointed if I didn’t try. It was raining, and my legs were sore from all the hiking I’d already done, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I went back to Sokehs Ridge. And I climbed it again. And the view was just as beautiful on a cloudy day. Now the orchids were covered in raindrops, and the light rain that was falling was so refreshing.

I got to the top of the ridge and struck off into the jungle again to find the other two anti-aircraft guns. I had the same map from the other day, but the paths on it were nowhere to be seen (at least I wasn’t surprised by this anymore). I just used my sense of direction and whatever supernatural abilities I possess to home in on World War II guns. It was even muddier than before, of course, and I was constantly being slapped by wet leaves and vines and branches. I walked into a wet spiderweb every yard or so. Far from detracting from the experience, it actually made it more fun, for some reason.

Besides, I had hiked out of a jungle thicker than this IN THE DARK, so this forest wasn’t going to stop me! I went in the general direction I assumed one of the guns was located, trying to find the path of least resistance. Eventually I saw the ground rising steeply on my right side and a more open grassy area to the left. The higher ground on the right ultimately formed a grassy wall about six feet high, and I couldn’t see what was behind it. I found an opening in the wall and waded through some ankle-deep mud, and I was looking down at my shoes trying to pull my feet free when I finally looked up—and there it was, a type 89 anti-aircraft naval gun. Why they put guns that were usually mounted on ships on a mountain, I’m not sure, but IT WAS SO COOL.

It was covered in rust and ferns and vines. It was massive. It was so surreal to see this giant gun just sitting in the middle of the jungle. I took photos of it from all angles. The gun was surrounded by a grassy embankment that I had seen from the other side—I couldn’t quite get far enough away from it to take the photos I wanted, so I climbed up on the wall to take them from a distance. Then I climbed back down to continue marveling at it.

This anti-aircraft gun is sitting in the exact same place it was during World War II. Back then, it could shoot down a plane at 48,000 feet. It took a year for laborers to push it up to the top of the ridge. I love museums, but this was about a billion times better than being in a World War II museum.

Then I went in search of the other anti-aircraft gun—the same type, but farther east. It was harder to find. I went in the direction I thought it was, but there was just a field. On the other side of the field, maybe 15 yards away, there was more jungle, and beyond I knew I would find the track that had gotten me up the ridge, and I would have gone too far. But there was clearly no anti-aircraft gun between me and the line of trees. I went into the field anyway—and quickly learned that fields are deceptive and not any easier than forests. The grass was up to my eyes. I couldn’t see where my feet were, and it turned out that the ground was treacherously uneven, rising and falling constantly, and by turns I was getting my feet stuck in mud or clambering on uneven stones or nearly slipping in the wet grass. I needed to find the gun!

I saw some higher ground to my right and I thought I should go that way, so I did, only to find the barrels of the gun pointed straight at me. It had been hidden by the ridges of the land and vines and foliage. When I had started into the field, it had been no less than 15 feet away, completely invisible! It was the coolest thing—to be completely alone in this gorgeous jungle, staring down the barrels of a 6,000 pound anti-aircraft gun from a war eight decades ago. But this one was even more covered in foliage—a tree had engulfed more than half of it.

I took so many photos. And it was so hard to pry myself away, but I finally did, feeling very satisfied. I thought about it on the way down the ridge: why was this SO MUCH FUN? And I think a big part of it had to do with the fact that there were no paths. I didn’t actually KNOW I was going to find the guns. I wasn’t guaranteed to find anything, except more trees. Finding each gun was a challenge. It was like going on a treasure hunt.

I went back to my hotel, took a shower, finished packing, and made it to the airport on time. That was my last day in the Federated States of Micronesia. I CANNOT WAIT TO GO BACK.

[liiilyevans]

The Beach House

Summary: Roxanne Weasley grew up in summers at a beach house that belonged to the the Woods.

Or, a collection of one shots detailing the one week Roxanne spent with the Woods and Jordans every summer. Featuring wise parents, unbreakable friendships, and obnoxious boys.

Read on AO3 or FF.NET

I was raised on the chaos of a big family — deafening laughter, constant screaming matches, and joyous sobs. And I loved it. Loved every minute I got to spend with my loud, chaotic family. We had dinner together every Sunday at my grandparents’ house, and it was always a madhouse through the summers when all the grandkids and the parents were there. But there was one week every year when my life was slightly less chaotic, and that was the week that my family spent with the Jordans and the Woods every summer. 

The Beach House belonged to Katie and Oliver, and it was like my second home despite only being there one week out of the year. It was cozy, right on the beach so we could run right down to the ocean. Originally, it wasn’t a big house, but Katie added on to it. There were three bedrooms and a master bath upstairs. If you went downstairs, you’d be in the living room. The back hallway was to the right and there were four bedrooms back there along with two baths. If you went left, you’d come to the kitchen, which had an amazing view of the ocean. Beyond that was the extension that Katie and Oliver added that housed two bedrooms and a sunroom with floor to ceiling windows. To say it was the most amazing place on Earth was an understatement. 

Looking back, I realized I grew up in summers, with their heartaches and life lessons, particularly during those weeks I spent at the Beach House. I credit that to my second family — the Woods and the Jordans. We spent a week in summer together, our families did things together around the holidays, and our Floos were connected for spontaneous visits, which I found out when I was eight. Katie and Alicia were more like second mums to me than just my mum’s friends. And when the boys were too much or I was overwhelmed with my life, they were always there. 

I named those summers after my age. It was a joke between me and my dad, and I only remembered it because he kept the tradition alive. When I was little, we’d go down and collect shells on the beach a lot, or rather I’d gather the shells and he’d carry the bucket around since I was too little. I liked to name the shells and tell him the names I’d come up with as I dropped them into the bucket. Dad would always smile and if I struggled, he’d suggest something completely outrageous that I would immediately agree to. Well, I said I wanted to name a particularly shiny one Summer Four after the year. Dad asked me what I meant, and I explained that it was Summer Four because I was four obviously. Dad laughed, and I remember him throwing his head back and the sun reflecting brightly off his hair and beard. Then he agreed with me, that it was Summer Four, and he should have known. 

My dad is great like that. 

But Summer Four was easy. 

Summer Six not so much. 

#

I sit at the table in the kitchen while Katie works on lunch and Oliver grills our fish outside. The kitchen smells like beans and peas and fried onion gravy. I love it. Katie is one of the best cooks in the world, and I’m content to sit at the counter and color in my book while she cooks. Besides, Katie always listens to me talk about Miko, the puppy that I’m going to get as soon as I convince Mama and Daddy that I should be allowed to have a dog. 

“And he’s going to do tricks and be the bestest dog,” I say as I pick up a green crayon. “Oh, and he’ll dance with me. What other ballerina has a dog to dance with?” 

Katie raises her eyebrows, a smile bright on her face. As long as I can remember, Katie has always been able to light up a room like that. She’s like the sun with her blonde fringe and pretty blue eyes. She’s like looking at happiness in a bottle. I love that about her. 

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a dog in a ballet,” she says.

I pick up the yellow crayon. This picture needs to be as bright as Katie is. “That’s because I’ll be the first. It’ll be the coolest.” 

“I’m sure it will, sweetheart,” she says as she stirs her peas. 

Oliver comes in then and sets the fish on the table next to me. I wrinkle my nose. Oliver is definitely not as good a cook as Katie because the fish are black as coal. 

“I think you burned them,” I say. 

“I didn’t burn them, lass,” Oliver says fondly. “They’re charred.” 

“If you say so,” I mutter as I go back to my picture. 

“Why aren’t you out playing with the boys?” Oliver asks as he pulls a water out of the fridge. 

The boys. My brother, Brandon Jordan, and Jack and Hunter Wood. The bane of my existence. 

“Because they told me I couldn’t play with them,” I say bitterly. “No girls allowed.”

Normally, I’d tell my parents about that, especially since it was Freddy’s rule, but they’re in town shopping. 

Katie’s brow furrows. “You told me you didn’t want to play with them.”

I pick up a blue crayon. “I lied.” 

Oliver coughs, but he’s also smiling. I don’t get why adults smile and cough. 

Katie wipes her hands on a dish towel before opening the back door and loudly calling for the boys. When they don’t come right away, she steps onto the porch, the door clicking shut behind her. 

“You need to come tell us when they’re excluding you, lass,” Oliver says gently. “Can’t do anything about it if we don’t know it’s happening.” 

I shrug. I am hurt by it, but the boys have always done this, and the only person who can really make them stop is my mum. I’m just waiting for her to get home. 

“Get in here right now,” I hear Katie saying as the door opens. In marches my brother, his thick hair frizzy and his brown eyes very clearly annoyed when he sees me. Behind him is Jack his blonde hair damp with sweat, then his mini me Hunter, and finally, Brandon, his curly hair cropped close to his head. They know why they’re in trouble. I can see it in their faces. 

“Why is Roxanne in here alone?” Katie asks, tapping her foot. 

“Because she wants to be?” It’s Jack who answers and he sounds hopeful, like his mum isn’t glaring daggers at him. 

I set my crayon down. “Wrong.” 

Freddy glares at me. 

“She said that you all told her it was no girls allowed,” Katie says, narrowing her eyes. 

“But, Mum, she’s a baby,” Hunter protests, jabbing a finger in my direction. 

I’m highly offended by that. I am only two years younger than him and loads smarter. I put on my meanest look, hoping I look like my mum when she’s upset. Mamma’s scary when she gets angry. 

“I am not a baby,” I say loudly. I stand up in my chair and press my hands into the table. 

“Hunter,” Oliver says. He’s glaring, and he glares a lot better than me. 

“Take her with you,” Katie says, and that’s the end of discussion. I can it see by the annoyed look on the boys’ faces. Smiling, I hop down from the chair. “And be nice.” 

The boys trudge onto the back porch and down the steps. I skip down after them, excited to have finally been included. The boys don’t look thrilled, but I’m sure once we get to play, they’ll get over it. 

Freddy eyes me for a moment, then looks back at the other boys. “Let’s race.” 

Before I can even say a word, they’re off like a bolt of lightning, leaving me at the end of the steps. 

“Wait for me!” I yell as I race after them. I’ve always been small, but I pump my legs as fast as I can after them. Freddy’s leading the group with Hunter and Jack flanking him and Brandon making up the rear. They’re cresting the small hill near the fence line. Once they reach the fence, they’ll be on the beach, and I can’t let them get that far. Not without me. I push myself up the hill. They’re already out of sight, but I know I can catch them if I make it down this hill. 

Only I don’t make it down, or at least, I don’t run down. My foot catches something at the top, twisting hard. Tendrils of pain shoot up my leg, and I’m falling. The sand is sliding under me as I roll over and over. I get some up my nose, but I can’t cough it out. I can’t stop myself, and I know I’m going to roll to the bottom. My arm gets caught under me and I hear a faint grinding noise, then I’m looking up at the clear blue sky. I can’t breathe for a minute, all the air swishing from my lungs. I vaguely hear someone call my name, and then Freddy’s face pops in front of my eyes as he kneels next to me. I can’t even manage to glare at him. 

He looks concerned then the other boys’ faces appear, Hunter standing behind Freddy, then Jack and Brandon on my right side. They’re hateful gits, the lot of them, and they’ve no right to look so concerned when this is their fault. 

“Well, stop crying,” Freddy mutters. I can tell by the way his eyes slide away from me that he feels guilty. 

I don’t even realize I am crying. 

Jack clears his throat. “Um, I think . . .” He glances at my face then back to Freddy. “I think it’s broken.” 

What? I turn my head to look at Jack, but my gaze locks on my right arm and its funny angle. When I realize they’re talking about my arm, I scream. That’s when I start to feel the pain. It’s like someone took a knife and stabbed my arm. It shoots upward to my shoulder. I sob. Loudly. 

Freddy rolls his eyes. “Stop crying.” This time he sounds more serious and less guilty. 

I glare. “You’re not the one with a b-broken b-bone.” 

“Can you get up?” Jack asks. His brown eyes are filled with kindness. He is always the nicest one out of all the boys. 

“No,” I whine. 

“Here.” He gently wraps an arm around my shoulders and helps me into a sitting position. The pain is unbearable. I think I might puke. 

“She looks green,” Hunter says. 

What?!

 “Help me get her up,” Jack says. “It’ll be ok. My mum can fix it.” 

I doubt that anyone can fix the pain currently racing up my arm. 

“I’m not touching her,” Hunter says. “What if she screams again?” 

Jack looks annoyed. “Here make sure you hold your arm in. If it flops around, it’ll hurt more.” Jack slowly pushes my arm into my chest, and I cry harder. How is anything supposed to hurt more than that? I grab my elbow to keep it in place as I try to make out my surroundings. The tears are blocking my eyesight something terrible. I feel another pair of hands on the other side of me. After blinking a few times, I can finally see again. Freddy is still kneeling beside me, and Hunter’s standing in front of me. It’s Jack and Brandon who are on either side of me. 

“Can you stand up?” Jack asks. 

I sniff loudly. “Maybe.” 

“We’ll help you,” he says. And they do, gently easing me onto my feet. It wouldn’t be so bad if even that slight jarring didn’t cause pain to shoot up my arm. 

“I wanna go home,” I cry. 

“We will, we will,” Jack says, and I can hear the panic in his voice. “It’s just over the hill. Come on.” 

We start up the hill, and every step I take is excruciating. I can feel it in my arm every time I move. Jack tucks me into his side, and Brandon flanks the other side of me, watching me out of the corner of his eye. The sand slides beneath my feet, causing more pain to shoot up my arm. Why did I ever want to come out and play with them in the first place? 

“We’re gonna get in trouble,” Brandon mutters. 

“You should,” I say. “You practically pushed me.” 

“No one pushed you,” Freddy says from behind me. 

“You might as well have,” I sniff. 

When we reach the top of the bank, I see Oliver running up the hill toward us and I’ve never been so happy to see an adult in my life. His brown hair is sticking up in different directions like he’s been pulling at it. When his eyes land on me, they widen comically and he quickens his pace up the hill, reaching us within two strides. He drops down in front of me and Jack. 

“Are you alright, lass?” he asks. “I heard you scream.”

I sniff. “I-it hurts.” 

“I think her arm is broken,” Jack says. “She fell down the hill.” 

Oliver looks like he wants to ask about that, but his lips tighten and instead he eases me from Jack’s grip and picks me up. It doesn’t ease the pain — makes it worse actually — but Oliver’s much more comforting than Jack. At least I know I’ll make it back to the house without tumbling down the other side of the hill. Once Oliver’s got me settled against his chest, he stands up. I can see all the boys then; Freddy and Brandon both looking anywhere but at him, Jack kicking his foot guiltily into the sand, and Hunter looking at me and Oliver with an annoyed expression, almost like he’s jealous. 

“Are we in trouble?” Jack asks softly. 

“Should you be?” Oliver says in response, and I feel like that’s worse than him saying yes. My sniffing pulls Oliver’s attention from the boys. “Back to the house, all of you.”

Then we start down the hill, and the pain is back in full force. Nothing has hurt worse than this, not even the time I was practicing my recital dance in the living room and stubbed my toe so hard I swear it swelled up to the size of a frog. Mamma said I was just being dramatic, but I don’t think that’s true. I cry into Oliver’s shirt. These boys have seen enough of my tears, and I know they’ll make fun of me later for crying in the first place. The familiar smell of broom polish meets my nose and it’s a small comfort compared to the pain. Oliver has smelled that way for as long as I can remember, and it’s always been a comforting scent in my life. Sometimes Mamma smells like that after flying. Finally, we reach the house, the steps creaking under Oliver’s weight. 

“Katie!” he says as soon as the door opens, the smell of beans and gravy filling my nose. 

“What happened?” I can hear the shrillness in Katie’s voice, but I don’t look at her. 

“Jack says her arm is broken,” Oliver says. “Says she fell down the hill.” 

“For Merlin’s sake,” Katie mutters. “Here, sweetheart, let me see.” 

As soon as Katie touches my arm, I scream, “I WANT MY DADDY!” 

It hurts so much, and I just want to be left alone. If I can manage to stop moving completely, maybe the pain will go away. 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

I sob loudly when I hear Daddy’s voice. He can fix this. He can fix anything. 

“Roxanne fell,” I hear Freddy say quickly. “We think she broke her arm.” 

I can feel Daddy take me from Oliver and smell gunpowder and smoke, the most comforting scent in the world. I can make out the outline of Katie shuffling through the cabinets and Mamma in the doorway of the kitchen. There are two people standing behind her who I think are Lee and Alicia. I hear Katie muttering about some potion, but that hardly matters when Daddy starts to talk. 

“It’s alright, sweetie,” he says. “We’ll get your arm fixed up in no time.” 

“Here, Roxanne,” Katie says. “I’ve got a numbing potion. It’ll make your arm stop hurting, but I need you to hold really still.” 

I nod and press my face into Daddy’s chest. I know Katie said the potion would make me feel better, but I’m bracing for the pain. There’s always pain before it gets better. However, all I feel is a cool sensation sweeping up my arm bit by bit and then I can’t feel it at all. As Daddy wipes away my tears, I see Katie turning away from me and screwing the cap back on the potion. I can see Mamma clearly now and she’s got one eyebrow arched as she surveys the boys, like she’s trying to dissect exactly what happened. Mamma can be scary when she’s trying to figure things out. 

“Alright,” Katie says. “Now we can get to the healing.” She’s standing on her tiptoes putting the potion back into the top shelf. “I’ll need to straighten out her arm and put it in place before I heal the bone. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe the number of healers who just snap bones back into place with a healing spell. Bloody painful, if you ask me.” 

I burst into tears. I knew the pain wasn’t over. 

“Are we going to talk about healing practices or are you going to perform the spell?” Mamma asks. 

“Oh, right.” Katie sounds apologetic, but all I can think about is how much this is going to hurt. “We’ll just need to get this arm into place.” I brace myself for her to touch me, but I don’t feel anything. “Alrighty. Brackium Emendo. All done.” I sniff loudly and crack my eyes open. My arm looks brand new, no odd bend in sight, but I still can’t feel anything. “The potion should wear off in thirty minutes.” 

“Alright,” Mamma says. “Who wants to explain to me exactly what happened?”

#

As it turned out none of the boys were too keen on explaining why exactly I had a broken arm. So, Katie explained and then the boys started to interject. Mamma wasn’t at all happy with them, particularly Freddy, and she got the look I had been trying to give the boys earlier. The next day, as I eat breakfast with Cassidy, Brandon’s older sister, I listen to Mamma cook breakfast and Alicia talk about how she can’t believe the boys would do something like that. 

“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” Mamma says. 

“Because our kids aren’t supposed to be mean to each other,” Alicia says. I think she lives in a fantasy world sometimes. 

“My kids are mean to each other all the time,” Mamma says. “If you don’t know about your kids fighting then it’s because they keep it from you.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Want another pancake?” Cassidy asks me. She’s ten, and the boys love her. They think she’s cool because she’s the oldest. I’d be jealous, but Cas is fun and nice and like my big sister. If she were here yesterday, none of that would have happened. I nod. She tosses a chocolate chip pancake onto my plate and adds some syrup on top. “How’s your arm?” 

“Better,” I say through a mouthful of pancake. 

“Want me to braid your hair later?” Cas asks. “Dad’s been helping me with cornrows.” 

I swallow. “Ok.” 

Freddy walks in then, Jack and Brandon both tailing him. As Freddy starts to pull out a chair, Cassidy glares at him. 

“No boys allowed,” she says. 

Freddy gapes at her. Then, “Mum!” 

“I’m not saying a word until you apologize to your sister,” Mamma says. 

“But I didn’t do anything!” Freddy said the same thing yesterday, but Mamma heard the whole story from Katie. I didn’t even have to add anything. 

“So, you didn’t run away from your sister after you were told that you couldn’t exclude her from your games?” Mamma says and she has that look again and I love her so much. She’s my hero. 

Freddy huffs before he grabs a plate, shovels some pancakes onto it, and marches into the living room. Jack doesn’t even try to argue, just grabs a plate and pancakes before heading back into the living room. Brandon’s staring wide eyed at his sister. 

“But Cas,” he whines. 

“No. Boys,” Cassidy says. 

“Can I at least have some syrup?” 

Cassidy pushes a bottle towards him. He takes it and a plate of pancakes then heads to the living room with his head hung. 

“Are you sure we should let this work itself out?” Alicia says. “Don’t think we should interfere?” 

Mamma shrugs. “Interfere with your kids all you want. Freddy needs to apologize.” 

“He’s the one who came up with the no girls rule,” I say hatefully. 

Before Alicia says anything, we hear shrieking coming from the living room and then Katie’s yelling about her antique couch and syrup. Then she’s telling the boys to get outside. Cassidy and I look at each other before softly giggling. 

When Katie comes into the kitchen, she’s pale. “The boys spilled syrup on my antique sofa.”

“I heard,” Mamma says. 

#

Mamma and I are in the living room later when Hunter comes in from outside and plops down next to me on the floor. He eyes my snack of sliced apples and bananas and cheese. Reluctantly, I slide my plate toward him, but only because I know Mamma’s watching us as she reads her book. Hunter snatches the apple I was going to pick up next and pops it into his mouth. 

“Thanks,” he says around his mouthful. 

“I thought you were going with your parents to the pier,” I say lazily coloring in my picture as I eat. Most everyone was going with them. All the kids and the adults except me and Daddy and Mamma. Mamma’s boss is coming over to talk about Quidditch for a bit even though she’s on vacation so Daddy said he’d stay with her, and I would rather stay with Daddy than go to the pier anyway. In case Freddy decided to push me into the ocean this time. 

Hunter cringes as I color outside the lines. “I was. Jack got tired of me telling him that his name was short for Jackass and told Mum. She said I couldn’t go.” 

Mamma does that weird coughing thing that adults do as she smiles. 

Hunter’s blue eyes go wide. “You’re not going to tell Mum I was swearing, are you?” 

“Since you were explaining why you can’t go to the pier, I don’t think we’ll count that as swearing,” Mamma says. She’s great like that. 

Hunter turns back to me. “Sorry about your arm.” 

I brighten and push my plate back towards him. “Thank you.” 

Hunter picks up another apple slice. “Did it hurt a lot?” 

“Yeah, I thought I was gonna die,” I say seriously. 

I finish up the coloring page I was working on and close my book. I turn to Hunter fully and grab a piece of banana. It tastes sweet, and I quickly swallow it and grab another one. After Hunter pops a piece of cheese into his mouth, he wipes his hands on his shorts. 

“Wanna go build a sandcastle?” he asks. 

“Sure!” I say and hop up. 

“Stay in the backyard,” Mamma says without looking up from her book. “And don’t go near the ocean. I’ll be right out.”

“Ok,” we both say before racing outside. 

#

When Cassidy gets back from the pier, she wants to put my hair in cornrows, so Mamma wets my curls and lets her have at it in the living room while she and the other adults are outside. She’s just finished the first braid when Jack and Brandon appear. They’ve come from the sunroom where the boys are holed up, no doubt avoiding Cassidy. Jack walks over to us while Brandon stands back a few paces. 

“Can I sit with you?” Jack asks. He’s quite polite when he’s not with my brother. 

Cassidy eyes him. “If you can be nice.” 

He sits down next to me, and Brandon takes a seat on the chair across from us. Jack pulls a shell out of his pocket. It’s small. I can tell he cleaned it because there’s no sand on it and the red color is bright. Forcefully, I remind myself not to snatch it out of his hand. I love seashells. Daddy and I collect them every year. It’s our tradition, but I don’t think he’d be mad if I took one from Jack. 

“I found this yesterday,” Jack says. “I was going to give it to you because I know you like shells.” 

I sniff. “And?” 

“And I thought it would make up for running from you yesterday.” 

He sounds sincere, but Jack always does. He’s nice like that sometimes. I snatch the shell out of his hand, running my fingers over the divots. I like that it’s small like me. 

“Thank you,” I say turning the shell over to examine the back. 

“We didn’t want you to fall,” Brandon says nervously, twisting his hands together. “We thought you’d just give up and go back to the house.” 

I shrug. They should know better than that. I don’t give up. I just find better ways to get what I want, like waiting for Mamma to get home. Chasing them probably wasn’t the best idea though, especially since that’s what they wanted. 

When I don’t say anything, Brandon continues, “Are you still mad at us?” 

“Not really,” I say. Brandon looks relieved and finally stops wringing his hands. 

“Now, don’t you feel better?” Cassidy asks, reaching down to ruffle Jack’s hair. He swats her hand away with an annoyed look. “It pays not to act like jerks.” 

“Jerks is a bit harsh,” Jack complains. 

“I don’t think so.” 

They continue to bicker as I look at my new shell. I know just the jar I want to put it in. I’ve got several, but the one I’m thinking of only has red shells, all shades of red. It’s one of my favorites. Daddy keeps it up on the mantle at our house, and I add to it when I find just the right shells. This shell is definitely a keeper. I stuff it into my pocket, careful not to move my head too much as Cas is braiding. 

“Thanks, Jack,” I say interrupting his argument with Cassidy. 

He grins. “No problem.” 

#

I’m on the top step of the back porch when Freddy finds me. My hair is still in cornrows. Mamma said Cassidy did a pretty good job, and she only had to fix a couple braids. I think Cassidy did an excellent job. When he approaches the steps, I’m waiting for her to come back outside. We were playing with our dolls. Cas says she’s too old for them, but she still plays with me anyway. I sit my doll against the top step ignoring my brother as he shoves his foot into the sand and sends me hateful glares. 

“Have you come to push me down the stairs?” I ask without looking at him. 

“No one pushed you,” he huffs. “I don’t know why you keep saying that.” 

I send him an annoyed look and keep arranging my dolls. 

“Look, everyone apologized so can you just stop being mad?” he says. 

“You didn’t apologize,” I say. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

I roll my eyes. Freddy never thinks he does anything wrong. He’s always right, all of the time. Frankly, it’s annoying, especially when the real person who’s always right is Mamma, and he disagrees with her all the time. I sit my last doll down roughly and glare at him. He crosses his arms and glares back; I can see the annoyance in his eyes. 

“You wouldn’t let me play with you,” I say. 

“You wouldn’t have even liked the game we were playing,” he says. “You hate tag because you’re too small to catch any of us. Then you complain that it’s not fair, and you tattle to Mum.”

“I do not,” I protest, but I have done that. Only once or twice though. “And then you ran away from me when Katie said that you had to let me play.” 

Freddy huffs and looks away like Mamma’s caught him up when he should be in bed. I know I’m right, so I turn back to my dolls. 

“Does your arm still hurt?” Freddy finally asks. 

“No,” I sniff. Why can’t he just apologize like a normal person? Jack, Hunter, and Brandon all did in their own ways. I don’t know why Freddy has such a hard time with it. It’s like he can’t stand that I’m right and he’s wrong. 

“Do you wanna come play with us now?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “I’m playing dolls with Cassidy.” 

Freddy rolls his eyes. “Dolls? Isn’t she too old for that?” 

I glare at him again. Why does he have to spoil all my fun? “She wants to play dolls.” 

“Alright, whatever, Roxanne.” He scuffs the sand. “Look, I’m sorry that you got hurt, ok? I didn’t mean for you to.” Sticking his hands in his pockets, he marches up the steps and sits beside me. “You’re really ok, right? No more pain? Hunter said you felt like you were gonna die.” 

“I did think I was gonna die.” I frown. Hunter isn’t supposed to be telling my story. “But I’m fine now. Katie’s a good healer.” 

Freddy sits there for a few minutes silently, and I don’t say anything either, just straighten my dolls’ hair and make sure their clothes aren’t wrinkled or something annoying like that. Katie and Alicia were responsible for my collection. Mamma never thought to buy me a doll, but Katie said I had to have one, just to see if I liked it. My first doll was dark like me and had pretty brown hair. I still have her in my room somewhere. Finally, Freddy stands up. 

“Well, if you want to come play with us, we’re going down to the beach with Lee and Oliver,” he says heading down the steps. 

“Freddy,” I say when he’s a little ways off. “Thank you.” 

Freddy grins at me then runs off to where Lee and Oliver are heading down the path toward the beach. 

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Scars

Chapter 2: Decisions, Decisions

He called her. 

After the mission, he called her and called her and called her. But she didn't pick up. He left Voicemail, after voicemail, after voicemail, until there wasn't room for any more. 

Calling for the 30th time, Tony finally gave up when his phone lit up with a low battery sign. "Finally, he's given up," Clint says dramatically, flopping on the couch "who are you trying to call anyway?"

Tony was silent for a moment looking at his phone "my friend ...an old friend," Tony said, hoping Clint didn't think too much of it. He did.

-

Alice sat at the table, the phone right in front of her. It was silent, but she watched it ring, and the red light beep when a message was left and deleted until the light wasn't beeping anymore. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to hear his voice. She'd much prefer the silences she had known all her life. she was mad and would be like a child and give him the silent treatment. He deserved way more than the silent treatment leaving her alone in the underground for most of her life. But this was all she had to punish him. 

"Jarvis"

"Yes, Ms.Stark?"

"do you think he'd ever let me out?" the calls had finally stopped.

"though Mr.Stark is overprotective, I do believe the day will come" She appreciated Jarvis's kindness even if it was artificial. It was the only kindness she had ever known outside of her father. Even then, she would classify that as kindness. 

"thank you, Jarvis I'm going to the pool now"

"you're welcome, and have fun, Ms.Stark"

-

Alice leaned on the edge of the pool and looked out at the large body of water that was there. She watched the fish swim by she could see the small cave opening from under the water the light shined in and made the water look beautiful. Alice hates this place, most people would have loved it, but she hated it she spent too long here to actually be in love with the place anymore she was too alone to see its beauty anymore. But this view, this window by the pool, this one real, actual window, she could never get used to this view it was just too beautiful, it was just too real to hate, it was actually the only real view of the real world she had.

The place she lived in was deep within the mountains in said a little cave lake, well halfway in, the place had four floors. On the upper first level where you entered, Tony parked his helicopter or suit up there, the second level where the kitchen, living room, library where she did her schooling, and entertainment room was located, the third level where four bedrooms and three bathrooms were located but most of them were locked, and the fourth level the gym and pool were located there. Tony was dramatic and wanted to add more, but it wouldn't have been able to happen, especially not with the lake and all. Sometimes she wished he did add more after a while, as she got older, this place was no longer as big as before it was small and suffocating. It was no longer a castle with robots but a four-story cell with eyes.

"four walls, all eyes," Alice said out loud as she floated on her back.

"I'm lonely, Jarvis," she got out of the pool

"I could call your father to come keep you company, Ma'ma, " Jarvis said

"I'm tired of these walls, Jarvis " she trails her fingers along the walls. So thick she could scream for hours, and no one would hear her. Most days, she even questioned if the outside was even real. Or if it was all a game.

"I could request that your father paint the walls a different color" Jarvis was clueless about her true needs he was just a robot, after all.

She stood in front of the 'window' and said, "I want to go outside, Jarvis " he did not provide an answer this time, so she repeated, "I want to go outside," she banged on the glass. He did not have an answer. " Please, can I go outside, please" 

-

The ceiling it was quite interesting to him as he lay on his back on the floor. The team was all gathered together, lounging around in the lounge on game night they were all playing games, everyone but Tony, he was lost in thought about his daughter at the moment.

 He was thinking about the last few vital reports Jarvis had sent him she was showing signs of depression lately, as well as other health problems. She had never shown signs before, but back then, Tony would call her, send her a message, or send videos of himself every day for her so she wouldn't be lonely. But he stopped sending Video when he became an avenger, not wanting her to worry every time she saw a bruise on a mission plus, he didn't have time to stop and make a video. He stopped sending messages he didn't have or made time to send her a thoughtful paragraph about how he loved her anymore. He didn't call anymore he used to call every day they'd talk for a few hours, but sooner or later, hours turned to minutes, and minutes turned into maybe twice a week, eventually turned into whenever he showed up, which was rare because he was a superhero after all the whole world was watching and she was a secret that could not be seen. 

Maybe he could move her into the tower he knew he had a few extra rooms, hell, even floors, which no one used. Maybe he could stick her in one of those rooms she'd be much closer to him, he would see her every day when he felt like it, plus she would have a new view. Maybe he should just tell the team she'd have more people to talk to and more floors to explore without worry. But what if Director Fury found out that would be a problem he'd problem turn her into some mutant soldier and make her use her abilities. Tony couldn't let that happen.

"Tony," Sam called out " yo man, you okay?"

" what's up" Tony was back in reality 

" you've been spacing out for a minute, you okay?" Clint asked

" yeah, fine"

"it is your turn, Truth or drinks," Natasha said " ... what were you just thinking about it's got you stressed"

He debated for a minute if he should tell them. They took Clint introducing his family pretty well maybe he could tell them. But there was still the problem of Director Fury; he decided he would deal with it when it came.

" I was thinking about my kid"

The room fell into silence. Now if this were anyone else, they probably would have burst out into laughter, but this was Tony, and his history with women was well known. The possibility of having a child was very like and concerning. The fact that his shot lay untouched on the table also didn't help, even if they were praying for him to pick it up. 

"Are you serious? You actually have a kid?" Bruce asked quietly, but everyone heard him in the still silence. " Are you sure it's yours?"

"Pretty sure," Tony shrugged 

"damn, when did you find out?" Clint asked,

"how old is she?" Natasha asked

"I've known for about ....17 years and nine months, and she is 17 years old"

"WHAT!?" just about everyone shouted. He was quite amused with their reactions he actually expected worse.

"You had a kid for Seventeen years and didn't say anything." Bruce looked on the verge of a hulk attack. 

"why are you surprised Clint did it with a wife and two kids" Tony defended himself seriously, did everyone forget that Clint hid his family as well? His secret held three people and a farm. 

"one, Clint's not famous. Two, Clint's not famous. And three, Clint's not famous. Also, four, he's a trained spy," Natasha said with a smirk, and his defense was gone. 

"I was an ass that's how I kept all the cameras pointed everywhere but home until I sent her away, then told them I was going on a vacation or some meeting or something and visit her. Only three other people know of her existence, and only one of those three people has met her" 

"where's her mother," Steve asked cautiously, just in case

"die when she was a baby," Tony said, rubbing his face as Steve had thought this was a soft topic for him, and he thought correctly, it seemed. 

Lilly's death was something Tony hated to discuss it was a very sensitive topic. He never got over her death he tried to, but she was just too perfect for replacement. He was absolutely head over heels in love with her, which would never change the fact that he had never loved any other woman the way he loved her, not even Pepper. The only other he loved enough to measure his love for her was Alice, and he barely saw her. He wanted to see her more and love her more. He would see her more and love her so much no man's love would compare.

"Listen...... I want to bring my daughter to the tower I want her to live here"

"your daughter is coming here, when?" Bruce asked 

" I actually haven't told her yet. But yeah, I want to bring her here. But I still don't want her in the spotlight or for anyone else to know about her. She's different, I don't want everyone - anyone to know about it. "

"what is it," Bruce asked 

"I'm going to visit her tomorrow to discuss her moving in. If things go as planned, she'll move in in a few days. Oh, and don't tell Director Fury I will talk to him myself," Tony said, grabbing a bottle of vodka and heading to the elevator  " also, her name is Alice Blut Stark meaning  Alice Blood Stark cool, huh" he said the elevator closing leaving everyone on, that note. 

"he has a kid, " Bucky said

" a 17-year-old kid," Natasha drank

" that's practically an adult," Sam said 

"How did he hide her for so long," Bruce wondered

"where did he hide her for so long," Steve asked,

"Better yet .... why did he take the vodka?"  Clint, of course.

-

Tony was lying in bed with a bottle of vodka next to him as he thought of ways to tell Alice and Director Fury. He had already made the decision himself he knew Alice would jump at the opportunity to leave, but she might not like the rules along the way. But Director Fury was another story he'd probably be enraged he thought he knew everything about Stark. He would probably be pissed Tony didn't tell him. 

"oh boy, this is going to be something else," Tony said to himself, taking a swig of vodka. This definitely was going to be interesting.

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@purplekitten30 @goneghost123 @quietgeekygirl

[proposetomewithakitkat]

Ive spent all of this time working to view you with kindness and compassion that way the way you fucked me over didn’t hurt so bad. That way I wouldn’t regret giving you nearly 10 years of my life. That way I wouldn’t hate the way that I still love you, the way I still would leave the door open for you to return if you wanted. It’s worked for the most part. I’ve rounded out the edges of my grief and anger, sanded out the rough parts of my pain. When I think of you I typically hope that you’re doing well, I hope that you stop hating me for your own well being, I hope that you smiled and laughed today.

Yet that doesn’t change the way that I’m traumatized by you. Today, I saw a silly meme on instagram, and it made me quickly spiral. After four years of you keeping me deep in an unreality episode, I finally crawled out. Almost a year after it ended, 9 months after you abandoned me and smeared my name to anyone who would listen, something triggered it. “You forgot your name. You forgot your superpowers. You are forgetting that you are dying.” I could feel it. Could feel the sensations that immediately went away the second I abandoned the beliefs you planted in me. Could feel the unreality creeping in. Im still trying to ground over an hour later.

As much as I want nothing but the best for you

Fuck you. Fuck you for ruining my brain. Fuck you for wasting my time when you knew you wanted to leave. Fuck you for leading me on for months and lying to me. Fuck you for hurting me. Fuck you for lying to my friends.

I don’t wish you harm, but I hope you had a meltdown today. I hope you yelled and screamed and lost your shit like you would on me. I hope your day was at least a little miserable.

I hate that every time I see the same car you own- the car I picked out and named- I have to check to make sure it isn’t you. I hate the wave of panic I feel when I see that shade of orange. I hate the way that I can’t look at my favorite shade of green without wanting to throw up.

No one deserves the way you treated me. You loved me with intensity, and hated me with a passion.

I hope you sleep well, I hope you dream of me in the same way I dream of you. I hope you wake up with the same chest ache that I do. I hope you feel the same panic that I do.

[neverenoughmarauders]

Thank you so much for explaining all that! It’s the best explanation I’ve seen and I can see why people would feel that way. I can try to explain why I feel differently though I’ve got no idea how representative this is.

The importance of liking (or not liking) James

The thing I really hadn’t considered was how much hinges on whether one grows to care for James, as well as Remus and Sirius. My father died when I was young and I’ve got very few memories of him. But I was (so I’ve been told) far more similar to him than my two sisters. I would often be told how similar I was to him, and felt the same pride Harry often did when he was compared to James. Anyways, aside from how much SWM was a kick in the guts on a deeply personal and hurtful level, this might help to explain why I did develop affection for James, and not just Sirius and Remus. I honestly feel the first chapter in the PS(/SS) is one of the saddest in the series because Harry loses his parents/Lily and James dies and Sirius gets sent to Azkaban.

In my view Sirius is defined in the series through his love for James

In fact, my initial affection for Sirius was born from the love he shows Harry and James. It felt like you implied we don’t see Sirius show his love for James (it just stated) when I feel we basically see nothing but that throughout book three and four. Sirius thinks about avenging James throughout POA and he spends all of GOF by Harry’s side in Hogsmeade. If you believe Remus mattered all that much to Sirius then his choice to stay in Hogsmeade that year is all the more proof of how much he cares for Harry (and the way I see it, by extension, James). He could have been with Remus and still been quickly by Harry’s side if he needed to. Sirius completely loses it in GOF when Harry talks about his parents in the most heartbreaking way and it’s so unlike him. He shows so much emotions when it comes to James vs any other aspects and it gets to me.

I don’t think anyone believes Sirius couldn’t have a relationship with someone who wasn’t James. But a lot of the wolfstar fics I read there’s just no real basis for James and Sirius friendship which for me is the whole foundation of Sirius’ character/role in the series. Sirius was James’ best friend, which meant James trusted Sirius with switching secret keepers and he made Sirius Harry’s godfather thus giving him the roles he has in the books (escaped convict and father figure). I’ve read Sirius telling James things like: ‘you’re my best mate,’ in fics and I just want to scream: ‘where the hell is the proof of that? Every scene that I read is you and Remus pining or you and Remus bonding over how stupid and immature James is - when Sirius himself tells us that he was just as much a berk as James’.

It’s only in OOTP we get Remus and Sirius being together for more than a few hours - and Sirius is miserable

Maybe because of the long wait between book 4 and 5, maybe because 5 was just that much more longer but I’ve read the first four books far more often than the three last ones. This means I spent most time with Sirius pre-OOTP. Which means I don’t really have that connection to Remus and Sirius being together all that much. One of the reasons I find OOTP so hard to read (in addition to the ending) is because Sirius is so miserable. I know that’s Grimmauld Place but at no point do I get the feeling that Remus is close to fill the gap in Sirius life. In fact, the two times Sirius is described as genuinely cheerful in OOTP it has to do with James and Harry. It’s when he and Remus remembers James ruffling his hair and playing with the snitch, and it’s when Harry is over for Christmas (after we know Arthur won’t die). This for me just makes it come across as Remus isn’t nearly enough for Sirius. Also, Sirius doesn’t come and stay with Remus when he has a choice (after POA). Fine, he’s on the run but as we understand from the end of GOF he could clearly have ‘laid low’ at Remus’. Maybe Remus didn’t have a place as long as he was a teacher at Hogwarts, and then as we established, Sirius felt a need to be around Harry in GOF. But still, you can see how Sirius and Remus’ friendship isn’t that much of a focus except from being reunited briefly in POA (in which I’d still maintain the focus is on them wanting to avenge James).

I’ve always understood James to have been the glue of the Marauders

As for the Christmas present - Remus is poor and I never saw that present as anything other a way for friends to handle that situation. In fact, what Sirius does for Remus is not very different from what we know James used to do for Remus; help him financially. I’m not disputing they were close friends and I love the scene when Remus and Sirius are finishing each other’s sentences but we knew the marauders were tight. I can’t help but feel James was the glue of the marauders. James didn’t suspect his friends (much to his peril), he financed Remus when he couldn’t get a job, he took in Sirius when he ran away and he saved Snape from Sirius’ ‘prank’.

In my view, there’s room for Wolfstar but not prior to OOTP

Now finally, I’ve tried to avoid discussing the whole: Sirius thought Remus was the spy thing, but just to note I think there’s a lot of evidence that makes it hard to justify wolfstar prior to James’ death. I too see enough in the canon to see them have a relationship in OOTP, but I don’t see it as the soulmates that finally got each other. More like two people who have lost too much (friends, time, hope) and share what’s left.

Jily vs Prongsfoot vs Wolfstar

I can’t stand Jily stories without platonic prongsfoot just as I can’t stand wolfstar stories without platonic prongsfoot. As for full on prongsfoot I don’t really think anything else is needed. Prongsfoot is what’s fundamental to the story!

In conclusion - we are never going to see eye to eye because we picked up vastly different things

(Not to say this hasn’t been hugely enlightening!!!) I think it all comes down to what you weigh and what you latch onto in the story! I have always been attracted to ‘bromance stories’ whether it’d be real brothers that have each other’s back no matter what (Joe and Frank Hardy, Fred and George) or people who were like brothers (BBC’s Merlin/Arthur and Sirius/James - and in my view both are fun to ship romantically as well). To me, the Marauders would never have interested me without James and Sirius‘ friendship. I have always loved Remus, but I feel I get to follow his story in the main series in a way I never got Sirius or James’. For those stories, I need the marauders and the marauders era!

I feel like I missed the memo, y'know?

When I read POA, GOF and OOTP, I read about a man who was still grieving his best friend in this entire world. They were described as inseparable, compared to twins, and they clearly meant the world to each other. This man missed his friend and loved him so much that he continued to keep his own life on hold so he could take care of this best friend's son. And that's why I don't get Wolfstar. At no point did Remus come close to fill the gap Sirius experienced after losing James.

This isn't meant to be a bashing of the whole wolfstar genre thing. I think I'd really love it if it was a rare pairing, but how this became more normal to read about than Jily or Prongsfoot (surely that's the obvious marauder m/m ship?) I will never understand!?!

[tokiloki]

@inky-page Tumblr ate your ask I'm sorry but here you go. ❤️

💮 TR BOYS WITH A GIRLFRIEND WHO SPEAKS 4 LANGUAGES

🌸Characters : Rindou Haitani, Baji and Sanzu Haruchiyo.

🏵️Warnings/note : Fem reader/Second point of view (you, your) /Slight cursing. /Brief mention of drugs in Sanzu's part/ fluff/ slight crack/generally astonished boyfriends./ An au where all the manga pain doesn't exist/Canon divergence.

HARUCHIYO SANZU/ AKASHI::

-Your boyfriend was shocked when he found out. And honestly, he didn't find out in the best of ways.

- He was just lounging on the sofa while you took a shower, lazily flicking from channel to channel while waiting for you to come out.Thats when he heard what was one of the most terrible noises in his life, coming from the shower.

- He ran in panic as he heard you screech an impressive number of curses, some he didn't recognise as his language. He barged into the bathroom calling out your name, only to see you struggling with the shampoo stuck in your eyes. Screaming at everyone and everything.

"Y/N ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

"HARU? DO I LOOK ALRIGHT?"

-He stood there for a hot minute, shocked at the number of different notes that flew from your mouth.

- Ignoring the situation, he simply leaned on the doorframe and asked about how many languages you spoke.

-You were going to kill him, no seriously because the shampoo in your eyes was doing wonders to your raging temper, only adding to the fuel.

"OOOH how interesting! How many languages do you speak Y/N darling? Do you attend classes or something?"

"HARUCHIYO SANZU, DOES THIS LOOK LIKE THE RIGHT TIME? IS IT THE RIGHT TIME HARUCHIYO?"

"You're right, you're right, stop staring at me like that calm down."

-Since that day onward, he asked you the most random questions to date.

"Y/N sweetheart, what do you call cocaine in (language)?"

"Babe I swear I never researched drug or gun names in my language courses, let me sleep it's 2 am."

------

"Y/N did the duolingo owl ever terrorise you into studying? Is that why you studied so many languages?"

"Haru shut the hell up before I go to sleep on the couch"

"You wouldn't"

"Keep talking and we'll see"

RINDOU HAITANI ::

-Honestly, you’re the one who told Rindou about your unique specialty , you admittedly actually hoped for some kind of astonishment, or amazement from your stoic boyfriend.

-Instead all you got from him was a cool shrug and a question of what languages you spoke, after that he just went back to scrolling absentmindedly on his phone.

-You knew Rindou wasn’t one for words, but still, it would’ve been nice if he showed a little enthusiasm -its not everyday someone speaking 4 languages appears. The thought crossed your mind before you could stop it.

Did he even care?

-It must’ve shown on your face because Rindou sighed, dropping his phone to the side and pulling you closer to his body, mumbling apologetic words, you squirmed, insisting you knew and that it didn’t hurt.

“Y/N I promise I care, you know how I am”

“Rin! No it’s alright, I know, don’t worry!”

-Your reaction didn’t satisfy him, even though you thought it did. In fact, you almost forgot the entirety of the tense incident, until a number of weeks later when it made it’s way back into your conversations.

-You two had been sitting on the couch, your head rested above his chest with his arm around your waist as you watched a boring movie. You were slowly slipping off into small bouts of sleep, eyes tired and head drowsy when you heard a quiet voice mumble.

“Y/N?

“What’s wrong Rin”

*in foreign language* “I love you Y/N, you know that right?”

“I love you too Rin-”

-Your eyes flew open in shock, tilting your head up to meet his dimmed violet eyes staring at you. He rarely ever commented on his love for you, but that wasn’t what shocked you, this time, he had commented in one of the languages you had thought he wouldn’t even recall.

“Hold on” 

-You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, peering up at him again, his face was dusted with a light blush, one you could barely see in the dark room. He averted his gaze away, blush darkening as you stared up at him in shock. Finally you spoke.

“Since when...did you even learn...that?”

“A while ago dumbass”

“A while ago?”

“From when...from when you told me you could speak a bunch of languages, I just thought to take one up.”

-Rindou wouldn’t say anything else regarding it after that, resorting to intense focus on the movie onscreen, he wouldn’t tell you but the look of hurt that had flashed on your face when you told him had him sinking in guilt.

-He recalled the deep anxiety he found himself sinking into, thinking that you thought the worst of him. He wanted to show you that the 'I love you's' he murmured were truly heartfelt.

-Ran said he was being over dramatic, but Rindou had honestly found no other way to prove to himself and you that he cared for everything you did and said. The warmth that bloomed through his chest at your excited smile was worth every minute he had spent trying to learn a language to connect to you.

That night, Rindou was free of his worries, which had all been soothed by your smile.

BAJI KEISUKE ::

-Listen, he is proud of you. He thinks that you're deservedly the smart one in the relationship, maybe the one smart person he will sit and listen to all day.

-When he heard from a friend of yours that you spoke four languages he was genuinely amazed, exclaming to you later on just how amazing and impressive that was.

-You even slowly began to realise that he was picking up on common phrases you used, his eyes would gleam over with pride whenever you said a single word, instantly bookmarking it for another day.

-To someone else it might have seemed like Baji was the multilingual one, but no he was just hyping you up every minute he could.

-It actually ended up being helpful as you helped him with language studies, he thought your methods were better than the teachers anyways.

-Baji was always motivated to do better by you and his desire to keep his mother happy, so motivated he found himself studying voluntarily, shocking the Toman members so badly to the point that you actually received a frantic call from Mikey asking if you had drugged Baji.

-You regularly answered multiple random questions from him, most of them were things like 'alright how do you say you're beautiful?' only to repeat your words with a cheerful grin, making you laugh at his cheesy techniques.

-Baji, despite all his wholesome actions, was also the first person to ask you for every possible curse in every language you spoke, grinning enthusiastically as you nervously recited words you wished you didn't know.

-Actually Baji even learnt curses you didn't know existed, saying that he was "merely deepening his knowledge"

-But all in all, Baji loves you and all your 'random mumbo jumbo' as he calls it. He's never been so proud to love a girl before, and he apologises for all the random questions he cursed you with.

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

A/N : im sorry for how long this turned out. I got to Rindou and kinda got carried away, anyways first fic I hope you liked it! Reblogs and likes much appreciated 💖

[wandaromanova]

can i request wandanat x r? r wants to propose to wandanat and has been sneaking around to hide her plans of proposal. wandanat thinks r is cheating and maybe leaves her? you decide but angst please and i just love all your work i can't stop re reading them💕

Ruined

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: cussing, arguing, very slight violence, cheating allegations

A/N: hi! thank you for your request! im flattered to know that you love and re read my work! i may or may not have intentionally left this on a cliffhanger whoops 🤭 <3

Ruined | Regret

Word Count: 1.8K | masterlist

(gif is not mine)

You had first met Wanda and Natasha when you were tasked with being the Avengers’ liaison. You were tasked to handpick missions that you believed required the attention of the heroes and assigned team members onto those missions.

You worked very closely with the team, you even lived with them in the compound for convenience. In the time spent working for them, you had grown super close to everyone; most especially Nat and Wanda.

It first started off with the pair going into your office, always asking for missions. You had found it odd considering they never took a break. You didn’t understand why they’d seek out missions when they were clearly exhausted. You figured that maybe they just loved helping people so much that they got excited and anxious for missions, but little did you know what their true intentions were.

They wanted to spend time with you. They wanted to observe you close up and not across a conference table. They wanted to know everything there was to know about you. As creepy as it was, they wanted to get close enough to know what you smelt like. They wanted to know what your lips tasted like. They wanted the relationship with you to surpass professionalism.

Eventually, the two Avengers stopped asking for missions when they came in; they just went to your office for the sake of going there. They’d bring you various lunches every single day and shower you with small compliments.

You’d brushed it off as the women being very good friends that just so happened to be flirts. You were wrong. They were interested in you, in the same way you were in them. You couldn’t help but admire the two beautiful women.

Their green eyes, fit bodies, and kind smiles were a recipe for disaster, in the best way possible. With one look, you’d drop to your knees and do whatever they wanted. They just had to say the word and you would do it, no hesitation. Yeah, it sounds absolutely ridiculous, but it’s painfully and embarrassingly true.

Over the course of time, you had grown closer to Wanda and Nat. Your daily lunches turned into daily movie nights and dinners too. You saw them all the time and you didn’t mind it one bit.

They finally asked you out after a year of spending time with and getting closer to you. It was safe to say, you instantly agreed with a smile on your face as you let out an, “of course! fucking finally!”

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

Now, you had been dating the two women for five years. Yeah, it’s been a long ass time, but it still wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to spend forever with Wanda and Nat.

You wanted to get an actual house in the suburbs together. Not an apartment in the middle of New York, but a place you could call home. You craved the domesticity of it all.

You wanted to settle down and have kids with them somehow; whether it be by adoption or via surrogate. You just wanted to have a family of your own with the two woman you loved more than anyone or anything in the universe.

So, you’ve been sneaking around trying to keep your secret, well… a secret. You were planning on proposing to your girlfriends. Yes, this was a very huge step in a relationship, but you felt as though it was the right time. You guys had been together for five years! You were practically married to them already!

You would sneak off suddenly during your usual movie nights with Wanda and Nat or before breakfast to go and meet with different jewelers. You didn’t want to go into a store and buy their rings. That was not an option in the slightest. They were special and deserved special rings. They needed rings that were as unique and one of a kind as they were. It’s what Wanda and Nat deserved.

So, you were constantly leaving, whether it be early in the morning or the late hours of the night, on the search for someone who could make your ideas for their rings, a reality. You would hide your phone from Wanda and Nat’s view and even changed your passcode in order to prevent them from finding out. You’d face your phone down whenever you left it in a room with the pair, as well.

Unfortunately, in your excitement of what was to come, you didn’t realize how suspicious your behavior had been. You figured that you were being pretty discreet, coming up with pretty believable excuses. You even had some of the team help you with your lies, since you let them know what you had planned.

However, you forgot you were dating a world class spy and a witch. You were wrong, obviously. As each day passed, your girlfriends worried and assumed the worst. They let their minds spiral and searched for worst case scenarios. The worst one of all seeming the most likely; infidelity. They came to the conclusion that you were cheating on them.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

Natasha and Wanda cried to one another on one of the nights you bolted off and zoomed out of the apartment with a lame excuse.

Wanda sat on the couch as Nat held her in her arms. They both had tears cascading down their faces as their thoughts were plagued by you; by your supposed betrayal.

“How? How could she do this to us? After everything we’ve been through? She’s goes and cheats on us?” Wanda spoke brokenly as she released a sob. Natasha pulled Wanda closer, the Sokovian woman placing her head in the crook of Nat’s neck.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know, Wanda. All I know is, this can’t go on any longer.” Natasha spoke, trying to keep her voice steady, but her voice failed her. She came out shaky as the sadness and hurt seeped in. You had betrayed them, or so they thought.

They sat there in the same position, waiting for your return. Finally, four hours later. You had come back to the apartment.

You were ecstatic as you made your way up to the front door. You finally found a jeweler that could make the perfect rings for Wanda and Nat! You couldn’t wait to get on one knee and present the rings to the two women who would forever hold your heart. You were over the moon excited right now.

However, your joy was quickly wiped away the second you stepped foot into the apartment. You took in the sight of Wanda and Natasha on the couch, staring at you with dried and fresh tears on their faces. You instantly shut the door and tossed your keys onto the counter as you rushed towards your girlfriends worriedly.

“Nat, Wands, what’s wrong loves?” You asked as you approached them, but Natasha abruptly stood up before you could get too close.

“Don’t you take another fucking step!” Nat snapped at you, and you stumbled backwards a little, in total shock. Your concern increased as you looked between the fuming redhead and the heartbroken looking brunette.

“Did something happen? What’s wrong?” You were so confused and desperately wanted to comfort your girlfriends. You don’t recall doing anything that could anger and upset them this much.

“Yeah, something happened. Our girlfriend is a fucking pathetic, cheating ass bitch who can’t keep it in her pants.” Natasha spoke with venom dripping from her tone. You literally let out a gasp, her words physically hurting you.

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not cheating on you guys! I love you both more than you guys could even imagine!” You raised your voice, getting frustrated with the situation.

Wanda suddenly stood up and stuck beside Nat. She stared at you with anger clouding her sadness now.

“You’re not cheating on us? Then why the hell have you been running off at weird hours of the day? Why have you been hiding your phone from us?” Wanda began to fire a bunch of questions towards you.

You froze in your place. The answers to their questions weren’t what they thought they would be. The true answers were the complete opposite of cheating, you were acting weird because you were planning on proposing! But you couldn’t tell them that!

You stood silently as the two women stared at you, breathing heavily. They took your silence as confirmation of their suspicions.

“We fucking knew it. You’re a fucking joke, Y/N. Were we not enough for you? Was two women not enough for you?” Wanda inched her way towards you, eyes glowing red.

You backed away, not in fear, but in sadness. You really wished you could tell them the real reasons behind your behavior, but you couldn’t without blowing up your surprise.

“Did you really think you could go behind our backs without us noticing?” Wanda continued to stalk towards you, like she was about to murder you.

“I swear to you both, I would never, ever, cheat on you guys. You’re both more than enough for me. You’re my home, I’d never jeopardize that.” You tried to convince your girlfriends to believe you, but they weren’t having it.

“Stop lying to us!” Wanda screamed out as she sent you flying back with a scarlet colored blast as she used her powers on you. Your back connected with the front door as you groaned. That was going to be a huge bruise later, for sure.

“I’m not lying. When have I ever lied to you both, huh? Why the fuck would I start now?” You asked exasperatedly as you stood up slowly. You cringed at the pain radiating from your back.

“And here you go again, more lies coming out of your slutty mouth. The fucking nerve you have, Why don’t you go and fuck whoever you’ve been seeing and leave us alone?” Natasha spoke as she moved forward, placing her hand firmly on Wanda’s waist.

Before you even have the chance to speak, Wanda opened the door with her powers and tossed you out of the apartment. She abruptly slammed the door in your face. Wanda and Nat’s angry, pain-filled faces and scarlet colored magic being the last things you saw before the door blocked your vision with a harsh slam.

You sat on the ground in front of the door in shock. They thought you were cheating on them. They didn’t want anything do with you now. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? What did this mean for your proposal? Should you cancel on the jeweler? Or should you hold out hope and pray that they’ll hear you out eventually?

All you did know was that your proposal had been ruined regardless. Whether you told them about your plans or not, the moment was doomed the minute they began to suspect cheating.

Withholding the information from them, caused them to push you away. But now that you look at it, if you had just told them about the proposal, you’d at least be in their arms right now and not on the floor of your apartment complex hallway with tears streaming down your face.

You were at a loss, and you didn’t know if you could gain back the trust of the women you loved.

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[harry-writings]

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

-

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her. 

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

-

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

-

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

-

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

-

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

-

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

H?

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can���t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

[iiraven]

Fool-Proof Plan

Pairing: Erwin x reader

Genre: fluff, comedy, smut, modern AU

Warnings: size kink, masturbation, squirting, fingering in front of a mirror, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, manhandling, degradation, praise, established relationship, slight dumbification, choking/ breath play 

Word count: 4.6K

Synopsis: Erwin’s business trip leads you to realise you’re not as sly as you think you are.

Masterlist

Erwin Smith is a man capable of absolutely everything. He’s an amazing cook, an amazing masseur, an amazing businessman, and, most of all, an amazing husband.

There’s only one small shortcoming to the person you consider to be perfect. And that’s his inability to use any form of technology. Texting is bad enough with him signing his name after every message, but it’s social media that’s your husband’s true sworn enemy. Erwin might only be a few years your senior, but somehow your grandfather can comprehend the concept of Instagram faster than him.

“So, you just take pictures?”

“Yes.”

“And people respond to it?”

“Yes.”

“Alright but why?”

The conversation is nothing new, but you find it incredibly unfortunate knowing how talented he is at photography. If you two ever go someplace Erwin knows he wants to capture, he slings his camera over his neck, leaves his phone at home (“I won’t be taking any calls today”) and makes his merry way out of the house. You often eye the phone left stray on the desk, half-expecting it to chase you out of the house for abandoning it. Sometimes, for good measure, you slip it into your own bag. Just in case.

It’s for this reason that Erwin’s business trip puts you on immediate edge.

“It’ll only be for ten days,” he had said. “Sina Corporations takes their summits really seriously…”

“Ten days?” You repeated and Erwin gave you a soft smile.

“I’ll call you every day.”

It’s not like you have an obsessive attachment to your husband (well, that’s debatable), but breaking the routine of returning home to his warm hugs, listening to his day and then complaining about your own- it’s uncomfortable. 

Erwin himself wasn’t looking forward to being away from you, away from home. Running Survey Corporations Ltd is no easy task; trying to balance the infuriating board and the long hours with his actual life is something only possible because of you. Time spent together is fine diamonds Erwin clutches onto and although he’d tried to reason with himself that it was only ten days, it wasn’t a trip he was looking forward to. He never said it out loud. But he didn’t need to. You can tell by the way Erwin’s lips linger on yours a little longer at the airport, as if to preserve your taste.

“Oi Erwin- hurry up.” Levi tries hard not to glare. But even the raven-haired man knows that being away from you puts Erwin on somewhat of an edge. You’re his rock, there to ground him when everything is chaotic, and a summit surrounded by the richest people in the world is as chaotic as it gets.

Despite it all, Erwin stays true to his promise. He calls you at least twice a day and although you could stay on the phone with him for hours, he’s often rushing between conferences and can only spare minutes of his time. Even when he does have an hour, talking to a disembodied voice (he still can’t figure out how to switch his camera back around) is not the same as having Erwin right beside you. It’s the way he squeezes your thigh when he’s focussing on what you’re saying or when he pulls you towards him so that you can lie on his hard chest which still makes you blush even after years of being together.

Because, yes, you miss his touch the most.

Not even five days in, you find yourself with your hands down your panties and a tall blond man on your mind. You’re soaked just thinking about him. His groans, the way he calls your name, the way he pounds into you as you lose your train of thought. Your fingers try to imitate his- their curve and how easily they find your soft spot- but it just feels uncomfortable. So, then you try rubbing your clit, and there’s temporary pleasure there, but not even close enough to tip you over the edge. Even your pink vibrator doesn’t cut it. You deny the fact that Erwin Smith has made you an incompetent masturbator, but you can’t keep up the lie for long and soon enough you give up.

It’s the next day that your ingenious idea kindles. It’s a fool-proof plan. A small flame that has you rushing to the bathroom for the best possible lighting. Erwin can still put his tongue to use at a distance- after all, it’s his voice you fell in love with first. To discretely push him in the right direction, you send him a few photos of yourself. Nothing too scandalous safe he’s in a meeting, but enough that he’ll gets the hint. Sure, Erwin has a couple of polaroid pictures hidden in his brown leather wallet, but he had shot those himself. You want to be a bit more spontaneous! And, honestly, at this point you’re desperate. You could swear you’re developing withdrawal symptoms: just the other day, you were actually temped to pick up a newspaper. It was terrifying.

This had to work. You can just imagine Erwin calling you, voice deep and gruff as he guides you through the process to make yourself cum as he showers you with praise. You feel giddy, eyes glued to the glowing screen, awaiting his response. Even your pink vibrator is out of the box.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t exactly go the way you had planned.

One hour after sending the photos you receive a panicked text from Hange. In the long paragraph, you understand that your poor husband couldn’t get the photos to load and decided to consult the vice president of his company who, upon simply clicking on them, saw you groping your soapy tits. Had it been anyone other than vice president Hange Zoe, Erwin may have broken his phone and quit right there. Thankfully, he only said, “I see” and then asked her where to find the smiley face Emoji.

“I’m so, so sorry Y/N!” Hange screams through the phone. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise! I could send you a picture of my boobs! I’ll go do it right now! I’m sorry! No- You don’t need to feel embarrassed! I won’t mind!”

“It’s alright Hange.” You laugh nervously. “You don’t need to send me anything, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

The whack Levi lands on her head is so hard you hear it through the phone. “Shut the fuck up four-eyes.”

So here you are now. Three days until Erwin returns, a vibrator you’ve given up on back in its box, and a husband who responds to your nudes with a smiley face.

But then Hange Zoe sends you something much better than a picture of her boobs.

The hotel that the trio were staying at- as most hotels do- has a spa. And if there’s one thing Erwin Smith adores it’s allowing himself to relax in a warm, steamy sauna. You’re not sure how Hange was allowed to join them, or how she was able to get her camera clear of fog, or how she was even able to take the picture without Erwin noticing. But you ask her no questions.

Followed by a winky-face is a picture of Erwin sat in the sauna, head tilted backwards, and eyes shut in the pure image of serenity. His arms are propped up on either side of him accentuating his biceps whilst still allowing a clear view of his sculpted body, the sweat running down his chest and abs, making him almost glisten. He’s completely naked except for the flimsy white towel across his lap which does absolutely nothing to hide his thick dick print. You shudder.

You feel like a teenager again, speechless at the sight of a quasi- naked man. Even though you’ve seen him like this thousands of times, you can’t help but fantasise about being trapped underneath him, hair falling onto his face as he loses himself inside of you. God, maybe you do have an unhealthy obsession. But it doesn’t matter. You feel even more like a teenager as you imagine scenarios of him returning home to recreate the picture before you. And with that, your mind is sedated for the next few days.

You have a fool-proof plan. Dress up in the shortest and tightest dress you own, cook your husband dinner, and then give him a blow job at the table so that he’ll never leave you again. It’s going to be just like in the movies and nothing will stop that from happening.

Something stops that from happening.

Just as you’re about to put the potatoes in the oven, Erwin calls. His flight is delayed. You whine through the phone and Erwin’s chuckle just about stops you from sulking like a child. You can be mature about this, right? He’s getting home eventually- complaining isn’t going to help at all. Patience is a virtue and yours has been tested many times before. This is, after all, nothing compared to the time Erwin tried to create an excel spreadsheet. So, you don’t press further. You simply tell Erwin that you miss him and then go find a pillow in which you scream for a good five minutes.

Erwin, on the other hand, is a lot less coveted with his annoyance. He wants nothing more than to strangle whatever and whoever is preventing him from returning to his lovely wife. In the hour journey, the entire plane can feel a crushing tension above their heads, so tense that even the child at the back seems to be holding in his tears. 

Usually, Erwin prefers to spend his flights with a book in his hands, but he’s incapable for picking up the paperback and instead stares out of the window somehow hoping it will go faster.

After what feels like hours, the tight dress has gotten too uncomfortable for you to wear and you resolve yourself to eating the potatoes alone. You still don’t take off your lingerie, though. A two-piece black set with lace detailing that makes you look like a present ready to be unwrapped. It had arrived yesterday, and you had taken your sweet time admiring the embroidered flowers and soft ribbon holding the fragile piece together because you had falsely assumed that you wouldn’t have it on for long. You had in fact contemplated stockings but by the time 11PM came by you simply wrapped Erwin’s favourite robe around your body and tried to take your mind off things. Maybe you should have opted for your own robe because as the sleeves hung from your arms and the soft material effused his smell, it managed to make you feel even worse.

Staying up late was not a foreign feeling but anticipation quickly turns into boredom and you find your eyelids getting heavy. You pause the anime you’re watching and are about to shut your eyes when you hear the faint rattle of keys.

You stumble getting out of bed, knocking your shoulder on the wall before skipping four steps at a time and tripping on the robe at least twice as you rush downstairs. Erwin is barely through the door as you call out his name and he drops his bags right there to let your rush into your arms. You feel so small, so safe, so familiar, within them, as if you’ve returned to the space where you belong. He lifts you up to let you wrap your legs around his waist, your ankles barely crossing. He smells divine, even after hours of being stuck in an airport and his hair is still soft between your fingers. You look at him and the smile that spreads across his face wipes out any hints of fatigue that might have been there just moments ago.

Erwin kisses you and it’s long, deep, and he holds you impossibly closer to him as his tongue dips into your mouth. You don’t want it to end, but Erwin pulls back and says softly, “I’m home, my love.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Welcome home.”

You return to the kiss with a hint of desperation. Tugging lightly on Erwin’s shirt, you know he notices how your core is already warm, but still, he takes his time closing the door with his foot before finally noticing your attire. You’re about to make a sarcastic comment about his obliviousness but the way he looks down at you, at the small flower of lace peeping out from under the heavy robe, the way he slowly wets his lips, he leaves you speechless.

“You’re a gift.” He smiles sweetly though his eyes darken.

“Well, you’ve been working really hard,” You mumble. “You deserve a treat.”

The effect this man has on you is unbelievable. All that anger and frustration you had pent up now crumbles at the light caress of his thumb on your hips.

“Let me unwrap you,” Erwin says. And he walks you to your room, climbing up the stairs with ease as you cling onto him. You attempt to rub yourself against his hard stomach, but one look of warning makes you stop. He’s going to be doing things on his watch, tonight.

Setting you on the floor beside your bed, Erwin undoes the ribbon and you let the fabric pool at your feet. He immediately latches onto your neck, and you gasp, tilting your head to give him better access. His hands begin to roam, fingering the delicate lace of your panties and the straps of your bra as his tongue leaves a trail over your chest. It’s only when Erwin suddenly grabs your breast that you moan, body involuntarily pushing towards him.

He looks up through thick eyelashes and his hands moves to cup your face. You’re about to beg him to touch you where you need it most, but he whispers, “you’re so beautiful.” And you’re speechless again.

You suddenly lean in to kiss him, hands wrapping around his neck and it’s messy and your breath is short. “Please, Erwin,” you say to him between kisses. “Touch me.” You can feel him smile against your lips. “Please”. And before you can stop yourself. “I can’t do it myself.”

Erwin stills and only then do you realise your mistake. He pulls back and stands up straight, towering over you and you recognises that look. It’s the one of a lion who has just found a wounded deer. 

“Oh?”

Fuck. He leans back and raises a brow expectantly and you try to look everywhere but at him. Maybe if you avoid eye contact, he’ll take it as a slip of the tongue. But your husband is not one to let things go. He’s intelligent, he knows exactly what you mean- you don’t need to speak for him to gather what happened, the image of you lying pathetically on the bed, hopeless and desperate. He smirks but stays quiet. Erwin likes it when you use your words.

“No-that’s not what I meant. I mean- you feel best and it’s just-“

You’re cut off by a hand on your scalp, pulling your hair back in one swift motion so that you have no choice but to look up at your husband dead in the eye.

“You were touching yourself whilst I was away, Y/N?”

“I-I mean...yeah…”

“I see.” His gaze is enough to make you gush. “And you weren’t able to make yourself cum.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s not a question, but you affirm it anyways. “No, no I couldn’t make myself cum.”

He’s silent for a moment and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s watching your worried face or because he’s wondering how he’s going to make that face look even more worried.

“I would feel sorry for you, but I suppose that’s what you deserve for touching my cunt without my permission.”

You gasp as he uses his grip on your hair to throw you on the bed. It’s effortless, the way his strength could so easily destroy you and yet he uses it to ruin destroy you in another way- just who you like it. Erwin undoes his tie and all you can do is gawk as he strips down to his boxers. He’s as hard as a rock and you tentatively reach out to touch him, but Erwin grabs your wrist. Without warning, you’re dragged to the other side of the bed where you’re placed to face your large floor length mirror. There’s only a moment of confusion before you understand why Erwin had been so keen on the somewhat awkward placement. He positions himself behind you and you withhold the urge to press your back against his throbbing cock.

“Don’t you take your eyes off the mirror,” Erwin commands, and you nod your head. “Use your words. Or do you need me to show you how to do that too?”

“Yes, sir,” You say quickly.

“Good girl.”

Erwin opens your legs, his hands gripping your thighs hard. You silently wish bruises bloom in their wake- it’s been too long since you’ve had your husband’s mark on you. A reminder of who you belong to. One hand stays on your thigh and the other moves to nudge your panties out of the way of your glistening cunt. 

“I’m going to show you how to touch yourself,” He says in a low, rumbling voice. “And you’re going to watch closely and learn. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

His fingers don’t tease your folds for long. Erwin is feeling merciful, because he simply gathers the slick coating your cut before immediately rubbing your clit. The moan that leaves your mouth is pornographic. You buck your hips but the hand on your thigh moves to pin you down, your body flush against his so that you can almost feel his bearing heart. You’re engulfed by him so small as he easily manipulates your body.

Erwin is overwhelmed by the options. Look at his wife unravel below him or stare at the mirror, where you have no place to hide.

“I should be punishing you, you know.” He presses his fingers down hard on a particularly tenter spot and you moan loudly. “But I need to show my dumb little girl how to take care of herself.”

“I-I’m not- ahhh.” Your back arches and Erwin captures your neck again, sucking viciously.

As his thumb continues its assault on your clit, two fingers find your tight hole, dripping and clenching around nothing. He can see in the mirror how your body is practically begging to be filled up. And fill you up he will. But first Erwin inserts a finger and groans at the warmth that greets him. He begins moving it and although you try to understand how he is able to stroke your cunt so perfectly, your mind is fogged and all that’s on your mind is your impending release. This should be a learning experience, but it serves only as a reminder of Erwin’s miraculous hands. He slips his second finger in and your moans only get lounder.

“Erwin, Erwin- they feel so good. Your fingers feel so good!”

You can see his smirk in his reflection, just before he speeds up and you have to grab his wrist to steady yourself. His fingers slam back and forth into your velvety walls. They suck them in, and he is able to find your sweet spot every time. Every single time. Your eyes roll back, you press against Erwin’s chest and your legs shake as you cum. The mess you make, leaking all over Erwin’s hands, your bed, your thighs- you try to look away, but he grabs your face to prevent you from doing so.

“Don’t you dare look away.” His voice is low, threatening. “Look how good I make you feel. Look.”

Your cheeks are flushed and the set that had made you look like a femme fatale, just hours before, is now yet another set that has has you pliant and submissive. “It seems that I’m the only one who can take care of you,” Erwin says. And you know he’s right.

Erwin lifts his soaked fingers to his mouth and his eyes flutter shut as he tastes you. When he opens them, you swear they’ve gone a shade darker. Wordlessly, Erwin slips from behind you to kneel in front of the bed. He removes your panties and holds them up to his nose, giving them a slight inhale before tossing them to the side and lowering his mouth.

“Erwin wai-“

And before you can warn him that your too sensitive- you orgasm was too strong, it’s too soon- his mouth has latched onto your cunt and Erwin is eating you out like a starved man.

“Ah-fuck, fuck, fuck,” You practically scream.

He sucks on your clit, his tongue doing what it does best. You look down, his eyes bore into yours and you know he’s remembering every expression you make as he pushes you over the edge. Despite your trembling arms struggling to keep you upright, your hand goes to grip Erwin’s hair and all you can think about is how soft it is before you cum again. Your husband doesn’t stop this time. His fingers dig into your soft hips to make sure you don’t move, to make sure that he catches everything on his tongue. And he can feel it before you do. The steady build-up of a feeling slightly familiar, but foreign enough that you warn Erwin too late. Your back arches and you squirt in his mouth and before your eyes roll back, you catch a glimpse of what you know to be a smirk in your husband’s eyes.

You can feel the sheets soak below you so try to press your legs together in somewhat of an attempt to hide the mess, but Erwin doesn’t let you. “Don’t be ashamed now, darling.” His voice is solid, domineering. “This is just you perfect body, doing exactly what I tell it to,” He says.

He could be talking about fruits and you would still nod your head dumbly.

The power Erwin has over you is addictive, and your body seems to know it too. As he kisses your thighs, licking off whatever didn’t find its way into his mouth, you can still feel a distant ache at your core. This time, you don’t need to use your words. As you lie weak on the bed, Erwin crawls over, engulfing your form. The lion is ready for his meal. He leans down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. “I missed you,” He says. It’s the hundredth time, but you don’t tire of hearing it.

“I missed you too.”

Erwin shifts your legs, and you can feel the head of his large cock teasing your entrance.

“I missed all of you,” he repeats. “Your smile. Your voice. Your moans.” He pauses to place a kiss on your collarbone. “Your taste.”

He’s trying to be romantic, but you know why he stalls, and it makes you unable to graciously except the compliments. Erwin loves to hear you pine for him. And who are you to refuse your husband’s desires? So, you reach your hands out towards his shoulders, attempting to make him move if only a little bit. “Erwin!” You whine, and despite your weakness, you manage to push your hips forward, finding friction against his hard cock. “Please!”

Again, that smirk. He rubs against your clit. “My, my- you’ve come twice already and want more?”

Well, he missed your voice so you suppose you should let him hear it. “Let me be selfish, please sir?” You moan. “I need you inside of me.”

His cock twitches against you. And before you know it his hand is around your neck. “Such a good girl, using your words like that.”

He pushes inside you with a groan of relief, a low sound from his throat that causes his eyes to close momentarily. 

It seems you’ve forgotten how big he is because as he stretches you out like it’s your first time, your mouth drops open and a string of curses emerges. Erwin would usually reprimand you for the foul language, but he’s too lost in the feeling of your tight cunt pulling him in. Using your neck as leverage, he squeezes tight so that he can push forward and when your eyes blur, overwhelmed with the pleasure and pain and the lack of oxygen intensifying it all, Erwin loosens his grip only slightly, and your eyes find his again. You don’t notice your mouth hanging open, too focussed on the way your body is accommodating Erwin’s cock again.

“Really big, ‘s really big, sir,” You mumble and Erwin grunts in response, his teeth clenching because he too is reminded yet again of how tight- how perfect- your body is for him.

When Erwin bottoms out, he stills for a moment, basking in your warmth and taking a moment to kiss your cheek, a gentle gesture compared to the hand still grasping your neck. Your cunt gushes despite you wincing about the pain, about his size, and soon he can’t help but move his hips. Erwin pulls back and thrusts deep. You scream him name, as you feel his cock dragging against your walls. Any idea of taking you gently has evaporated from Erwin’s brain and instead his hips snap back and forth violently, his tip kissing your cervix as he buries himself inside of you again and again.

His grunts are laboured as Erwin’s free hand pushes your leg up to your chest to allow him to thrust deeps and deeper. “Just like that- just like that, good girl. My good girl.”

The new angle has him brushing against your g-spot and you won’t last long. You know you can’t- not with him quite literally rearranging your insides. You have one hand clawing at his forearm and the other grips the sheets and you repeat a mantra of “Thank you, sir, thank you” in between your desperate moans. The honorific coming from your lips is too sweet to his ears and he’s reminded of why phone calls bother him so much- nothing compares to hearing your voice like this.  

Erwin’s hand leaves your neck only to tug your bra down, letting your boobs bounce freely as he fucks you hard. You almost complain about the loss of contact but his tongue latches onto to your nipple and before you know it, you are coming all over your husband, screaming his name. Your nails dig into his arm as he nears his own release. Erwin’s hips stutter and he moans your name before throwing his head back in pure bliss as he cums inside of you. You wish you can capture that sight forever, but you don’t think any photo does your husband justice. It’s true- this is better than anything Hange could send.

Your breaths slowly find a slower rhythm in the post-orgasm silence. Erwin watches the way your fluids pool out of you as he pulls out, admiring the own mess on his lower stomach. You wince at the sore feeling and pull him towards you. This time, he follows your command. Breathless bodies mould into each other, finding their place after too long being apart. At the back of your mind, you know you should be making your way to the bathroom, but Erwin’s heavy body lying on your chest is enough to remind you to focus on the moment. For this is where you belong.

“You know, you should be flattered, Erwin.” You nudge his arm weakly as you lay together, bodies entangled in a random set of pyjamas you begrudgingly forced yourself to change into. “No one has better hands than you.”

He laughs. “I am flattered,” he says. “I just like teasing you.”

“No- you have a degradation kink.”

“Yes, that too.”

Even as you were taking a shower together, Erwin’s subtle attempts at having you admit you couldn’t make yourself cum did not go unnoticed. You suppose it’s an ego-thing, but then you realise it’s more. The power of being the only person able to bring you that much bliss is power Erwin thrives on. And despite the money wasted on your pink vibrator, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Still,” Erwin muses and a small smile plays across his lips. “I did expect the photo Hange took to at least help a little.”

Every muscle in your body stills and your eyes suddenly widen. Oh come on. You try to tell yourself that there’s simply nothing wrong with having a photo of your naked husband, but it’s more than that. You know it. Erwin knows it. And by the way he’s smiling, you also know that plastered on your face is the guiltiest of looks. In your poor attempt to escape his gaze by turning your back to him, Erwin chuckles and shakes his head, hugging you closer.

“That’s not fair!” You exclaim.

“It’s not?”

“No!”

You try to wiggle out of his grasp, but Erwin is made of steel. Why do you expect to get away with anything anymore? Erwin Smith is beyond two moves ahead- he’s finished the game before you’ve even started.

“Did you really think I didn’t notice?” 

“Shut up!” You whine. “Why do you have to be such a smartass about it? Let me think I win.”

“Alright, alright.” Erwin chuckles and places a kiss on your forehead. “You’re my winner. Always.”

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Happy With You

Sirius Black x Female Reader

W.C. : 2800

Request: Hiii wifey ;) may I request a fic for the love of my life sirius black? Maybe the reader is james’ little sibling?Also, lots of yearning/ mutual pining please 😭 but please pleaseeee make it a happy ending cause shattered part one left me HEART BROKEN

A/N: Thanks for the request lovely! I had so much fun writing this I hope you and everyone enjoy it.

| Masterlist | Request are open |

Maybe it was the way she spoke, like her words were written in the finest sheets of parchment by all the blessed people that got to listen to her, as if her voice carried the melody of a siren and attracted everyone in her direction. It definitely had that effect on Sirius Black.

Sirius wanted to follow her to every place she set foot on, listen to her talk as full of passion and excitement as she always did. She had a magnet to her, a magnet that pulled him and made him want to talk to her all the time. Or just be with her, sitting on grass just outside of the castle as she played and ran, maybe he’d play with her. Laughter flowing with the cold breeze as he wrapped his arm around her waist and spun her in the air.

“Sirius!”

That wasn’t her voice.

“Merlin, we’ve lost him.”

But it was close enough.

“Huh?” Sirius murmured, lifting his head from the book open in the desk in front of him. He shook his head softly, eyes focusing on round glasses before he could see beyond the lens and into brown eyes. Not quite the ones he was hoping for, though. “What is it?”

“Never seen you so invested in something.” James chuckled. If only he knew. “Do you get what the professor is talking about?” he asked, spinning the book in the air to see if maybe he got it upside down with no luck, the book was on the right side and just as it was supposed to be read “I reckon he stopped speaking English hours ago.”

Sirius laughed at that, turning to see Peter just as confused as James and then to Remus, the only one actually taking notes “Moony gets it.” he said, pointing towards the brown haired boy with a small grin. “Ask him.”

“Oh, we know Moony gets it.” James said humorlessly, snatching the book from Sirius’ hands “He’ll explain to us later, but I need to understand now.” He turned back on his seat, stealing glances from Remus’ papers as Remus moved slightly to the left, giving James a better view.

“Do you get it?” Sirius whispered in Peter’s direction, the boy calmly taking notes as he nodded.

“I think so.” he answered “Just found the part in the text that he’s talking about. But the professor already asked James, he didn’t know the answer and he’s about to get detention that would get him out of the next Quidditch practices. He 's desperate.”

“Figures.” Sirius laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he started taking notes about what he thought was important or worth remembering “Maybe whisper the answer to him next time.”

“I’m barely understanding myself.” Peter murmured, turning to Sirius “I thought you would know, we lost you to that book for a minute there.” He said, pointing to the same page Peter had opened in his book, but Sirius just shook his head “Just as lost as you.” he mumbled, but the hint in his voice was clear that he didn’t mean the class.

*******

You stood next to your professor’s desk, your friend just behind you as you asked the few questions you still had about your class that just ended. That was when the loud voices reached your ears and you smiled internally, James was close.

“...and that would be the more complicated uses of the charm.” the raspy sound of your professor’s voice ceased and you had to stop yourself from running out of the classroom right there and then. He is always with him.

“Thank you, professor. I understand better now.” you smiled at him, taking your friend’s wrist as you slowly started to walk “We’ll see you next class.!” you said, your face a blur as you ran outside dragging your friend with you.

“What 's the rush?!” she yelled over the fuzz of the students changing classes and the wind flowing in your ears. Her hand shot up in the air, holding down the hat on her head as you sped through the halls following the trail only they could leave.

“They were here.” you informed her, avoiding all the people in your way.

“Godric, you’re out of your mind.” she laughed, but followed you anyway.

Just as the hallways started to get clearer you got the advantage of finding the four heads you were looking for, just standing in the middle of the entrance to the castle like they owned the place. Somehow, you knew they did and no one had the courage to admit it. They knew it too well and had no need to put it into words. Yes, they got detention and caused more trouble than the entire school together, but most of Hogwarts loved them and they got away with more than they should be able to, even professors had a soft spot for them. They had a nameless power over Hogwarts and they knew it. But you had power over one of them.

“James Potter!” you yelled, marching towards them as you still held onto your friend's hand.

His head snapped up to you, the momentarily fear that he showed on his face quickly turning into a grin as he ran towards you with open arms. You squealed, leaving your friend's side to run to him, bodies crashing as he hugged you tightly.

“Hello, little one.” he said excitedly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he ruffled your hair, the groan leaving your mouth only making his grin grow.

“I'm almost as tall as you.” you complained, standing on your tiptoes to see him eye to eye for one second “See?” you said, the effort making you drop to your actual height, the low giggles coming from your friend making you get away from James. “And only a year younger.” you said matter of factly, taking his hand and guiding his arm away from you, just it time to see his friends catching up with him. “Hello boys.” you greeted them with a smile. They all thought you had a light to you that they loved, your first days at Hogwarts had been spent with them and they immediately made you feel like a part of their group. The feeling had stuck until the present day, even if you had your own friends and didn’t spend much time with them as you once did, they had grown to look out for you in their own ways. They all saw you like a little sister and you saw them all like family, but the ache in your heart screamed to this day for something more from a certain someone, your eyes lingering a second longer on him before you turned back to James.

“What did you do now?” you said accusatively, crossing your arms over your chest. You had seen the terror slide from his face the moment he saw it was you calling his full name, he had done something and you knew it.

“Nothing.” he answered defensively, his face tensing as he turned away from you. “We actually have to get to class so I’ll see you later , you goblin.” he stretched his arm, ruffling your hair again before he took off running. “Bye Willow!” he yelled, waving his hand in the air as your friend did the same.

Remus, Peter and Sirius said their goodbyes quickly, following James closely as you and Willow stood there watching them go, only you noticing the slow steps that Sirius was taking, his head turned towards you as he waved his hand. Your giggle echoed the stone walls as he winked in your direction, a smile forming in your face as he finally disappeared from your sight.

“Merlin, that lasted forever.” Willow breathed out.

“What lasted forever?” you asked her, starting to walk beside her.

“Please, I had to fight the urge to cover my eyes.” she said, laughing in the end. A silence followed her words and she turned to see your confused face as you walked “You and Sirius?” she explained in a whisper, as if the words were forbidden to anyone to say out loud.

You continue walking, your confusion only growing as you stared at her “Wh-What about me and him?” you asked with a string of voice, the sound making Willow relax as she flashed you with a smile.

“Are you that oblivious or you're just in denial?” she asked incredulously “He obviously has a thing for you.” You shushed her quickly, covering her mouth with your hand when her voice raised, the sudden motion capturing the attention of a couple of older students. You smiled tightly in their direction, letting go of your hold on Willow as she stuck her tongue out in your direction, the other students gave you an awkward look but carried on their way without a second look in your direction.

“No need to announce it to the entirety of Hogwarts.” you muttered under your breath, a knowing smile on your friends lips as she nodded successfully.

“So you agree he has a thing for you?” with a huff you nodded, rolling your eyes at the squeal she let out. Her hand took hold of your shoulder and she shook you gently “And do you?” she asked “Do you feel something for him?”

Suddenly, your eyes found every single detail of the castle interesting, your eyes landing on every wall with the most intense curiosity as to avoid Willow’s eyes, but there was no escaping her glare “Oh, c´mon!” you hissed, covering your face and dragging your hands down your face “Have you seen him? Of course I have a thing for him.”

Willow laughed but kept her now warm gaze calm on you “But do you have feelings for him?” she asked.

You snapped out of the embarrassed state you were in, turning to her with a frown “I don’t know.” you admitted.

Truly, you didn’t know.

*******

The weekend arrived at Hogwarts, the sunlight shining softly through the windows and over the faces of those closest to them as the birds sang just outside to greet the early risers.

You groaned as soon as the sun caressed the side of your face. “Five more minutes.” you mumbled, covering your face with your pillow, turning to the opposite side with your back to the window.

The quiet room soon was filled with soft snores that you tried to ignore, the noise only growing louder as you pressed the pillow harder against your face. Your eyes snapped open and you rose, supporting your weight on your forearms as you glared to the bed right to yours. One minute passed, then two and then three and you thought you held back enough. Your hand reached for your pillow, throwing it with all your force towards Willow’s face.

Her sudden scream was muffled by the tangled covers that got all over her face as she fell from her bed. The entire mess of limbs and sputter of words lasted for only a second before she emerged from her covers, her eyes instantly landing on you “What was that for?!” she demanded, taking the pillow from beside her and throwing it back.

Ducking her throw, you narrowed your eyes “You’re loud,” you said, getting out of bed “and I’m hungry.”

*******

“I looooove pancakes.” Willow murmured as she took a seat, getting her plate and starting to serve the food without another thought.

A breathy laugh left your lips, taking your spot right in between James and Willow “What Willow means is good morning.” you said with a smile. It had become a habit to have breakfast with James on the weekends when your house didn’t matter and everyone could enjoy their meals without colors keeping them from other students.

“And she lives.” James laughed at the sight of you “You’re an early bird now?”

You glared at him, glancing at Willow once before you huffed heavily “You can blame the bear having breakfast over there.” you said, pointing at her.

She limited to wave a dismissive hand in your direction, her focus on the food in front of her more than in any other thing.

Everyone laughed at your friend’s behaviour, the sleep still in her eyes as she ate. She was oblivious to all the eyes in her.

“Can someone get me the syrup, please?” you asked, reaching your hand in the air. A familiar warmth in your fingertips made you raise your head, your hand lingering there for a moment before you smiled “Thank you.” you told Sirius, a glint in your eyes as you stared at him. His own smile didn’t go unnoticed by you and that sense of calm filled you once more. How could someone so chaotic be such a calming presence to you?

Breakfast became your favorite moment of the week. It was the moment of the week where you had an excuse to be near Sirius, where you could sit next to him and no one would question it. Breakfast became more than just being able to sit close to him or accidentally brushing your hands together. Saturday mornings became your mornings, just you and Sirius. As if the world knew it was the only time and place you could share knowing glances, where smiles looked brighter and the feeling of butterflies wilder. Sirius could swear that holding your hand underneath the table was the best feeling, one where he could swear your skin felt softer and your palm warmer. No one could say a thing, because it was just you and him. Y/N and Sirius.

In those short minutes or rapid hours no words were needed.

But Sirius loved taking risks.

You look lovely, by the way he would whisper in your ear, away from the noise and praying eyes of the rest of your friends.

Soon, the time you two had on the weekend over breakfast wasn’t enough. You started meeting late in the evenings when most of the students prefer to stay inside the castle to avoid the chill air. You two had no problem with it, you had come to enjoy it.

“Tell me more about it.” he asked you gently, his back resting against a tall tree. He held your hand in his, both intertwined and resting against your chest. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

You looked up at him, your head resting on his lap as you thought about it “Well, some muggles believe in witchcraft but not like we know it. You see, we have magic and come here to study it but only a few of us. They believe everyone can perform a spell with the right motivation, they use all kinds of herbs and crystals that we don’t.” you said, your free hand moving with your words as if it was a melody and you were directing “Some of them work with their ancestors and work hard to heal. It’s a completely different kind of witchcraft. They do spells, charms and rituals but not like we do, they even do it dancing. Can you imagine?” you asked, lifting from your position to look at him.

If it weren’t because you waited for his answer he could’ve stayed there watching you. For a moment he swore you were gleaming and he never wanted to let the image go from his mind. He saw you in a different light for the first time, one he hadn’t been able to see you from before. “Dancing?” he asked.

You nodded eagerly, standing and pulling him with you. You let go of his hand and started to move, spinning in your spot with your robes flowing around your bare feet. You took little jumps and started to move your hands with the flow of your hair just above your head.

He really couldn't resist.

You had closed your eyes at some point, giving him the chance to run up to you, the squeal that left your lips didn’t cover his laugh, his arm secured around your waist as he spun you in the air. You were both laughing, the sun setting behind your backs as he finally set you down and then he realized, he felt like all this was coming out of his dreams.

His arms stayed around your waist, swaying gently to the sound of your humming, his head resting comfortably on top of your head. “Are you happy?” he asked you.

You expected for your heartbeat to go crazy, for the palms of your hands to start sweating but all you felt was an overwhelming calm taking over you. You sigh, resting your back against his chest as he held you “I am.” you told him “I feel happy with you.”

TAGS

Skittles

@iwritesiriusly / @trinimalfoyyy / @megaprincesscakes / @lunalovegoodsgirlfriend / @amourtentiaa / @zaidlyn / @aconfusedslytherin / @animprxperworld / @aconfusedslytherin / @the-lonely-poet-loves-to-weep / @dreamcxtcherr / @angelsandsorcery / @badass-yn

Marauders

@destourtereaux / @ktyflwr / @nehireerdogan / @medalloway-blog / @waxsealed-letters / @j-cat / @aleksanderwh0r3

Sirius Black

@funravenclaw2002 / @blackst0nes7077 / @lilylikethefl0wer / @just-wordsandthoughts / @bhavanaa

[ahopelessromantic]

Children of Sun and Darkness (M)

Part two of A Child of Sun and Darkness

Pairing: The Darkling x Sun Summoner! female reader

Word count: 8,7k (oh boy)

Warnings: once again, spoiler of the Darkling’s name, SMUT, Aleksander being a SIMP, fluff, so much fluff, villainous behavior

A/N: I really, really got carried away with this one. Especially since I didn’t even intend to have any smut in here. But alas, the apology letters to Ben Barnes and Leigh Bardugo are sent once more and I wish you all a happy reading experience. I really do must warn you again of the Darkling as a father though, I don’t think you’re ready.

A gorgeous ray of sunshine was tickling your barely awake self.  There were things to do, certainly, but your bed felt far too heavenly to be left already. The air had recently begun to smell like the promise of summer, and it paired so nicely with the flowers Aleksander always brought to your bedside table. Aleksander, you thought sleepily and slowly opened your eyes. You would have loved to curl into his lean body for a few more minutes before getting up, but it seemed like he had already so cruelly abandoned you. You were about to pout like a little baby when a soft morning wind carried the sound of laughter through your window. Aleksander must have opened it before leaving your shared chambers. Wanting to know the source of these joyous sounds, you slipped into your morning robe and stepped in front of the big window. After your marriage to the infamous Darkling, the two of you had moved your chambers to be closer to the Little Palace’s beautiful gardens. From where you stood now, your position on the second floor gave you the perfect view over them.

“There she is.” Your husband beamed with his lovely deep voice. He was looking up to you with nothing but adoration in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself. Your daughter, barely even four, shrieked happily at your sight and sent another ray of sunshine your way. “Good morning, my love!” You called out to her. She ran up to her father, who picked her up so she could see you better. Your chest warmed at the sight of the two people you loved most in the world, the serenity in their expressions. “Good morning Mama!” She giggled back. You blew her a kiss, which she caught enthusiastically. “You should have awoken me!” You chided your husband. He smiled. “How could I, when you were sleeping so peacefully? Besides, we wanted to try if Ilona could get her sun rays all the way through to our bed. Did she manage it?” The proudest smile grew across your lips. “She did. You did amazing, honey. So amazing, that when I get down there, I’m gonna have to smooch you all over!” “NOOO!” She screamed and skipped away to the pond to look at her beloved fish. “Are you coming down for breakfast? I already had the servants set out a table.” You sighed happily and just looked at your husband for a moment. “You really do think of everything, don’t you?” The grin he sent you in response caused your knees to weaken. “Who would I be if I didn’t.” To hide your blush, you scrunched your nose and disappeared from the window to get dressed for the day. Only a short while later you had finally made it to the gardens, clad in the same colour as your husband: deep black. Upon seeing you, your daughter began to happily run towards you. Suddenly then she seemed to remember your threat of extra smooches and turned around, but it was too late. You caught up with her and gathered her into your arms, tickling and kissing her all over. She laughed loudly, only half trying to escape. “Good morning, little sunshine.” You finally properly greeted her once you were done, pressing a long kiss to the top of her head. She turned around in your arms and buried her face in your neck. “Did I do good with the sunray, mama?” You smiled and pulled her even closer. “You did so well, Ilona. I love you.” She leaned away to look at you, the brightest smile on her adorable little face. “I love you!” She responded and kissed your cheek. Saints, she was everything good and soft in the world come to life. “Can I go feed the fishies?” She asked enthusiastically. You grinned at her, forever enchanted by the little human that was so you and so Aleksander. “Of course you can. Go ask the servants, they’ll give you some food for them.” The Darkling, who had watched the interaction between you and your daughter, stepped forward with a happy smile. You were about to ask what specifically he was smiling about when he placed his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. There was barely anyone around, but the kiss’ immodesty still caused your cheeks to flush. “My sun.” He whispered, only for you to hear. “I swear you look lovelier by the day.” You sighed, still phased by the kiss, and slid your arms around his waist. “And I swear you get more charming by the day. Is it a thing of darkness, your cheek? I think I see some of it in Ilona.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your temple. “I think that’s all you actually.” He nodded to where she was knelt on the edge of the pond, apparently talking to its inhabitants. “I only know one other being that can be so kind and yet so fierce.” For a moment, his words rendered you speechless, but then you pinched the fabric of his kefta. “Alright, Mr Darkling, now you’re overdoing it. Where is this breakfast you’ve promised me? I’m starving.”

Giggling like the two lovestruck Grisha you had been years ago, you set off to the little table laden with delicious breakfast foods. It gave you a perfect view of your daughter, close enough to see her, yet far away enough to allow her the space even she as a little person was owed. You and your little family spent most mornings like this: Breaking the fast together, you and your husband watching your daughter play, talking court politics while eating. There were unrests in Ravka again, unrests the old king didn’t seem capable of dealing with. “He’s a fool, and I wished I could see him gone.” You hummed at your husband’s words, staring at your tea in deep thought. If he had only been just a fool, you thought. He wouldn’t be any danger to anyone, then, but his empty-brained attempts at displays of dominance were costing the second army precious lives every time. But he was still the king, and the two of you were still just the second army’s general and his wife. “Careful with the treason talk so early in the morning, my love. I don’t think it’s all that becoming with my sweet roll.” He smiled and took your hand from across the table. You squeezed it and sent him a meaningful glance. “Besides, you never know who might be listening. You know I couldn’t bear it if the Lantsov family were to imprison you.” Aleksander sighed, now, and wistfully looked across the Little Palace’s grounds. Some Grisha were training in the far distance, Inferni, by the looks of it. His gaze was pensive, a look you well knew by now- he was planning something. But apparently, it was too early to let you in on his schemes yet. He just pressed a kiss to your knuckles and looked at you in earnest. “I promise you, my sun. One day, we won’t have to bow to anyone. Our world will only consist of our family and Grisha, and it will be safe. I promise.” An unexpectedly reverent feeling spread across the breakfast table. You nodded solemnly. “One day.” You whispered back. That seemed to please him because his face returned to the kind smiles he usually wore around you, and he pressed another kiss to the back of your hand. “I love you.” He mouthed at you, and you mouthed it right back. Then, as it tended to happen with a toddler child, the two of you were interrupted by Ilona climbing into her father’s lap. “Papa, can I have a dagger?” Both you and Aleksander snorted out a laugh at the determination in your daughter’s voice. She really was a force of nature, your little one- quite literally. Not fully in control of her powers yet, she seemed eternally surrounded half by darkness, half by light. No one had thought it possible, but so far it seemed she had inherited both yours and your beloved’s powers. Ballads were being sung about her in taverns ever since word of her powers had left the Palace walls and witch hunters trying to get to her ever since that, too. Now, Aleksander Morozova had always been concerned with the safety of all Grisha. But more and more often these days you found him pacing in his war room at night, or watching your daughter with far more than fatherly sorrow. It was an all-consuming fear and sorrow for her safety- one you shared. There was nothing you wouldn’t do to know her safe. Once you had been driven by ambition, then by love for your husband. But now such a fierce protectiveness spurred you on that caused you to think yourself capable of far greater evils than your husband had ever committed.

“Do you think the Second Army would follow us? If we were to split from the king?” Aleksander’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his deep brown eyes finding yours. The two of you had been dealing with some late-night paperwork, General’s duties. As the sun summoner and, in addition, the Darkling’s wife, you almost held as much power and responsibility as him these days. Your husband put down his pen and pensively sank back into his chair. “I don’t know.” He uttered finally. “I wish they would, of course. But some Grisha are as loyal to Ravka as Otkazat'sya. Some of them do wish to serve their country. And some of them do love their king.” He grimaced at that, and you had to bite back a laugh. “Ravka’s eagle is double-headed for a reason, you know.” He continued, and you turned serious once more. The sentiment of Ravka’s duality was a nice one- but one that was destined to fail, in your opinion. The Grisha already lived so separated from the country’s regular citizens that it was almost ridiculous to even count them as part of them. Most Otkazat'sya seemed to condemn Grisha for their powers, and most Grisha seemed to look down on the Otkazat'sya. They both had their good reasons, you figured. But how much contempt, how much annoyance or even hatred separated non-Grisha from Drüskelle? You inwardly shuddered at the thought of Fjerda’s Army, with their repeating rifles and their ruthlessness. Aleksander’s hand on your shoulder caused you to return to reality. “What’s on your mind, my sun?” He asked, his voice ever so soft. Sometimes, with how much love he showed you every day, you forgot about how evil he could be, how hated he was by so many. “I-“ You began, then sighed. “I’m thinking about what you said the other day, at breakfast. About not having to bow to anyone. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. What would happen if we were to take one of the eagle’s heads? Leave the people and their Lantsovs to themselves and found our own sovereign nation of Grisha power. It would be of the tsar family’s interest to stay in our good natures, we could trade their foods and goods for our protection. But on our own terms. And we would be safe, in a city of our own, protected by Fabrikator walls and your Darkness. Ilona would be safe.” Your husband had that look on his face again. That look of deep contemplation. “A safe place for all Grisha. Most importantly, Ilona. That’s all I’ve ever wanted in life.” He said quietly. You stroked his cheek, ran a hand through his hair. “I know.” You hummed. For a moment, you spotted a glimpse of the man he had been when your daughter had been born. He had been so eager to do everything right. So happy, yet so frightened and worried at the same time. His first words upon seeing the little bundle that was your newborn daughter had been “She’s so small”, accompanied by tearful eyes. She had been small indeed, so very little. During the first weeks after her birth, whenever you hadn’t been holding her, he had been. There hadn’t been a nanny, a wet nurse even. The both of you had been far too afraid to let your precious daughter out of your sight. Still were. She was your everything. You felt guilty for steering your nightly conversation down such a dark path, so you took his hand and lovingly squeezed it. “I trust you, Aleksander. I trust you to do what’s right for us as Grisha, and for us as a family. And believe me when I say I will be by your side for anything you ever decide on doing.” The smallest of smiles began to tug at his lips. “Come on now.” You said softly and breathed a kiss against his jaw. “It’s late, and it’s my matrimonial duty to distract my betrothed from any worries that might plague him.” He was fully smiling now, a familiar playful glint in his eyes. He tilted his head and looked at you with one raised eyebrow. “How would you think to go about doing that?” You returned his playful smile and got up to settle yourself right into his lap. Something dark flashed across his eyes, something that told you you wouldn’t yet sleep for many more hours. “What about this?” You whispered and experimentally ground down on him. A devious smile was on your lips. For a moment, he let you have the upper hand. Leaned his head back, breathed deeply. Sometimes, you were allowed to see him like this. To have him like this. Feeling bashful, you leaned forward to place a myriad of kisses against his neck. You could almost hear his heartbeat speeding up, his breathing growing heavier. His hands wandered to your waist, then to your hips. He used his strength to press you down on him, and it was then that you were done for. Your moment had ended, it was his turn now. Aleksander looked up at you with dark eyes, his pupils were blown wide and barely noticeable in the low lighting. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you sometimes.” His voice had dropped at least an octave deeper. “My perfect, perfect wife. My perfect sun, with a body so powerful. A body strong enough to bear life.” Feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden, you had to make an effort to bite back the tears that had risen to your eyes. Your husband truly always knew what exactly to say- even to a mother who sometimes found herself quite insecure in her new curves. “I love you.” You marvelled, kissing him softly. He smiled into the kiss and deepened it until you were both gasping for air. “Shall we retreat for the night, my sun?” You were about to respond when he lifted you up and placed you on the table the two of you had been sitting at. “Or do you want to taint this place forevermore? Curse it, so I think of being inside of you whenever I hold council here?” You innocently looked up at him through your lashes. Then, you smirked. That seemed to have been answer enough, because he was on you again in seconds, devouring every inch of skin he came across. “Do you remember our first night?” You gasped out between moans. Aleksander stopped in his tracks for a moment to look at you, lifted your chin with his fingers. He looked unravelled. Like he was merely dangling by a thread anymore. “You mean when I almost had you in the hallway, of all places?” You grinned and felt your eyes light up. “Exactly.” You whispered and leaned forward to capture his lips again. He groaned into the kiss. “Saints.” He panted. He seldomly addressed saints, if ever. It sent a wave of cocky satisfaction through you. “All this time with you, and you still find ways to catch me off guard.” Chuckling, you pulled him impossibly closer by his collar, crossing your legs behind his waist and grinding up against him. “I think it’s included in those matrimonial duties of mine.” “You’re going to have to- ah.” He took a deep breath. “-Send me a list of those.” You wanted to respond something, anything, but you didn’t get the chance to. Not while your kefta was being unclasped, not while his hands bunched up your skirts around your hips. “Do you want to go slower?” He asked, breathing heavily, his forehead leaned against yours. You closed your eyes for a moment, then smiled. You felt surrounded by your husband, by his scent, his presence, his arms. Most of all, you felt safe. A kind of safety only Aleksander had ever been able to provide for you. After a moment, you shook your head. “No.” You answered, nipping at his neck. “No.” You said again, sliding his kefta off his shoulders. “I want you. I need you. Now.” Suddenly, time seemed to speed up. You helped the Darkling unbuckle his pants, shrugged off your own coat, allowed him to rip most of your blouse open. The thoughts of witch hunters and civil unrests were still heavy on your mind, and you wanted him hard and fast, so he could take away all of your worries. Normally you weren’t as impatient as this. The two of you loved drawing things out in the bedroom, all teasing kisses and devilish grins. But today, things were different. Today you wanted to forget. Today you wanted to be overpowered by him. You didn’t even have the proper time to admire his length, for as soon as it had been exposed, it was already teasing along your folds. You sighed out shakily. “How badly do you want it?” Aleksander asked, one hand playing with your breast. “So badly, Aleksander.” He sighed at that, too. His name from your words would maybe never lose its effect. “If you were taken from me, I would kill. I would destroy entire cities to have you again. To have this again.” Your words almost felt as intimate as your wedding vows. They sent you both forward again, lips colliding in a clash of teeth. His tongue touched yours and sent a bolt of electricity down to your nether regions. “Nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing will ever take me from you.” He vowed back. With that, he entered you, and you both moaned out loudly. “Fuck!” He almost yelled. “How are you still so tight?” It was clearly a rhetorical question he didn’t want an answer for, for his hands were clasped around your neck. You allowed your head to drop back in pleasure and voluntarily clenched around him. “All for you.” You rasped out through his grip. He started fucking into you at that, the both of you losing your ability to form proper sentences once the so familiar fire started to spread between you. Somewhere, the edge of a book was pricking into your side, but it only spurred you on further. You always felt like the queen of the world like this- desired, full of pleasure, the most powerful man in the kingdom losing himself in you. You thought of how he would never be able to look at this table normally again, how he would twitch in that adorable way of his whenever people weren’t paying attention to him. Saints, you loved him. You loved him. Your heart felt warm and full, but so did you. At some point he hoisted you even further onto the table, his pace relentless now. But you didn’t care, you needed more, more, more. “Aleksander!” You gasped out when he brushed up against that place inside of you. “I love you.” You panted, tightening your legs around him. He looked at you like there was nothing else ever worth being looked at. Like you were a painting he could neither understand nor get enough of. With shaky hands he moved a few wayward strands of hair out of your face, then he cupped it in his hands tightly. “I love you.” He answered, stressing each word with a thrust of his hips. “Oh fucking saints, I love you. I’m so close.” “Let go.” You encouraged him seductively, tugging at the hair in the nape of his neck. “Give it to me, Aleksander.” His pace seemed to grow impossibly faster until it grew erratic. “My sun. My love, my goddess, I’m going to-“ With a loud moan, he came, his pulsating member spilling his seed into you. You helped him ride out his high, pulled him closer, clenched and unclenched in his rhythm. He shuddered at that; head buried in your neck. It was your moment once again. He was all yours to have. “I love you.” The two of you whispered at almost the same time and broke out into laughter. But the laughter caused you to clench again, and Aleksander winced from the hypersensitivity. “You’re just too tight, my love.” He almost teased and moved to remove himself from you. He wasn’t really in a state to tease again, yet. You pouted. “But I don’t want you to leave me. I always feel so empty afterwards.” He breathed a kiss to your cheek that could have well been a concealed laugh. Sometimes the two of you would stay connected like that for ages, neither of you willing to end this incredibly pleasurable state of warmth and satiation. But while that was easy to do on a bed, it wasn’t so much on a desk. “Besides.” You continued. “We’re going to make a mess.” Your husband looked at you, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “I like the mess.”, he said decidedly. “Leave it to the servants to be cleaned up. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? For someone to know what cursed, unholy things their Saint does for her evil husband?” You barely even blushed at his words. Saints, he had ruined you- in the best way possible. “Now come on, my sun.” He uttered. “If I remember correctly, you still need taking care of.” You shuddered at the thought of what was to come. His fingers inside of you, his lips on your most sensitive spot. Oh, how good you had it. Smiling and holding his hand, you followed your husband back to your chambers. He stayed true to his promise there- two times. Afterwards, you sleepily held him in your arms, your fingers drawing abstract, invisible designs onto the skin of his back. Through the connection the two of you shared you could feel his peacefulness as if it was your own, a sense of pride filling you. You were the one in whose presence he could relax, let his guards down- no one else. You pressed a gentle kiss to his hair, a silent ‘I love you’. “My love?” He murmured and pressed an equally soft kiss to your shoulder. “Hm?” You hummed in response and watched your husband straighten up so he was able to look you in the eyes. He sighed, visibly struggling to find the right words. “I want more children, as many you’d be willing to have. Brothers and sisters for Ilona, so she will never be alone. More time for us to experience holding a newborn babe again. But I fear for our daughter so much, every day. I fear for any future children of ours, even. And I think we’ve lived in fear for long enough. I’ve lived in fear long enough. I thought if we just waited for the king to die, waited for him to live out his pathetic mortal life, we could seize control one day. But I’ve been patient for centuries, and I’m tired of it. I think the time for action has come.” Aleksander’s words caused you to sit up, too, your heartbeat uncontrollably speeding up. “Will you fight with me, my love?” You pensively moved a strand of his hair away from his gorgeous features, then lifted your chin. “Always.” You breathed. The smallest of smiles lit up his face. Your husband leaned up to kiss you, then pulled you into his embrace. “We’ll change the world. For us. For our family.” You squeezed his arm in response. You truly would.

The next few months were spent meticulously planning the beheading of the ravkan eagle. Your mornings were spent in softness, laughing with your daughter, cuddling with her in bed, and then that softness was exchanged for the coldness of daily council meetings. Spies were seeking out the intelligence of the opinions of Grisha on a potential Grisha state, letters were being sent, fighting styles being trained. The king and queen would pose the smallest problems for your cause- they would either cooperate with the second army’s leaving or leave their lives. Angry mobs were your bigger worry- there was a smart way to go about the splitting off of the kingdom, and you were eager to take it, with as few casualties as possible. Then there was the question of your new country’s location. You didn’t need lands the size of Ravka, but you still needed space for houses, training facilities, farmlands. Surprisingly many Grisha were open to leading a simple life of caring for crops and animals, having long tired of the so-called ‘war effort’. Your council meetings grew with each week, more and more Grisha eager to take part in the founding of a home of their own. Fresh faces kept on turning up every week- a Suli Fabrikator here, a Shu Healer there. The once so spacious halls of the Little Palace were beginning to feel cosy, filled with the hope of new alliances forming. It was getting harder by the day to keep your efforts hidden from the king, and the time to strike seemed to be nearing. Ilona seemed to be feeling it, too. Her new favourite pastime was to make friends with as many of the new Grisha as possible. You and Aleksander had both felt apprehensive about it at first, but once you deemed her safe you realized how much power of her own she truly held. She was a symbol. A symbol of you and your husband’s strength, of a new generation of Grisha. A generation that would grow up in safety, without being trained to be used in fights their entire lives. The people in the Little Palace loved her, they had taken to calling her the ‘Grisha princess’. It made you partly proud, partly uncomfortable. You didn’t want her to be an instrument in your fight for freedom, just another weapon to be used, but you couldn’t hide her away, either. She was still small, and young, but she still deserved a life in the light. Late at night, when he was feeling particularly safe and vulnerable, Aleksander sometimes told you stories from his childhood, his youth. How his mother had eternally urged him to stay hidden in the shadows. It wasn’t a way to live, he had once said. And he was right. Ilona deserved her fishpond, her Grisha friends, her chance to openly use her powers. One day, you and your husband already deep into planning your coup, you watched her play with a young Squaller boy. They were both laughing loudly, their happiness more than contagious. You found yourself smiling, heart and body warmed by the afternoon sun. This was what you were fighting for. What you were always going to fight for. Freedom. Only a few weeks later, the time had come. The king was holding a ball, and it was the perfect opportunity for a show of strength. Countless honorary representatives had been invited, the perfect audience for what you were planning to do. You, your husband, and your legion were hoping for a peaceful encounter. The second army was going to show in its full strength, crowd into the ballroom and declare its conditions. You all hoped the sense of unity you had all started to feel would make itself noticeable, pose a threat. The council meetings with your fellow Grisha had long ceased to feel like generals talking to their subordinates. You were equals in your cause, and as the objectively most powerful Grisha, you and your husband were treated with the respect of such. Almost everyone doubtlessly acknowledged you as the heads of your operation, the rulers of Little Palace. The king, of course, was going to be appalled, yes enraged even over your actions. He would spew harmless threats at first, feeling ashamed and belittled for having missed out on developments of such a grand scale right under his eyes. But his power was by far no match for yours. It had come just as you had hoped it would. The king of Ravka had begrudgingly signed your declaration of independence after hours of discussions, angry tantrums and finally quiet pleads. The Grisha would have their own eagle from now on- no shared heads. You would claim lands west of the fold, protected from each side by mountains, the true sea and the world of shadows your husband had created so long ago. The people already living there would have the choice of continuing to stay there, or move somewhere else for a compensation. Grisha from all over the world would be welcome in this sanctuary- you had space and power enough to keep them all safe. Once the coup was over and done with, you sought out a moment alone with your husband. It was a few days after, and both of you had been stuck in nonstop meetings and conversations with fellow Grisha. There was the name of your nation to be decided on, the flag, the layout of your new city. You had been so busy even, that your victory still hadn’t fully registered with you. “Are you alright?” You nervously asked Aleksander in his private office. It was nicely cool and dark there, a welcome change from the Little Palace’s crowded halls. His eyes met yours at that, a smile reflected in them. He looked the healthiest you had ever seen him, a new vigour in the way he moved. Sometimes you forgot that, while you shared the same cause, it already had been his before that for centuries. His years of pain and solitude had finally paid off. “I am not just alright, my love. I’m overcome with joy. Don’t you see it? We’ve changed the world.” You bit your lip, suddenly feeling overcome with emotion and fairly vulnerable. Carefully stepping into his embrace, you took in his scent, sought out his ever so calming touch. Just like he had done in the very early days of your relationship, he wrapped the two of you in comforting darkness. “I’m a bit scared.” You admitted quietly, choked up with tears. “It feels surreal that we’ve won.” Aleksander sighed and pulled you closer to his body. He knew what you meant- he had felt it too. This fear of everything being ripped away as soon as you’d held it in your grasp. “I know.” He murmured and pressed a kiss to your temple. “But it is done. Our declaration has been signed by the king, his ministers. The first army will allow us to leave- or be met with our collected strength. You’ve seen the halls outside, the gardens. I don’t think as many Grisha as this have ever been in one place, in all of history.” You looked up at his face, the beauty of his finely chiselled cheekbones. He was pure strength, safety. As if to remind you of your own power, you filled the room with a golden glow. You were the legendary shadow and sun summoner, the two strongest Grisha who had ever lived- nothing was going to come into your way. You got onto your tiptoes and hugged him tightly, buried your head in his neck. He reached his arms around your waist, and his so familiar certainty flooded your bloodstream. “We’ll have everything.” You murmured, half incredulously. Your husband chuckled at that and playfully squeezed you tight. “I promised that, didn’t I? I think it’s part of my matrimonial duties.” You both laughed, pulling away to look into each other’s eyes. Aleksander caressed the side of your face, nothing but devotion in his gaze. “I know that this new reality is frightening. We have more to lose than ever. But we can carry this fear together. Turn it into something beautiful, something to last for centuries. We’re not alone as long as we have each other.” At that, you leaned up to kiss him lovingly. You both sighed against the other’s lips. It had been ages since the two of you had last had the time to lose yourselves in each other’s embraces. “We’ll have all the time in the world for this, soon.” You realized suddenly, happily. The darkling smiled. “We will. We will my love.”

A few months later, your husband stormed into your chambers. He exuded a wild sort of happiness, his eyes restless. First, he pressed a kiss to Ilona's head, then he picked her up and twirled her around. She shrieked with laughter, and you lowered the book you had been reading while your daughter had played into your lap. Aleksander’s eyes met yours, untamed joy written in his features. “It is finished.” He spoked, and as if struck by lightning, you got up from your seat. Your book clattered to the floor, and the loud sound sent your heart racing. “Is it really?” You quietly asked, eyes wide and incredulous. He nodded reverently, hugging Ilona close to his chest. “The head of the Durasts received the word just this morning. The Fabrikators have finished our city, based on the drawings we’ve both seen. It’s marvellous, according to their reports.” Your hand wandered to your heart, as if to will it to go slower. You breathed heavily, taking a moment to let the realization sink in. You would be safe, on your own terms. Not the king’s. Both you and your husband had been overseeing the construction of your new city from within the Little Palace’s walls, not wanting to leave until it seemed completely safe. For months, assorted groups of Grisha soldiers, healers and most importantly, Durasts, had been crossing the fold to make your shared dream of a Grisha nation come true. The Darkling stepped closer to you, put his arms around both you and your daughter. A giggle escaped your lips. “It’s done.” You breathed; happy tears in your eyes. Aleksander returned your look with equal happiness and leaned forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Ilona giggled, sensing the happiness of her parents. “We can start the moving nothing shorter than this week if you want to. They’ll need your powers for the fold.” Sending smaller groups through the fold was alright. But for the massive move you were planning, you would accompany the myriad of coaches and carts, to keep the Grisha and their belongings safe. “The two of you will be alright here, for a while?” You poked Ilona’s side, and both her and your husband laughed. “We’ll have loads of fun. We’ll have a parade to say goodbye to all the fish, and we’ll tour the Little Palace to pick out all the paintings Ilona wants to take with her.” You grinned happily. They’d truly be alright.

The move was exhausting but fulfilling. You crossed the fold several times a week, accompanied by carts stacked with furniture, livestock and necessary equipment. Once an Alkemi cart almost eradicated a group of Inferni, a sign of how nervous and eager everyone was to escape into a country of their own. Your favourite part was listening in on the other Grisha’s conversations while guiding them through the fold. There was a group of young tidemakers gushing about the prospect of seeing the true sea for the first time and playing with it, two Alkemi discussing how to maximize carrot harvests with the right mixture of sun and Grisha fertilizer. You hadn’t been to the new capital yet, only seen its buildings gleaming in the far-off distance. You wanted it to be a surprise, to set foot in it for the first time with your husband and daughter.

“Enjoying the view one last time?” You asked gently and leaned against the doorframe. Aleksander turned to look at you in surprise, looking a bit lost in the empty room. The time to leave had come, and he had been quietly saying his goodbyes to the Little Palace for the past week. The two of you stood in what had once been his office, now nothing but an empty room with a pretty view. Your husband sighed, something in his expression calling out to you. You walked up to him and allowed him to put his arms around you. “Where’s Ilona?” He asked softly. You smiled. “With the other children. I think they’re playing one last epic round of hide and seek.” That answer seemed to calm him, free his thoughts for other topics. The two of you stared out of the window in silence for a while. Eventually, he sighed. His chin leaned on your shoulder, and you could feel his apprehensiveness. “I’ve wanted to leave this godforsaken place for decades. To never have to see the Grand Palace again. But despite all of that leaving is…” He trailed off, his gaze wandering into the distance. “It’s harder than I expected.” You placed your hands on his arms around you, squeezed them gently. “You’ve built this place. It’s only understandable you find it difficult to leave behind.” He scoffed, and you knew that sound. He made it whenever he was feeling something he hadn’t expected to feel. “This was the first place I’ve ever felt safe in. The first at least relatively safe place for Grisha there’s ever been.” You gulped down a ball of tears. “You should be proud of that.” You whispered. At that, he finally smiled. “You’re right. This is a first draft- a product of the past. We’re moving into the future now.” Grasping one of his hands, you held it up to your lips to press a kiss against it. “Are there any things you still want to take with you? Any last thing you still want to do?” He turned you around in his embrace and pressed your back against the wall right next to the window. A playful glint was in his eyes now, and you were overwhelmed by the sheer happiness he exuded. “I could think of a few things.” He placed a naughty kiss against the side of your neck, and you giggled. “You’re insatiable.” He straightened back up to look at you again and took an impossible step closer to you. “For you? Always.” He breathed, and the time for laughter was over.

The move to your new home took about three days. You wanted to take your time, show Ilona the parts of Ravka she had never seen. But of all things, the Shadow Fold seemed to have awoken her interest the most. While the other children and many adults, too, huddled close for protection, she skipped ahead. Her head was continuously tilted upwards in an attempt to take everything in. “I think she’s sensing your power. It feels familiar to her.” You smiled, taking your husband’s arm. His gaze was fixed to your daughter’s small figure, and his eyes glistened suspiciously. It was only then it dawned upon you- the Fold had been his biggest mistake, his very own monster- an abomination. Seeing his own daughter treat it with so much innocent fascination must have stirred hurt parts of his soul you couldn’t even begin to imagine. Your smile died down into a face of quiet adoration. You took a step back and left Aleksander to have this moment by himself. After centuries, he probably had been starving for one like it. After a few minutes, he turned around, his gaze seeking yours. There weren’t many Grisha around, most of them had moved already, so he allowed himself to keep his guards a bit lower than he usually did in the presence of other people. You sent him an encouraging smile and caught up with him to take his hand. “Do you want to catch up with her? We should probably get back to the coach if we want to make it out of the fold by noon.” He returned your smile, then took off towards your daughter in quick strides. “I’m coming to get you, Ilona!” She put up quite the fight, but in the end, she curled into her father’s arms, still giggling. She had always loved playing catch with him, even when her legs had barely carried her for more than a few steps. You didn’t miss the way Aleksander first glanced at the Fold around him, kept at bay by your powers, and then buried his face in Ilona’s hair. He was cherishing every moment of this. The next day, Nostova’s walls finally appeared on the horizon. The name you had ended up deciding on for your new country meant home, and you already felt a fierce kind of pride for it. “It’s just like the drawings.” You marvelled while finally riding through the gates. The bright Fabrikator made walls gleamed in the afternoon walls, and behind every corner, something new took your breath away. Eventually, you finally arrived at the most important building- your new home. It slightly resembled the Little Palace but looked… homier. There was enough space for administrative offices, meeting rooms, ballrooms for celebrations and a great hall to receive visitors. Emissaries from Ravka or Grisha with petitions, things of that sort. Walking through it, an eternal look of astonishment seemed to take hold of your face. It took you everything not to openly gape at the beautiful furnishings, the symbol of your nation etched into the entrance hall’s stone. An eagle, half shrouded by shadows, half dipped in light. It looked proud, grim, protective. And not like the Ravkan eagle at all. But what you liked most of it all were your new private chambers. There was space enough for at least four more toddlers, a library of your favourite books, a sitting room with a painting of you and your husband. It felt regal and comfortable at the same time. There was a private little staircase from your and Ilona’s bedrooms to the garden, something Aleksander had specifically requested. The Fabrikators had outdone themselves, and you only hoped they would feel the same pride in their work as you felt looking at it. The compensation they had received for their work would allow them more than comfortable lives in Nostova, lives they would hopefully enjoy. Your heart almost bursting with happiness, you watched Ilona and your husband take your new living quarters by storm, your little princess loudly counting down everything she approved of. With an inward sigh, you realized how spoiled she was going to be here. But whenever you talked to Aleksander about that he never seemed to quite understand the problem. ‘Let her be spoiled’, he only always said. Sometimes you forgot just how wrapped around Ilona’s little fingers he was. An odd thought struck you at the sight of your little family. This, Nostova, would be the first time in so long Grisha families would be able to stay together. Children would have their mothers and fathers again, would be allowed to train their powers with them by their side. “You look a little choked up, my love.” Your husband said teasingly, coming to a halt in front of you. His breathing was heavy from all the running around with your girl, and his hair was a mess. The darkling you had first met at the Fold years ago would claw his eyes out at the sight. You grinned at him, completely at ease with your husband seeing your emotions. “I’m just beginning to realize what all of this means. It’s incredible.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, at which Ilona demanded he return to her so they could explore the rest of your rooms. You and your husband shared a laugh, taking a moment to revel in your happiness. “I have a surprise for you later.” He whispered into your ear, and then he was gone, back to playing with your daughter. You had to refrain from fanning your face. Your cheeks felt very hot all of a sudden.

“Where are we going?” You whisper shouted, tightly holding onto your husband’s hand. This definitely wasn’t the kind of surprise you had expected. Aleksander chuckled and just kept dragging you in the direction of Nostova Castle’s main wing. After many halls and double doors, he finally came to a halt in front of a set of gilded doors. He positioned himself between you and them, an impish smile on his face. “I know I told you you’ve already seen most of the castle, but I wanted to keep this as a surprise for you. Show it to you when it’s just us two.” You lifted your eyebrows, your excitement starting to match with his. “What is it?” He bit his lips, seemingly conflicted. “Close your eyes.” He finally commanded. You breathed out a laugh in surprise but complied. “For someone who’s centuries-old, you really do behave childishly sometimes.” Your husband chuckled. “Now, dearest wife. Don’t stab where it hurts. Besides, you have centuries ahead of you yourself.” At that, you smiled. You did. Centuries by your husband’s side, centuries to watch your children grow up in peace and find love themselves. Your husband had already led you into the room behind the golden doors. Your steps echoed loudly, a sign of its probable grandeur. The two of you stopped and you felt Aleksander step behind you. “Would you give us a little light, my sun?” Smiling, eyes still closed, you called upon enough light to dip your surroundings in a light glow. “This…” He started, then sighed. “This is the most important room in the castle. We’ll receive guests here, announce decisions… open your eyes. This is our throne room.” Your eyes snapped open, and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips. Just in front of you, on top of a few stairs, two breath-taking chairs overlooked the room. To your feet, a stunning mosaic of a sun in eclipse was let into the floor. One of the chairs was made of part gold, part glass, the glass reflecting your light beautifully and sending it through the room in tiny specks. The other one was made of the darkest wood, silver stars worked into the back- and armrests. But that wasn’t even the most beautiful aspect of them. The chairs stood a few inches apart, but where they were closest to each other they bled into the colour of the other. The golden one’s side was dipped in black, the black one’s side in gold. They were undeniably yours. Still rendered speechless, you climbed the stairs and sat down in the golden chair. It was surprisingly comfortable, and from it, you could oversee the throne room in its entirety. It was beautiful and regal enough to put Ravka’s Palace’s rooms to shame. The Darkling looked at you nervously, awaiting a reaction. You smiled at him and beckoned him to join you. “It’s beautiful.” You said happily, a smile growing across your husband’s face in return. He sat down in his place next to you, and for a moment the two of you just sat there and took in the view. This was your status now. Sovereigns of your very own nation, with thrones to call your own. You got up from your seat, enjoying the Darkling’s eyes on you. You stepped in front of him and slowly curtsied, conjuring your best demure expression. “Moi soverennyi.” You breathed out, looking at him from beneath your lashes. He chuckled, but you didn’t miss the hunger flashing in his eyes. You had decided to stick with his old title and have people address you as such, too. Nostova felt like it had outgrown the concept of Kings and Queens, but you and your husband both still undeniably held the power over the state. Feeling bold in the dark of the night, you sank into your husband’s lap. He was quick to pull you close, put his arms around you. “How improper you are, my lady.” You stifled a laugh. “I had to see if yours is comfortable, too, didn’t I?” He chuckled and littered kisses against your jaw, your cheek, your neck. “I can’t even tell you with how much joy it fills me to see you so happy here. Ilona, too.” Still smiling, you played with fingers. “I am happy.” You confirmed. “Happy we finally have made our place in the world. Made it ours. At the perfect timing, too.” You felt Aleksander start at that, and he turned you in his lap so he could look at your face. “What do you mean?” He looked confused, and a bit scared. Deciding he could stay like that for a moment, you just took him in, smoothed his hair back. He was beautiful. Powerful, dangerous, yours. “Don’t you feel it?” It wouldn’t hurt him to tease him a bit more. Just like he always did when he wanted to feel what you felt he sought out the touch of your skin on his- and shuddered. “Oh my.” He whispered and touched you again as if to make sure. “My love!” His gaze locked with yours, wide with surprise. Then, the most brilliant smile split his sometimes eternal frown. “Is it really-?” You nodded and placed a hand on your belly. “Ilona will have her first sibling soon.” With that, Aleksander started frantically talking. “I must have been so distracted by all the planning that I haven’t even noticed it, I can’t believe it! Our second child! For how long! We must make preparations at once, call a Healer-” Tears of joy in your eyes, you shut him up with a kiss on the lips. “I’ve already talked to Asa, the same healer as last time. He figures I’m about four moons along. So there’s still plenty of time for us to prepare.” Aleksander just looked at you completely starstruck for a moment. “I love you.” He finally murmured. You smiled, placing your hand on top of his on your belly. “I love you more.”

Soon after, your first son would be born. Your lovely little boy, named Kiran. Ilona was completely smitten with him, just like you and your husband. After him, four more children followed. Some were sun summoners like you, some shadow summoners like your beloved husband, some both, like Ilona. But all of them would gain legendary status throughout the centuries. They would travel the world, help settle conflicts between the neighbouring countries that rose and fell as if in the blink of an eye. Nostova, on the contrary, remained eternal. Like you and your husband. Its peace had allowed Grisha to grow stronger than ever, and your nation now counted many thousand people as its citizens. Sometimes, your children would visit you in your capital. Some of them had settled down there, too, like Ilona. She had married a heartrender, and their children came to play with you and your husband on Sundays. Your life had become gentle, and kind. You could see it in your husband’s face, too, every day. Only the boldest of kings and queens dared threaten your home, and it barely happened for any of them to follow through with their threats. Neither you nor your husband had any regular fighting or defending to do. You had been allowed to devote yourselves to ruling justly and fair, raise a healthy nation. In the mornings, you stood by your bedroom’s window and watched young Grisha train the use of their powers. In the evenings, you fell asleep side by side, still giggling about the day’s happenings just like when you had both been young and restless. Grisha from all over the world had found peace. And so had you.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Born to Run / Epilogue

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Marathon Runner f!reader (no y/n)

Rating: Overall rating: E (smut). Chapter rating is T at most.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Tooth. Rotting. Fluff. (not responsible for your dental bill) VERY brief mentions of sex and of d/s dynamics.

Summary: One year later, you run the Chicago marathon. Marcus waits for you at the finish.

A/N: WOW. Posting this epilogue is extremely bittersweet. I wrote most of this story in the span of about 2 weeks right after my marathon and I NEVER imagined the response. Thank you, EVERYONE, for reading and commenting and screaming about Marcus with me. I’m not quite done with Reader and Marcus–I’ve got a handful of smutty one-shots that I’ll be putting out there, and then after that I do have other story ideas that I’m working on. THANK YOU SO MUCH <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 16

Chicago, 1 year later

You couldn't believe you were doing this yet again, you thought, as you passed a white placard next to the road that read '20 Miles.' With each race, you improved your time just a little bit, but you never expected to finish a marathon under four hours. But here you were, six miles to go, and you were well on your way to finish in your fastest time yet.

You figured you owed part of it to the altitude of your new home.

After a few hard, lonely months spent separately tying up loose ends, job searching, and house hunting, you and Marcus (true to his word at wanting to go somewhere new with you), settled just outside of Boulder, Colorado based on a fairly silly dream of seeing mountains in your bedroom window after spending most of your life in the Midwest.

(“It’s not silly,” Marcus had argued during one of your weekend visits to DC. “It’s as good a reason to choose a place to live as any.” He took your face in his hands and gave you a joyful, smiling kiss. “Colorado it is,” he said with finality.)

The little cottage you both fell in love with had not only a mountain view from your bedroom window, but also a spacious covered porch that faced the same direction. One of the first new items of furniture you had purchased was a large outdoor couch, and whenever the weather was nice, the two of you sat outside together--Marcus typically sitting with a book, you with your head on his thigh, listening to him read while he absentmindedly stroked the side of your neck.

Marcus managed to convince someone--you weren’t sure who--to let him transfer to the FBI field office in Denver. While he had voluntarily stepped down from his position with the international art crimes task force, he continued to work with them in a consulting role, which took him to Washington, D.C. several times over the course of the year. You accompanied him when your own schedule allowed, and encouraged and supported him from afar when it didn’t. The most memorable time that you went with him was when he somehow managed to get an invite to the New Year’s Eve gala at the White House. The two of you were both dressed to the nines and completely giddy with nerves and excitement as you walked among directors, diplomats, senators, and foreign leaders. Your favorite part of the night, though, was when you danced together, slow and close, just before midnight with eyes only for each other.

You had been incredibly anxious about finding a good job in a new area. Your past experience job hunting in Kentucky had left deep scars--you were still convinced that you’d have to wait around being a barista or a secretary before being able to secure a position that you actually cared about and were qualified to do. You were horrified by the prospect of taking a step back and stilting your career even more than it already was--and depending on Marcus to carry your weight in the meantime. That was before you picked up all the qualifications that came with your current job, Marcus had assured, and he was right. You were browsing the University of Colorado Boulder jobs site one evening and found what seemed like the perfect job for you--a Financial Analyst for the Laboratory for Atmospheric and Space Physics. You nailed the interview, and you got it.

Your favorite perk of your new job was that the department head, with whom you became fast friends, secretly gave you a key to the observatory. You and Marcus snuck in from time to time with wine and snacks and gazed through the telescope. Although sneaking in after hours made you rather limited on what you could see, only able to look wherever the lens happened to be pointing that evening, you and Marcus never seemed to mind, even on the nights where it was merely pointing to a random set of stars in the blackness.

Your relationship couldn’t be in a better place. After the disastrous three weeks you had spent apart due to miscommunication, you and Marcus resolved to communicate as well outside of the bedroom as you seemed to be able to inside of it. What you found hilarious was that the two of you never had much use for a safeword during sex (‘stop’ was almost always sufficient), but under the advice of Marcus’s therapist, whenever either one of you said ‘banana’ during a fight, you’d immediately halt the argument and come back together to talk through the problem.

It was the healthiest relationship either of you had ever had.

You ran doggedly past the next few mile markers, but you felt your pace beginning to slide as the exhaustion caught up with you and your feet began to ache with every collision with the ground.

You called Marcus, a habit you'd picked up over the past year. Hearing his voice on the phone as you were nearing the end of a long training run or a race always gave you a little bump of encouragement to carry you through to the end.

"Hey, baby. Was waiting for you to call." You could hear the smile in his voice even through your earbuds. "What mile are you on?"

"Twenty… four…" you breathed with some effort. These conversations were usually pretty one-sided, but Marcus never seemed to mind.

"You're doing incredible, sweetheart. I'm proud of you." Marcus spoke. The sweetness in his words brought a lump to your throat.

"Hurts," you gasped. "I hate it."

He laughed. "You always say that, and then you go and sign up for another one of these a month later."

"This… time… I… mean it," you said in between breaths.

"Mmhmm," Marcus hummed, clearly not buying it. "You've trained so hard for this, baby. Don't let two little miles get to you. You're doing so good. My good girl." His voice dropped an octave as he delivered the last two words, trying to get a rise out of you using that soft-but-firm tone that you jokingly referred to as his 'dom voice'--a moniker he pretended to hate, but you knew he secretly liked. "You know what good girls get, don't you?" he teased.

Rewards, your brain unconsciously supplied. In any other circumstance, his methods would have worked, but all you could focus on was putting one tired, aching foot in front of the other. "Marcus, baby, I love you, but…" you took a few ragged breaths, "that's pretty far down on… my… hierarchy of needs right now… y-y'know?"

Marcus laughed. "Not talking about sex, my little love."

"W-what… are you--" you couldn't finish the sentence.

"Shhhh, focus on your breathing. You'll see what I mean when you get here. I'm waiting for you right by the finish line, baby. I'll see you so soon."

What was he talking about?

He rapidly changed the subject and launched into a little monologue about the museum you two had planned on visiting tomorrow, when you had recovered. “I’ve been wanting to see the travelling collection of Exekias pottery for ages,” he gushed. “What I love about his style is that it features images from mythological stories, like many other examples of Greek pottery, the scenes he chooses to depict are the moments before or after the action rather than the action itself. So instead of depicting the battle of Troy, he painted a scene of Ajax and Achilles playing a board game before the battle.” He explained.

Even if you hadn’t been out of breath and unable to respond, you still wouldn’t have told him that he had said all this several times before. You loved the smile in his voice when he talked about it. “There’s another one depicting a scene of Ajax burying his sword in preparation to jump on it following the death of Achilles. That one’s my favorite because it’s so chilling,” he said, a little too gleefully. “What mile are you on now?”

"T-twenty f-five."

"One mile left, baby. I'm right here waiting. I’m going to let you go, and you concentrate on running your heart out for the last mile."

You pressed a button on your headphones, ending the call, then put your head down and tried to increase your pace, giving it your all on this last stretch of road before the finish line.

In-two-three-four, Out-two-three-four. And repeat.

The last mile always felt like the longest minutes of your life. You ached with exertion, but you kept moving forward with the thought, the faster I run this, the quicker it’ll be over, and the sooner I’ll see Marcus at the end.

Finally, you passed the twenty-six mile and you knew the last two-tenths of a mile would feel like nothing. Turning a corner, the finish line--a beautiful oasis filled with water, bananas, granola bars, and Marcus--came into view. You passed your eyes up and down the cheering crowd, looking for his familiar, smiling face. Not seeing him among the other spectators, you turned your gaze to the finish line. And there, a few paces behind the volunteers handing out medals, was Marcus. How had he negotiated a place behind the barriers meant to separate spectators from the runners? You had a sneaking suspicion that he had flashed his badge and then sweet talked some of the volunteers.

The look in his eyes almost made you stop short only a few yards from the finish line. You couldn’t look away from him. You could see all the happiness you two had experienced over the past year swimming on the surface of his irises, reflecting the immense, profound love that he held for you. He was cheering, beckoning you forward excitedly, you could see his mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. It might have been “Come on!” or “You can do it!” or even just “I love you!”

Your eyes held his as you finally, finally crossed the finish line with a triumphant fist in the air, jogging straight to Marcus and falling into his arms with relief.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," you gasped tiredly. You said it to him after every race--a little inside joke between the two of you.

Marcus squeezed you tighter. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He grasped your shoulders, pulling you back to look at you. "I'd do it forever, even." He held your eyes as he slowly, slowly sank to one knee before you.

Oh, God. He was doing this here? Now? Your eyes immediately filled with tears that spilled over down your sweaty cheeks. Marcus blinked back a few tears of his own as he opened his mouth to speak.

"W-"

"Yes!” You squealed, interrupting him, then swayed where you stood. “Marcus--I-I need to sit down before I fall down."

He shot up, taking you into his arms and lifting you to his chest with a laugh. "Shit--let's get you somewhere else." He carried you, bridal style, through the crowd.

"Marcus!" you squealed. "I'm so gross!"

"Mmmhmmmm," he replied, rubbing his cheek against your sweaty forehead.

"You disgusting, filthy man," you laughed, trying in vain to push his head away from yours.

He set you down on the curb where the crowd had thinned out, sitting beside you and throwing his arm around you. "You, uh, you didn't let me finish," Marcus said, softly. His eyes were guarded, cautious.

"It's an enthusiastic yes, Marcus." You blinked back a few more tears. “Definitely want to marry you.”

“Thank God,” he let out a shaky laugh and held you tighter. “Oh! Hang on--” he let go of you, pulling back and holding out your race medal. “Can’t forget this.” He hung it gently around your neck, trailing his fingers along the ribbon as he did. “There’s, ah, there’s something special about this particular medal. Turn it over.”

As soon as you picked it up, you saw the large emerald ring taped to the back of the medal. “God, Marcus, this is beautiful,” you said breathlessly. Fuck, it was huge--the beautiful green gem was surrounded by a circle of delicate diamonds, but it managed to be impressive without being overly gaudy or overstated--something you appreciated.

He slipped the ring out of the tape, and took your left hand in both of his. His hands, of course, dwarfed your own. One of his hands gently circled your wrist, thick fingers overlapping one another. The other gently caressed the back of your hand, taking special care around the knuckles, then carefully slipped the gorgeous band onto your ring finger. He covered your hand with his own, looking down as he caressed your fingers.

“This feels familiar,” you said softly, with a little huff of laughter.

Marcus smiled. “Thankfully no bruises this time.”

“Yeah-- and no scraped elbows to clean.”

Marcus raised his eyebrows, lifted his hands, and wiggled his fingers dramatically. “Still have these big hands, though,” he teased.

“You’re lucky I already said ‘yes.’” You rolled your eyes, playfully.

“What, no take-backs?” he joked.

Underneath his teasing; however, you could sense the rawness of his emotions behind the question.

You pinned him with a serious look, making sure he knew you meant what you were going to say. “Marcus, I wouldn’t want to take my answer back--not in a million years.”

“Or a million miles?” he smiled, capturing a sweaty cheek with his hand and guiding you towards his waiting mouth.

“Yeah, that too.”

fin

-

Additional A/Ns:

Is it possible to cut 18 minutes off of your marathon time? Maybe, but I’ll probably never do it.

Why he chose an emerald ring: Marcus was OVERWHELMED at the jewelry store and when he saw the emerald, his last 2 brain cells went, "mmm bike trail has trees, trees are green," and that's about the extent of it. Don't judge him, he was so nervous!!!!!

Also, I want to make a note that Marcus in @the-ginger-hedge-witch's fic Read You Like a Book (the cornerstone of Marcus fics IMO) also got Anne an emerald ring and I assure you that was a weird coincidence and no intent to plagiarize or steal. This epilogue was already written when hers came out. I messaged her, she knows about it, and is fine with it. Now go read RYLAB if you haven't!

Marcus’s "breakup" in the show happened in 2014, so when they went to the White House it would have been during the Obama administration in 2015 and that's important for me to note 😂😂

-

Taglist: @honestly-shite @thirddeadlysin @deepstarsco @221bshrlocked @mando-amando @frenchyjuju @farfromjustordinary @chronic-nosebleed @stilettoforbeginners @leslie-lyman @gaiuswrites @absurdthirst @ezrasbirdie

[the-last-kenobi]

*kciks down door* ReQuEsTs?!??! uh, 18. “Is it all right if I hug you?” with Obi-wan and character of your choice (please, this boy needs a hug so bad)

Hugs!!!! What an excellent ask.

Took me forever to pick a character though. I came this close to writing multiple hugs throughout the years but it would’ve been very long...

It’s still long. Whoops.

Note: I skipped the actual sentence and instead went for ✨vibes only✨

(From this various prompts list.)

_

Obi-Wan is twenty-three standard years old, very nearly twenty-four.

It is a delightful stage of life. (It’s awful.)

He’s growing in independence, so close to Knighthood he can almost taste it. (Is he? Nobody seems to have a clear opinion.)

He’s receiving more and more solo assignments, and on his missions with Master Jinn, the older Jedi makes an effort to at least await the Padawan’s input before making a decision, sometimes even deferring to Obi-Wan’s word. (Only in public, though, is there a sense of equality. Behind the scenes, Obi-Wan is still very much the learner.)

He longs to be free. (He doesn’t want to be alone.)

The confusing clash of thoughts and emotions is, in and of itself, a creator of more clashing emotions, all resulting in a bundle of self-doubt that crouches near his heart, like a greedy bird, picking away at his strength and certainty when he most needs it.

Doesn’t your doubt show you that you’re truly not ready? the pestering creature asks.

Doesn’t your longing for freedom prove you don’t deserve it? it says, tapping against the veins of ice and fear that lie right against the heat of his heart.

Doesn’t your need to be reassured tell you that you’re too hesitant, too weak to be alone?

His desire to fly is wrong. His desire to be sheltered, even more so.

Both together, coexisting in his heart and mind, could quite possibly mean the one thing he had been dreading for over a decade now, the thing older Jedi, real Jedi, had put into words and addressed to his face when he was only twelve, only eleven, only ten.

You are too emotional, they said.

You are overeager, they said.

You are not destined to be a Jedi, Qui-Gon had told him. I will not train you.

He had, in the end, and Obi-Wan has been wondering in the depths of his heart for all these years of it had not been a dreadful mistake. As much as the Force sings in his ears Jedi, Jedi, Jedi, endure, Jedi, Jedi, it felt like everything he touched, everything tangible, argues back failure, weak, selfish, foolish, unwanted, not fit.

Obi-Wan is twenty-three, almost twenty-four, and he is years into adulthood and light years away from proving that he’s capable of handling it.

When will he be Knighted?

Nobody seems to be expecting it from him.

Do they know, he wonders, have they known since the beginning that I am doomed to fail? Has this all been a gracious attempt, a thank you for my actions on Bandomeer, and they have drawn this out and out and out as long as they can?

How much longer can this go on?

Still, there are moments when he is at peace, when Obi-Wan is sure. When he meditates, when he accomplishes something new, when he walks away from an assignment feeling unashamed when he translates his memories into a tidy mission report.

When he has one of his long talks with Master Yoda, or Master Windu, who despite their revered status have taken to talking to him more like a friend than a child, outside of the Council chambers.

When he remembers the Force whispering inside, Jedi Jedi Jedi Jedi, endure, Jedi...

And then, on one of the missions assigned to both himself and his Master - still the overwhelming majority of his assignments - he and Qui-Gon are separated during a violent uprising.

There are bodies in the streets and buildings are aflame; children weep over the bodies of their parents and parents cradle the bodies of their children and scream as if the sound is their only companion left in the world. The standing government has a point, the rebellion has a point, the civilians caught in the crossfire don’t say which point they agree with because they’re too busy screaming and perishing, and Qui-Gon is simply gone.

Obi-Wan, faced with the threat of further bloodshed right here and right now even as the air is still clogged with ash and flame and as another body topples from a rooftop in front of his feet, raises his hand in surrender and calmly proposes a truce, offering himself as a legal hostage against the government that brought the Jedi here.

Obi-Wan is led away with his hands bound behind his back and his lightsaber taken away, and though his face is calm, the furrow between is brow speaks of his inner turmoil, which sounds like tapping against the cracks in his heart and Qui-Gon, where is Master Qui-Gon, I don’t know what I’m doing, if I fail more people will die, if I fail it will be my fault, is this taking charge or stepping aside, am I a leader or a victim?

He spends not days, not weeks, but three standard months as a hostage. He spends a terrible amount of time sitting in a cell and pondering his uselessness, the gravity of his foolishness, but every time someone opens the door and escorts him out to hold parley with the leaders of the rebellion and the ministry of the planet, he holds his head high, tempers his fear, and speaks to them with all he has.

Which is honesty. Humility.

You don’t know what to do, he says. Neither do I.

We all know we must do something. No matter how much blood you spill and how much earth you scorch you will eventually come back here to this table to have this same discussion until either both of you are broken beyond belief or one of you has been crushed, and half your planet’s voice stolen away. And you will have sacrificed two of the Republic’s Jedi along the way, a black mark against whichever victor is left standing.

Or, he says, we choose to pass over the violence and talk here and now, and choose this again and again and again. You have already had your fighting. Your people are already hoping for negotiation.

Are you here for their sakes or to kill them for show?

He does not use these exact words.

He sews them into his brief speeches, hammers in the point sharply when he must, weaves the common thread over and over again.

He knows they fight while he is locked away.

But he believes, from the growing respect in the eyes of these people who hold him both by his and against his will, that he is making a difference. He must be.

And Obi-Wan is twenty-three, very very nearly twenty-four, when he finally walks free to witness the signing of a treaty like this planet has never had before, to witness the formation of a new government, and he discovers not ashes and mass graves when he sees daylight for the first time in three months — but instead, a city and a planet marred only by scattered battlefields, and marked more clearly by the way its people have fought to keep it clean, to keep it safe.

Children race through the streets, unafraid, because they have had real shelter during the war. It has not entered their homes since that first terrible day.

Neighbors from opposing sides of this fight and friends who staked no claim in this war mingle freely. Their smiles are a little hesitant, but they are there.

The dead are all honored equally.

It is leaps and bounds, it is a civilization that propelled itself through years of struggle in three months, and Obi-Wan is awed by them.

He knows it cannot be this way everywhere.

He knows that there will be wars where no one wants to surrender, or where one side will be so certain of their point of view that they would rather raise hell than cease, and he knows there will be people who resist them.

But today it is real.

Obi-Wan looks at his pale and clammy hands, the marks around his wrists where he was so often bound, and feels the way his limbs shake from months of too little sunlight, not quite enough food, and more than his share of fear and doubt and self-recrimination.

As he smiles for a camera that will record this moment forever, he glimpses Qui-Gon amongst the crowd.

Someone explains to him, when he asks, that his Master had been injured during the uprising and spent the first three weeks of Obi-Wan’s captivity in convalescence. The remaining time, he has spent on the sidelines, forced there by his Padawan’s actions. With Obi-Wan a willing hostage, playing negotiator and leverage both, Qui-Gon had no role except to mingle with the people, offer them comfort and aid.

Something Obi-Wan knows his Master loved, but — he had still stolen his Master’s role.

He had thrown himself into a stupid, foolish situation, and how many times had Qui-Gon teased him about playing damsel in distress? And here he has gone and surrendered of his own accord. What would Qui-Gon have done if Obi-Wan had led them all to ruin?

Obi-Wan slowly loses his confidence, his relief, his silver tongue, as the press and the people recede, and he and his Master walk to a room that has been prepared for both of them, as honored guests by this new government.

Qui-Gon says nothing to him.

They walk in silence for twelve minutes.

And then, as soon as the door has shut behind them, Obi-Wan finds himself pulled into a fierce embrace, one of his Master’s hands buried in his hair, Qui-Gon’s chin resting atop his head.

Obi-Wan hesitates.

Does his Master think him a child?

Perhaps Qui-Gon senses his thoughts, because the man pulls away briefly, still holding his Padawan by the shoulders, as if unwilling to let him go completely, else he vanish like smoke.

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon says, and his voice is loud and strong and brimming with warmth that washes over Obi-Wan like sunlight, like water, like an embrace. “Well done, my Padawan.”

And then he is pulled again into Qui-Gon’s comforting arms, and Obi-Wan breathes in and gives in, folding against his teacher like a child, and if a few tears stain Qui-Gon’s robes or drop into Obi-Wan’s hair, neither of them speaks of it.

Obi-Wan lets his Master hold him, lets go of fear and pride and doubt, and finds that he is safe.

~

[papipopsicle]

AFTERTASTE PART SEVEN

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Reader

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Dream Boy by Waterparks

Warnings: swearing

Words: 2.1K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

Y/F and Y/M Robins were far from perfect parents. Y/F had the mental age of a toddler at times, and being an estate agent who always has to go the extra mile- he often wasn't home when his wife needed him the most. Y/M, on the other end of things, had been a stay at home mum until Y/N turned 16 last summer, and now she helped with all the administrative work for Mayor McCoy. She was a maternal creature which, coupled with her brilliant sarcasm, made for some explosive conversations. The two met on the first day of university and got married a week after the last.

When Y/M first found out she was pregnant with little Y/S Robins, the two realised they wanted a quiet bubble of a town to raise their children and grow up with them. But it wasn't until their second daughter was about to turn seven until they found their forever home in the quaint town of Riverdale. Ten years passing before their eyes, and the picturesque place didn't seen all that anymore.

Jason Blossom's death had nothing to do with the short gunshot sounding over the waves of Sweetwater River, the noise which woke Y/N from her sweet unmemorable dreams every few nights. The summer days rolled into early August without anyone caring, Y/N spending most of them at Cheryl's side listening intently to her past adventures with her brother. Betty threw herself into an internship at a publication house; Flick and Cherry had volunteered at a summer camp, and Archie was helping his dad out more and more with constructions job.

Although it hadn't been the start to the relationship Y/N had hoped for- the nervous giggles and hand holding, short and sweet kisses on late night walks followed by poetry worthy cuddling. There was a magnificent silver lining as Archie's muscles gained definition, and he suited the sweaty builder look far too well.

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"Earth to my gorgeous queen? Y/N/N?" Cheryl quizzed her friend, who currently resided at the poolside of Thornehill Manor. Her mind was off on a glorious tangent about her rendezvous in the kitchen at two in the morning. Fixing herself a glass of water, when Archie slips his hand into her pyjama shorts, his other around her mouth muffling her needy moans.

The red headed beauty shoved her y/h/c friend playfully, warm skin sweaty under her pale touch. Y/N blinked innocently and sent her an apologetic smile, "What?"

"I asked if you've thought about dating anyone else since Clayton?" The fiery ginger girl enquired with her usual upbeat tone.

Cheryl knew she had a unique quality about her which made it almost impossible for Y/N to lie to her face. The y/h/c girl scrunched up her nose, hiding the smile the idea of Archie Andrews brought to her face. 'Yes. We started off as fuck buddies but never actually fucked. Then I drunkenly asked him to be my boyfriend, now a month later I think we may genuinely work out.'

"Maybe." Y/N bit her bottom lip, listening to her friend's squeal as she squeezed her sun tanned arm.

"I knew it! You have this euphoric glow you only get when someone else makes you climax." The redhead affirmed confidently, watching the Robins girl's eyes bug out before hitting her arm, "Y/N/N, you know your secret's safe with me."

"Fine." She sighed and took a sip of her fruity cocktail, "It started off as just fooling around, honestly I just needed to let off some steam after everything. I knew he was into the kinds of things I was, I mean he used to tease me about it non stop. And it was good, so good I stopped being a pussy and asked him to be my boyfriend."

"Holy freaking hell!" The Blossom girl grinned with excitement, "Dare I ask, who is it?"

Y/N deadpanned at her friend, "Guess."

"Please don't tell me it's that muscular oaf Reggie, he's pretty but there's not exactly much going on upstairs." Cheryl tapped her temples and rolled her eyes at the thought.

"Nope."

The ginger thought for a moment, consulting her liquid courage and splashing her feet around the waters edge, "It's Archie."

All it took was a side-eyed glance at the y/h/c girl's blooming rosy cheeks to know she definitely wasn't wrong. Y/N severely lacked the ability to lie, even if her tone held conviction, her features were far too expressive and told the truth all on their own. It's not like they were hiding it from anyone, but the past four weeks had gone far too quickly without any moments to spare for the world around them. They slept together each night, the majority of that time not actually spent sleeping, but they hadn't been given the chance yet to explore more romantic avenues.

"It's fucking Archie Andrews- you're fucking Archie Andrews and don't you dare deny it." Cheryl gawked in her gorgeous white and nude bikini, watching as her friend lay back against the hot marble slabs which encased the large pool with the largest grin adorning her plump lips.

"We haven't had sex yet, so technically you aren't completely correct." Y/N winked but carried on before the girl exploded with a hundred questions and could never be turned off, "Trust me, I want to, and I'm sure he does too. But you know, it's his first time, I want it to be perfect for him."

"Y/N/N, you really love him, don't you?" Cheryl gagged to begin with, but she found it sweet in truth. She wanted someone to hold, who would hold her right back just as tight for no other reason than needing to.

Y/N sat back up and paddled her feet, "You have no idea, Cher."

Arch 🧡

That new post should be illegal

Tiger 💛

Ooo

I like this reaction

Maybe I should post more

Like this one

Cheryl pushed me in the pool

And I may have had a drink

Or three

Arch 🧡

Well that's sexy

I swear nobody looks good like that how on earth

You're a goddess

But also

How's she holding up?

Tiger 💛

🥺😇

Broken

But she's strong yk

You coming over for dinner?

Arch 🧡

Yeah Y/D invited my dad too

Need me to pick you up from Cheryl's?

Tiger 💛

Awe cute we love a bromance, and it's all good my mommas coming now anyways :))

Hours had elapsed far too fast and soon the summer heat simmered into cool waves of wind brushing over sun kissed skin. Cheryl's arms were clasped around the blonde's shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Thank you so much, Y/N/N, I don't know what I'd do without you!" The Blossom girl professed with sparkling eyes and a brilliant smile.

Y/N beamed up at her, fingers carding through her damp y/h/c hair as she looked over her shoulder to see her mum pulling into the driveway, "You don't need to thank me, Cher, friends look after each other. Message me if you need me, okay?"

Cheryl promised she would and the two teen girls hugged goodbye, with Y/N soon heading home- listening to her mother gossip about Hal and Alice's screaming match last night, Y/N loved her inability to keep her mouth shut sometimes.

"Mom," The y/h/c stopped her mid sentence and received a side eyed glance in response, "I need to tell you something and you're totally not allowed to freak out while you're driving."

Y/M's eyes widened and her grip tightened around the steering wheel, her daughters very rarely confided in her. While she knew her youngest was safe in her promiscuity, neither of Y/M Robins' girls ever shared their secrets so for the most part she took finding out into her own hands.

"Honey," The forty four year old's calm tone was hardly comforting to the teenager, "if this is about you and Archie fooling around, your father and I figured that out a long time ago, like so long ago. Who do you think does your laundry? When your underwear starting looking like dental floss, we caught on pretty quickly."

Y/N felt like a deer in headlights, "Mum, what the hell?" Her cheeks heated to an inhuman temperature.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, as long as you're being safe and he's-"

"For the second time today, and I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but I am not having sex with Archie Andrews!" Y/N's high pitched voice sounded through the car. It truly was a blessing and a curse to have such open minded parents in situations like this. She thought about telling her mother the truth, but Y/M was a blabber mouth as well as a gossip, so Y/N chose to withhold certain pieces of information.

The Robins matriarch dropped the subject but didn't forget about her daughter's tone, and continued to ramble on about how odd she found Penelope Blossom and the whole Blossom family in general. "Like why on Earth is Rose in a wooden wheelchair? They know it's the twenty first century, right?"

As expected, the Robins household was once again filled with warm laughter and copious amounts of food. The topic of Jason was skimmed over, and Y/S found herself away from the dinner table. The eldest Robins sibling was currently pleading with Alice as she began shoving all of Polly's belongings in the boot of Hal's car. She couldn't comprehend life without her best friend, not after losing Jason. They were meant to be going travelling together for a year- working the worst jobs and staying up all night to watch the sun rise in different countries. But instead, Y/S's eyes were blinded by tears as she screamed down the street at the speeding car, with Polly Cooper taken out of her life indefinitely.

Y/N was oblivious to the dark inner workings of the Cooper clan, Betty's knowledge about her and Archie unbeknownst to the loved up teens. She'd spent every second not occupied by her internship trying to justify the romantic act as a fleeting moment of loneliness fuelled by alcohol. She wrote in her diary ideas on how she could win Archie back over, not knowing it was in fact, too late. Betty found herself hopelessly in love with the boy next door, unfortunately for her, the girl across the road was the only one his mind found.

Archie and Y/N washed up while their parents resided to the living room with three glasses and a bottle of white wine. The short girl turned the tap off after placing the last utensil on the draining board, flicking her sudsy hands at the boy's face. "What the-"

She didn't give him a chance to finish that thought, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his torso- planting a kiss onto his lips, then cheeks, then forehead. The two fell entranced by each other, planting pecks across nape of her neck and top of his head.

"Son," Fred's voice called out from the next room and the two immediately pulled apart, hearts beating in their ears, "we're going in a minute."

"Alright." He replied, placing his girlfriend on the floor once more.

"I wish you'd stay." Y/N pouted childishly, she meant the words entirely but hated feeling overbearing. Her life had been turned upside down this summer, it started off with her unable to fall asleep with another person next to her- now Archie's chest was her most comfortable pillow and is arms were the warmest blanket.

"Tomorrow night instead, Princess? I promised my dad I'd spend more time with him before senior year." The boy reasoned, holding her close and unknowingly feeling the exact same way, he adored holding her by her waist and pulling her close under the duvet.

"Monopoly night at yours?" She grinned and he nodded back in reply, the two sharing a final kiss in the kitchen before walking into the hallway.

Y/N felt at ease as she wished the two a goodnight and headed up to bed. She took off her tea dress and replaced it with Archie's bulldog t-shirt, managing to reach the same length on her thighs as her dress did.

Arch 🧡

I can still smell your perfume on my sheets

Tiger 💛

Marking my territory obviously x

Arch 🧡

I love it

Hope you sleep well baby x

Tiger 💛

Call me that tomorrow and we won't be sleeping so you better rest up tonight x

Arch 🧡

Whatever you say, baby x

Tiger 💛

Goodnight x

Arch 🧡

Night princess x

part eight?

wanna be tagged? just send in an ask x