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topguncortez · 2 years ago

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What to Expect | Chapter 9

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synopsis: You and Jake go to your first birthing class. He tells you of his upcoming deployment.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: pregnancy, cursing, topgun shit, missions, the navy sucks when it comes to paternity leave, Jake still has PTSD, birthing class,

You were tired of being pregnant. The end of the year was vastly approaching as you only had three weeks left. You were just reaching your 28th week of pregnancy, and still had about two months to go. Your back hurts, your feet hurt, your breasts hurt. Every single morning you woke up to the sight of your growing belly. You can’t remember the last time you had actually seen your feet. And trying to keep up with second graders all day was nearly impossible.

“Knock, knock,” Alyssa said, walking into your room. The kids were in the library for story time, and you were trying to relieve your headache, “You look like garbage.”

“Thank you, Alyssa, you are ever so kind to me,” You sat up in your chair, “I feel like garbage. I thought the third trimester was supposed to be like the honeymoon phase.”

“Honeymoon phase of death,” Alyssa mumbled and sat down on one of the desks in front of yours, “So Phoenix and I-”

“Since when has there been a Phoenix and I?”

“You aren’t the only one who can get a pilot,” Alyssa winked, “But! We have been thinking about your baby shower, and wanted to know if your mom and Jake’s have thought of anything.”

You sighed and shook your head. Jake had told you that he hasn't told his parents about the baby yet. When he was going to, his father started yelling at him about not coming back to help during branding season. It hurt your feelings a little bit, as you ran your fingers over your bump. The weirdest thing that you have noticed in the past week is that your bump has become itchy. Jake had read that it was normal and the next day went out and bought you various lotions and oils.

“They don’t know yet,” You said, “He’s waiting.”

“For what?” Alyssa asked, “No offense, but time is kind of running out. If he’s worried about how mom and dad are going to responde, he better do it before you shoot the kid out of your cooch.”

“And they let you teach nine year olds?” You shook your head laughing, “But I know my mom had some friends of hers from the Wives Circle that wanted to throw something. She doesn’t particularly like them. So I’d reach out.”

“Sounds good,” Alyssa nodded and stood up from her seat. She walked towards your door but then stopped and turned around, “Hey, what do you know about this detachment? Phoenix said that they leave in two weeks. And I don’t know shit about how they work.”

Now that was news to you. You hadn’t heard about any sort of detachments from Jake or your father. You did your best to put a smile on your face and shake your head, as you heard the sounds of your class coming down the hall. Pushing yourself up from your desk, you tried to block out the pounding in your head and the ache in your chest.

— — —

Jake had slowly started to move some stuff into your house despite you telling him that he didn’t need to. You weren’t going to admit it, but it made you feel a little bit more comfortable having Jake and Herc around. Herc had fallen back in love with you like you had never been gone, and would wait by the front door for you to come home from work. All day, Alyssa’s news about some detachment had been replaying in your head. You thought about texting your dad and asking him to explain, but you weren’t sure if you could handle any more anxiety at that moment.

The house smelled of spices as you walked in. You could hear the faint sound of Foghat’s Slow Ride from a speaker in the kitchen. You knew that Jake was cooking since Herc wasn’t waiting in the hallway for you. You let out a sigh of relief as you kicked your shoes off, and could feel the pain in your feet start to subside.

“Jake?” You called out, as you walked towards the kitchen.

“Yeah!” He responded. When you walked in, you were met with the sight of Jake still clad in his flight suit but had it tied around his waist, his black t-shirt covering his upper body. His muscles were straining as he mixed around the vegetables in the skillet, “How was your day?”

“Tiring,” You sighed and sat down at your kitchen table, “How much longer is that going to take?”

“Uh, ten minutes or so,” Jake answered and put the lid on the skillet, “What’s up?”

You smiled shyly at him, and raised your leg up a bit, “Can you rub my feet?”

Jake chuckled and nodded, walking over to where you sat. You put your feet in his lap, and he got right to work kneading the arch of your foot. You groaned as you rolled your neck from side to side.

“Still having trouble sleeping?” Jake asked and you nodded, “Is the body pillow not working?”

“It is. . . on the couch,” You said and Jake gave you a pointed look. The two of you had an argument a couple days ago about you sleeping on the couch. He got worried that you were going to roll off of it, but you argued that it was the only place you felt comfortable.You bit your lip and decided to bite the bullet, “Alyssa told me about the detachment. When were you?”

“I tried getting out of it,” Jake answered. He didn’t want to leave right now to go fly around the middle of the ocean. He knew that it wasn’t really anything to worry about, but things can still go wrong. Things have gone wrong on missions that were supposed to be easy. It sent a shiver down his spine and bad memories flashed in his mind, “But it was nearly impossible. You know how the Navy is and their paternity leave bullshit. I would have to use up leave days, and I already plan on using those once the rugrat is here.”

“So, what is it? And don’t lie to me, I’ll go looking through dad’s office.”

Jake smiled and looked at you, “Two weeks, Indian Ocean. It’s a security thing. Should be a simple go out and come back.”

“Should be. Doesn’t mean it will,” You grumbled, “Everyone is going?”

“Yes, even your dad.”

You tried to stop the tears from clouding in your eyes but you nodded. Jake looked at you with sad eyes as you turned your head from him. Your mood swings weren’t as common now as you progressed in your pregnancy, but you still had your moments where you’d break down in tears. Sometimes, you could tell people exactly why you were crying and others you weren’t quite sure. Right now, you weren’t one hundred percent sure why you were crying. If it was the fact that Jake was leaving for a detachment or the fact that Jake was trying to get out of it to stay with you, or maybe it was the fact that Jake only had three weeks of paternity leave to use once the baby was born.

Admiral Simpson had talked to you and Jake after the two of you told him about the pregnancy. He was giving you information about the Navy’s paternity leave regulation, and you tried hard to not break down in tears right then in there. You knew that Jake wouldn’t get much time off, but three weeks was hardly no time at all. Jake had some leave days built up and was prepared to use them all to stay home with you and his daughter. Iceman had also said that Jake could put in for extended leave as well.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jake asked, grabbing your face gently.

“No,” You sniffled and pushed away from him, “I’m hungry.”

Jake chuckled and stood up from his chair, and over to you, “It’ll be okay. It’s only a couple weeks. I’ll be home before you know it,” He kissed your forehead and you closed your eyes, “Now, go sit. I’ll get you a plate.”

You nodded and walked back over to the table, “Is Rooster going?”

Jake sucked in a sharp breath, as he dished up a plate for you, “Yeah. He is going. He's the second team leader too.”

“How is he doing?”

You hadn’t talked to Rooster since he walked out of the house a couple weeks ago. Every time you called him, it went to voicemail, and every text was left on delivered. He was pushing you out, and you hated it. You wanted to show up on his front door and demand that he talk to you, but a small voice in your head was telling you not too. That no good can come from trying to force Bradley to talk to you. He was hurting, and so were you. You needed him more than ever, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever look at you the same anymore.

“He’s getting through it,” Jake said, and placed a plate of food in front of you, “Being Rooster, moody and a pain in the ass. Nat said he came out to the Hard Deck the other night and seemed okay. Wore an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt and played the piano with his sunglasses on.”

It brought a smile to your face thinking of the memories of watching Bradley play the piano with his sunglasses on. It was just like looking back and time seeing his father play and young Bradley sitting on the piano. You had thought about it before, how it would look to watch Bradley play to a young child that looked just like him. You frowned as you placed a hand on your belly.

“You okay?” Jake asked you and you nodded.

“I miss him,” You answered honestly and Jake looked down at his dinner, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be-”

“It’s okay,” Jake said, and reached across the table and grabbed your hand, “I know how much he means to you and I’m sorry that this is happening right now with everything else. But I promise, I’m here for you. I know I’m not like Rooster, but I’m trying.”

“I know,” You smiled at him genuinely, and squeezed his hand, “And I’m thankful for that.” Jake smiled at you and kissed your hand, “So that means you’ll be at Lamaze classes.”

“La- what?”

— — —

Jake had never seen so many pregnant women in his life, and he was in a bit of a panic. The calm, cool and collected pilot sat on the ground next to you, as you read through the pamphlet that the instructor gave to you. Jake still respected your choice on wanting to do things as natural as possible, but he wasn’t all too aware of what that all meant. He had talked to your mother one night as the two of them were going through a box of baby stuff that she had kept, and Sarah somewhat explained childbirth. And Jake was terrified.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” Jake whispered to you.

“You’re going to learn how to help me through birth. This kid is like you. . . has your big ass head,” You said, not looking up from the pamphlet.

“My head isn’t big,” Jake frowned.

“Sure it’s not,” You smiled as the instructor walked to the front of the room.

“Welcome everyone, my name is Reagan and I will be your instructor for the next several sessions,” The instructor introduced herself, “Today we are going to work on breathing, different positions for helping to relieve pain and adding counter pressure. So, let’s start with sitting between our partners legs, resting against their chests, and learn some breathing.”

Jake moved to sit behind you, keeping his knees propped up so you can lean against him. He rested his hands on your bump as you took a deep breath and listened to the coaching Reagan was giving. Jake was making mental notes of every single thing Reagan was saying, and was going to make sure he practiced it. He had seen videos of women complaining about their partners during birth, and Jake didn’t want to end up like that. He wanted to do everything he possibly could to help you through it.

“Am I doing enough?” Jake asked as he rubbed your belly.

“Yeah,” You nodded, “I know that the second the real thing is happening all this practice is gonna go out the goddamn window, but it helps to be prepared. Can I hold your hands?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jake said, and opened up his palms for you to rest your hands in, still going through the motions of breathing properly.

The next thing Reagan had instructed was working on counterpressure, something that Jake was actually interested in learning. You complained about your back hurting most days and Jake did what he could to help you, but you told him he wasn’t doing it right. You were currently laying on your side, curled up with a pregnancy pillow as Jake kneeled behind you, massaging spots on your back.

“Is this helping?” You groaned as Jake’s fingers dug into your back.

“Yeah. You keep going and I’m gonna fall asleep,” You looked over your shoulder and Jake smiled at you, “Wait,” You gasped and grabbed Jake’s hand, placing it on your belly as it tightened.

“Is that normal?” Jake’s eyes grew wide in terror and you giggled.

“It’s Braxton Hicks, and yes, it’s normal. Practice contractions.”

“It better be practice,” Jake said and then leaned down to be level with your belly, “You hear me, miss. Practice contractions, not real ones. You can’t show up yet.”

You giggled and Jake placed a kiss on your belly, before going back to rubbing your back.

When class was done, Jake agreed to taking you to Target (not like it was much of a fight to get him to go. Jake loved going to Target as much as you did). So Jake bought you a Pink Drink from Starbucks and grabbed a shopping cart, going straight for the baby section. You had started putting together your registry, much to Alyssa and Stephanie’s persuasion. You had hardly thought about the baby shower which was looming around soon. You were trying to get through this last week before Jake left, and getting through the end of the school year.

“Oh my god,” Jake said as soon as you started looking around at all the baby things. You rolled your eyes as Jake walked away, as you looked at the various strollers and carseats. Some of the moms at school had been giving you different suggestions since you had started showing. While you were thankful for it cause you didn’t know the first place to look at, it made you very overwhelmed reading all the safety precautions and warnings.

“Look at these!” Jake had a big bright smile on his face as he held a small flannel shirt and jeans in his hands, “For when we take her to the Ranch! Oh my god, she needs a hat.”

You giggled as he walked away, getting lost among the rows of baby girl clothing. You went back to look at bottles and pacifiers until it donned on you. You gasped and turned to look for Jake. His parents still had no idea that you were pregnant.

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Pick Baby Kazanksy's name:)

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yaka-arrow · 1 year ago

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infectin' y'all with dumb AU ideas, don't mind me. ficlet below the cut.

“Whatcha namin’ him again?”

“Peter.” Meredith said, gently shifting the newborn in her arms. To say she was done for the day was putting it mildly. She ached everywhere, exhausted and sweaty, and more than a little terrified to take her first trip to the bathroom. At that moment, all Meredith wanted in life was to stuff her face with something hot and artery-clogging, then promptly fall asleep with her baby boy safe beside her.

Instead, she had a cantankerous blue asshole to deal with. Beside her hospital bed, Yondu frowned as he took a good look at the newly named baby. “Pee-ta?”

“Peter.” She said, with more patience than she felt. If he started any nonsense, the hospital would find themselves with a unique surgical need to remove her foot from his ass in record time. Her eyes narrowed as his frown deepened.

“I don’t like it. I keep tellin’ ya, he could always take my name—”

“Yondu Udonta, until you’ve gone and pushed a baby through your cooch, I don’t give a rat’s ass that you don’t like his name.” Meredith said sharply. “You ain’t in charge here, I am, now hush your mouth.”

Yondu’s mouth opened. Yondu’s mouth clamped shut.

Meredith gave him a stern look before easing herself back into the pillow. She ran a thumb gently over Peter’s brow, his little face still all scrunched up and red. Her baby boy, ready to face the galaxy. The stern expression melted into something softer as she said quietly, “…I want him to have something to hold on for back home.”

“I thought ya said the Eclector was home.” Yondu muttered, slumping back in his chair. “What’s a name gotta do with it?”

“…I meant Terra, Blue.” Meredith said, reaching out to cover his hand with hers. “Look, Peter’s gonna be gallivantin’ across the galaxy, same as you do every day. But he can’t have his head in the clouds if he don’t have a strong foundation.”

Her thumb rubbed lightly over his knuckles, before he flipped his hand up and wove their fingers together. Meredith smiled at the warmth radiating between their clasped hands, saying, “Got ourselves a new troublemaker here, you know that?”

“Joy. Like ya ain’t enough trouble yerself.” Yondu said with a soft snort. His hand untangled from hers, both held out for Peter. “C’mere, let me see the brat already.”

“Watch his head now, you gotta be gentle.” Meredith said, easing Peter into Yondu’s arms. “And stop callin’ him a brat.”

All that fretting turned out to be for nothing as Yondu tucked Peter close, nestled safe and sound in the crook of a solid arm. He smirked at her, earning a roll of her eyes and a soft scoff. Meredith took her chance to get comfortable, sighing when the tension faded from her sore and aching body. She would be hurting for a while yet, but the nurses swore up and down she would make a fast recovery.

That recovery would be made all the faster with some food in her belly. As if on cue, the door to the hospital room slid open, a harried Kraglin darting inside with a bag of something that smelled wonderfully greasy. The poor man was slightly blue in the face, the color high in his normally wan cheeks, sucking in a deep breath. “Ain’t…ain’t no ‘berg’ joints ‘round here, whatever they are, but I found this li’l Aakon takeout place that I reckon ya’d like.”

Meredith knew better than to laugh, smiling as he placed the bag into her lap. “Aw, Kraglin, don’t tell me you ran the whole way back.”

“Ya pushed out a whole baby, I knew ya was gonna be hungry.” He mumbled. Meredith caught him gently by the collar of his flightsuit, dragging him down to smack a kiss against his cheek and earning a furious blush.

“You’re a peach, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” She said, happily opening the containers for the food inside. Meredith cut a glance towards Yondu. “Especially this guy here.”

“Don’t start none, Quill.” Yondu warned her, kicking his boots up on her bed. Peter was content in his arms, his soft little snuffles accompanying Yondu’s growl. He grinned, hooking a large finger into Peter’s tiny fist. “S’right, ya tell yer mama.”

“So what’d ya name him?” Kraglin asked, taking up the chair on the other side of her bed.

Meredith flapped her hand at him to give her a moment, her mouth already stuffed with the greasy food. It tasted like heaven, exactly what the doctor didn’t order. As she swallowed, she managed out, “Peter.”

Kraglin looked at her, baffled as he repeated slowly, “Pee-ta? What kinda name is that?”

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #meredith quill #yondu udonta #my art #Yondu and Krags getting involved with Peter right from the start? yes #just somethin' a li'l soft

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blue-the-octoling · 15 days ago

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He gently squeezed the flesh and rubbed circles into it with his thumb, feeling his groin heat as he groped the flesh. Never would he admit it, or maybe one day he would, but he always stated longer than needed at Rory. He found her figure mouthwatering (mouthwashing reference 😲😲), the fullness and how plump she looked, perfect to be held and he had even imagined biting her once. His the thought now had him at half-mast. They broke the kiss and Daisuke stated at Rory's flushed face, licking his lips and asking softly "sh-should we take off our clothes now? " Rory seems to think a moment before nodding. He starts by taking off the Hawaiian shirt he wears, then his t-shirt, he slips off both his boxers and pants in one go. By now Rory was naked as well, sitting bashfully on his bed. Daisuke feels what he can only describe as fire go through him as he takes in her body, eyes trailing down her figure tantalizingly. But he stops and doubles back, spotting dark purple lines along her thighs. His brow creases in worry and he raises his gaze to meet Rory's. Her eyes quickly dart away from his and hesitantly, knowing her dislike for touch, he gently take her hand "lay on your back for me?" He asks in a soft voice. After a few seconds Rory complies and state up at him nervously. He leans over and places a gently kiss to each scar, dick twitching at the small gasp he hears from her. After kissing each scar he can't resist and opens his lips, suckling on her sweet flesh. A tiny moan leaves Rory and he softly groans in response. He continues sucking hickies into her thighs, cock pulsing and arousal flaring as she bucks her hips. He's hard and leaking by the time he pulls away, wiping his mouth of spit. She looks a mess already and he loves it. He trails a hand up her leg and stops upon her pelvis (that area between ur cooch and stomach). Curiously he moves his thumb and brushes it against her clit, yes he knew where it was, then rubs slow circles. He bites his lip when she jolts and sharply gasps, deciding to rub a little faster. Steadying himself with a hand on the mattress he leans over and kisses her again. After a few minutes Rory grabs his wrist and pulls away from his lips, her expression hungry "I want more" Daisuke swallows and nods "o-okay..like, my fingers or..?" Rory thinks for a second before mumbling " fingers " Daisuke swaps his hands, the one that was rubbing her clit now on the matress. He uses his other hand and dips his middle and ring finger between her lips, eyes widening a little "w-wow, your so wet" Rory scoffs but makes an impatient noise. After thoroughly coating his fingers in her slick, he pushes one into her slowly. He doesn't get much a reaction other than a lip bite, but when he curls his finger Rory softly hisses a curse. he slowly pumps his finger in and out of her then slips in his ring finger. Slowly he moves them in and out, scissoring his fingers to stretch her. He pulls his fingers out and rubs his index through her folds, coating it in slick too. Then, ever so carefully, he pushes them in, watching Rory's reaction. He pauses once his fingers are down to the knuckle, letting her adjust. The he slowly moves them in and out, this time getting a small moan out of her

Does this look good? Keep worrying on if I'm making Rory accurate

Dude it’s really good! Also take as much time as you need I understand writers block and I don’t want to rush perfection. I love the fact that you included the dark purple scars like mine whenever I’m cold. Is that what you were going for? Anyway! I love it so far you got Rory almost perfectly

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iambilliejeanok · 3 years ago

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Really anything Madara or like Uchiha kink head canons IDK IM JUST SO THIRSTY FOR MADARA AND ANYTHING U WRITE IS GOOD JUST A CRUMB PLZ ITS ALL I ASK FOR _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_ oh and take ur time!

This is a special order for my number one wifey♥️ I had to push all the others to the side sorry ✋🏾

Warnings: 18+,kinky shit, smut okay.

Madara x Reader

Sasuke x Reader

Just gonna say that not all of these are kinks, some of them are about how sexual habits.

Madara

Madara will finger your any chance he gets you hear me. Any chance!

He’s literally obsessed which watching them dip inside of you, slowly curling them, gradually picking up the pace, his eyes glued on you. Everything about you is mesmerizing. The different faces you make, the way your body shakes, the way your ass jiggles with the force of his hand. Jesus you’re a fucking goddess when you’re on verge of an orgasm. This is an experience for him. His heart goes 🥺🥺😈😈😈 when you start whimpering and whining, trying your best to not hurt him but also unable to stop yourself from clawing and kicking.

Maybe I’m the morning, you’ll wake up with his head buried between your legs, already panting and moaning from the flicking of his tongue right before he sucks on you, his eyes on your pretty face so he can watch you crumble. Once he feels that you’re overstimulated enough it’s time for that finger action. You’re such an erotic little angel to him, taking in deep breaths and pushing against his chest while he slowly sinks two fingers in and out of you, watching them disappear inside of you, a ring of cream around them as he slowly pumps, curling them ever so slightly, watching you throw your head back and cry out.

When you actually start shivering and become squirmy, it’s time time to dick you the fuck down. He’s going to destroy you and you’re going to take it…unless you safeword him.

Obsessed with making out with you while he’s aggressively fingering you, and when you struggle to kiss him back he whispers praises against your lips, his warm breath brushing against your face while you’re pushing him away and failing since he’s so strong. Will reduce you to a teary, whiny, pleading mess. Just with his hands alone.

During hot tub/jacuzzi or even bath time, you’re on his lap, and his fingers are inside of you, you’re eyes rolling to the back of your head as you struggle to converse with him, an orgasm raining down on you so heavenly you might wanna cry.

He loves fingering you so much that it becomes a habit and he does it absentmindedly now. His hand snaking between your thighs, burying itself under your towel to start rubbing lazy circles on your clit-while he’s brushing teeth next to you doing your face routine. You’ll most likely cum because he does get carried away, that’s why you gotta stop him soon enough or else he actually starts paying attention to what he’s doing.

I’ve mentioned this before but I’ll still say it again. Because he loves fingering you, he really really enjoys seeing you in short skirts or dresses. It’s perfect for a quickie, when he wants to watch your cum drip your legs during his office hours. He can be a big bully though. He’ll make you stand in front of him, while he sits in his chair, his face snug against your pelvis so he can suck on your clit while slowly fingering you. If you fall over he gets to have his way with you, if not you’re free to leave and continue about your day. What do you think is gonna happen?

Sasuke

Sasuke actually has a serious degradation kink. Throw in a little sadism in there too. He’s a very hardcore dom.

He’s also the type to tie you all the way up just for fun, and fuck you nice and hard, going as deep as he can just to make everything super overwhelming for you. He has this technique that always leaves you trembling, your cooch gushing him out from the intensity of your orgasm but that’s okay because just gonna out it right back in. If you push him out again he’s gonna pop it in again. Simple.

Loves giving you a particularly hard time, he can and is 100% going to make your orgasms aggressive and super intense that you pass out.

Remember when I said he likes tying you up? That’s also because he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself or him, because you do pull his hair really hard and scratch him enough that he bleeds…and you bite…and kick…so yeah he’s tying you up.

Ignorings your tears because you’re crying water not blood right? You’ll be fine it’s just an orgasm, it won’t kill you. When you start that sweet whining/crying he gets a little softer, but he’s still not stopping. “Don’t cry my little pup, daddy is almost done, just a little longer? Or can you not keep up with daddy?…Pathetic” or maybe something like “Is my little puppy too dumb to use words? What? Too much? What’s too much ? Oh when I do this?”, and he will literally force another orgasm out of you.

The recovery process takes a while. A long while. And he also genuinely enjoys taking care of you after a good fucking. You did a great job for him so let him return the favour. Will literally carry you everywhere. Everywhere. Your wish is his command.

Might be a daddy in the sheets but he’s such a sweetheart when he’s not fucking you.

❤️‍🔥 @sodium-noodlez 💐🙈🥰❤️‍🔥 @rahatake 💐❤️‍🔥 @hkzv 💐🤗❤️‍🔥 @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored 🥺🙊💐❤️‍🔥 @smutteedreams 🥰🙊💐

#naruto imagines #naruto smut #naruto headcanons #uchiha imagines #Uchiha smut #uchiha headcanons #sasuke x reader #sasuke x y/n #sasuke imagines #sasuke smut #sasuke headcanons #madara imagines #madara smut #madara x reader #madara x y/n

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wildheartsalwaysburn · 4 years ago

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Sex on Fire (by Kings of Leon) || C.W.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader summary: Charlie and y/n are celebrating their anniversary with some sexual fantasy they've had in mind for ages: sex on a dragon's back. a/n: If there would be any real dragons around, I'd highly recommend not try this at home. They are some very empathic and highkey intelligent creatures with a serious bonding issue, so any activities on their back are only happening with their consent! Also I think Charlie is such a caring and sensitive person, so this is gonna be the real "love-making" art of sex.

warnings: Smut18+, unprotected intercourse, a few swear words but actually it's fluff-smut words: 1.609

If you like it feel free to like, comment and reblog <3 Also if you wanna be put on my taglist, let me know!

"And you are sure he gave us permission?", y/n asked while she undressed completely and put on her new piece of lingerie. Her boyfriend, while taking off his shirt and pants, chuckled: "Again, love. We talked about this and it's an honour for him. Fedir won't hurt us, he never did. You know him." Fedir was one of y/n's favourite dragons in the reservate Charlie was working at and a 26 feet tall Ukrainian Ironbelly. Due to their international reputation of being one of the most dangerous breeds, her worries were eligible. But she trusted her boyfriend more than anyone else. He planned something very special for their 3 years anniversary: having sex on a dragon's back. The couple has talked about this fantasy so many times, he had no choice but finally try it out now with y/n. Charlie, completely naked, grabbed the kilt y/n had gifted him for Christmas. He never knew what to do with this but today it hit him that his girlfriend had got something in her mind when choosing this thing as a present. The man was bobbing eagerly with his feet until his girlfriend came out of the bathroom. Only an opaque gown encased her body, still keeping her best parts a secret. His amber eyes widened when finally seeing her and a hint of blush appeared on his freckled cheeks. Y/n smirked when noticing: "So after all these times you're still blushing when seeing me like this?" She walked closer to him and put her arms around his neck. Her hands were playing with his long ginger hair, which he had tied up in a ponytail all the time. As a response Charlie just pulled her even closer and started kissing her impetuously. His hands were running all over her in a silk covered body, grabbing her thighs firmly before lifting her up and pressing his girlfriend against the wall. Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing his hard crotch against her hips, just one layer of tartan separated him from her sweet entrance. Her hands were running over his strong arms trailing the freckles on his skin up to his shoulders again before she buried her fingers in his hair. When the ginger started kissing and sucking on her neck, she couldn't help but moan his name quietly. As if this was a signal Charlie stopped and breathed against y/n's soft skin: "We should continue outside, princess…" one soft kiss more on her cheek, " It'll be worth it, I promise."

It was a warm summer day without any breeze. The crystal clear sky above them seemed like a perfect invitation for their plan. Fedir was already waiting on a small hill, his silver scales glistening in the sunlight. When seeing the couple coming closer, he spread his wings on the ground to make it easier for them to climb up his back. "How do we actually...sit here, Charlie?", y/n asked slightly doubting that anything would work out on there. Her boyfriend smirked: "Let me handle this, love." Before she knew, he already lifted her up with ease and pulled her on his lap, which made her gasp of surprise and affection. Through the delicate fabric covering her thighs, she could already feel his hardness, so she started to get more confident again. As if Charlie could read her mind, he pulled her even closer, his strong hands on her back, wandering underneath the silk. "Looks like we can get on, now", the dragon tamer growled with a voice as deep as the ocean but as warm and sweet as fresh honey. He even smelled like this, which made y/n go crazy everytime she noticed. Just like at this exact moment. She pressed her lips eagerly on his, her hands on his warm face, pressing her body on his with pure relish. With a small, almost unnoticeable hand sign, Charlie told the dragon to fly off. The moment they raised into the afternoon sky, he mumbled into the kiss, telling his heated girlfriend to hold onto him. So she did, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, her hands tangled softly in his hair and her cooch exposed towards his hips. He could feel her getting wet, what made him even more excited to go further. His hands wandered from her back to her bum, squeezing it firmly while one hand went around her hips in between her thighs and up to her slit. There he started to caress her clit with his fingers and he knew exactly how to make her feel good. When feeling him down there y/n started moaning into the fiery kisses, Charlie taking the chance to slide his tongue in her mouth dancing with hers as if they were two snogging teenagers again. The air between them was getting hotter with every second, their bodies burning from lust and desire for each other. Sometimes a low breeze was waving through them causing some goosebumps on their skin. But the lovers didn't mind at all, it made them feel like being completely free. "I want you, Charlie.", her voice sounded quite desperate, "Please." To emphasize her craving for his hard cock, she pressed herself onto his lap slowly moving back and forth, slightly massaging him to get even harder. Her hand stroke over his broad shoulders, down to his strong tensed biceps, back again to his muscular chest where she dag into his freckled skin. Charlie hissed quietly due to the short pain but it turned him on even more, since he knew she was doing this because she wanted him really bad. And he liked that. So he opened his kilt and pushed the tartan fabric aside, exposing his huge, stiff member. Without hesitation he scooped up his girlfriend with one arm, his hand leaving her wet slit to get a hold on her thigh. The sudden cold air between her legs made her shiver for a second before the dragon they were sitting on was flapping his wings, making her lose balance and Charlie's hard cock sliding into her all of a sudden. Both gasped in surprise, the sudden pleasurable feeling running down their spines, stirring up the already heated atmosphere between them even more. Y/n's hands laid on her boyfriends warm, freckled shoulders, her legs tensed and pressed against his thighs, moving rhythmically up and down to give Charlie the pleasure he deserved. To show his appreciation, he pulled her hair slightly back, so her neck stretched and he could cover her in kisses, most of them soft but sometimes he couldn't help but sucking on her skin, leaving small hickeys. His lips rushed over her neck and throat, his tongue traced her muscles and veins down to her breasts where he started to carefully bite her nipples. All of this made y/n even more wet, she moaned out loud since nobody

was up there to hear them anyway, her arms were embracing Charlie's strong body tighter with every thrust of him inside her. The dragon's wavelike motion intensified the pounding of his huge cock inside her, hitting her G-spot, slowly getting her to the edge. She could feel he was almost ready, too. His body moved more erratically, his hands grabbed her breasts and bum more roughly, his whole behaviour became more demanding, more eager. The thrusts got faster. Her moans got louder. Their kisses got more fierce, tongues nearly battling to win over the other. Heat was rising up in both of them. "Oh fuck...Charlie…", every word of hers was just breathed heavily between snogging, "I-I'm about to come…" She moaned the last words out loud, feeling his hot breath against her cheeks when he begged her to wait for him. "Let's...come together", his voice sounded raucous, as if a warm firewhiskey was running down his throat. Charlie took y/n blushing face in his right hand, making her look at him, locking his amber eyes with her y/e/c ones. "Fuck...babe...I-" - "...love you." she smiled briefly when finishing his sentence, putting his freckle covered face in her hand as well, reaching her climax shortly before he did. A wave of pure heat, serotonin and delight was rushing through their bodies. He still thrusted a few times after that, wanting to make her feel good. Her body collapsed on his, shivering and sweating heavily. His face still in her hand y/n laid her forehead on his one, her sign of purest affection and love. Charlie's body relaxed then as well, he let out a deep breath of satisfaction, smiling when she touched his face. "Damn, y/n. How did I get so lucky?", he chuckled. His girlfriend, completely out of breath, just chuckled, shrugging her shoulders and pecked his lips. His arms were scooping her body, lifting her up a little to get out of her. She shifted herself in a more comfortable position, sitting between his legs nowm the silky gown loosely hanging around her shoulders. The air around them was cooler now, but she wasn't cold, protected by her boyfriend's warm body, and he was never cold actually. "What about we keep enjoying this view up here a while, before taking some hot bath together, down on earth?" Y/n stressed the word hot with a small smirk, holding Charlie's hands who blushed a little but chuckled when she suggested this. "A hot bath seems perfect to me, princess." - "So round two then?" her smirk was getting wider. "Round two, then.", he winked, squeezing her slightly.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Taglist: @marturavera

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x y/n #charlie weasley x fem!reader #charlie weasley fanfic #weasley fanfic #charlie weasley fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter ff #charlie weasley smut

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shannygoatgruff · 3 years ago

Text

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I know it’s been a minute. I’m always thinking about these stories because I want to finish them, just can’t seem to focus on writing at the moment. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Part iv - Date with Destiny

Finding Ivar Lothbrok should have been easy. Between the two of them, he was the stable one. He was the one with the iron-clad schedule that consisted of drinking, smoking, and partying. Torren’s schedule was a bit more... fluid. She tended to go wherever the wind, or whatever car she acquired, would take her. Naturally, Ivar had the occasional meet-and-greet, red carpet, and/or Comic-con engagement that he had to attend, still, he was pretty easy to keep tabs on. All one had to do was look at (stalk) his social media accounts, and his whereabouts were posted for everyone to see.

Knowing where he’d be and finding out where he lived were a different story. Torren had done her due diligence when it came to locating the town in which Little Kattegat was located. It only took about two days and a few Google image searches of the background of a few of the photos and she had it narrowed down to a general area in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

From what she could tell, the closest town to where he lived was pretty small, and there were only a few large estates hidden in the woods. How hard could it be to find? She was willing to drive to every single house and knock on the door to find him if she had to. But it would just be easier if there was loud music and a bunch of cars in the driveway. That way she could tag along inside with the rest of the guests to get to her man.

Her shirt landed in the pile of dirty clothes in the center of the bed, as she reached around to unhook her bra. “I really need to tell Baby Boo to stop putting all of his business out in these streets,” her brows furrowed as she shook her head, “What if some crazy, psycho bitch started stalking him, or some shit? Then I’d have to kill a bitch.” Torren’s head whipped around and she narrowed her eyes at his picture, still stuck on her wall, “Is that what you want? Huh? You want me to cut a bitch to prove to you how much I love you? I will, Bae! You know I would do anything for you. I’m your Ride or Die...”

And being his Ride or Die meant that she needed to keep better tabs on him if she was going to protect him from someone crazier than her, God forbid. She was only able to do so much on this prepaid phone, and going to the library to get online was becoming a pain in the ass.

She’d considered stealing a laptop or iPad from the library but was still on the fence about the idea. Of course, the alternative meant going to stupid ass libraries and threatening little kids to get off the fucking computers, and that completely sucked ass.

She always felt rushed when she logged onto her Bae’s Only Fans page from the public library. Without fail one of those little bastard kids would get the library Nazis to kick her off the computer, or bar her from the library altogether for watching porn.

Ivar’s page wasn’t porn! It was art. It was sexy. It was love...his love for her. Stupid bitches.

She had encountered far worse things than getting kicked out of the library, but some of these small towns usually only had one or two within their county limits. If she got banned, how was she supposed to check up on Ivar? In the time it took to log in until she got kicked out, she'd be lucky if she could check 2 of his accounts. What if he had some important information on another platform that she hadn’t checked yet? What was she supposed to do then?

Her relationship with Ivar was hanging in the balance, and she'd be damned if some snot-nosed kid or fucking uptight librarian would fuck that up. She needed a computer. But, on the flip side, when she finally got her man back, she wouldn't need one anymore. She could ask him directly what their plans were.

There was a lot to consider and that took time; time that she didn't have right now.

The thick layer of Nair shaving cream she had applied to her already hairless crotch, was just starting to tingle, signaling she had about 5 minutes left before the sweat-inducing, burning sensation would kick in alerting her to wash the cream off. Until then, she had time to consider an outfit for the night.

She knew Ivar well enough to know that he would want her to be sexy for him, but not so much to distract him from work. She could have gone for something slutty, like those skanky bitches he partied with. She could have gone for more demur, but then she would remind him too much of his bitch ex-wife and completely turn him off. The last thing she wanted on their first night back together was for him to be thinking about that bitch. She could have gone for a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but Torren never did simple.

No, Ivar would want her to be herself. That's what he loved about her. That's what attracted him to her in the first place. She would be sexy without being skanky; she would be demure without being a prude.

Fuck! It was already 7:33 p.m. How in the hell did she miss the beginning of his Live? Now she was running late.

She was supposed to be dressed and ready by the time his Live came on that way she could be out the door as soon as he finished. If she was going to make it to be on his Only Fans live stream tonight, she needed to get to his house before he got too distracted. Now, she’d have to watch his Live, while her cooch burst into flames before she had a chance to take a shower and finish picking out her outfit.

If there was one thing Torren was, it was punctual. It was bad enough that she was about 40 minutes outside of his town, but it could take her up to 2 or more hours to find his house. She only hoped that he didn’t plan on starting any real freaky shit on his Only Fans page until around midnight, cause it looked like she wouldn’t be getting there before then, anyway.

With the smile still plastered on her face, Torren turned on the hot water for a shower, forgetting that the water didn’t get hot. She didn't mind, much, especially since the cold water gave her a break from the heat in her room.

Phone in hand, she watched him, as she planted herself on the dirty bathtub floor, cross-legged, and started to get herself ready. Starting with her toes, she shaved each one, just below the knuckle, followed by her fingers, arms, pits, and each leg, from groin to ankle, three times. When the burning from her nether regions was so intense that she couldn’t tell her tears from the shower water dripping on her face, she quickly washed off the cream.

All she could do was hope that she hadn’t broken the skin this time. The last time she had let that damn Nair stay on, just past burning, the skin broke and she bled. She was not having a bloody hoo-ha tonight.

With that taken care of, she gently used the razor to remove any other pubes closer to the inside that needed to be removed. Then shaved her backside. When she had more time, she was going to get the internal hairs bleached, but she needed to find out what Ivar preferred.

Shaving ate up so much of her time that she only had a few seconds to rub some body-wash that she had stolen from a drug store over her body and hoped it got rid of the smell of the summer heat. Her hair? Fuck it...she’d wash it another day, for now, this cold water would have to be enough. She’d spritz some perfume and hair spray in it and it would smell fine.

Torren finished her shower, and walked out of the bathroom dripping wet, only using a towel to wrap around her hair. She was glad it was so hot in her room that her hair would air-dry quickly. She finger-combed her damp tresses to complete that ‘just got out of bed, but it's styled’ appearance. She knew how much he loved when her hair looked like that. It would remind him of freshly fucked hair.

She spent extra time applying her makeup, even using an extra dark, thick application of eyeliner. She usually went for more subtle warm colors. They matched her tan skin tone better. But, tonight, she had bold, dark makeup, complete with varying shades of purple and blue eye shadows, and dark purple lipstick.

Torren was glad that she decided to match Ivar’s clothes this evening. The swim trunks and smoking jacket he wore would compliment her beautifully. She wanted everyone to know that they dressed alike, the way real couples do. If he was going for less is more, so would she.

She settled on black leather chaps that tied up on the sides, and tight blue boy shorts that left the bottom half of her ass cheeks exposed. The blue shorts brought out the blue swirls in his trunks; she knew he'd appreciate that touch. Her top was a blue bandanna that she wore as a halter with a short black leather jacket with tassels on the sleeves.

They screamed “couple” in her eyes.

Completely satisfied with how she looked, Torren locked the door to her motel room and started down the hall. She deliberately stopped by the window and peered through the partially opened blinds of the people staying next door to her. She knocked on the window to get the attention of the young couple inside. Judging from their appearance, they were too strung out to know who she was, or that it was her music that they constantly banged on the wall about. She didn’t care. She still flipped them off before making her way to the stairs.

Reaching her hand through the busted window of the blue Ford Taurus to unlock the door from the inside. Torren slid into the driver's seat and leaned over to find the two cords that she had pulled out from under the steering column when she stole the car. Flicking the cords together, she listened as the engine reluctantly turned over.

She put the car in reverse, looked in the rear-view mirror at her makeup, then pulled out of the spot. As she turned onto the road leading to the highway, she listened to the knocks, bumps, and hisses that her car made. There wasn't time to do much about it now; not when she was on her way to get her man. But, she made a mental note to do something about it later in the week. The only thing she could do was turn the music up louder to drown out the car noise.

Truthfully, she should have stolen a better car than the piece of shit Taurus that she found in the parking lot of the Quickie Mart while driving through Tulsa, Oklahoma. There were plenty of better cars there to choose from but no one would have wanted to take this one. It was so sad looking that she took pity on it. She had been doing the owner of this crap car a favor, by taking it off of their hands.

The car was truly fucked. The oil light stayed on, and it drank gas like her mother drank liquor. The car had protested every inch of the ride across the three states that she traveled through in one day. She knew that it would only be a matter of time before that piece of shit breathed its last breath.

She needed to get gas again, but fuck that car. She had already refueled four times since she stole it. Gas wasn't cheap and she wasn't putting another dime in that gas guzzler. Speaking of money, she made a mental note to steal another credit card. It would only be a matter of time before the owner of the one that was tucked snugly between her left breast and strapless bra, would eventually realize that it had been lifted from the table in the diner, and canceled.

Laptop, butt bleaching, car, credit card, and more eyeliner from Walgreen's…her To-Do list was growing. She really needed to take some time off and take care of the necessities. Not tonight, though. She had other things to do. She couldn't do anything else, right now, but get to her man. Besides, once Lothbrok was by her side, he would help her remember all the things she needed to do.

As she came off of the highway exit smoke started billowing out from the engine. It backed up through the exhaust system, and came through the vents, inside the cabin. It was ironic – the air-conditioning vents in the car didn't work, but they seemed to work well enough to clog the inside of the car up with thick white smoke. She drove a few more miles before the smoke was so thick that she could no longer see. As she pulled the car over to the graveled shoulder of the road, the car knocked and shook, before it finally cut off.

Just her fucking luck.

She reached under the dash to flick the cords against each other again, trying to force the ignition to catch again, but it wouldn't. The engine had nothing left to give her. "Fuck Murphy and fuck his fucking law," she said calmly as she pulled the hood release.

She opened the car door, taking care to place both black, platform boots on the ground before lifting her backside from the seat. Placing her sunglasses on her eyes, she walked with one foot in front of the other to the front of the Taurus and placed her hand on the hood. It was hot, but not so hot that she couldn't feel under the front of the lever.

As she lifted the heavy metal hood and placed the rod in the slot to hold it in place, Torren let the smoke from the engine engulf her. It was quite a head rush breathing in the thick engine smoke through her nose, and exhaling it from her mouth. She patiently waited for the smoke to thin out before she bent, at the waist, over the engine. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she knew that someone would see her looking over the engine and stop to help her.

Now, if only someone would actually come down this dark stretch of road, she could be back on her way to Ivar.

It didn't take long before a pair of headlights rounded the bend of the road, just off to her right. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she accentuated the leather, chaps against her hips, and lifted her ass higher in the air, to catch the driver's attention. She couldn't help but smirk when she heard the tires of a large vehicle turn onto the graveled pavement in front of where she broke down. She didn't turn to face the car or the driver. She didn't care who they were or what they looked like. She had an appointment to keep and this pit stop was fucking up her timetable.

"You need some help?" A deep voice asked as its owner approached her.

Torren took a moment to peer around the hood, noticing that there were no other cars around. "Broke down," she answered, continuing to bear her weight from one hip to the other. She placed her hands on the metal frame of the car, arched her back, and looked at the man over her shoulder. "You know something about cars?"

"Yeah," he replied, moving around to her side, looking at her, and not the smoky engine.

She gave him half a smile, as she noticed him notice her. "You a mechanic or something?" She asked standing up. She rubbed her hands together to remove some of the visible engine soot while considering the guy in front of her. He was about 6 feet tall with a moderate build. He was dressed in blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and Timberland boots. He didn't look like he was more than 25 years old. Judging from the way he was looking at her and from the ring on his left hand, he wasn't too worried about her car, or his wife, for that matter.

"Nah, not a mechanic, but I work on my own car... in my spare time." He smiled when she did. She was gorgeous, in that slutty kind of way. She wouldn't be dressed like that and leaning over the hood of a car if she wasn't looking to have some fun. "Lemme take a look at it."

Did he work on his car? Hopefully, that meant that his ran better than hers did.

Torren moved over to the side and let him take the position under the hood. "I'll be right back," he explained before walking over to the bed of his F150.

Grabbing a flashlight from the trunk, he took a second to admire the view of her, from behind. If he could get her car moving again, she would hopefully follow him to this cheap motel he knew that was just up the highway.

He leaned in close, taking a whiff of her hair, "You overheated…want to check the coolant level."

She had heard him say something else but she had stopped listening; she was too busy watching the street. "You want me to try to start it?" she asked, removing her sunglasses before making her way to the driver's door. She wasn't sure if he answered or not. She had no intention of driving the Taurus again, even if he could get it started. She just needed to get something out of the car.

She slid into the seat and reached down on the floor. She found the hard metal object on the floor of the passenger's side and gripped it tightly. As she walked back around to the front of the car, she heard him talking, presumably about the car, or maybe he was asking her out. Who the fuck knows? She was on a tight schedule and all of his chatting was holding her up. She stood by the side of the hood, looking at the angle he was leaning over the hood. Quickly, she lifted her arm, and with one powerful blow, she struck him in the head with the crowbar that she used to procure her now-defunct car.

Torren stood over his body, looking at him intensely. God, it felt good. The rush of knowing that one minute this dude was towering over her, and the next he was on the ground. She had dropped his ass. She was the one with the power.

"Thanks," she said, digging her hand in his pocket to retrieve his cash, credit card, and the keys to his truck. She wiped the blood on the crowbar on his shirt before walking to her new mode of transportation.

Torren sat in the truck's driver's seat and turned on the engine. She had managed to cross two things off of her To-Do list without even planning to.

Thank God the truck had air conditioning. All this heat and humidity was bound to make her hair frizzy. She cranked the AC up as high as it would go and sat still for a moment enjoying the cool air. After a minute, she adjusted the seat and tilted the rearview mirror to look at herself. She was starting to sweat and her eyeliner was starting to run just a bit at the corners of her eyes. She dabbed at the black liner to even out the lines, and then pushed the mirror back to where she could see. Giving the area another once-over, she made sure that no one else had seen her interaction with that guy on the ground, before pulling out from the gravel and onto the paved street.

"Ugh!" Torren yelled. Chester Bradley, the printed name on the credit card, had shitty taste in music. She pushed the stereo button on the steering wheel to do a scan of the radio. Anything was better than country music. Once she found some trap music on the XM radio, she turned up the volume and pulled back onto the highway.

Part iii/

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1 @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @a-mess-of-fandoms @didiintheblog @conaionaru @peachyboneless @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @revolution-starter

#OnlyFan(s)#modern ivar #shannygoat #shannyland #Date with Destiny

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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Todoroki Dad experience? Like todoroki's first time changing the baby's diaper or feeding them or holding them?

okay look, I have a very very set opinion on being a parent, and these opinions will be shown in this. this is also sounding so very aggressive i’m sorry. i’m writing this in the context that you carried the baby, you’re breast feeding the baby, & it was a planned thing. enjoy!

changing the baby’s diaper happens for the first time at the hospital. you’re basically boarderline dead on a hospital bed after squeezing a human being out of your cooch or getting sliced up (unless it’s adoption or some shit but let’s pretend it’s not for the sake of my mindless ramble). with the help of the entire nursing staff (not because he’s inadequate or helpless but just because who doesn’t want to see a hot muscled man do something every capable parent do) and your tired gaze he changes the diaper perfectly. however, once you’re home, it’s a different story.

shouto won’t let you do anything. hands down will not. you carried the soul sucking shit for nine months, he can do the same. so after tucking you into bed, he realizes the baby needs to be changed. he’ll retreat to the babies room and put the baby on the changing table and with the softest smile on his face and some aimless tune you used to hum at your once swollen belly he changes the diaper. his fingers are soft and gentle, his voice low and cracking softly because he can’t hit those high notes, but god is he in love with what he made with you. he picks up the baby, his eyes warmly resting on his child before bringing the baby to his chest, a protective fire raging in him.

“i’ll never let you get hurt... I’ll love you forever...”

feeding the baby for the first time is a bit hysterical. idk I haven’t written it yet but as i’m imagining it, it’s funny.

the baby most often getting their food by latching on your breast, and because shouto is the one who rises up in the middle of the night to coddle the screaming child, feeding the baby comes super soon. at the hospital it had been easy to just latch the baby on your breast, but as you got home and your boobs hurt more and more the pumping and preparing bottles is needed. shouto administers your baby’s first bottle, and he does so with great caution and worry.

with the baby held in his arms, your tired eyes focused on the sniffling baby because you’re awake, as much as you wish to have been able to sleep through your baby’s cries, you can’t. shouto looks at you, a warm bottle in his hands and you meet his. there’s conversation in your eyes and finally the bottle is pressed to your babies lips and thankfully the baby latches. shouto will look up with stars in his eyes, exhaustion and excitement in him because it’s adorable as fuck, and he climbs onto the bed and you sit up. and together you and him will watch the baby drink the bottle while resting upon each other.

it didn’t end up being hysterical, i’m just so tired.

HOLDING THE BABY FOR THE FIRST TIME?!?!!’dhdkwskqpodjdkw

shouto just can’t even breathe the moment he hears his baby’s first cry. his hand long having lost feeling, his left hand that was on your belly to send warm pulses in attempt to ease the pain, and the sweat on his temple feels so cold. his eyes are wider than humanely possible while the world seems to slow down as they prepare the baby.

his eyes look down at you for just a moment, emotions growing in his chest at an exponential rate and the look of exhaustive joy on your face is enough to have him bending down and kissing you. eventually the baby is given to you and shouto stares at you both, unsure if he should take pictures of you like this or just absorb it all. poor dude is super uncharacteristically overwhelmed right now okay.

five minutes later and after everyones cleared out, you’ll finally offer the baby over - your own instincts finally allowing it - and shouto’s frozen. he knew this moment was coming but he’s not prepared. this is his baby, this is someone who will call him papa, someone who will bring joy, pain, and energy only a child could bring into life, and he begins to shake.

still, he graciously accepts his baby, and he stills with the slightly fussy baby in his arms. he immediately warms his chest and the way his baby stops being fussy and immediately turns into calm loving baby just makes him start to cry. he sits on the bed, your hands rubbing his shoulders in comfort while he rocks your guys baby so in love, so grateful that this is what happened.

and in case you were wondering, yes, the baby will love shouto more just because he can warm up.

#todoroki x reader

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wholesomemendes · 5 years ago

Note

Shawn helping his pregnant wife shave down there as her bump comes in the way. But she’s all blushy and shy so he reassures her that it’s ok and laughs because they both know that Shawns been down there a lot of times before

Author’s Note: I’m going to be honest this was kinda out of my comfort zone writing wise (idea wise I think this is adorable and could totally see Shawn doing it) so please be kind when reading this lol. I’m sorry this took so long, but I’m also working on other requests that will be out soon!

“I give up,” you groaned, dropping your head down in annoyance. You were 8 months pregnant, practically bursting at the seams, and to say that you were beginning to feel fed up at your current situation was an understatement. Your stomach was constantly stretched and itchy no matter how much lotion your husband helped you put on at night, your feet ached, and you were sick and tired of being unable to do tasks that you used to think were the simplest things in the world. Ever since you were young, you have always been one to constantly shave your body, hating the way the hair made you feel itchy and uncomfortable. You had successfully managed to shave your legs, but now as you stood in the shower with your leg propped up onto the step, you were growing frustrated when you couldn’t reach the area directly under your bump. You loved being pregnant. You wouldn’t change it for the world. But it was times like these that your patience grew thin and you wanted nothing more than to pop your beautiful baby out right then and there.

It had been almost an hour since you had left Shawn in his studio to go to the bathroom, and the poor boy was growing worried at your absence, always wanting to check up on you and overall being the clingy husband he was known to be. He had been a saint throughout the whole pregnancy, constantly trying to find new ways to make you comfortable, catering to your every need even when you tried to remind him that you weren’t completely helpless. So true to his worrying self, he placed his guitar down on the stand, silently making his way to the bathroom door and knocking softly to announce his presence, “Baby? You ok in there?”

“I’m fine,” you called out, not wanting him to see you in this predicament. Even though there was no one else you felt more comfortable around, you couldn’t help but not want him to see you struggling to shave your most intimate parts.

“Are you sure? You’ve been in there a while hun.”

“I’m fine, Shawn.”

“No you’re not I’m coming in.” He slowly pushes the door open, peaking his head in to find you leaning against the shower wall hopelessly. “Now why is my beautiful wife looking all defeated over there?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his compliment, turning your face so your eyes could meet his, “I can’t shave.”

“That’s what this is all about? Babe, I’ll do it you just had to ask,” he told you like it was the easiest thing in the world as he made his way over to you.

“No, Shawn you can’t help it’s...,” you sighed, feeling embarrassed that you have to tell your husband something so stupid, “I can’t shave down there.”

“Down there?” he asked confused, “Y/n you know I don’t care if you’re shaved down there or not so why fret about it now?”

“I’m not doing this for you bubs, I’m doing it for me. You know I don’t like not being shaved. I have a mirror and everything, but this dumb bump is getting in the way!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” He rushed to get on his knees in front of you, hands caressing your stomach lovingly before he leaned his head onto your skin, “Don’t you call our baby dumb! It’s not only your brain in there.”

“Rude!” You shoved at his head lightly, earning a laugh from him in response and he was quick to reattach himself back onto your stomach, peppering soft kisses to your large bump.

“Was just kidding,” he mumbled between kisses, “We both know you’re the smarter one in our relationship.”

“Not true, your mind is incredible, I could never do the things you do.” You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling when you heard the small groan of appreciation leave his lips.

“Our baby is gonna be perfect.”

“I know, I know, I’m just getting tired,” you admitted, averting your eyes from his gaze, “My body hurts and I just want the baby out.”

“I understand, darling, you are so so strong for doing this. And I can’t wait for our baby to be here, I just know you’re gonna be the best mom.” He smiled up at you with pure adoration in his eyes, resting his chin on your bulging stomach, “Now hand me that razor.”

“Shawn...” you whined, cheeks heating up as you closed your thighs.

“Hey, hey, no hiding, you need help and as your husband it is my duty to help you.” A smirk toyed on his lips and he pulled your leg back up on the step, opening you up for him, while he gently pried the razor out of your grasp, “Besides, not like it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, lightly pushing him away as your face turned a brighter shade of red. You knew he wasn’t wrong, but having your husband shave your lady parts was a completely different situation than when the two of you were having sex. You somehow felt more vulnerable in this position even though you trusted Shawn with your life.

“I’m just saying, how do you think this little one ended up in here? There’s nothing to be ashamed of babe, I’ve got your whole entire body memorized. Every,” he placed a feather soft kiss on one of your thighs, “single,” one on your other one, “piece,” then one on the smooth skin at the top of your pubic bone that you were able to shave. This only caused you to shy away even more, covering your face with your hands so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.

“I’m not gonna do it if you don’t want me to,” he cooed, rubbing comforting circles on your thighs, “Just wanna help.”

You nodded reluctantly, removing your hands from your face, but keeping your eyes clenched shut. “Relax hun, I’ve got you,” he reassured you, “I love you.”

Finally opening your eyes, you met his loving gaze allowing you to feel comforted at his words, “I love you too, S.” You had already prepped your skin with all of your creams and lotions, allowing him to pull it tight and begin his work. He stuck his tongue out in concentration, causing him to look absolutely adorable as he slowly swiped the razor down, trying to get every hair he possibly could without hurting you. He repeated the process a couple more times before rinsing the razor out, making sure it was clean and then returning to your skin. By the time he’s satisfied with his work, he swears the heat from your cheeks had spread across your entire body down to your legs and he gives your ass a light tap before standing up in front of you again. You swat his arm with a disapproving face at his antics, but it only causes his cheeky smile to grow larger, “Keep your hands to yourself, Mister.”

“Honey, you say that like I didn’t just shave your cooch,” you roll your eyes in response, grabbing a nearby towel and wrapping it around your body as you turn away from him in an attempt to calm the redness of your face.

“Hey, get back here,” your husband whined, grabbing your wrist to pull you back into him, “Where’s my thank you kiss?”

You immediately connect your lips with his, sighing softly at the way his feel against your own. As you pull back, he traps your bottom lip between his, sucking lightly, leaving your heart pounding and your hands desperately moving up to grab at his shirt while he steps away with a smug smile on his face. “Keep your hands to yourself, Missy.” He begins to walk past you, stopping to lightly slap your ass once more before leaving the room, “Shawn!”

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kimnjss · 5 years ago

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the hardest part | requested

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader ⇢ fic type: one shot ⇢ genre: angst ⇢ word count: 2.5K ⇢ theme: bestfriend!jungkook + friend zone ⇢ warnings: i don’t think there are any?? its kinda sad lol. ⇢ synopsis: for years, you have been in love with your best friend. you regretted not saying anything about it... and it only gets worse when his wedding is just around the corner. ⇢ A/N: hope you like this! wrote the entire thing listening to the the hardest part by roy kim, listen to it while reading it... it’s even sadder that way :(

It was so hard to see him with her. Happy with her. Jungkook and you have been best friends basically your whole lives. You met in first grade and ever since then your parents made sure that you had the same teacher, same classes, same lunches. They didn't want to separate you.

Even back than Jungkook was a bit of a hothead, snapping at any one who dared to cross him. You were way more calm and thoughtful, managing to put the fire out every time. You balanced each other out.

The closeness between you only grew as the years went on. You never spent more than a few days apart. When family trips came around it was always: 'Can Jungkook come too?' or 'Y/n's coming, right?'. You two were the definition of inseparable.

You fell in love with Jungkook your freshmen year of high school. He had taken you to winter formal after Yoongi Min dumped you with no explanation. Of course, you were surprised when Jungkook broke his date with Seulgi Kang to take you.

You danced the entire night and then he walked you home. You still remembered how often you thought about him in that suit that night. He looked so good all dressed up and matching you. When you got to my door, he smiled his brace-face smile at you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before telling you goodnight and walking off.

That's when he had you. You started to notice things about Jungkook that you're not supposed to notice about your best friend. The subtle dimples on his cheeks that appeared only when he smiled real wide. How he snorted quietly if he laughed too hard. That tiny vein that stuck out on his forehead whenever he was pissed. How he treated his baby sister like a little princess.

Each time noticing something new, you fell deeper in love with him – until it was too late. You were in too deep and you had no idea what to do.

It had been years since that first realization. Nine to be exact. You had kept your feelings a secret for nine whole years. Now he was engaged. To his soulmate as he liked to call her. You liked to stick to just referring to her as the 'stupid bitch that stole my best friend'.

Her name was Eunae. Eunae Choi. She looked like a freaking Victoria Secret model. Long pin straight jet black hair, porcelain smooth skin, high cheek bones and an amazing body. On top of that she was a genius. She was working on her Master's in Psychology.

It was no wonder he fell for her.

“Hand me the banana peppers,” Jungkook nodded his head towards the jar and you slowly reached for it. It had been a long while since we had a pizza-building-movie-bingeing-sleepover.

You figured it had been just as long as him and Eunae had been together. What was it? Two years, five months and thirteen days? Yeah, but who's counting?

“Can you believe I'm getting married in a week?” Jungkook spoke as he scattered the peppers around the pie.

“Hardly.” He only mentioned it every half hour.

“You got your best ladies' speech ready?” Having Jungkook ask you to be his best man but call it a best lady was the epitome of friend zone. You nearly cried yourself to sleep after that. Nodding your head, you plucked a pepper from the jar and shoving it into your mouth.

“Eunae sent you the dresses, right? She wanted you to wear a bridesmaid's dress even though you're not one of the bridesmaids, it would just make more sense.” Eunae had sent the picture to you and that entire sentence. You nodded once again.

You loved the dress. It was a dusty rose long halter neck dress. “I still can't fucking believe it,” Jungkook mumbled to himself as he pushed the pizza into the oven. He tapped a few things on the screen before coming to sit next to you.

“Have you found a plus one yet?” The two of them were threatening you with the single's table if you didn't find someone to bring to this wedding. The thing was, you didn't want a date. It would just be a waste of time to find one. It wasn't like you would even be interested.

You honestly hated yourself for not speaking up when you had the chance. You should've just sucked it up and admitted your feelings to him. Maybe he would've rejected you but you wouldn't be in this situation that you were in right now. Watching him get married to someone you knew he loves while you're sitting there in love with him. It was pathetic.

“No, I'm gonna go stag and I'm completely okay with it,” You put extra emphasis on the last bit hoping he'd get the hint.

“Alright, alright. Go pick the first movie, I'm going to give Eunae a quick call.” You almost rolled your eyes. Of course he'd find a way to bring her into your night. Plastering a smile on your face you headed into the living room, scrolling through the movies on Netflix before deciding on a comedy.

You waited for him with the bowl of popcorn in your lap. Jungkook didn't find his way back into the living room until twenty minutes had passed. He sat down beside you, stealing the popcorn off of your lap before shoveling a handful into his mouth.

“What did you pick?” He spoke through his mouthful.

“Sausage Party.” You laughed as Jungkook's eyes widened. “That movie is so bad!” He chuckled, leaning back against the cushions and turning his attention to the screen.

As the movie progressed, Jungkook had managed to pull you against him. Your pizza laid half eaten on the coffee table and the popcorn bowl empty. His arms were wrapped around your shoulders, the tips of his fingers tickling the skin on your bare arm.

Him doing things like this is what fucked you up in the first place. Shifting away from him, you tried to calm the racing of your heart. He gave you a weird look, confusion written all over his face.

“What's the matter?”

“Nothing,”

He looked as if he wanted to say something else but refrained from doing so. You watched the rest of the movie in silence.

All these thoughts were bubbling in your head. You wanted to tell him, you wanted him to know how you felt about him before he went and got married. You couldn't form a sentence for the life of you, though.

Would it be wrong? To tell him this ten days before his wedding? What if he changed his mind? What if he called the entire thing off? What if he changed his mind? What if he called the entire thing off?

You sighed, watching as he turned the couch into a makeshift bed, dusting the popcorn bits off and onto the floor. “You heading into your room?” When you were younger he use to sleep up in your room with you. Then puberty hit and morning wood became a thing. It was safer for everyone if you slept in separate areas.

“In a little bit,” You paused, eyeing him as he laid back on the cushions. “Why? Are you tried?” You questioned and he shook his head.

“Nope.” A smirk grew on his face. “Remember when I dared you to streak around the dorm?” Of course you remembered that shit. You tripped and fell into a pile of mud. Had dirt in your cooch for days.

“Yes, why?” You laid my body down beside his, staring up at the ceiling as he spoke.

“Jimin Park saw that. He thought you were hot and asked if you were single. You weren't at the time but now you are. Would you like me to give him a call? Maybe he could be your plus one?” He suggested and you scoffed.

“No thank you.” Jimin was the king of the douche bags. Fraternity president and ignorant as fuck. You wouldn't waste a second on him.

“I don't want you to have to go alone,”

“I am choosing to go alone, Koo. If I wanted a date, I would've gotten one.” It was lost on you why he was making out of you bringing a date. Him and his bride wouldn't leave you alone about it.

“Okay, fine.” He made it seem like he was letting it go, but he was far from letting anything go.

“You're gorgeous, you know that right, Y/N? Any guy would be lucky to have you if you just gave one a chance...” You glared at him, warning him to shut up about it. You were in no mood to hear this speech for the thousandth time.

“In all the years that I've known you, you've only ever had one real boyfriend and that was a few years ago.” He pointed out. “Guys approach you too, I've seen it. Why don't you give any of them a chance?”

You sighed, running my hands over your face. “I'm just not interested.” This had become a mantra of yours.

“Yeah, but why not?”

“They're not my type.”

“You have a type?” He sounded surprised, a chuckle dying on his lips.

“Yes, I have a type.” You were quickly growing annoyed with this conversation.

“No you don't.”

You scoffed. “Yes, I do.”

“What's your type then?”

“You.” The word left your mouth before you could pull it back. Jungkook was sitting up, staring down at you with wide eyes.

“What did you just say?” He sat there staring at you. Your heart was beating in your ears. Slowly, you were sitting yourself up. Preparing yourself for what was to come next, there was no backing out now. You needed to finish what you started.

“You. You're my type, Jungkook. I'm in love with you, I have always been,” You could feel your throat closing up. But you weren't able to stop the word vomit from tumbling from between your lips.

He sat there silent for a minute. You just dropped something huge and the impact was written all over his face. He opened his mouth as if he finally came up with an answer, did that twice before his face furrowed in confusion.

“You're in love with me?” He repeated, just to clarify. You nodded.

Jungkook just continued to stare at you. Forcing your eyes shut, you cleared your throat. You couldn't look at him. There it was right on his face, how much he didn't love you. Had you expected him to admit the same, call off the wedding so you could ride off into the sunset? Yeah, right.

Maybe.

You started to head towards the stairs, quickly coming to my senses. He was getting married! “Holy shit, forget I said anything... I-I...I don't know what I was thinking. I'm going to head up,” Avoiding his gaze you rushed towards the stairs and into your room, slamming the door shut.

Overwhelmed with humiliation and the sting of rejection, tears began to stream down your face which only intensified when you heard the front door slam.

Ten days had went by and you hadn't heard anything from Jungkook. A brief message from Eunae this morning was what confirmed that you were still invited to this stupid party. You got dressed in the bridesmaid's dress, did your own hair and makeup and showed up at the church minutes before the start.

Not wanting to leave any time to mingle.

It was unbelievably hard to stand there with a smile on your face as you watched them recite their vows, staring all lovingly in each others' eyes with these dopey smiles on their faces. 'I do's' were said and they were kissing.

Not the sloppy wolfish kiss that they often displayed in front of their friends, this one was elegant one that dragged an 'awe' from the lips of the crowd. You inwardly rolled your eyes.

Your speech was quick and extremely general. You avoided getting into too much detail and you didn't tell any stories. It was the type of speech you could copy and paste and recite at any wedding. You weren't up for anything else.

Nursing your third glass of Chardonnay, Jungkook approached you. “How you holding up?” You felt yourself swaying, but you were certain you were standing still.

“I'm fine,” Another mantra.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“I liked your speech,” He tried.

You laughed. “Okay,” Gulping down the rest of your drink, you set the empty glass down on the table. “I'm going to grab a cab. Great party,” You commented, shooting him a thumbs up before exiting the hall.

It was raining very hard. You were soaked the second you stepped outside. Not letting that slow you down, you made your way to the sidewalk, calling for a taxi. A hand on your shoulder stopped you from entering the first one that pulled up.

“Why are you pissed at me?” Jungkook stood, tux soaked and hair sticking to his face.

“I'm not,”

“Yes you are, Y/N. I know when you're pissed.” He spat. “Did you expect me to call off the wedding?”

“No,” Yes.

“I'm sorry. I hate that this hurts you but you got to understand how I feel about Eunae. She's it for me, you know? I wish that it didn't hurt you so bad,” He looked sincere, it honestly hurt him that he was hurting you.

Now you felt bad. “You deserve to be happy, Koo. You shouldn't have to apologize. It's just hard to see you with her... I'm just going to stay away for a little bit,” You actually planned to stay away for more than a little bit.

Yesterday morning you were getting a call about a job in Boston. It paid a lot more than the job that you had now and it was actually related to what I=you got a degree for in the first place.

“Okay,” He was so understanding. How can someone break your heart and make it swell all at the same time? “I love you, Y/N.” You nodded, knowing the exact way that he meant. You called for another cab, slipping in without him stopping you.

Telling the driver your address, I sat back against the seats. You forced yourself not to look back. He wasn't going to be standing there waving you off. This wasn't like a movie. He wasn't going to realize that he had been in love with you all along and you'd live happily ever after. Nope.

Jungkook was to go back inside, dry off and live his life with his perfect wife. You were to go to Boston, study the behavior of the animals and their environment and that was it. Maybe you'd cross paths in the future, but for now – that was it.

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mrs-geuse · 4 years ago

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Empty (Hank Anderson x Reader)

This one is purely a twist of a page from my own diary.

I’ve had some requests for pregnant!reader and Hank and...I just can’t do that right now. My husband and I have been struggling with infertility for a year and a close friend just announced her pregnancy today, my niece was born 3 weeks ago...it’s been emotional for me.

This is purely a therapeutic attempt at getting through this for me and I’m sorry if it disappoints.

Warnings: Infertility, mentions of alcoholism, mental health struggles, and (a history of) self-harm.

Hank hears a slam from somewhere in the house and he’s instantly peeking around the corner, down the hall, warm pizza long forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“Y/N? You alright?” he calls. No response. “Y/N?” His mind is instantly working quickly, running through possibility after possibility of the worst shit.

You’d been going through it lately, your mental health at an all-time low for the last few months. It drove you to do some crazy shit and he was always there to pick up your pieces. He worried you’d resort to some of those old coping habits he knew you had. You’d told him you hadn’t done that in years, but it was still a very real possibility to him and it kept him up at night, the image of you bleeding out.

Tonight, he thought you were doing better. You’d been working on getting answers for what was bothering you…you’d spent a lot of time working through things together and – though the touchy-feely stuff was a little hard for Hank to vocalize – you were in a better place than you’d been in, well, ever.

“I’m fine,” you finally call to him, but he can hear in your voice that you’re so not fine.

“Sweetheart, come on, what is it?”

He peers into the bedroom, sees your phone face-down on the nightstand, your body on the bed, back to the headboard, knees pressed against your chest.

“It happened again,” you start, voice breaking a little bit. This could be one of two things, he knows.

Either another friend is pregnant or your period showed up.

Hank knows it’s not the latter, based on the positive ovulation test on the sink, the fact that you’ve been all over him for the last few days…

"Fuck, sweetheart…”

You shake your head, shake it off, try to take a breath.

“I feel like such an asshole, yanno? I’m happy for her, I really am, but I’m so fucking tired of it not being us. It’s been a year, Hank, a fucking year…”

He knows this, is very aware. He knows because you’ve been to the specialist, done the ten vials of bloodwork, the ultrasound up the cooch, the follow-up. Hell, he’d even done the jizz-in-a-cup thing just because he knew how much this broke you that you weren’t a mom yet.

He can remember the anxiety for those results, remember what it felt like to think it was him. He’d been convinced it was him. Hank hadn’t really thought about having another kid after Cole…and then he met you. Young, you, and that almost scared him off – the knowing that you were gonna want kids.

Hank was a drinker, for years, still is – only now he has someone to hold him through the night and that makes the drinking a little less necessary, makes life a little more bearable.

Only the results showed that his swimmers were still good. And your results showed that your stuff was all good…so, what the fuck?

He remembers holding your hand in that office as the doctor told you news, remembers your sleepless nights up filled with guilt, for whatever reason. If there was something wrong, it was nothing to feel guilty for, yet he couldn’t talk you down from that.

The doctor rambled about how some healthy couples can try for a year with no success, have nothing wrong with them…twenty percent. Twenty-fucking-percent of couples and apparently you fell right into that group.

The agony this caused you, on top of everything else you’d been through. That year consisted of monthly breakdowns in the bathroom when the bleeding started. You’d been through your share of symptom-checking, so convinced you’d been pregnant that month – you’re not normally queasy, you’re not normally late – yet Aunt Flo always reared her stupid, fucking head and each month he’d have to hold his girl and reassure you that eventually you’ll be carrying a child, things would work out…

Hell, there were months you both went sober – just in case that might help. Only it didn’t, it only made the both of you more anxious, made the constant sex almost a chore, drove you both into arguments and bullshit…

It was only recently that you sat at that kitchen table wearing his police shirt, going on about how you needed to live a little, how you needed to learn to let time do its thing. In theory? Great idea! In practice? There were so many fucking roadblocks to that happiness.

Including when your friends post on social media that – surprise! – they’re expecting!

It’s always like a gut-punch, always feels like falling and anger and guilt and ‘how-dare-I-feel-this-way-it’s-not-their-fault’ yet each month you watch them update with pictures of pregnant bellies and then eventually they post that the baby has arrived. Not to mention the monthly updates from everyone about what their little bundle is into and what things they can do and milestones reached, first steps, first words, pregnancy announcement number two…

You’d been through it all and honestly Hank just wished you’d quit the social media bullshit, cut it out, and focus on the two of you and Sumo.

And then your brother’s wife got pregnant at month one and, fuck, did that send you spiraling. Day drinking, driving drunk, crying all the time. Hank didn’t know if you’d ever get out of the funk.

Yet somehow you did. You were so damn strong, he was excited for that piece of you to grow with a baby, couldn’t wait to see what that child could become, hoped it took more of your traits and none of his.

At first, he was tentative about a child. After Cole, he couldn’t imagine the amount of anxiety he would have. But he knew how much you wanted it, how excited you were every time you went down the baby aisle at the store…

Now all you do is cry, avoid that aisle, look away.

You’d gotten through your sister-in-law’s baby shower just fine and now that the baby’s here and you’re seeing your parents step up as first-time grandparents…that hurt is real and raw.

And it’s not their fault, you know that, and you don’t hold resentment. You do avoid, though. Avoid calling, avoid social gatherings with the family. The shame you feel for not being a mom is something Hank can’t understand as a man, he just can’t. You told him once that it makes you feel like less of a woman and that shook him to the fucking core.

What kind of society puts this kind of pressure on the ‘natural progression of life’? How many people had asked about her getting pregnant, making assumptions that you weren’t trying, that you weren’t having issues.

“How did you let your sister-in-law get pregnant before you? You and Hank have been married longer, he’s old!” -the words of an actual family-friend. What a mess. How fucking painful for you to go through. He remembers that night vividly, remembers you walking him out because he was about to fight someone, remembers the way your tears looked as you paced in the parking lot, wondered how you were gonna go in and face everyone.

People suck, that’s for sure, and this is no different. People don’t understand and no one talks about infertility, you’re realizing. No one talks about the shame of it, the pain, the emotional devastation, what it fucking does to a happy marriage…

The two of you have come through stronger and you’re on a more positive, upbeat path but you still have your down days and Hank is very aware that you haven’t had one in about three weeks…

“Maybe we should start the adoption process,” you mumble with a sigh as he sits beside you, the bed dipping under his weight.

Only he knows you, he knows that you want to carry a baby, knows that there are options…like adopting an embryo…you’d researched your heart out. Researched about proper positions, different tricks, supplements, spent so much money on ovulation kits and doctor visits and pregnancy tests…

“I’m for it if that’s what you want, if you’re ready for that…” he rubs your shoulder.

You sigh, bury your face in his chest.

“I’m just so tired of waiting. I’m so tired of trying and getting hopeful and then bleeding. I’m tired of hearing from my parents that it’ll happen. I sort of wish something was wrong because then we could intervene. But now, what, we wait longer? It’s just bad luck? I’m fucking done with being told to wait and be patient, and that I’m too stressed. I’m pissed that people can have unhealthy habits or try for a month and get pregnant no issue while we have been doing our best to be better and this has been a full fucking year. Hank, we could have a three-month-old right now…right now! Holding a three-month-old. What the fuck?” you let a few tears slip by.

“I’m right here with you. I’ve seen how hard this has been on you. You’re stronger than anyone I know, baby.” He kisses your temple, rubs up and down your back. “You’re gonna be a great mom. And it’s gonna happen. No matter what I have to do, I’m gonna make you a mom.”

He doesn’t care how much money it’s going to cost; he needs to see you happy again. He misses it. You were so full of life once, you’re like a wilted flower now.

“You’ve been great with all this, Hank. Thank you.” You kiss him, lean into it more and Hank feels that spark, feels his arousal start up again.

“Fuck,” he sighs, “I know what you want,” his fingers dance across your neck. “How ‘bout we eat some pizza,” he kisses you, “and then,” another kiss, “we come back in here,” a kiss to your neck, “bring the whipped cream,” you smirk at that, “and enjoy each other.”

You hum. “That sounds so good right now, Hank…”

He nods. “Gonna run me dry by the end of this week,” he stands with you to head to the kitchen.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, big man.” You smack him on the ass.

So maybe your life isn’t perfect, but it’s yours.

#Hank Anderson x reader #detroit become human #detroit become human hank anderson #hank anderson reader insert #detroit become human hank x reader #reader insert #detroit become human reader insert #detroit become human x reader

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zukofenty · 4 years ago

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always be my maybe

➜ Summary: The one where Zuko and Katara could never quite get their timing right. Especially when the universe throws a lost condom, thousands of miles, and a baby in their way.

“I will literally french braid my pubic hairs and never open my pussy to anyone ever again if this condom doesn’t kill me. Please don’t let it kill me.”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, Celebrity Chef!Katara, Doctor!Zuko, Love, Rosie!AU

AO3 @zutaraweek

“Go a couple rounds, leave Zuko’s dick up in a casket!” Toph screams into the microphone, undeterred by the various guests who stare up at her, mouth open and half-chewed, dry-as-fuck chicken spilling out. It wasn’t her fault, really! As soon as Zuko handed the mic off to her, he basically gave her free reign to spit a Megan Thee Stallion verse in his honor. “Sing with me, bitches! Look up the lyrics on Genius.com, Cheryl!”

“Sit down !” Katara squeezes out from clenched teeth, ripping the device out from the girl’s grip.

“I didn’t even get to the chorus, you fucking whore .” A bridesmaid nervously plucks the mic from their table and avoids eye contact with both of them. “What’s going on with you, bitch?” Toph asks quietly. She could tell Katara’s been doing her fake smile for the last twenty minutes. The girl was practically going to break her face open with how hard she was grinding her teeth.

“Just thinking.” Katara wants to smack herself in the face, pinch a nipple and bring herself to reality. Everything felt too real, and Toph could sense it. She’s the type to somehow sense when Katara shifts in her seat a certain way to covertly satisfy a cooch itch, and then buys her Monistat the same day.

She hates that she could never hide any emotion from her. Toph could always figure out the puzzle pieces that were Katara. One of the few to know the real her, besides Zuko.

Sometimes Katara thinks the younger girl knows her better than him. At least now. Especially now.

“About?” Toph takes an experimental sip from the wine glass, and gags. The juice tasted like Gatorade and cum. “Why the fuck would anyone want a dry wedding? Weddings are the only time you get to see your alcoholic uncle vomit all over the bride’s shoes, and then your closeted aunt has to wipe up the puke and her reputation from the floor while thinking of her secret girlfriend at home watching Tiger King .”

“That example was extremely specific and extremely unnecessary.” Katara brushes a crunchy curl, doused in hairspray, from her eyes.

“Sorry, I got distracted. I had dick on the brain, or whatever Rihanna said,” Toph mumbles, risking a bite of the chicken.

Katara turns to see him at the couple’s table in the center of the extravagant wedding, and sighs. “And for your information, I was just thinking when will he penetrate my esophagus? You know, just girly things.”

Toph has the gall to slap the girl on the cheek.

Katara holds her stinging face, eyes narrowed in an unspoken threat for fucking up the parts of her face she didn’t set with powder (she was going for a dewy look, sue her). “Not fair! You were the one who called my throat the baby chute earlier today!”

“Ok, throat goat. One, he’s getting married. Two, you’re sick.”

“My therapist will most likely cosign that,” Katara sighs. Toph holds Katara’s hand and leans her head on her shoulder as they watch Zuko mingle with guests.

This is the happiest day of his life.

Her best friend of twenty odd years was getting married. He looked so handsome, so happy. A suit that looked like it would cost someone’s rent and a half casually hugging his muscular frame. A blinding smile on his face, cheeks flushed from champagne and excitement.

When he turns her way, his smile grows impossibly wider. Toph clinks on a champagne glass with a fork, breaking it a la Princess Diaries , and Katara could feel the stares of nearly everyone in the room, ready for her speech.

It should be the happiest day of my life, too.

Right?

Katara thinks she wants to cry.

Now, how come none of those Judy Blume, coming-of-age books have a chapter on how to write a Best Woman speech for your best friend getting married to another woman, even when you were struggling with the fact that you might have been in love with him for the past two decades?

Bitch, what the fuck do you even start that Google Doc with?

Does she start at 4 years old? When Katara thinks Zuko is an annoying piece of shit?

But, you know, he’s her piece of shit.

Guys have hepatitis, or cooties, or whatever Sokka said, she couldn’t exactly remember. All she remembered was Zuko sucked. He stole her crayons and made fun of her Hello Kitty backpack on the first day of school. He was the stupid one, not Hello Kitty . Never Hello Kitty . She’d shoved his face into the playground’s wood chips, threatened to cut off his peepee for breathing down her neck with his retainer breath, and even stuck his head in between two slices of white bread and lovingly referring to him as an ‘idiot sandwich’ (Sokka let her watch too many Gordon Ramsey hosted shows while their dad was working late).

Zuko and Katara were practically inseparable ever since.

Or 10, when you were asking for trouble if you fucked with Zuko.

He was a tiny kid, glasses too big for his head. Hair shaggy, clothes too oversized for him (just the way he liked it). His dad had tried beating it into him that it showed weakness by not making waves, not being loud and proud. But, he was quiet by nature. For him, it was just easier.

Not stirring the pot, being the observer, looking in from the outside. He was just Zuko , he liked Wonder Woman comics and figuring out what other words besides BOOBIES he could spell with his calculator instead of actually doing his math homework, because he was bad at math. Bad at everything, really. Everything but band class. Even if he did hate that stupid fucking tsungi horn.

His mom would hide his report cards from his dad, especially the ones noting how shy he was (Mrs. Kim had used the exact words ‘very antisocial, very easy to bully’). Even when Ursa would ask him to try, try to make friends outside of Katara, he was always a stubborn little thing. Something you got from your father , she would say, the smile slipping off her face just the slightest.

It was just more fun being by himself, the only exception he made was Katara. He spent his recess scribbling down a plot for a Love Amongst the Dragons Fanfiction and listening to Katara’s iPod he’d steal from her, just because he could , after she snuck it out from her backpack for the 10 minute break they had. It was the iPod she spent the last two Christmases saving up with Sokka for. Zuko insisted he could master Ludacris’s rap in Usher’s “Yeah!” and practiced the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays she had custody of the device.

Some days, Katara would sit beside him in her signature puffy blue jacket, struggling to fold herself to fit on the blacktop beside Zuko. The patented jacket her grandmother forced her to wear every single day obstructing her abilities. He snickers, but keeps quiet, content with plotting out a story that he would hopefully get to type out on the school library’s computers if his mom picked him up late again. She usually did, much to the dismay of the ladies at the front office. They typically hissed at him (which made him cry, to which they would have to offer him a cherry Otter pop so they wouldn’t face a lawsuit) and called his mom words he couldn’t repeat without getting in trouble (“Whore”).

Katara would babble on about her day, sometimes thinking of ways for his characters to die a painful death, or cooking up Fanfic plots for Beyoncé and Britney Spears to find love among the chaos of a zombie infestation. She always insisted she brought the creative range to their friendship. Some days though, Katara forgets all about him and plays handball with all the most popular girls in school.

Zuko’s jealous.

(Sometimes.)

She’s my best friend! He wants to scream in their faces. At the end of the day, he thinks he’s going to lose her. The day she realized she was too good, too cool for the likes of him.

“Chan, stop it!” Zuko squeaked, his notebook snatched from underneath his nose. The boy was always picking a fight. Your dad buys you a Motorola flip phone and suddenly you think you’re the shit.

The boy sneers at Zuko, flipping through the pages. “What do we have here? Are you drawing Shrek with boobies? You’re gonna jack off to that later, freak?”

Before Zuko could get a word in and defend his honor, Chan’s entire body was shoved to the ground, a dainty foot cased in a light up, white Skechers sneaker pressing into his face. Zuko couldn’t help his glee as Katara could barely be peeled off and stopped from repeatedly slamming Chan’s face into the hopscotch chalk court. “It’s all ogre now, bitch!”

She made sure to pin her detention slip to her Bratz backpack with pride. Zuko buys two treats that day from the student store before he walks her home.

“You’re my best friend, forever and ever,” Katara declares, head held up high. Zuko saw through it, though. He knows she’s scared of what Hakoda has to say, what Gran Gran has to say. So, he holds her hand tight, trying to relay his gratitude in the touch.

He licks at his Spongebob popsicle. The eyes had melted off and looked more like someone’s worst nightmare than an icy treat. Katara had wanted his cherry Otter pop, and he happily handed it over. “Pinky promise?” He holds out his finger.

Katara hooks her finger around his, dwarfing his tiny digit. Her outstretched smile stained orange. “I’ll break yours if you ever forget.”

At 15, Katara came to the realization that men have the emotional intelligence of a Souplantation crouton (may Souplantation rest in peace).

Growing up, with their dad and grandma always at work at their store, Katara was always in charge of cooking. No matter how many times she’d try to get Sokka to do it, he always insisted he was far too busy with taking out the trash, killing bugs, hating women. So, she was stuck with it, and honest-to-Rihanna, really liked it. Not that she’d ever let Sokka ever get the satisfaction of knowing it. It was her time to be alone, gave her the space to pop in a Cheetah Girls CD and pretend she won Masterchef with the struggle meal straight out of a Spam can she had to pound on a few times to get it to squeeze out from its gelatinous casing, or a whitewashed recipe she tried replicating whenever she catches a Rachael Ray rerun.

Though, Katara’s favorite time was chopping up the green onions under Ursa’s careful eyes, a hand always just there in realign the knife just in case she’d carelessly cut the green onions too big to garnish. Then, Ursa would then take out scissors because nobody had time for that. When his dad wasn’t home, Zuko’s mom opened up their doors across the street to the siblings, rambling about the next big painting she was planning as they scarfed down a home cooked meal.

Zuko was similar to his mom in that regard. They were the type of people who managed to make everyday moments larger-than-life, made it infectious, too. When it’s nighttime and he’s snuck into and snug in Katara’s room, he’d tell her dreams too big for anyone’s comprehension. Sometimes he dreamed he had tits that would leak chunky chicken noodle soup. Sometimes he’d ramble until her eyes are flitting shut and he’s left talking to himself and measuring his hand with hers, securing the leg she instantly throws over his waist. He’d like to think he was her only exception in the Souplantation crouton narrative.

Her bed is starting to smell like him, too. His favorite Costco brand shampoo and conditioner that he leaves in her bathroom, permeating her nostrils when she pulled him close. She even let him put up a Drake poster right next to her plethora of Rihanna ones, but only after he let her draw a penis on both his and Drake’s face. What he didn’t account for was her using a permanent marker, or the fact he couldn’t scrub it away from his cheeks for the next two days.

It was easy like this, just the two of them.

He’s there for all the birthdays and Halloweens and Christmases that left her not quite feeling whole. When things were hard, when things fucking sucked, when she wanted nothing more but to die. He was there, (stupidly) holding out his hand and willing to be the eye to her hurricane.

At 15, Zuko decides Katara feels home.

At 18, Zuko had already been Katara’s many firsts.

He was her first buffet partner, and brought back his Justin Bieber haircut just to pretend he was 12 so they could qualify for children's rates and a complimentary Oreo cheesecake because they were always celebrating his “birthday.”

Her first clubbing partner the second she turned 18, rubbing her back when any Beyoncé song with a Jay-Z feature came on because the second he cheated on Beyoncé, he cheated on everyone in the Beyhive. The first one to have to hold her as she hurled on his shoes, the first one to have to take her to get her stomach pumped.

The first person she tried to roll a joint with.

“I don’t need to learn that.”

Katara purses her lips. “And why not?”

He gestures to his face. “I’m too pretty. Only ugly bitches know how to do that . ”

Sokka thinks he needs to intervene when he hears Zuko’s tsungi horn case being chucked across the room .

The first person she (almost) fucked.

His family life was, for lack of a better word, fucked up. Katara had been witness to the drinking, the drugs, the crying. The nights where she sometimes didn’t know if the person standing in front of her was Zuko. She just wanted one night away from it all, just one night out on the town.

“That was kind of terrible,” Katara admits easily, wincing because she was sure he spilled Papa John’s garlic dipping sauce in his shitty Corolla’s air filter last Tuesday. He tried positioning his arm naturally underneath her head while their half naked bodies were pressed together, but he ended up smacking off her glasses. He even had the audacity to contently sigh as though he accomplished something, rather than just tangle her hair and give her a tension headache.

She felt lied to! Cheated! Bamboozled! Hoodwinked! All the Shrek and Y/N stories on FF.net could not prepare her for the fact that there weren’t any tongues fighting for dominance, or any mouths that tasted like cinnamon or musk or shit like that. It was just retainer to retainer and smelled distinctly of her awkward friend (cheese). It was sweaty and a lot of weird humping and felt like a visit to the gyno.

“Hey! I thought it was pleasantly average.” He clears his throat. “You know, besides the fact you farted mid-insertion and I started crying after 20 seconds.”

“You mean right after you came, right?” She says matter-of-factly.

He glared. “Is it my fault you have a gorilla grip pussy? Is it?”

“Zuko, you’re so fucking — ”

“What happens when you put a hot dog in the microwave for 2 minutes?” He crosses his hands and folds them over his lap like a professor waiting for a volunteer to answer the equation on the board.

“So in this metaphor, are you calling my pussy a microwave?”

But in true Zuko and Katara fashion, it was clumsy and a mess and could be erased with an emergency Burger King outing where they ate in silence and pinky promised never to speak of it again.

She wonders if Zuko should’ve been her first date to prom, too.

She wants to stop feeling so bothered . She couldn’t quite pin it, but lately everything he did frustrated the shit out of her. How he was taller than her now. How he didn’t need her to fight his battles because he goes to the gym now and wears a fake Gucci belt because he’s just so cool (brooding Asian guy is the trend, and Zuko thinks he’s the blueprint). How he said yes to going to prom with Mai, the prettiest girl in their grade.

“Don’t look in there!” Katara yelps, a blush creeping on her cheeks.

“Why?” Zuko questions, taken aback. He was entirely too comfortable in her room.

“Um. Maybe I don’t want a freak going through my dirty underwear pile!” Her eyebrows are halfway done, and she only has one eyelash glued on. She was stressed, scared her dress might not fit with how many of Sokka’s cookies she stress-ate because she just wanted the night to be perfect .

“Relax, what are a few discharge stains going to do to me, huh? If anything, it gives your pussy some much-needed personality.” Zuko wasn’t going to stop until he found his fake Gucci belt in Katara’s closet.

“Zuko!” Katara screams at the top of her lungs.

“Do I have to remind you about the time you broke our friendship bracelet while masturbating and I dug the bead out of your vagina like the good friend I am?”

She shoves him back from the closet, crowding in his space. That belt was going to remain in its rightful place. “Oh, fuck you! I took the fall for you when you opened your laptop in history class and forgot to exit from your “VIBRATING PANTIES” porn tab!” She pushes him before plopping on her bed.

Katara buries her face in her pillow at that point, too entirely embarrassed and body too hot to continue to look at his nonchalant face. He doesn’t quite remember when exactly Katara became so cute .

Pretty? Definitely. Fearless? For sure.

But blushing Katara, embarrassed Katara, cute Katara?

He thinks it’s because they rarely saw each other now, despite his patented place in her bed. His band, Hello Zuko, was aiming for at least a few dive bar performances to build a reputation, especially with their new title track “Tennis Ball.” Katara was a familiar face at their town’s soup kitchens.

“Where are you going?” he would sleepily mumble as he tried taking his midday nap before late night performances.

Katara’s hands are full with ingredients, swaying side to side and eyes red and drowsy. “Trying to temper chocolate. Why? What’s up?”

She never misses a performance, though. Comes to them with a sparkly poster doused in glitter, and t-shirts with his face on them and everything. He never misses a fundraising event, making sure to bring a steaming thermos filled with tea because Katara was never the type to remember to take care of herself, and always buys out her fundraising goodies (even her overbaked brownies.)

He pulls her up by her ponytail, cupping her face in between his hands.

“You look cute.”

“You look like the human equivalent of toeless socks,” Katara mumbles, face squished in between Zuko’s hands. “Why are you giving my clit piercing a kiss kiss right now? What do you want?”

Zuko shakes her head in between his hands. “Pinky promise me you’ll drop all penises to dance with me if they play any Usher song?” It was like he was in fifth grade all over again. “Call me a Nissan because I just want you Altima-self.”

She lets out a cackle, the sound nearly deafening. “Don’t worry, the DJ will get us falling in love again in no time.”

“Do you have to go with Jet?” He asks, pouting. He lays his head in her lap, too entirely preoccupied with picking at her pilling sweatpants to look at her questioning eyes. They promised they were going to be each others’ dates at the beginning of the school year. It was more fun going to dances with Katara. She knew how to do the worm and every lyric to every Rihanna song out there (but she refuses to sing any with Chris Brown parts).

“What? You know I like my men stupid.” She runs her hands through his locks, undoing the crunchy gel job that Iroh had painstakingly spent time on. Zuko didn’t have the heart to tell him it made him look like a youth pastor.

“You do like your communal meat thermometers.” He wants to keep the hurt out of his voice.

She shoves him off her, getting up to put on the dress hanging off her closet’s door handle. “You’re going with Mai, remember?” She yells through the closed closet door.

“But the thing is, I’m not planning to fuck her afterwards at the shitty hotel like it’s some type of CW show with some old bitches playing teenagers!”

“Just say XOXO, Gossip Girl .”

He still resents her for getting him invested in Blair Waldorf’s headband collection. “It’s not my fault Jet looks old. He looks like he’s at least 27 for fuck’s sake!” His face grows more distressed as he spits out each word. He only said yes to going with Mai after finding out Jet asked Katara using some shitty poster that said “my heart is always running when I see you” with a box of Nike outlet sneakers after English class.

“I think you’re just jealous that I emptied my intestines for someone who is about to be in it within the next three hours. When have I ever done that for you?”

Zuko’s about to retort something until Katara slams open the door, flooding his eyes with a dusty blue, curve hugging dress that did weird things to him. Like make his heart beat out of his chest, and his throat all dry when he’s searching for the words to say. Looking for the right words that say he thinks it’s impossible someone’s smile could make sunsets brighter, make the stars twinkle even more, make the unthinkable just a fingertip’s grasp away.

“Can you see the outline of my underwear and/or desperation from the back?” Her spin has him bumbling like an idiot.

He wishes it was Katara that night. Letting him shyly press his sweaty fingers into her waist as Katy Perry’s “E.T.” pierced their eardrums. He knows she would have pinched his nipples as punishment, all things considered. But the fluorescent lights of the disco ball would’ve highlighted how her pretty flush would dust her cheeks, and he would hold her close to his beating heart despite her complaining her foundation would stain his Target dress shirt, and everything would make sense.

“Did you cum?” Jet was absolutely pretty with an oh-so fat horse cock. Too bad he was like the Justin Timberlakes of the world, and always spoke unprovoked.

Katara scoffs. “Yeah, I came to my senses.” She flicked his forehead. “How would I do that? Tell me. How the fuck would a few thrusts and you panting your Sweet and Sour sauce breath in my ear get me off?” She shoves the sweating boy off her. “Can I say jk and will it make me a virgin again?” The hotel room had scratchy sheets and smelled like a waterpark bathroom.

He groaned. “I’m sorry .” He’s completely unremorseful. “Your tits smell like Cinnabon’s cinnamon rolls and I couldn’t help myself!” Katara is about to cut his dick off for breathing in the same vicinity as her, before a gasp stops her entire world.

“Zuko!” she screeches, opening the hotel door with the same devastation as when Britney Spears discovered Ryan Seacrest wasn’t gay painting her features.

“You know what they say.” Zuko’s smirking, entirely ignoring Katara fuming. “Chlamydia is the powerhouse of the cell.”

“You’re. A. Dick!” She says in between smacks to his head. Jet makes a speedy exit, still pantsless and clutching his suit to his chest, while Zuko mouths a ‘ call me’ to Mai, who amusedly waves goodbye to Katara.

“Oh god, this is exactly like the bead incident all over again.”

“ You’re not helping! ”

“Maybe we’ll find Atlantis up there too,” Zuko murmurs, concentrating on positioning the hotel’s mirror under her legs.

“Please, Rihanna. Have mercy on me.” Katara’s hands are in prayer mode as Zuko turns on his phone’s flashlight. “I will literally french braid my pubic hairs and never open my pussy to anyone ever again if this condom doesn’t kill me. Please don’t let it kill me. All those times I took an extra gummy vitamin were a joke . I never wanted to die, I just wanted to feel a little thrill in my life. Please—”

Zuko screams when the squelch of the condom splatters onto the mirror.

“You’re wearing underwear under there right?” He likes the look of his blazer draping over her, buttoned to look like a chic, oversized dress and not because it was the easiest thing to throw over Katara to run and grab Plan B.

“No, because I would obviously let my fat cooter out, cute and bare and vulnerable in a Walmart.”

“A simple yes would have sufficed.”

She’s reaching for the box and wincing at the price when she feels a gentle nudge on her arm. “Ma’am, your entire pussy is out in a Walmart,” the employee breathes out pathetically.

“I am well aware.” She ekes out.

The employee eyes her up and down with a gaze that practically calls her a whore . “Please put her away.” Zuko’s face grows beet red as he tries holding back a laugh.

It was always easy like this. When the world was just Zuko and Katara, holding hands in her driveway while they watched the sun rise in his shitty Corolla. She’s still wrapped up in his blazer, he’s since loosened his cheap tie and his hair is sticking every which way. She likes his smile, especially now that it comes so easy.

He’s smiling a lot more now that his father is gone. Ozai essentially told Azula and Zuko to fuck off , and ran off to some big city to steer a hospital with too many controversies and too many white guys at the helm. Iroh came back from his meditation sabbatical, enthusiastic to take care of the siblings. Zuko seems a lot happier with Iroh around, and even spends nights sleeping in his actual bed. (Katara’s a little hurt, but keeps that to herself).

She wishes she could bottle up these moments with Zuko up and just hold them in her hands. Moments when they were still young and curious and still had time to wait for life to figure itself out. She wants to find a way to make these a permanent fixture, instead of memories that would fade with age. “Let’s get out of here,” he offers up, eyes starry.

“Yeah?” She folds her knees up to her chest, and he taps her under her chin to level their gazes.

“ Republic City . We can make something out of lives. Medical school, culinary school. Get out of this shithole. Get away from our past.” His smile is contagious. “Best friends, forever and ever, right?”

She’s so pretty, her wide eyes sparkling as they take in the rays of sun. She returns his smile. “Best friends, forever and ever.”

Katara remembers how Ursa would say Zuko always dreamt too big, his heart always wanting so, so much .

“It’s a blessing, but more of a curse,” she would note, with the wisdom only mothers are capable of possessing. Sometimes, Katara selfishly thinks the day Ursa left hurt her more than it hurt Zuko. They were impossibly close, to the point where Zuko even had to intervene when Ursa started siding with Katara during their arguments (he knows in his heart his Mother’s Day macaroni portrait of her was better).

She would wonder how the world could let her live like this, dangling something she’s always wanted right in front of her face, only to snatch it away. Wonder if it was easier to die, than live with a hole in her heart that seemingly doubled in size overnight.

“Zuko, please look at me.”

He’s mad, she could tell. With his pout and the way he was forcibly trying to squeeze his eyes in a glare. He’s been sitting in the same spot in her bed, eyes trained on tutorials on how to convincingly persuade your doctor to give you an adderall prescription and “who bit Beyonce” conspiracy videos.

“Well, what if I just wanted you to respect my privacy! For the first time in 15 years! Maybe I needed space!” She yelps after twenty minutes of the silent treatment.

Zuko sends her a look that has her freezing up on the spot. “Katara, you had a whole baby .”

She felt thoroughly scolded, but she was stubborn. “And? What about it?”

“You had an entire one, and didn’t even bother to tell the godfather? When was I supposed to find out?”

Katara didn’t think that one through, to be honest. It was easy to forget, in between diapers that smelled like a fish sauce and an expired Vagisil smoothie, and balancing work. She lays down beside him, thoroughly exhausted after putting her little girl, Yue, down for a nap. “One, who made you the godfather? And two, I guess we’re just not close like that.”

“Look, I literally have your social security number memorized, and have practically given you a Pap smear. You really want to say ‘ we’re not close like that ?” He sends her a look that has her resolve faltering the slightest. “You did your pregnancy announcement like a Sailor Moon transformation sequence with before and after pictures of you being pregnant, and you didn’t think to fucking tell me?”

Katara gasps. “I had you blocked !”

“Azula’s a snitch!” He also got a glimpse of the photo of Katara in her hoe time dress that barely fit over her belly with the caption: how the mighty have fallen . He pauses, sucking in a breath of air for strength. The hurt flashes in his eyes and the only thing she could think to do was wrap him up in a familiar embrace.

At 19, Katara is so incredibly lost, and just wants her best friend by her side.

He’s busy, the summer before everything Republic City. Everytime she tries their house, Azula answers, rolling her eyes while clad in a Harry Styles shirt, because it’s a girl’s rite of passage to go through a One Direction phase and wear badly made merchandise from Hot Topic. He’s usually busy packing, or fucking Mai until she sounds like a car alarm during Fourth of July fireworks.

“Azula, no . You cannot kidnap Mai’s younger brother and trade him in for concert tickets to send a message.”

“Not even for floor ones?” Katara’s glare summed up her answer. “I used to look up to you,” Azula retorts, returning to her stan Twitter.

She waits, waits, waits. The moans keep coming and she just rolls her eyes. Her stomach churns, mainly because she thinks Mai called Zuko’s dick The Pussy Penetrator every time he hit her g spot (you know what, good for her). But also because her scholarship to the university was less than she expected, and Hakoda didn’t want to cosign on a loan. She just wanted her best friend to be there for her.

She feels sick, sick enough to vomit in one of Iroh’s plants, while Azula rubs small circles into her back.

“You should’ve swallowed,” Toph reminds, bundling Katara’s thick hair into a ponytail as the girl hurled up her California roll. She’s so exhausted, she even leans her head against the Walmart toilet bowl, five positive pregnancy tests tossed carelessly beside her.

“Think it’s too late for that,” Katara grits out. “What are you doing?”

The last thing she expected was Toph’s hands gathering together in prayer formation. “Praying to Rihanna your period comes.”

Like many people her age, having a mental breakdown during a pregnancy scare and praying for a miracle in a public restroom was normal. But for the first time in her life, besides the time Rihanna willingly twerked on Drake at the 2011 Grammys, Ms. Robyn Fenty herself failed her.

“Fetus deletus that bitch! Fuck them kids !” She brings herself eye-level to Katara’s stomach. “Read the womb, bitch!”

“Did you just call my unborn baby a bitch?” Katara’s eyes are bleary from the smell of vomit and her future going down the drain.

“You should’ve kept that bitch-baby in the drafts,” Toph sweeps the stray hairs from Katara’s watery eyes. “My cousin saved up for her abortion by running a pyramid scheme. I can get you her number.”

Katara wanted to die. “I think I’m just going to crawl in this toilet and die. Call my brother if I don’t get flushed down all the way.”

“Again, I’m just a Walmart employee,” Toph snickers, helping the girl up. She’s rarely left her side since then. Their friendship just works, a pair of fuckups. The girl with the accident baby, and the Walmart security guard trying to figure out her own shit after running away from home.

“I should’ve been there!” Zuko reminds, tone heavy with betrayal.

Katara remembered the few moments before he boarded the plane to Republic City. She wanted to be selfish. She wanted to tell him to not get on the flight, to keep holding her like he did at the entrance of the gate. She had a kiss ready on her lips that he wasn’t ready to give, backing away when their faces were too close, when she was too close. He just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving with regrets.

“I should’ve been there holding your hand, letting you call me names, and fighting nurses if they breathed too close to this precious angel,” Yue holds his pinky with her little fingers, almost as though it was a natural reaction. His heart simply seizes up at the gesture, and he holds her tighter to his body. She was wailing after waking from her nap, colic crackling her throat for the last three months and causing her middle of the night wakeups to be painful and frequent. But with Zuko, she’s all calm and perfect and polite and beautiful and angelic.

“Didn’t know you liked kids this much,” Katara shrugs. She leans in, and Zuko throws his free arm around her.

“I’ll have you know I am the resident expert in telling children’s stories,” Zuko insists.

“Like?” Katara quirks up her brow.

“Like Rumpleforeskin, the mythical man who can weave majestic golden fleece from the ends of his pubic hair.”

She smacks him upside the head. “You’re disgusting .” She curls in deeper into his embrace. He had that twinkle in his eye that could mean he was going to masturbate to this moment in the shower later, or he was in love. It renders her breathless every time

She hopes when he looks at her he doesn’t see the eye bags, or the titty milk leaking everywhere, or the permanent crease in her brow. She hopes he could still see her, underneath it all. When she was just Katara .

“I guess, not telling you was just my way of keeping our dream alive.” She pauses, stroking Yue’s barely there hair. “I keep thinking that one day I could find the time to go to Republic City, and I don’t know. Get a chance to just be me .”

“Do you regret it?” Zuko’s rubbing circles into her back until she gets sleepy and her heart feels too full.

“I don’t know.” She tries, quiet, almost ashamed. “I don’t know.”

At 21, Katara feels like she’s at the top of the world.

Not only did she get promoted from girl wearing a dumpling costume outside handing out 15% off coupons that only worked if you left a Yelp review, to a server in a shitty dim sum restaurant, she was also accepted in the culinary program at the local university. It wasn’t Republic City per say, but Yue could attend the nearby preschool and go to the university-run childcare program afterwards while Katara was working.

She even got a hold of Jet, who refused to disclose his location or job. But judging by the copious child support mandated by some judge who hated men as much as Katara did, he was doing well. He sometimes Venmos Katara a few extra dollars on Yue’s birthdays.

Sokka and Hakoda, while hesitant to the little girl’s presence early on, spoil her absolutely rotten. When they think Katara’s passed out after her 14 hour days, they’re red in the face, screaming at Zuko over the phone about who was going to get Yue the Peppa Pig Playhouse (complete with flashing lights) she always talks about.

Hakoda even tries at therapy, wanting to be there for the apple of his eye. Sometimes, Katara’s hurt he never tried for her, tried in her childhood. She’s happy for him, nonetheless.

(Mostly) everything was working out.

“How are both my girls doing?” Zuko would always sing-song during his nightly Facetime calls. Yue would scream and snatch the phone from Katara’s hands, delighted at the sound of her one and only Uncle Zuzu. He’s an extravagant gift giver, regularly sending Yue glittery Hello Kitty and Wonder Woman backpacks. He even buys her a whole iPad for her fourth birthday, already coming with child safe settings on and YouTube loaded with her favorites (namely, Barbie: Fairytopia ). He’s guilty he couldn’t come home, but then again, he rarely ever did. Too consumed with work, grad school applications.

Katara can’t help but feel her heart pulse the slightest bit faster during those calls, even if she shuts it down as quickly as it comes.

He’s so good to her .

She used to cherish those moments he used to tell her secrets, dreams, everything in those hours early in the morning before high school would start. With approximately 3,209 miles between the two of them, she wakes up to texts instead.

Zuko: I dreamed that I was being held at gunpoint by one of those thicc caterpillars from A Bug’s Life , and if I didn’t finish the MCAT in approximately 20 minutes, they would shoot me in the face. The dump truck ass of those ants were the bullets

Katara: Please block my number

Zuko: No. <3

He’s all gentle smiles and eyes squeezing into little half moons just like Yue’s after he plays a game of Facetime patty cake and messes up on the beat just to hear the little girl laugh.

The next month, Zuko had decided enough was enough . He missed his girl.

His hospital, for the first time in a year, was letting him have the weekend off. So he books Katara a ticket straight away, because he thinks he’s going to die if he has to be around people who don’t know who Megan Thee Stallion is.

“Boys only speak two languages. English and emotional manipulation,” Toph reprimands, hugging Katara so tight she could barely get in a word. “Please remember that.”

It was her first time leaving her hometown in her life, her first time on an airplane for God’s sake. She’s jittery though, the cushioned seats Toph somehow upgraded her ticket to (after covertly whispering with the gate attendant) doing nothing to alleviate her nerves.

When she jumps in his arms in baggage claim, he breathes in deep. Her hugs have always warmed his insides, and he didn’t realize how much he craved it until he was greedy, pressing into her and refusing to let go despite her many protests.

“Come here often?” he mumbles, smiling into her shoulder.

Her cheeks grew hot at his touch. “Occasionally.” She whispers back.

He decided there and then in front of Gate 3 they needed to make up for lost time as quickly as possible.

The college party is entirely too sticky, entirely too messy for a proper (extremely) late 21st birthday celebration. Her crop top and big earrings and glittery eyeshadow and endless curves has Zuko wondering how much he’s missed in the last few years. When she hugs him close to her and screams out Nicki Minaj lyrics, he doesn’t remember her being so soft and even prettier. Beautiful. Breathtaking, knocking the wind out his lungs if she as so much blinked.

She looks like any 21 year old, without a care in the world, just figuring out their life. He wonders what this version of Zuko and Katara was.

Maybe they got to go to Republic City together. Maybe they work in the same building, and are just letting steam off from work. Maybe they loved each other. It was dangerous though. He feels as though she’s caging him in, that grip on his heart sparking up again without his permission. Her fake lashes he saw her glue on in the airport bathroom flutter about, hands coming up to accentuate her words every time she tries to scream something in his ear over the pulsating music. He just grips her waist harder between his hands, holding her tight.

In a perfect world, all she saw was him. She wishes it was him. She sometimes thinks she sees Zuko’s eyes in Yue. She sees his smile. She sees his heart.

While they’d spent the entire night stumbling through the city, his girlfriend was home. Barefoot, pregnant. Looking like the cover of some women’s lifestyle magazine, stray curls escaping her bun to frame her face in all its angelic glory. Glowy and flawless and every bit beautiful. Different from the girl Katara caught crying in the kitchen. “You can hate me all you want, you can talk shit about me all you want. But I love him,” Jin insists. “I’m his girlfriend , for fuck’s sake.

Katara has to stop herself from recoiling. She had a specific vision of their future. One that included doing taxes together and matching sweaters and teaching him her new macaroon recipe and Yue balanced on his lap.

But one look at Jin, and it becomes glaringly obvious how little she fit in with his new life.

“I don’t hate you, Jin.” It’s every bit sincere, but the girl doesn’t look convinced.

Jin rolls her eyes. A pointed look freezing Katara in her place.

“Ok, I might’ve complained once or twice about your VSCO filter choice.”

“Yeah, Zuko sent a screenshot of your texts to me instead of you by accident.”

“God, you know he always fucking does that? To be fair though, M05 is too orange and is not a good look on anyone. You can do better, I know you can.” The two girls laugh. It was devoid of any genuine emotion, just meant as an attempt to fill the empty space between them. “If I had known. Fuck, if I had just known, I’m sorry, Jin.” She had no idea Zuko had a kid on the way, that they were still living together and determined to co-parent while their relationship was in a weird limbo. If she was Jin, she would’ve kicked someone’s pussy and made a scene and set something on fire. But Jin wasn’t that type of girl. Jin was soft and pretty and looked like she smelled like an interior designer's perfectly bleached asshole.

“Do you love him?” Jin seemed to shrink into herself, small enough Katara might miss her in a blink of an eye.

Katara couldn’t quite decipher the meaning behind the question. She thinks she’s too scared to.

Katara doesn’t know how to respond. She didn’t trust herself to speak. This Zuko wasn’t the Zuko she knew. She loved the Zuko who would steal people’s Netflix passwords off of 4chan, and cosplay as Todoroki at Anime Con to make a few bucks. Not the one who can afford sky rises in the big city.

He didn’t even tell her that his big internship in the city was for his father’s hospital, and he was next in line to running it. “You’re a lawyer with health insurance and your own Netflix account! You’re good for him, Jin.” Katara falters the slightest. “I just want to see Zuko happy.”

“Me too.” Jin says quietly.

“Whatever, fuck Zuko !” She tries at extending the olive branch. “I can’t believe you’re preggers!” She puts a gentle hand on Jin's belly, and her vagina immediately winces. “You know, your vag will never look the same, and you might grow a third boob in your armpit.”

“You’re lying .”

“Yeah, a lump of breast milk can form there, too!” Katara is about to scroll to the photo in her phone when Jin laughter breaks through the night.

“I hope your dick gets bitten off mid-blowjob!” She whisper-screams, struggling with her suitcase until it smacks all at nearly every corner and edge. She was just making noise for the sake of making noise, but it made her feel better.

He didn’t expect waking up to a charge on his card for a flight booked in the last ten minutes, or Katara shoving his good mixer in her suitcase.

“You hate it don’t you?” He always loved it when Katara went into Hulk mode anytime a bully dared test her protective nature. While it was never entirely directed at him, he now understands exactly why Chan peed his pants. Katara was terrifying .

“What?” Zuko’s confused, rubbing an eye booger away.

“You loved it when I’m crying over Jet, crying over something, fucking something up in my life. Being mad at the world. You hate that I’m better, and making something of myself now!” She’s angry and grasping at straws.

Zuko furrows his brows, not sure where to progress from here. “Ok, run that by me again?”

The air vanishes when her stare cools over to absolutely icy. “There’s nothing else I can give. So what the fuck do you want from me?”

He laughs, all hollow and almost mocking . “You know, I was afraid of you coming here.” He lies.

She stops in her tracks. “What the hell do you mean?”

“I thought...I thought you wouldn’t get this new me, because it’s different!” He protests. “See, this is exactly the reason why! You’re mad I can afford real Gucci !”

Katara recoils, looking embarrassed for him. God, were men so fucking stupid, and so proud of it, too. “Are you fucking serious.”

Zuko’s frustrated, running his hands through his hair. “What the fuck are we doing, Katara?”

“You tell me!” She demands. “I’m not that kind of girl, Zuko! I’m not that kind of girl that is going to break up a fucking engagement, or whatever the fuck you weirdos are doing!”

He throws up his hands. “I’m not happy! We’re not happy.”

“What? You think now that you’ve sold your soul to your piece of shit dad and you can buy jewelry that won’t turn your fingers green that I’m going to fuck you?”

“No! I’m not saying that—”

Katara scoffs. “Then what the fuck are you saying? Grow up, Zuko. Grow the fuck up and just leave me the fuck alone .”

“You’re still Katara.” He throws his hands up in the air, trying to stop her. Even if he felt like his entire world was falling apart, there was one thing he would always be certain about. “I’m still Zuko. The same Zuko who loves you .”

Katara turns her head, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her upset. “The thing is, this isn’t you, Zuko.” Katara says with finality. “It isn’t you .”

When she gets home, she spots it right away. On their dining table, white paper folded neatly, Yue was the type of little girl who looked to both sides of the street before crossing, repeating it two more times to be safe. She always took extra care to make everything even, never a wrinkle in sight on her homework.

The Crayola family portrait that brought to life everything she’d imagined and more. Katara doesn’t have the heart to look for longer than a second.

At 27, Katara’s pretending that it’s the happiest day of her life.

She didn’t think he would listen to her, you know, men rarely did anything right. Zuko, though, heeds her warning and only calls exactly two hours before Yue’s bedtime like clockwork. There weren’t any surprise texts to wake up to anymore, no more evidence of Zuko in her life. She doesn’t even find out about Jin’s affair with one of those Axe commercial guys until months later.

When she goes to unblock his number and text him, to try and talk to him, she gasps. She sees those grey iMessage bubbles, and she’s ashamed her heart splutters, awakening a feeling she thought she’s dampened. She puts her phone down for milliseconds, before checking it again and again and again. She finally threw the damn thing across the room when a week passed.

She thinks it’s for the better, especially when she was sure she finally got things right with Jet.

“ We’ll make this shit work together.” Jet reassures, gathering her close to him she could see every little detail of him. “Like Kanye said, ‘you’re a MILF, and I’m a mother-fucker.”

She covers her ears, pushing him into the restaurant’s glass door. “No thank you. No more non consensual reciting of Kanye verses.”

“Yeezy, breezy, beautiful, baby. Get into it.” Jet winks, and Katara feels herself gagging again.

Then again, Katara always had a thing for stupid. And for three easy payments of $Penis.99, he had an all access experience to her pussy and her trauma.

“And he bought me those carrot cake cupcakes I always look at when we go to the supermarket but I never want to chance it because it could have raisins instead of nuts and I think I hate raisins more than I hate white men named Nathaniel.”

Toph jabs Katara in the forehead. “Wow, he spared $5 on some dry pastries, and your pussy was suddenly screaming pick me, pick me !”

“They were gluten free, too,” she points out. “Plus, my pussy doesn’t scream!”

“Oh right, my bad! It whispers!”

“ Toph !”

“Last night I heard it go wash me! Wash me!”

It felt good with him, though. It felt good to see him help Yue with math homework, making dinner in their little kitchen, pressing kisses to her in the morning despite her breath smelling like Khloe Kardashian’s earring backing pussy. Someone to come home to.

“Piece of shit, I’ll fucking kill you!” She was punching him over and over again until her knuckles were ripped raw, sitting straight on his throat. Beating him stupid in the middle of her shift. He thought he could get away with it. With Katara now stuck in the kitchen as one of the head cooks, and the fact he had a reservation in one of the private rooms for him and his secretary to go over...numbers, he didn’t think much of it.

Too bad Toph was too invested, and had a friends-to-lovers storyline to live vicariously through.

“Scram, fuglies!” Toph screamed to other customers who had already started chanting “WorldStar!”

Katara lost her job, lost her mans, lost a section of her eyebrow because Toph accidentally tried helping and swung the wrong direction.

“Catch me outside, how ‘bout that!” She yelps triumphantly, despite the fact Katara was cradling her own bloodied face.

And here she was, about to lose her best friend, too.

She accidentally Facetimed his old number, and spent the last hour mulling over her feelings with an executive of a porn studio who picked up mid-shoot. “Just tell him you love him!” The balding man is exhausted.

“What do I even say? Do I tell him, ‘I think I’ve always loved you?’ Is that too cheesy? You know that feeling when your heart just—Oh my fucking god! Is that Sandy Cheeks from Spongebob ?!” She screams, slamming her hands over her eyes. The squirrel’s melons-for-tits would never be erased from her memory.

He only has fear in his eyes when he looks at her. “You didn’t see anything.” Robert bites out, promptly hanging up.

In her post-Jet purge, she realized she wasn’t the type of ex dead set on destroying his things. After all, she was selling his light-up keyboard to pay for Toph’s birthday boob job. Her residual anger was instead, spent hacking away at the drawer he always kept locked. Until she found it.

A letter from him.

“ I’ve always been afraid that our friendship would’ve spilled over until all I could do is categorize it with four simple letters .” Katara whispers, eyes frantically scanning the paper. “And I’m done being afraid .”

“The four letters he’s talking about is D-U-M-B B-I-C-T-H . Dumb bitch. The ‘bitch’ is silent.” Toph insists. “I can’t believe you let a balding bum, whose credit score tanked because he invested his entire savings in Shake Weight Milkshake making machines, knock you up instead of Zuko.”

“It was innovative at the time,” she whispers.

“Fill the void in your heart, not your pussy.”

She's whipping out her shitty MacBook Air, and praying his email still worked. But when she calls all she sees is her.

“You told me to come to Republic City and find him!” Mai exclaims, holding up her hand where a big ring blinding the fuck out of her.

She feels her heart crumble at the same time she crushes the letter in her hand.

“I did do that, didn’t I?” Katara winces. The time the model stopped by in their hometown, Katara was still happy and getting her pussy pounded regularly and let that shit get to her head. She thought it would be a blessing in disguise, and wanted to help Zuko out, too.

"Fuck."

Their wedding looked ripped out of a 2014 Basic Bitch Pinterest board, and she’s definitely sure she couldn’t be happier.

“Why is her name spelled like ‘Mai’ and pronounced ‘May?’ Like, shouldn’t it be spelled like ‘Mei?’”

“Katara, you’re just being a bitch,” Toph reminds while Katara stares at the sign with their wedding hashtag in front of the photobooth with all the ‘YOLO’ signs and 2013 mustaches.

“I am well aware!” She asserts, chin jutting out.

Mai’s New York Fashion Week ready body was gorgeous, perfect in Zuko’s hold.

Katara wished life was like a rom-com. Where she could burst through the doors, declare her love, piss on him in her ugly, big bridesmaid dress and mark her territory once and for all.

But life wasn’t a movie. Life was just this shitty piece of dumpster fire shit and was always fucking her over like the Target self-checkout line camera.

What could she do? Deliver some long-winded speech about how she would go to realign the stars in the heavens if it meant a chance to rewrite their fate? That she hoped she visits his dreams before his mind could settle into reality, the same way he visited hers and overstayed his welcome every single time? Make everyone uncomfortable and wonder if they boned?

Then again, she was never going to be the one to block her best friend’s blessings. Not on the happiest day of his life.

“I think this is the happiest day of my life.” Katara says seamlessly.

Zuko sees it though, sees right through her and has to stop himself from reaching out to her.

“It wasn’t ever easy being Zuko’s best friend. I mean look at him now, getting married to someone perfect . He’s not even in the same ballpark, league, or hell, stadium porta potty as her!”

Zuko ducks his head with a brief pout that breaks Katara’s heart. Everyone laughs in spite of him, until he joins in, too. “You know, it’s easy to pretend that finding love is easy. You could find love in all the little things in your life. All the people, all the details. It’s easy to say you always, completely, truly love someone. Because that’s what we want love to be, right? At the surface, sure.” She folds the flimsy paper she had on hand, nothing was written on it anyways. “You want it to be perfect.”

“But the love everyone works so hard to get, is the love that’s hard . It’s the love that isn’t safe. The love that challenges, excites you, the love that will never have limits. The love that’s messy and beautiful all at the same time.” She looks at him, truly looks at him for the first time in years and all she could do was smile.

“It’s easy to find love, but it’s near impossible to find a soulmate.” She raises her glass. “Join me in a toast to the bride and groom. I wish you a lifetime of happiness.”

And while everyone is gathered out on the dance floor, she’s sobbing pathetically and smearing the winged eyeliner she worked so hard to perfect on the car ride there. Trying to stop any of the pain from consuming her.

She’s out on the rooftop of the venue, the cold air whipping her face as she tries lighting up a blunt.

“Are you getting high at my wedding !” Zuko is incredulous, and shocks Katara enough to drop the joint off the roof.

“On all things Fenty Beauty, bitch what the fuck?” Katara wipes the tears from the corner of her eyes.

“The flower girl wanted to see her mommy.” But Katara sees right through Yue’s little act. Pretending to sleep so she could be held by Zuko (me too, girl. Me too).

It felt dangerous, the way she could toy with his heart, his own personal defibrillator shocking it back to life. She’s pretty even with red-rimmed eyes, with the fake smiles he knew was trying to appease him to leave her alone. If anything, all it does is make him want to kiss her until her troubles are gone.

He wanted to do a lot of things at that moment. He wanted to feel the warmth of her skin, tell her that above all else, he missed his girl the most. But, he had everything on his plate and then some.

“The chicken was dry as fuck.” He blurts, wiping the sweat from his face. Only Katara could send him back a few decades. “I wish you could’ve catered it.”

“Yeah?” She laughs and wants to call him out for stalking her company’s Facebook page. “Remember you tried my new recipe and you vomited all over the front row at your fourth ever Hello Zuko performance?” She misses his messy hair, when he didn’t look so clean cut and rich bitchy.

“I didn’t know you weren’t done cooking it!”

She shoves his head, and he joins her, dangling his feet precariously off the roof.

When she’s here with him, when he has her in his hold for the first time in years, he sees his whole life with just a glimpse in her eyes. And all he wants to do is build a machine and reverse all the time that’s passed them by.

“I made a mistake.” Zuko breathes out, eyes nervously darting around.

As sure as he was that Nicki Minaj deserved a Grammy, he was sure he loved her.

“W-What?” Katara blinks at him.

“I made a mistake, Katara.” He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck, carding his hand through his hair. Looking every bit devastatingly handsome. “I realized something. After the speech, after just, everything.”

“I realized I just can’t have my cake and eat it, too.”

Just like that, just with the way he built her up, it comes tumbling down.

“So what are you saying?” Her heart was on the verge of cracking in half and he didn’t even know it. Because all he could pin her with a look she couldn’t read, and she thinks if he was a smarter man he would’ve at least pretended that it hurt him to hurt her.

But it did.

It broke him, ripped him in half to see her face turn to steel right before his eyes.

“What I’m saying is, after all these years.” He doesn’t have it in him to face her. “I think I have to finally let you go, Katara.”

#Zutara #Zuko #Katara #Zutara Week #atla #zutara fanfiction #avatar the last airbender #zutara week 2020

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