#My own cute fuzzy therapist

[ghostberrie]

Soft as the Rain

Nothing too bad just yet, more exposure about the reader character. Talks of mental illness and suicide, never going into too much detail.

You figured your ID fell out off your bra where you tended to keep valuables during your self destructive nights out, probably safe in the hands of a club manager, or swept with the trash. You’d need to get a new ID too. When you got home you passed out, never charging your phone and letting it die not having anyone in your current life worried for your whereabouts to text as soon as you made it home. So now your phone was charging, not having a reason to check it besides to doom scroll on TikTok, staring at a screen the last thing you wanted to do.

Saying you completely forgot about the murder you witnessed last night would be a lie, you have fuzzy memories of it and quite frankly, thought it was a fucked up dream. You had a lot of those. Refusing to look at your phone to avoid the undeniable proof that was bound to be there. If it was real what would you even do? Report it to the police? Fuck the pigs, but a man was dead now, it would be the right thing to do. Did you want to go through the trouble of an investigation? But if you just never looked at the video, you couldn’t be sure it was even there, and you wouldn’t need to get involved, you could forget it and let your presence be swept under the rug. A much more appealing idea.

You were content spending the rest of the weekend barely looking at your phone, watching TV and sleeping as much as you could, fuck laundry, fuck grocery shopping, you could do all that adult shit after work during the week. You knew if your mom was there you’d get a light scolding about taking care of yourself and your surroundings for your own mental health. You hated worrying your family, after your first suicide attempt you noticed how much they loved you and how your actions affected them. Knowing deep down your promises of never again were only surface level pacifiers, you worked on getting on as well as you could, putting on a show of how good life was, and moved states as soon as you could. The flawed logic that if you put distance between your loved ones and yourself that they would somehow love you less, somehow be less hurt when you tried to off yourself again. Now you didn’t have much emotional support, you had stopped taking your meds, even though you still picked up your prescriptions, you just stock piled them. You ghosted your therapist. Quickly taking a nose dive, your new methods of self harm more subtle and more socially acceptable.

That’s why you went to clubs and bars nearly every weekend, to get wasted, numb out the drowning paranoia that haunted you. Pressing yourself against strangers, heavy groping hands fulfilling a need for human touch. You felt this whole complicated downward spiral, fully your doing, made you a bad person. Knowingly shutting those who cared for you out in order to hurt yourself with no guilt. You found a job that took away some of the guilt, working with kids with mental disabilities. Everyday having your same group of kids that you worked with one on one to overcome their everyday difficulties so that maybe when they were adults they could handle themselves, never falling to the depths you had.

Monday rolled around and you woke up, having fully put the weekend behind you as you tended to do. You dressed in a cute cartoony shirt and stretchy jeans. Fully dressed so you could keep up with and play with your kiddos. Driving to work listening to old emo bangers, screaming the lyrics, your way of distracting yourself from constantly checking that the car behind you wasn’t following you, they never were but your brain had a nasty habit of telling you they were, that they’d catch you as soon as you were out of the car and chop you up or something. The paranoia wasn’t very specific about what the fear of being followed would actually result in, just being chased was enough to make you deeply unsettled.

You made a point to not look in the rear view mirror while driving. If you did maybe you’d notice the red rusted Toyota truck following you to work, parking all the way behind the building, the stranger inside watching you go in, still there when you ended your shift and went home. Pulling out of the parking lot as you did, following you out of the small city where your job was located and to the small town where you lived, even stopping at the grocery store with you.

In your local grocery store there weren’t many new faces, you recognized your neighbors, but never having spoken more than a few words with any of them you wandered the isles. As you turned down the small pet isle you looked for food for your cat, an all black gremlin with the cutest golden eyes who you lovingly named Valentina: Ender of Worlds. She may not be the most cuddly creature, but having her dark shadow walking around made your hallucinating mind rationalize and associate passing dark figures in your periphery as just the creature that roamed your house.

You looked up at her favorite treats on the top shelf the last container pushed all the way back, no way for you to reach. As you steadied yourself on the shelf, preparing to do the very stupid and unsafe act of climbing the shelf, a hand rested lightly on your shoulder. You jumped back slightly at the unexpected touch, backing up and seeing a very large man reach for the treats. He turned and handed them to you but you were too stunned to take them right away, staring up at the most gorgeous face you think you’ve every seen. Dirty blonde short hair messily pushed back, a broad face holding a set of beautiful hazel eyes framed by long lashes giving him a doe eyed look. He had some facial hair, a mustache with stubble running across a cut jaw. Your eyes scanned him, both awe struck but weary, your hand took the container from his outstretched hand, fingers brushing together. He gave you a friendly smile, showing the cutest gap in his teeth. “I hope you don’t mind, saw you about to climb the shelf and felt I needed to stop disaster before it happened.” He huffed a small laugh, a low melodic sound. You felt your mouth run dry. You weren’t a huge virgin or anything, but you weren’t used to cute guys taking to you outside of the club scene when they were clearly trying to get you drunk, especially not when you looked a mess from a long day at work, wearing a goofy shirt and crocs with gibbets you bought specifically to make the kids laugh.

“Thank you, you potentially saved me from cracking my head open.” You sounded meek obviously pulling out a nervous joke to clear the awkward air you created. A look crossed his eyes so fast you weren’t sure it was really even there. He held a hand out to you and you took it. His big calloused hands fully engulfing yours, your heart seemed to stutter at the contact.

“Glad to be of service, name’s Brian.” You stared at him before breathing out your own name. He slowly raised your hand in his to his lips, a small quick peck to the back of yours and a sly smirk, looking at you through those beautiful lashes. “Y/N, a beautiful name for such a pretty face.” You felt heat immediately engulf your face as you made the smallest strained sound. He seemed to catch onto it and his smirk grew wider on his face. “Do you mind if I keep you company around the store? I’d like to keep you from scrambling up anymore shelves.” He finally let your hand drop and gave a short chuckle to his own joke. Oh shit he was flirting. Hard. With you. Panic slowed you down from answering right away, and just as his face was beginning to drop you cut in.

“Yes! Please! I mean if you want, if you don’t mind that is.” Wow, smooth. You wanted to crawl into a hole right about now. He didn’t seem to mind your awkwardness turning his body to walk down the isle, but his head still turned to you. Eyes never leaving you. You two walked around the store him asking questions that you took for genuine curiosity, and you answering. What do you do for work? Provide therapy to small children with autism and such. Wow your family much be proud, so do they live in the area? No, moved away from my home state about 6 months ago. That must be lonely, do you have any friends in the area? Not really, occasionally I’ll go out with one of my coworkers, but my friends are all in different states. Well you have me now too. You felt his words warm you, a toothy grin grin met you as he said this. You took note he got a cart full of items, all of them non perishable, all of them easy to make. When you asked about this, he plainly answered he lived with roommates and they were often traveling for work. You didn’t notice him leading you to the cash register when the conversation was led to be about him. As you were about to ask what he did for work, your thoughts were interrupted.

“Hi ma’am will you be using cash or card?” He had unpacked your groceries on the belt for you, you thought it was sweet. You paid for your groceries, being generally polite to the teenage cashier. You waited as he rung his stuff out too, he pulled out a big wad of cash and used it to pay the cashier. “You’re gonna get robbed carrying all that around.” You jokingly pointed out. “I’d love to have someone try.” He had an easy smile when he said it, but the comment still stuck out as weird. He walked you to your car, a small Honda, nothing fancy but reliable. As you were getting in, he again grabbed your hand and held it, smiling once more and walking away. He slipped something to you, a small paper with his number and a smiley face in neat writing.

Your cheeks heated. You were in trouble.

[loislame84]

So more domestic options:

Sonya doesn't necessarily live with them, but Kate and Yelena are used to her crashing on the couch. The only real problem is that Kate and her like the same flavor pop tarts and so Yelena's buying 4 boxes every week at the store.

Speaking of grocery shopping. It is an EVENT. Yelena loves taking Kate with her, don't get her wrong, and Kate's a good shopper. That half-finished business degree comes in clutch when thinking about the best deal on lettuce. The problem, however, is they both have zero control over rotisserie chicken. They have every intention of cooking when they get home. They have the ingredients ready. That damn rotisserie wafts through the air and it's like they're two starved animals.

Kate is an animal cuddler. Dogs, cats, pigs, cows, she doesn't care. If it's fuzzy and makes noises, she snuggles it. Most of the time, Yelena thinks this is cute. She has a folder on her phone dedicated to pictures of this. It doesn't really become an issue until Kate's got a 2000lb cow laying its head on her lap and she can't move for 3 hours.

The dogs are amazingly well-behaved at home. Unless there's stress in the household. Lucky handles it better given his street dog life, but Fanny is more attuned to Yelena's emotions, not Kate's. Kate knows she needs to talk to her therapist more when Fanny shakes near her and pees. Yelena never says a word. She just cleans it up and offers Kate a hand to hold.

Sex. So much sex. Not explicitly in everyone's faces, but everyone knows if Kate and Yelena are left home alone for more than a few hours, the pants are coming off and they're going to town. Yelena doesn't start it much, but when she does, Kate spends a night on her back praising her girlfriend. Yes, you can think of Take Me to Church for this.

I have an idiot regarding Sonya and the house 😂😂 she’s one of my favorites so of course she has her own room.

I also agree that sex initiated by Kate usually and it’s an all afternoon event. 😂 I promise I won’t make you wait 26 chapters this time. (Maybe…)

[robbiefischer]

💝 - What gestures do they really appreciate? How do you get on their good side?

☕ - Coffee or tea?

💀 - How do they feel about horror movies?

💖 - How and how often do they try to impress their partner(s)? How and how often do their partner(s) impress them?

for your ladies!! :)

Tysm for asking about my girls! I'm going to do this for Jamila and Viola, Saoirse and Zoe, and Felicity and Shiloh. Jamila and Viola are both surgeons - Jamila's a plastic surgeon, and Viola's a trauma surgeon. Saoirse is a licensed esthetician and massage therapist and plays bass guitar in fables. Zoe is a hair stylist, and is a vocalist (and occasional strings player) in fables. Shiloh is a wedding and event planner, and Felicity owns a really cute little sweets & gelato shop in Maplewood, a small town right outside of New Islington. (Also tysm for your lovely prompt a few days ago! I love it and am really looking forward to working on it once I've finished this other ficlet I've got in progress.) Cut because this got really long.

💝 - What gestures do they really appreciate? How do you get on their good side?

Saoirse: Not to use love language terminology, but Saoirse really appreciates little acts of service, whether in romantic or platonic relationships. She loves it when people do little things for her without her having to ask. If Zoe takes her car out to gas it up and get it washed for her? Fantastic. Someone grabbing her water bottle to refill it for her while they're up getting themselves something? Amazing. She comes home late after a really long shift to a clean house and dinner made even though it was supposed to be her night to cook? The best. Getting a bit of a shoulder and temple massage from Zoe after work without having to give her puppy dog eyes? Incredible. A friend giving her their hoodie because she looks cold? She melts. She just really loves it when someone takes a responsibility off of her shoulders - could she do all of this herself? Yes, easily. But not having to is SO nice.

Zoe: Zoe's absolute favorite thing is probably being given small, unexpected gifts that make it clear that the giver really gets her and knows her well. They don't have to be big or expensive at all (frankly, she prefers it if they're not) but things like a hot cocoa bomb Saoirse grabbed for her at the store because she knows Zoe loves chocolate and cute things or a new pair of fuzzy socks because it's getting cold out and Zoe always has ice blocks for feet? Jasper (one of her work friends) bringing her her favorite tea latte when he runs out to get himself one without asking her if she wants one? A new mug because she broke hers, or a pretty postcard for her to put up at her station at the salon? Knowing someone was thinking of her like that makes her all warm and fuzzy inside.

Viola loves to be spoiled and surprised by the people who love her. She loves it when Jamila plans fancy date nights for the two of them (Jamila always goes *way* overboard, right down to picking out Viola's outfit for the night and often buying her a new dress or something), loves surprise fancy spa trips for a massage and facial, loves fancy gifts, loves it when her brother gifts her a gorgeous new bag after she gives him a long weekend break from his toddler who is very much in the throes of the terrible-twos. She is definitely a champagne tastes kind of girl, and thankfully she and her wife have the budget to match that.

Jamila loves praise and compliments more than pretty much anything else in the world. Yes, she is gorgeous. Yes, she is a brilliant surgeon. Yes, her sutures are utter perfection. Yes, that outfit is fabulous and suits her perfectly. Yes, she is the best wife ever. The meal she cooked for her and Viola after a long shift is amazing. She's the best sister-in-law ever and is just SO good with her baby niece. She knows all of this but she craves hearing it from other people at all times and will essentially purr like a very satisfied cat when it happens. Viola always makes sure to compliment her and praise her, even leaves her little notes to find which Jamila absolutely adores.

Shiloh is a very tactile person and loves physical touch more than anything else. She loves having her hair played with or braided, long, soft hugs, foot rubs (she REALLY loves a good foot rub), shoulder and back massages, snuggling on the couch with her girl, a friend rubbing her arm or squeezing her shoulder encouragingly when she's stressed, soft forehead kisses... she gets touch-starved easily and loves having her physical affection bank refreshed and poured into.

Felicity's favorite gestures are anything to do with feeding her. While she does actually enjoy cooking, it feels like SO much work a lot of the time and she'd rather just cry while she poured herself a bowl of cereal or ate shredded cheese right out of the bag bathed in the light of the fridge. Having someone cook for her or bring her a snack or order delivery for lunch for her while she's at work makes her feel all warm and fuzzy and cared for, whether it's Shiloh having her favorite comfort meal waiting after a really long day or her sister, Verity, dropping by the shop with a snack for her. The way to her heart is through her stomach.

☕ - Coffee or tea?

Viola is an "inject caffeine straight into my veins" kind of girl. She'll do cold brew with a couple of espresso shots on top, black coffee, quad shots, iced Americanos (no water, just ice to dilute it)... every great once in a while she'll indulge in a slightly sweet seasonal latte around the holidays but that's pretty rare and she couldn't have anything sweet be her every day drink.

Jamila, on the other hand, is really sensitive to the taste of bitter so while she likes coffee, she needs it to be sweet enough to cover the taste. She's not a big fan of mochas, but loves anything vanilla, caramel or hazelnut. She also loves tea, but mostly herbals and white teas because of the bitterness issue. Her favorite way to relax after a shift is with a mug of her favorite mint and rose white tea and a book in front of the fire.

Saoirse prefers tea and tea lattes (especially green teas or matcha lattes, although she'll never say no to herbals, chai, rooibos or other black teas), she really isn't a fan of coffee although she'll begrudgingly drink it if she's really dragging and just can't wake up or is super fatigued. Zoe knows something's up with her if she's willingly drinking coffee.

Zoe loves coffee, but she prefers it sweet (and preferably iced and blended and topped with whipped cream, unless it's really cold out). She's also a big fan of fancy hot cocoa - at least partly because she was never allowed it growing up and she's making up for lost time.

Felicity's a coffee person, but goes back and forth on whether or not she wants it sweet or not. It really just depends on the day. More often than not she prefers just a basic, unflavored latte but sometimes she'll go nuts and make herself something fancier.

Shiloh would rather have soda or an energy drink most days. She's not opposed to coffee or tea, although neither of them are daily drinks for her. She knows energy drinks really aren't great for her, but also she doesn't care. They work and that's what matters to her - girl is *all* about efficiency.

💀 - How do they feel about horror movies?

Viola loves horror movies, but they rarely scare her. She finds most of them funny, just... ridiculous and overwrought. Her job's kind of desensitized her to gore and blood, and she just doesn't believe in anything supernatural so none of it's real to her. She just finds them entertaining.

Jamila is scared of horror movies, but she'll watch them (the non-gory ones at least, she's not a fan of it or anything with torture) with Viola, usually peeking out from behind her hands while she watches with her wife all snuggled up next to her. Every time she jumps, Viola hugs her a bit tighter.

Saoirse and Zoe both like them, but only around Halloween. October is horror movie month, and neither of them will watch them the rest of the year. It's purely a "get in the mood for spooky season" thing for them, often while they're carving pumpkins or working on costumes. Zoe loves Halloween and goes all out for it, so they have to set the right vibe for it.

Felicity will not watch horror movies. She doesn't like them at all, they really scare her (she was raised really religious and while she's not any longer and has deconstructed, there's still a lot of horror movie content that revolves around things she was taught were "evil" and they still distress her even though she doesn't really believe in them) and it's just not something she's willing to compromise on.

Shiloh's not a big fan of them in general, but she's got a couple that she likes and will watch around Halloween but only if Felicity's out of the house doing something else. She doesn't want to risk her girl walking in on her watching one of them since she knows how much Felicity hates them.

💖 - How and how often do they try to impress their partner(s)? How and how often do their partner(s) impress them?

Okay, so this question is a bit hard to answer because I feel like most of my OCs don't really try to impress their partners although they might accomplish it unintentionally sometimes. They just... treat their partners really well and do things they know their partners like because they love them, but there's no real intent to impress if that makes sense? They just love their girls a lot and want them to be happy so they do things accordingly.

The only one I feel who really makes an effort to impress her girlfriend is Zoe and, frankly, a lot of that is a trauma response. She spent so much of her life not getting any recognition for the things she did and having her efforts actively diminished that she has a heightened need to be praised and recognized and to do things that get other people's attention. It's something she's working on in therapy, not desperately craving other people's affirmations as much and she's getting better about it.

[emberleesblog]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Week 7! Honestly doing these little snippets has really got my brain churning, and I've written quite a lot for multiple different stories! All Amphibia based for now, but maybe one day I'll be able to reconnect with SxF. The latest update is cute from what I've seen, but I haven't actually looked into any of it yet.

Anyway, yet another Amphibia snippet for you. This story is actually 1/3 complete!

Enjoy!

Getting her legs to cooperate was difficult on a good day, but they felt particularly fuzzy now as she tripped down the hall. Stomping her feet to shake the lingering numbness, she huffed was they regained full signal upon entering her kitchen, scuffling along the faded lino. Pausing to assess the very sad looking fruit on the counter she had brought in a spur of health, she selected an apple without too many bruises, tucking it into her pocket as she staggered towards the window.  

When she had moved into the city, she had been fuelled with the excitement of feeling like a true adult, independent from her parents for the first time in years. She didn’t regret her decisions, but as she pushed up the rickety window and let in the sounds of evening traffic, she found herself longing for the quiet chirp of the nesting blue jay in the branches outside her room. Climbing over the rotting frame, Marcy cautiously stepped onto the fire escape, ignoring the faded condemned poster plastered to its bars, instead sinking into the solace of its streetlight shadows.  

Leaning against the rails, Marcy stretched out her calves for a moment of bliss, watching the steady movement of pedestrians on the street below. All absorbed in their own little worlds, dodging puddles and each other, just trying to get wherever they’re going as fast as possible. Not that she can blame them, she’s the same when trying to navigate the world. But as she settles into place against the staircase, she can’t help but think how weird human beings are. 

With practised ease, she taps out a cigarette against the railing, flicking it from her stiff fingers to parched lips in moments. The small spark from the lighter nipped at her fingertips before igniting, its steady flame reaching greedily for the rolled paper, detaching once it had firm hold. Maybe she let it burn for longer than necessary, her inhale deep but unfulfilling. The cloud of smoke that was released shimmered in the dusk air, slowly trying to imprint itself on the bricks of the apartment building across the way, but just like everything else in Marcy’s life, it was unsuccessful. 

Oh. That was depressing. Maybe she should make an appointment with her therapist again.  

Hope you enjoyed, and look out for when this gets posted.

[ear-worthy]

Pod-Alization: Relationship Podcast Launches; Health & Wellness Pods For Women; Debating Carbon Capture

You Need to Hear This relationship podcast debuts

iHeartPodcasts and licensed therapist Nedra Glover Tawwab have announced a new health and relationship podcast You Need to Hear This, launching May 11.

Face it, relationships are hard, but they don’t have to be. In You Need to Hear This, Tawwab guides influential guests and callers alike on healthy ways to set boundaries, improve interconnections, and find peace of mind in their daily lives. Each week, through actionable plans and emotional support, Tawwab outlines simple steps that lead to big changes. 

 Tawwab is a licensed therapist and highly sought-after relationship expert. She has practiced relationship therapy for 15 years and is the founder and owner of the group therapy practice, Kaleidoscope Counseling. Her philosophy is that a lack of boundaries and assertiveness underlie most relationship issues. 

Tawwab has appeared as an expert on Red Table Talk, The Breakfast Club, Good Morning America, The Today Show, and CBS This Morning. Tawwab’s gift is helping people create healthy boundaries and relationships with themselves and others. 

You Need To Hear This premieres Thursday, May 11 with new episodes launching every Thursday.

Golden Goose Creative recommends Health & Wellness Podcasts for Women

Golden Goose Creative is the home to the creative female podcaster who needs post-production and other podcasting support like building strategic plans to grow listeners, monetization, and more. The women-owned business takes on the complexity of podcast operations, enabling female podcasters to focus on other areas of their business while putting out episodes regularly.

The female owners of Golden Goose Creative — Aleea and Hav — also produce a regular blog with helpful tips for podcasters and recommendations for podcast listeners.

Here’s an excerpt from their blog:

“Taking care of our businesses and podcasts are important. But we also need to take care of ourselves. As women, we tend to put other people’s needs above our own, whether that be our kids, pets, partners or other friends and family members. Of course, all of that is still important but taking care of our own welling being is important too. As they say, filling up our own cups will help us fill up others. We can’t fill others from an empty cup! So, today, let’s jump in as I cover some of our favorite health + wellness podcasts for women.”

They go on to recommend several health and wellness podcasts for women, including the Courageous Wellness Podcast. It’s hosted by Aly French and Erica Stein, who are both certified Integrative Nutrition Health Coaches with advanced training in gut health and hormone health. The show itself is about de-stigmatizing conversations in the wellness space and celebrating the experiences/lessons of their guests. They interview diverse people about their personal journeys in health and wellness. From physical wellness, to emotional and spiritual, they are listening to courageous stories.

They go on to recommend five more excellent health and wellness podcasts for women. Check out those recommendations here.

If you’re a female aspirational podcaster, check out Aleea and Hav from Golden Goose Creative. They are happy to also discuss their footwear choice, with Aleea admitting she’s a “A fuzzy socks and crocs kind of gal,” and Hav noting “90 percent of the time you’ll catch me in sneakers” but then confessing, “I’ll never up my love for cute heels.”

Open To Debate podcast tackles Carbon Capture

This week, nonpartisan debate podcast Open to Debate tackles the question: “Is Carbon Capture Essential to Fighting Climate Change?”

When it comes to carbon dioxide, last year was a record year. The world emitted more of the climate-warming gas in 2022 than in any year since scientists began recording levels in 1900. So … what can be done to prevent dangerous levels of warming? One potential method is called carbon capture and storage, a technology in which CO2 is extracted and stored in underground facilities. In fact, as recently as February, Exxon Mobil announced that it will use Honeywell technology in Texas to capture some seven million tons of carbon dioxide per year. Other companies, meanwhile, have followed suit.

But it is not without controversy. Critics say the technology is not cost-effective, is unreliable in large scales, and that the level of carbon removal needed to help the planet is well beyond current capacity. As such, they say, it is a dangerous distraction in the broader fight against climate change, potentially diluting the urgency in reducing emissions. Others say these systems are ever more adept at capturing gases from the air, and that they have the potential to become a critical tool in the battle against rising emissions.

Arguing YES, carbon capture is an essential tool in the climate fight, is Katherine Romanak, Research Scientist for Bureau of Economic Geology. Arguing NO is Mark Z. Jacobson, Professor of Civil and Environmental Engineering at Stanford University and Director of its Atmosphere/Energy Program.

Find the full episode at the Open to Debate website, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get podcasts.

[savedarkskies]

@topazadine I have finally done it! My own Ahiru-san will soon be on its way!!!! Kyaaaahhhh!

[dubersbutt]

Take a Bow (4) - Connor McDavid and Leon Draisaitl

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,

Warnings: Babies, anxiety/feelings of heightened anxiety, smut

It’s not that Connor hates kids. They just make him uncomfortable.

Like when his aunt had a baby when he was 13 his mom asked if Connor wanted to hold him. Connor was fine when his mom gently placed the baby in his arms. Up until his mom told her to be super careful with his head or else he could snap his neck and kill him. Or if Connor accidently pressed his soft spot it could severely detriment his brain development. It was too much responsibility.

At least that’s what he used to think.

He fell in love with Emilia the minute you walked through the front door with her in the baby carrier. The dogs were excited by the tiny squirming arms inside the carrier, he had to hold Lenny back so he didn’t crush her.

“This is going to sound super cliche,” Connor says as he coos into the carrier where Emilia is trying to open her tiny eyes, “but she is the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s a lot cuter now that her head is a normal shape,” you joke, munching on a cookie Connor had set out for you.

“Can you stop making fun of our daughter’s cone head?” Leon rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t see it, it was terrifying.”

(Connor googles a picture of it later. Babies are fucking weird.)

He helps you up the stairs to the waiting cup of tea on the mug warmer in your bedroom. He lets you get settled, handing you the TV remote and giving you a kiss on the forehead before going back downstairs to meet his daughter (step-daughter? Connor didn’t really know).

“Can I hold her?” Connor asks when he finds Leon and Emilia in the living room.

“What happened to the three month rule?” He raises an amused eyebrow.

Connor had created it after the incident. He didn’t hold a baby that was younger than 3 months.

“I’m feeling brave.”

Leon scooches over so Connor has room to sit comfortably. Leon gently places Emilia in his arms, and gives Connor a pillow to prop his arm on. Emilia’s blinks at him before squirming and stretching her little arms over her head. Connor feels all warm and fuzzy in his chest.

“Hello, Emilia,” he says, with a smile on his face, “I’m your other dad.”

~~~

Connor’s not inherently a jealous person.

Or at least he thought he was. But ever since Emilia came home he’s been feeling it. He loves Emilia, don’t get him wrong. Well, actually, he should backpedal for a second.

Connor is still annoyed at Leon.

He knows he should probably bring this up (because look what happened last time) but he hasn’t because Leon was trying to make things right with you. He obviously was trying with Connor as well, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was an afterthought. Some days were better than others, but everytime Connor thought about how he woke up and couldn’t find Leon in the penthouse he felt like puking.

Emilia eases the pain. He truly does love her like his own. The only time he uses the “she’s your kid” card is when it's 2 am and he’s too tired to get up. But he rarely even does that because Connor’s always been the heaviest sleeper out of the three of you. But other than that, he volunteers for bathtime, plays with her while you’re in the shower, he doesn’t even hate changing diapers that much.The puppies love her too, they’ve transitioned from napping on the dog beds in the living room to the spot on the couch closest to the bassinet to keep an eye on them. He regularly has to stop Lenny from trying to jump in and crush Emilia.

Back to Leon (Connor tends to get side tracked when talking about Emilia). Connor’s still annoyed and he’s been working up to talking about it. But it never seems like a good time. First you were pregnant, and Connor didn’t want to upset either of you. Then it was playoffs and Connor didn’t have any time to think about anything else. Then they got swept and Connor did nothing but eat ice cream for a week like he just had his first heartbreak. And after that…well, he just hates confrontation.

He keeps telling himself that he’ll get around to it, that he just wants to gather his thoughts but he knows he’s stalling at this point. Mostly because -

“So did you do what we talked about last session?” Sophie, his therapist, asks him at the beginning of his appointment.

-his therapist calls him on his bulshit. And he realizes that’s the whole reason he pays her, but it’s still rude.

“About that…” Connor trails off.

She gives him an amused smile, “Connor, you know I don’t like telling you what to do but I strongly suggest you talk to Leon.”

“Sophie, my girlfriend gave birth, we started playoffs and got swept all in the last two weeks,” he says with an exasperated sigh, “I deserve a little time for myself. Isn’t that what you told me last week?”

“I was getting to that,” she says.

Connor almost didn’t show up to his first session. He spent the whole ride over that he his therapist would be a quiet homophobe and who’d sell his story to the presses and ruin his life.

But then he went in and saw the framed photo of Sophie and her wife and their twins. He let out a sigh of relief and felt more comfortable telling her about his life. She didn’t even really watch hockey and she told him that he thought he was a “good player” for his age. Connor always has to stop himself from laughing whenever she tries to compliment his playing style. She’s adorable.

“And what about  (Y?N)? Have you thought about what you were going to say to her?”

He knows. He just doesn’t know if you’ll want the same thing.

“I have, a little bit.”

“And would you like to share what you’ve been thinking about?”

“I-uh,” he swallows, “I want another baby?”

“Is that a question?”

“I don’t think so.”

Sophie sends him home with the same homework he had last week: try to slowly figure out what he wants to say when he’s eventually ready to have a talk.

When he comes home, Leon’s standing in the kitchen by Emillia’s bottle warmer. He looks stupid hot holding a baby and Connor’s only mildly annotated about it.

“Hey,” he flashes Connor a bright smile when he notices Connor’s presence, “Can you hold her while I make her a bottle?”

“Sure,” He takes Emilia from Leon before sliding the dimmer down on the light switch. Her eyes slowly open in the dim light and her gumless smile warms Connor’s heart.

“Hello sweet girl,” he coos, watching as she somehow wiggles an arm loose from her blanket, “I love you. I hope you had a good morning.”

He doesn’t expect her to answer, obviously, but she does start to open and close her mouth, indicating she's hungry.

“Leo, you’re too slow,” he taunts playfully, watching as Leon carefully measures out the formula, “she’s starving over here.”

“I can only move so fast,” he laughs.

When Leon finally gets Emilia her bottle Connor relaxes into the dining room chair as she eats her lunch.

“How was therapy?”

Connor told you and Leon that he started going when he came home from his session. Connor didn’t divulge everything that happened in his sessions but it felt nice to have someone ask.

“It was good,” he says, leaning over and resting his head on Leon’s shoulder, “I only cried a little this time.”

Leon chuckles, “Does that mean therapy’s working?”

“Probably.”

~~~

Connor can’t help but laugh when he rewatches the interview of Leon talking about Emilia. He manages to somehow be adorable and sarcastic at the same time. You’re settled against his chest with your ipad resting on your lap and he can feel your giggles as Leon gives his short, glib answers to the journalists' annoying questions.

(Congratulations, she’s very cute.

“I know. She is my daughter after all.”

Your girlfriend’s not going to get mad about that comment?

“She’s gonna get mad if you keep asking questions about her newborn.”)

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen this yet,” Connor says as he runs his fingers through your hair.”

“Neither can I,” you giggle as Leon looks into the camera like he’s on the Office.

Leon rolls his eyes as he emerges from the bathroom, now freshly shaven.

“It’s not that funny,” he says.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Leo,” Connor says, gently hooking his fingers in Leon’s chain to pull him down for a kiss, “You’re very funny.”

“Why did you shave?” you say as Leon turns to give you a kiss, “Your beard looked so good.”

“It was also getting super scratchy,” Connor says.

Leon gets under the covers on Connor’s otherside, “Yeah Emilia’s been distracting me from the beard routine.”

You scoff, “the scratch is the best part, Con.”

“Tell that to the scratch marks on my ass,” Connor says without thinking, and then immediately blushes.

You groan, “Don’t talk about anything remotely sexy when my poor vagina is still healing from pushing out a whole watermelon.”

Leon laughs, “Don’t worry, baby, the beard will be back by the time you get your 6 week all clear.”

~~~

(5 weeks later - after your 6 week all appointment)

“Guess what bitches,” you shout as you enter the kitchen, “I can finally have sex again.”

“Mhm,” Leon hums, feigning disinterest, “And what would you like me to do about that?”

“You’re mean and not funny,” you say lightly hip-checking him, “Besides I have two boyfriends for a reason.”

“Yeah about that,” Connor stretches and yawns, “Emilia kept me up last night so I was gonna take a nap.”

You blink, “I will go to Whyte Av and find some rando to screw in a coat closet, don’t fucking test me.”

Leon grabs your hips and pulls you against his body so your back is flush against his chest before walking forward and pressing your hips into the kitchen counter.

“As if I could pass up the opportunity to fuck this sweet little pussy,” he grinds his hips, pushing your hips further into the counter.

“What have you been cleared for?”

“L-light, non-strenous sex.”

Connor laughs, “Boring, but better than nothing.”

“Davo, take her upstairs,” Leon commands so Connor scoops you up and carries you bridal style to the bedroom.

“Wait wait,” you say when they reach the top, “Where’s Emilia.”

“She’s napping in her crib,” Connor says as he drops you onto the bed, “Leo’s gonna check on her before he comes. So you can turn your brain off for a little bit.”

Connor doesn’t wait to hear your answer, just presses his lips to yours. He fels you moan against him. Connor’s hands slide under your shirt, slowly exposing skin. When he gets it over your head he trails his kisses down your body, unhooking your bra as he does. His kisses move in between your breasts to your belly.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as he kisses your belly button, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

He hooks his fingers on your shorts, pulling them down your legs. He settles himself on the bed as he spreads your legs to press kisses to your inner thigh.

“Perfect,” Connor says, lightly nipping at the sensitive skin.

The tiny hitch of your breath causes all of his blood to rush straight to his dick, but he can’t bring himself to care. He takes his time, warming you up with kisses to your inner thighs, gently scraping his teeth against the skin. He kisses your pussy before running his tongue through your folds. His tongue gently caresses your clit with his tongue. Your hand comes down in his hair when he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your hips start to move against his face, grinding down to give yourself more friction.

“So impatient,” he hums, fucking one finger in you.

“It’s been six whole weeks,” you say,  “I haven’t gone six weeks without sex since I was a virgin.”

Connor chuckles, “Easy baby, we’ll get there.”

~~~

Connor can’t help himself when he sees you changing Emilia’s onesie in her nursery. He walks up behind you, wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder.

“Good morning,” he says, planting a kiss on your cheek, “And good morning to the world’s most adorable baby.”

Emilia gurgles but doesn’t retort. Smh, someone needs to teach her how to be humble.

“Morning,” you reply, buttoning up her fresh onesie, “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he responds with another kiss, “Except when you kicked me in my ribs.”

“I take offense to that,” you raise an eyebrow, “I am an angel in bed. And, yes, pun intended.”

Connor snorts, “We both know that's a lie.”

Both Connor and Leon have been victims of your aggressive sleeping style. One of these days he’s gonna tie all your limbs down, and not in a sexy way. But not in a murderous way either, let’s make that clear. In a Connor-wants-one-singular-night-to-not-get-punched-in-his-sleep way.

Oh god, his brain is rambling. Oh god, he does not want to do this.

“(Y/N),” he says before he can talk himself out of it, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

“About what?” you ask, holding Emilia close as you sit down in the rocking chair.

“I…” Connor has never been this sweaty in his life, “I want another baby.”

“Oh,” you say, indifferent, “Congratulations.”

His brow furrows, “what?”

“On growing a uterus,” you arch an eyebrow, “Because I sure as hell am not using mine again for like 3 years.”

Connor laughs, “I wasn’t saying right away. But, I just want to know if it’s something on the table.”

“I want another baby,” you say, “And as long as you’re willing to wait, I don’t see why it would be an issue.”

~~~

And Connor definitely feels lighter after his talk with you. And he even impresses Sophie by actually doing his homework for once:

“So did you talk to Leon yet?” She asks after he’s finished giving his rundown of his week.

“No,” he says sheepishly, “But I did talk to (Y/N) about having another baby.”

She has the professionalism to not look shocked, but Connor is getting a little better at reading her. Or at least he thinks he is. He still gets anxious whenever she writes things on her notepad, “and how did that go?”

“Honestly, it was better than I expected.”

“How so?”

He shrugs, “I guess I was just expecting the worst?”

“And why is that?”

He shrugs again, “Isn’t that something that you’re supposed to figure out when you psychoanalyze me at the beginning of every session?”

Sophie throws her head back in laughter, “You do know I can’t read your mind right.”

It sure feels like she can sometimes. Which is why he pays her but still, it’s rude. ~~~

Connor thought he was sweaty and anxious before talking to you. However, when it comes time to talk to Leon he also feels nauseous. Like, he might throw up in the kitchen sink again nauseously. But he’s been sitting on this for a few months now - but what if Leon hates him. What if he doesn't want to be with Connor anymore. What if he asks for a trade?

No, Connor’s spiraling. Leon’s a rational person; he's not gonna hate Connor for talking about his feelings, something Leon encourages because Connor tends to bottle things up until he explodes.

But what if-

No. No spiraling, yet.

“Leo,” Leon hums against Connors chest from his spot on the couch next to him, “You still awake?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “But I was thinking about going upstairs soon.”

Connor shuts the TV off, “Um, actually before that can we...talk?”

Leon sits up and stretches, “What about?”

Connor takes a deep breath, “I think - I think I’m mad at you?”

Leon looks a little confused, and Connor can’t say he blames him, “You think you’re mad at me?”

“I-yeah,” he takes another breath, “I know you’ve been trying really hard to reconcile with (Y/N), and that’s great, and I’m definitely not trying to say I take priority over her, but it kind of feels like you’ve put me on the backburner a bit.”

Leon nods, “How so?”

Connor shrugs, “I mean, when you came back and you apologized it was definitely pointed towards her. And it’s the little things, like you always make what (Y/N) wants for dinner and not me. It feels a little bit like there’s a hierarchy here.”

“Do you...feel this way with (Y/N) too?”

“A little bit,” he says, “But mostly with things concerning Emilia, so it’s not as big of an issue.”

Connor realized he feels a bit…scorned, for lack of a better word. Connor was with you first, and that’s not something he feels jealous about but now it’s all coming up. Connor never left you, Connor was the one who held back your hair and wiped your tears when Leon was MIA. Connor was there, Leon left.

...maybe he did need to talk to you some more.

~~~

Connor and Leon spend a long time talking on the couch before they join you in bed. Eventually, Leon puts his head in Connor’s lap as the conversation turns mundane and they just enjoy each other’s presence. It’s been a while since they’ve done that. They end the night with a little make out session that doesn’t lead anywhere more. It was nice.

The next morning Connor’s on baby duty. Not that he minds, it’s always nice to start his day with a smile from Emilia. He changes her diaper and puts a fresh sleeper on her, listening to the little baby noises she makes. When he’s finished he takes her downstairs to the kitchen where you and Leon are making breakfast.

“Good morning, babe,” Leon says when Connor turns the corner, “Do you want strawberries or blueberries on your french toast?”

Leon was making his favourite breakfast. Connor can’t stop the smile from spreading on his face.

“And how’s my favourite girl?” he asks, giving Emilia a little kiss on her forehead.

“A pooping machine,” Connor responds to her, and Emilia laughs at him.

“Did she just-?” you get from your spot on the barstool and run to Connor’s side.

“Her first laugh?” Connor says, “Yeah.”

He tickles her belly in an effort to get her to keep laughing, but she chooses that moment to be a stubborn newborn and frowns instead.

He looks at Leon, “She is absolutely your baby.”

“I smiled when I was a baby!”

“No, Leo he’s got a point,” you say in between funny faces, “your mom said she has one baby photo of you smiling because you would refuse to smile for the camera.”

“I was shy.”

“You’re a robot,” Connor says.

“Like you’re one to talk,” you scoff.

~~~

“Connor please,” you pant, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Connor holds back a laugh, watching the sweat drip down your face, “I thought this is what you wanted?”

“Leo!,” you yell, catching his attention from across the room, “Tell Connor he’s being an ass.”

Leon does not hold back his laugh, “He’s got a point.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting bullied right now.”

Connor wraps his arms around you and pulls you close into his body, “It’s just some squats, baby, it’s not the end of the world.”

“It is when you keep adding weight!”

“Because you’re stronger.”

You just stare at him and, honestly, Connor feels a little scared.

“Tell you what,” he leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “If you make it through your sets, without complaining, Leo and I will take turns eating you out tears run down your pretty little face.”

“Promise?” you hold out your pinky.

Emilia’s being babysat by her grandparents so Connor feels no qualms when he links his pinky with yours, “Promise.”

“Promise what?” Leon pipes up from his place on the leg press.

“Connor offered up your body in exchange for squats,” you say, shouldering the bar once more.

“And what did Connor say I would do?”

“You’ll find out,” Connor says, waving a hand at Leon nonchalantly.

“I don’t even get to know how I’m being used as a bargaining chip?”

“Nope,” Connor says with a smile, popping the ‘p’.

~~~

Leon learns what the exact terms and conditions are of the agreement about an hour later. And, just like Connor expected, he does not complain.

He even has the audacity to wink at Connor as he’s tongue-deep in pussy. Ugh, he forgot what the butterflies in his stomach felt like when he’s not constantly annoyed with Leon. He can’t help himself, he gets up from where he was giving his jaw a break, and slides his fingers over Leon’s hole. Leon tenses up ever so slightly, he breaks the momentum he had on you, evident by how hard your ankles are digging into Leon’s shoulders.

“Don’t stop,” Connor grunts, slipping one digit past the rim, “You don’t cum until she does.”

He slides his finger all the way before uncapping the lube and lathering his fingers up and adding a second. Connor knows when he hits Leon’s prostate when He lets out a low groan into your cunt.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you whine, writhing against the sheets.

Leon pushes back on Connor’s fingers at the same time your hips start to grind down feverishly on Leon’s face.

“Make her cum, Leo,” Connor says, removing his fingers from Leon’s ass and teasing his hole once more.

Leon’s focus changes completely. His fingers dig into your hipbones, pulling you closer to him so he has a better angle. Your chest is rising and falling quickly, heaving off the bed when Leon finally sucks your clit. You cum with a shout, tumbling over the edge, pussy clenching around Leon’s tongue.

Connor wastes no time, grabbing Leon’s hips to steady him before spreading Leon's cheeks and swiping his tongue in long, broad strokes. Connor’s not the biggest fan of rimming, but Leon loves it. Leon groans as Connor teases him, starts to rut against the bed when Connor’s tongue dips into his hole, loses it when Connor starts to fuck him open with his tongue. He reaches over to jack Leon off, pumping him as he continues to take him apart. Leon goes limp beneath him, reduced to nothing but moans. Connor speeds up his ministries, revealing in the way Connor’s name falls weakly from Leon’s mouth. Leon bucks hard against the bed, cums with a shudder. Connor takes his hand off Leon's cock, and places it on his own but doesn’t quite relent on his tongue, working Leon through the aftershocks' pleasure. It doesn’t take very long for Connor to cum, finally letting up on Leon and effectively ruining his boxers.

“Aw Leo,” Connor says once he can catch his breath, “We have to watch the duvet cover now.”

~~~

“Where is my baby?” Connor teases playfully when you walk through the door, baby carrier in hand.

“Calm your tits,” you say, placing the carrier on the kitchen counter and allowing Connor to take her out, “She’s home, and just woke up from a nap.”

“I wish I took a nap today,” Connor says as he rocks Emilia in his arms. She gives Connor a toothless smile and Connor just wants to smoosh her.

“Has anyone ever told you, you look really good holding a baby?” Leon says, giving Connor a quick peck on the cheek.

“Good enough to have another baby?” Connor asks.

You roll your eyes, “Two years, Con.”

“I’m just teasing.”

And, yeah, Connor finally starts to feel like he’s home again.

[thestyleswritings]

Fix You

"We talked about something you said to me a while ago." She says, tone short. He couldn't tell if she was angry or if she was being shy about something.

 "Well? I'd love to hear what I said that you're still thinking about months later and talkin’ to your therapist about, baby." The hand that lay stationery on her thigh squeezed a bit, encouraging her to talk to him.

 "You said something about making a baby with me. Haven't been able to stop thinking about it." She muttered, biting her lower lip. His whole body went rigid beneath her at that.

Or - The one where you have depression and Harry leads you in the right direction, and then some

(6.1K)

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Mention of Mental Health Issues, VERY brief mentions of suicide, Language, Possible Breeding Kink(??), Smut (at the end)

Masterlist

I wrote this in one night,,, shout out to mania.This isn’t even what I was working on. I don’t know if this is something that many people will want to read but it definitely brought a smile to my face to write. Do I need therapy? Probably. Will I ignore that and continue to escape my own mind through fiction? Absolutely. Reblog/Like if you enjoy!

  Harry knew she'd been struggling for a long time. It wasn't like her depressive periods lasted very long when they happened, maybe around a week or so, but when they hit, they hit her hard. He'd asked her when they first started dating, years ago, why she never invited him over and why she always went to his place, and at first she didn't want to tell him. It was embarrassing to her that she sometimes got into these periods where she didn't even want to lift her head from the pillow, let alone tidy up her flat.

  Harry eventually went over to her place once she felt comfortable enough to let him. She knew he wasn't going to judge her, and she knew all he wanted was to help her feel better. He stayed at her flat for hours the first time he came over, helping to fold the laundry she had done days before, dusting the bookshelf, clearing out the refrigerator. He'd joked they were a perfect match since he loved to clean up while listening to music they both loved; it relaxed his mind. His love language was acts of service anyway, which he constantly had to remind her of. He didn't mind doing anything and everything in his power in order to alleviate his lover's stress. She had sworn to Harry she'd try her best to keep the place in tiptop shape, but he didn't actually expect her to.

  He'd lost more than one friend to severe depression and he knew it was nothing to take lightly. Unfortunately, he also knew the signs to look for in suicidal people all too well. He could tell she had become moodier and spent a good bit of her day in bed either sleeping or just staring off into the void. She texted him that she was at home more and more, opting out of seeing her close friends for drinks or dinner. He hadn't seen her, either. It was all beginning to worry him deeply. He knew she'd have bad days, he'd signed up for that, but this was bigger than just a rough day. It had been going on for nearly two weeks and he knew he couldn't wait to address it any longer. He wanted to approach her tenderly. He was fearful that if he misspoke, she would shut down.

  That's how he ended up at her door one evening, unannounced. He brought along two sunflowers, one significantly taller than the other. He'd seen them at the florist's downstairs and they made him smile to himself. They were her favourite flower, and the posture of them reminded him of both of them. He hoped they would make her smile, too.

  He didn't bother ringing the bell, fishing out the spare key she had made up for him from his jeans pocket. When he stepped through the threshold, his heart sunk. There were empty cups on the coffee table, and he knew that meant she wasn't eating. If she were, there would've at least been a bowl or two. In that regard, her untidiness was helpful. He could assess the situation before even having to talk about it. 

  He sighed deeply as he gently places the sunflowers down on the kitchen island, walking over to clear the short table in front of the loveseat. He could practically feel the pain she was in and he hated.  He hated the fact that she had to be stuck with the short end of the stick. He walks the cups over to the sink, running the water over them for a moment before grabbing the sponge on the ledge of the sink to scrub them clean.

  As he washed the cups, he thought of what he could say to her that would actually prove to be helpful. It wasn't easy to always have the right words when the person hearing them didn't care if they lived or died. He knew if he told her outright how upset he was seeing her this way, it would only serve to make her feel worse that she couldn't help it. He didn't want to force or therapy on her, but he really wasn't left with many options. He wouldn't lose someone else to this. He couldn't live with himself, nor without her.

  He shuts off the tap and dries his hands on the cute yellow kitchen towel that was always draped on the cabinet next to the sink. With the flowers in hand, he cracks open her bedroom door. There are a few small piles of clothing around, t-shirts and sweatpants carelessly discarded based on the look of how everything was inside out.

  The sight of her breaks his heart. She was curled up tight beneath her fuzzy blanket that he knew she only pulled out when she was missing him and his snuggles, facing the wall while her arm hung limply over the stuffed dragon he'd gotten her ages ago. He could tell she hadn't gotten up all day, that much was evident. All the lights in the apartment had been off when he'd arrived and there was a stillness to the air. She hadn't even answered his messages sent hours earlier. He thought the worst for a moment, frozen in place with wide eyes trained on her unmoving body before hearing a soft snore coming from her, easing his breathing exponentially.

  He sits on the edge of her bed, placing the flowers with a shaky hand in a cup of water that had been sitting on her bedside table. He brings his hand up to the dip of her waist, gently rubbing up and down the length of her torso to soothe her awake.

   "Wake up, bug. S'me. Brought ya a little present." He coos at her once he heard her intake a large breath, reaching up to tuck her thick hair behind her ear. He could tell she hadn't washed it in a few days and made a mental note to encourage her to shower with him. She stirred under his touch, like she could tell it was him even when she was deep in slumber.

  "Harry?" She calls out quietly into the dark, feeling the warmth of his palm against her cheek. Had she been more awake and alert, she might've even been sheepish at her disheveled appearance. She already knew he saw all the empty cups on her table that had once been full of tea and coffee. She felt ashamed.

  "Yeah baby, it's me. Can you turn around and let me see that pretty face?" He croons, removing the hand that had been stroking her hair.

  She sighs deeply before turning over in her full sized bed, eyes focusing on the plush faux-down blanket beneath her. His hand slowly approaches her face again, this time grabbing hold of her chin softly to have her look at him. He smiles sadly at her. She knew that look. It's the same way her mother would look at her when she came into her room as a teenager. Pity, almost. It made her feel weak. 

  "Hello, my angel. Have you been in bed all day, lovie?" He dotes on her, running his thumb across her cheekbone. He knew the answer, he just wanted her to acknowledge it.

  "Mhm. What time is it?" Her voice is hoarse, as if she'd been crying the night before. The sound of it deflated Harry's heart in his chest.

  "S' a quarter til six, lovie. What time did you fall asleep?" He asks, leaving his hand on her face to cradle her soft cheek.

  "Dunno. Seven, eight? This morning sometime." She replies, sighing at her own erroneous sleeping schedule. Harry presses his lips together silently, taking in her words.

  "Alright. Well, I'm here now, so up you get." He requests softly. Softly enough where she doesn't find it demanding. He stands from her bed, holding a hand out to her.

  "Did I hear you say you brought me something?" She asks as she sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. He chuckles at her, knowing that a huge part of her mental illness caused her to crave buying material possessions, only for them to mean nothing to her the very next day. It was something she was truly trying to work on.

  "Yes baby, I did. S' on the bedside table." He informs her, waiting for her to turn and see them before he walks closer to her. She caresses the vibrant petals of the yellow flower, biting her lower lip between her teeth.

  "I... I love them, Harry. Thank you." He can hear the tightness in her throat and he worries that he should've just not gotten them at all for a moment before he sees the genuine smile across her lips.

  "I saw them and thought of you. Well, us, really. Don't they look like us?" He beams at her, and she sort of thinks she can see what he means. He looks like a sunflower when he smiles. He brings light and beauty into her life. Maybe that's why she found herself wanting to cry. Because she felt like she wasn't worthy of the human sunflower standing in her room.

  "Yeah. They do look like us." She offers a smile, smaller this time now that she's thought about it. She wraps her arms around his middle, allowing the overwhelming feeling of warmth and comfort to consume her for a moment before pulling away.

  "I should probably go clean off the coffee table, huh?" She says humorlessly, walking the way of the door before his voice stops her.

  "I did it for you, baby. Why don't you come with me to have a nice warm shower? I want to talk to you about some things while we're in there anyway."  Panic strikes her still; what did he want to talk about? Was he finally fed up? Did he find someone else, someone who could take care of themselves properly? Was that why he was being especially sweet on her? She felt like she could throw up. She didn't know how to do this without him anymore, and that alone scared her. It wasn't to say she didn't adore him for all that he does for her, she just wished he didn't feel like he had to. She wished she could get her mind well enough to care to do even the simplest tasks.

  She nods her head and thanks him quietly for straightening up before walking into her bathroom and stripping down to nothing. She reaches into the shower to turn on the water and waits for it to get warm, as well as Harry. She didn't like the sound of wanting to talk, even if he hadn't necessarily said it in a menacing way. When he joins her, he follows her lead by taking everything he wore off. He didn't want to look at her body for too long and become distracted like he often did when he saw her, especially when he really saw her. She had soft features and her body was always so pliant in his hands. Though, he couldn't allow his mind to wander right now.

  He gets in first, testing the water and making sure it was around the temperature they both liked before reaching for her hand and pulling her in gently. She expected him to keep some distance, so when he wrapped his arms around her from behind as they stood under the steady stream of water, she was a bit taken back. Was he being overly affectionate as a way to say goodbye? He places a few kisses to her shoulder before peeling himself away and grabbing her peach shampoo off the built-in shelf. She leans her head back to make sure her hair is all wet before allowing him to lather her hair with the sweet smelling soap for her. She always loved how he massaged her scalp with it.

  "So, I know you might think I wanted to talk about something bad, but I promise it's nothing bad. I just want you to know that before you start making scenarios up in your mind." He speaks softly, matching the pressure of his fingertips in her hair. He sees her shoulders sag and he feels awful. She'd already started thinking of potential issues he may have wanted to talk about. He carries on by rinsing the shampoo out and repeating, creating a much foamier lather the second time around. He rinses it out for her by guiding her beneath the waterfall, following up with the peach conditioner.

  "What do you want to talk about?" She whispers, enjoying the feeling of Harry's hands moving lower with her wash rag, scrubbing her limbs delicately as to not harm her skin.

  "Well... you. You know how much I love you, yeah? Can't fuckin' live without you, you know? Hurts me when we're apart for too long, or when we have to sleep alone. I, um... I just want you to be happy," he sighs. He prattled on a bit; his thoughts were jumbled and he didn't know how else to tell her this.

 "I want to be able to know you're okay when I'm not with you, even if I want to be with you always. I know you're going through a rough spot right now, and I want you to have help. More help than just me," he's as gentle as he can be, and she appreciates it. It doesn't mean she wants to cry any less, of course, but she knows he has the purest intentions.  

  He wants her to thrive, not just survive. He knew he could only do so much for her before she had to start doing things for herself. He loved to baby her and take care of her, but not when he had to. He wanted to help her shower sometimes and feed her because he wanted to, not because she wouldn't do it herself if he didn't.

 "Are you saying you want me to find a therapist?" She asks softly. She's not opposed to the idea, she just never found the strength to actually care enough about her own mental well-being to make an appointment. 

  "Are you okay with that? Would you be open to it if I helped you find someone to talk to? And maybe try medication? I know it's a lot at first, but it helps so many people. Just can't keep seeing you so sad. Hurts my soul, since we share the same one." He turns her around now to look at her property while they spoke. He could see the furrow in her brow, like someone was pinching them together with their fingers. 

 He saw the tears welling up in her eyes and his heart nearly explodes at the pout forming on her face. This isn't what he wanted to happen. He didn't want to make her cry. Her chin trembles as she tries her hardest to look anywhere but at his face.

  "Oh, baby," he coos, wrapping her up in his arms once more, "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so sorry, m'love," he kisses the top of her head, peppering them all around wherever he could reach. "M' just worried, baby. When I came in earlier it looked like you- I just, I can't imagine what I would do if-" he's slightly panicked now, she can feel his heart picking up it's pace. She didn't know that was something he worried about with her and it made her whole body ache.

  "You didn't. It wasn't that. I would really appreciate if you could help me find someone to help me further. I'm crying because I'm hurting you when I don't deserve you in the first place," she sniffles, pressing her face further into the slippery skin of his neck. "You deserve someone who's whole, someone who you don’t have to worry about."

  "Hey," he pulls back from her, holding both her shoulders so he can look her in the eyes, "I love you. So much that I'd die without you at this point. Just told you that. Please don't put thoughts and words into my mouth. I mean everything I say to you, don't let your brain fool you into thinking it's not true. When I tell you I love you, please know I mean that with everything I have and everything I am. I'm not whole without you. I worry because I love you so much that it would kill me to lose you," His voice is soft yet firm all at once, conviction filling his tone.

  "Promise?" She asks weakly, knowing what he's telling her is the truth. Her brain tended to sabotage her.

  "I promise." He kisses her lips, backing her underneath the water once more to rinse her off before reaching behind her to shut off the water. He steps out before her, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around her short body.

 "I'm going to make something for us to eat, angel. Come sit with me at the counter so I don't get lonely?" He asks once they're both dressed. He wore her sweatpants and t-shirt while she wore his Christmas themed pyjama pants with his Spice World hoodie.

 "You want me to?" She can't help but wonder why he wants her to be around him so much. She knew he loved her and they'd been dating for almost four years, but she found herself to be a buzzkill. She just exuded sadness, she thought. Harry scoffs at her playfully, rolling his eyes. He knew she couldn't help but doubt herself, but he still found it absurd. Of course he'd want to be around her all of the time. She was so accepting and loving, even if she didn't think so. She was good.

"Obviously, angel. Always want you within two feet of me. As a matter of fact, I wish you were pocket-sized so I could bring you everywhere with me until you got sick of seeing my big dumb head." He smirks at her, making her genuinely laugh. She hadn't done that in a while.

 "You're such a dramatic nutter." She laughs, pushing him away from her so she could walk into the kitchen to find a stool to occupy.

 "Me!? Were you not the one that cried because you couldn't stop thinking about The Hunger Games?" He comes in behind her, smacking her ass playfully in retaliation of her push before quickly walking at least an arms distance away from her.

"That's literally not fair? Finnick deserved so much better than that. You cried when we watched it together too, fucker!" She explains even more dramatically than he had been in the first place, as if he hadn't been there too. He chuckles as he opens her refrigerator, kissing his teeth when he finds nothing defrosted to cook. All she really had was oat milk, a bottle of homemade cold brew and a few cups of yoghurt.

"Fair enough. I'm going to take this chicken down so we can make it tomorrow, but since there's nothing else, do you wanna do Japanese?" Kicking the door closed as he walks closer to her with two water bottles in hand.

"You know I can never say no to Japanese. I'll order it," she offers, but he's already shaking his head with his phone in hand.

"It's on me. We're eating food you bought tomorrow, s'only fair. I wanna know what else you could never say no to? Like maybe... moving in with me?" He says without looking up as he places the order, already having her favourite meal saved on his phone, along with his own.

 At first, she doesn't react. She doesn't move a single muscle, not even her eyes. He doesn't take her stunned silence personally, waiting for her to process what he'd just offered. He can practically see the cogs turning when he looked at her.

"You want me... to live with you... in your big beautiful mansion of a house..." She says slowly, turning her gaze to his own. He exhales a laugh at the flabbergasted expression on her face.

"Yes, baby. Told you I'd bring you everywhere with me, and we've been together almost 4 years, known each other 6. I don't know about you but I'm ready to wake up to your face every day." He smirks once more, reaching out to tucker her hair behind her ear like he always did. He just wanted to see more of her pretty face.

"You- I... Harry. You know what? Yeah. I will." She had began to refuse before catching herself. This was a normal next step in a long term relationship. She wouldn't sabotage this. She was a better version of herself when she was with him, and they made each other happy. 

"Yeah? You will? I'm so happy baby, thank you. I'm tired of waking up alone and missing you every day. It's dumb." He tackles her in a hug, attacking her with a million kisses. He doesn't bother holding back the few happy tears he sheds, he doesn't care and he knows she doesn't either.

—

  He had proposed to her the day she moved in, after she unpacked her last bedroom item and found a place for it. It was the silly green dragon, who now lived between two puffy pillows on their shared bed. He'd had the ring burning a hole in his dresser for over a year and he couldn't stand it anymore once he saw how at home she'd made herself. That, and he wanted to make love to her while she wore the sparkling diamond.

Something about the visual prompted him to drop to his knee behind her instantly.

  It had been a year since she moved into Harry's “big beautiful mansion of a house”, and they were happier than ever. She was seeing a therapist that she enjoyed, someone whom she felt comfortable with. She had also begun taking medication. The first few prescriptions weren't right, but Harry encouraged her to keep trying different things and held her hand along the way. She finally found the one that matched her chemistry, and it worked a treat. She could focus on things better, and she had the energy to do so many things that she would even go on the occasional run with Harry. It was amazing for him to see her in such high spirits. It was like the her that only he could see was finally free, brightening up the world around her. More importantly, she could finally see herself that way, too.

A few months after she said yes, he had said something to her that she couldn't shake.

"Wanna make babies with you."

  He'd said it to her in passing, staring at her with hearts in his eyes as she sat on the grass in the garden. The sun was hitting her skin so beautifully and she just looked so radiant. He couldn't help it. It had just slipped out.

  She brushed it off at the time, but now it was all she could think about. She had even told her therapist about it. While the older woman seemed excited for her, she still asked if that was something she'd want. If she'd even thought about it.

  And truthfully, she had thought about it before. A lot. She's thought about Harry rubbing her tummy, kissing it and singing. She's thought about them falling asleep together when the baby is finally born. She's thought about how much of a daddy's girl they'd have, if it turned out to be a girl. She's thought about how if he babies her this much, she would love to see how much he'd baby their real baby. She's thought about how much she and Harry would love their shared creation. She’s thought about how much more love it could bring into their lives.

  She'd arrived home from a session one day after work to find Harry peacefully reading on the couch in the soft yellow light of their living room. She took a moment to admire him from this perspective before making her presence known. Jingling her keys a bit harder than usual, making his head turn in time to watch as she hangs them up before shedding her coat and walking over to the back of the couch.

 "Hello, my love." She coos, rubbing her flat palms against his chest. She kisses the side of his face a few times and he grabs hold of her hands, clutching her closer and enjoying her warmth.

 "Hi, lover. How was today? Work was alright?" He lets her hands go with a kiss so he can dog-ear's his page before shutting his book, giving her his undivided attention. She rounds the couch and decides to sit on his lap, looping her arms around his neck. His hands automatically shift to hold her waist.

"Work was the same. People are obnoxious and rude. What can I do? Session went well too. Talked about something I've been thinking about a lot." She looks down at him, tracing her finger subconsciously against the silver chain he never took off. She can't help but smile at how pretty her lover is, making him reflect the same expression.

 "Want me to go down there and give them a talking to? You know I'd do it." He glares playfully, furrowing his brows and puffing his chest. She laughs softly at his silly demeanour. It's one of the things she loves the most about him.

 "Shut up. Annoying," She laughs, hiding her face in his neck. He laughs with her, dropping a hand to one of her thighs to smack it lightly for her comment, ultimately choosing to leaving it resting there.

"That's you. Anyway, what did you talk about? Is there something bothering you?" He asks, ignoring the way her brow raises at him for calling her the annoying one. They had such a lighthearted relationship. It filled them both with joy.

 "We talked about something you said to me a while ago." She says, tone short. He couldn't tell if she was angry or if she was being shy about something.

 "Well? I'd love to hear what I said that you're still thinking about months later and talkin’ to your therapist about, baby." The hand that lay stationery on her thigh squeezed a bit, encouraging her to talk to him.

 "You said something about making a baby with me. Haven't been able to stop thinking about it." She muttered, biting her lower lip. His whole body went rigid beneath her at that.

 "You've been thinking about it this whole time and didn't say anything?" He questions softly, looking up at her with loving eyes. She nods her head, looking off to the side to gather her thoughts.

"Yeah. I... I really want that, Harry. I already promised to love you forever when I said yes, and you make me so much better. I can't imagine how amazing you'll be as a father. I, um, I also stopped taking my birth control a few days ago." She spoke with confidence. She knew this was what she wanted, and she could tell he did too. There was something in the way she spoke about it that made him stand with her in his arms.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to put a baby in you?" He speaks boldly, almost matter of fact. He wasn't asking, he was confirming. She says nothing, choosing instead to nod furiously.

 He beams at her, bringing her all the way to their bedroom before sitting her delicately on the bed. She rolled her eyes at that; it's not like she was already pregnant. He catches the look and reaches to her shoulder to shove her on the bed with an eye roll of his own.

"Better?" He mocks, grinning from ear to ear at her shocked expression. He takes his shirt, that was actually her shirt, off along with his joggers before clambering on top of her.

"You're such a knobhead." She laughs, taking off her own shirt. She didn't feel like waiting.

"A knobhead that you want to come in you. A knobhead that you want to father your children!" He exclaims jokingly. She can't help the grin on her face, pulling his chin until their lips met. Her grin evaporates when she feels him practically rip her skirt off, alongside her flimsy thong. She gasps at the feeling of his fingers on her, rubbing over her slit ever so gently. Feeling how wet she was for him.

"Were you thinking about this on your way home? You're fucking drenched." His voice had lost all sense of humour, acquiring a certain gravel to it that only served to make her wetter. She only nods, kissing his lips in a pleading sort of way.

"You want my baby this bad, huh? Want me to make you a mummy? Want to make me a daddy? S' that it, angel?" She couldn't take it anymore. The sound of his voice was driving her insane and she had checked if she was ovulating this morning and found out she was. It was like her body was demanding for him.

  "Yes! Yes, lover. Please? Want it so bad," Harry felt his heart warm at the tone of her voice. He knew they called each other lover in bed when they were feeling too romantic, too lost to the moment. In a good way. She was truly desperate to try for a little person with him. Quickly, he rolls them over so she's sat atop him once more. He kisses her immediately, bringing his hand down to dip his fingers into her now sopping wet hole.

  She choked on a gasp as she felt him slide two in, curling them at the joint to apply pressure exactly where he knew she needed it. He took advantage of her head falling back, attacking her neck with tender love bites and kisses. His other hand roamed around her stomach and back for a bit before reaching for her chest, tweaking her nipple between two slender fingers. Her jaw dropped when she felt his thumb land on her clit, circling hard and fast.

  "God, Harry! Fuck," she could hardly breathe at the efforts her lover was putting in. "Yes! Yes," her praise was quiet, but it fuelled him regardless.

  He was always an attentive lover, but something about his actions were nearly feral. Like he couldn't get enough, no matter how much she gave him. He would always want more of her. More sound, more taste, more feeling. He wanted her to always evade and overwhelm his senses. He moans at her noises, along with the feeling of her clenching around his fingers.

  "C'mon, lover. Come so I can put our baby in ya," he breathes against her neck, licking any patches of skin he can reach. Her eyes roll back at his words, crying out for both him and God.

"Tha's it, lover. Good girl," he whispers huskily, slowing the movement of his fingers and moving the other hand to hold her body even more tightly against his. When he can feel her body shuddering, he pulls his fingers from her and sticks them in his mouth, sucking them clean in a filthy way.

  "Please put our baby in me," she requests in a small voice with a smile, tears streaking down her cheeks. She was so overwhelmed by him and by the prospect of what they were doing that she started crying happy tears. His smile is worth everything to her in that moment, pulling his face up for a kiss.

  "Yeah, lover. I'll do that," his voice is tender, like his touch. He kisses her as he lays her body beneath him again, stopping for a moment to take in her form. Her body was so gentle and relaxed after he'd made her feel good, and he couldn't help but kiss her tummy. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her hair was starting to frizz, but she'd never looked better.

  This wasn't by any means the first time they'd had sex without a condom but it was, however, the first time they'd done it without her taking birth control.

The rational part of their minds knew it wouldn't physically feel any better, but they couldn't help the buzz around them at the thought.

   He kisses her neck lightly as he grasps himself, tugging a few times to make sure he was nice and hard for her. He knew he was already rock solid, but he wanted to be extra sure. This was important. When he pushes into her, his eyes roll to the back of his head. She grits her teeth at the feeling of being so full of her lover, digging her nails into his side.

  He pushes the rest of the way in, taking a pause there for a moment. He could tell he was pressed against her in a delicious way from the look on her face. His hips started to create a rhythm they could both enjoy; deep and hard, slow and passionate. They were making love, after all.

  "G'na be the best mum, fuck, I know it," he pants into her ear, leaning his body further into hers. She whines into his hair, lifting her hips off the bed to get closer to him, even if it wasn't possible.

  "You're- oh my god, fuck! You're gonna be the best dad, you already take, oh shit, take such good care of me. Such a good lover,” she can tell her voice sounds fucked out, but hell if she gave a fuck. He squeezes her hand in response, kissing her neck again. He felt himself get hotter at her words. The way their bodies collided could be heard in the thick air around them, filling their ears with beautiful music.

She could hear it in the way he moaned in her ear that he was so close. She was, too, just at the thought of him filling her up with possibly more than just nut. They could get a baby out of this. Her eyes roll back as she practically howled in pleasure.

“Please come, please I wanna feel it,” she begged as she lost her mind, repeating her chant.

“Oh my fuck, yeah, baby. Finish for me first, lover. Good fucking girl,” he praises her, kissing along her collarbones as he fucked her through her orgasm. He was so close he could practically taste it, but he had to say something first.

“I love you, angel. I’m gonna love you forever.” His words are broken up between moans in her ear, making her cry out with him. She was so sensitive that when he let go and shot into her, she came again.

  He could barely move once he was spent, dropping his weight to his elbows and laying on top of her chest, which was moving rapidly along with his own.

  He kisses the skin beneath him as she plays with his hair, both too dazed to say anything.

She’s the first to break their silence when she tells him she loves him too.

“‘M bloody glad you love me too, or else it would be pretty awkward for us to have a baby together.” He mutters sarcastically, not even having the energy to lift his head. It was like she sucked out his soul and he needed 2 to 5 business days to get back to being functional. She’d have to call Jeff and let him know the bad news.

“You’re a dork. But, I wouldn’t choose anyone else to do this with. You helped me through the worst days and showed me what I could be. I owe you everything.” She cards her fingers through his hair, speaking softly.

“I resent that, firstly. But I’m proud I get to be this person for you. You’re everything to me, so you don’t owe me a thing. I’m just happy that you’re getting help for yourself. It’s not an easy thing to do, and I’m proud of you. Extremely fucking proud.” He had turned his head to where his chin was poking at her tummy so he could look at her face.

“I’m happy I took your advice. Outsourcing help doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong. It shows that you can pull yourself up and realise you have a problem, you know?” She tries to explain it, but he knows. He’d been telling her all along. He even went to therapy.

“Yeah, baby. I’m happy you’re here with me.” He says, and she knows he meant here, alive, not just here with him at that moment. She holds onto him a little bit tighter.

“I’ll always be here. I need you too much to go anywhere”

~

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[super-cool--cow]

Fucking flowers -- Harry Styles

Word count: 1230

Summary: You own a flower shop and suddenly Harry has an immense need for flowers.

I made this picture thingy and I’m very proud:) However I DO NOT TAKE CREDIT FOR THE IMAGES! I COULDN’T FIND OUT WHERE OR HOW TO CREDIT THE OWNERS SO IF YOU ARE THE OWNER PLEASE INFORM ME. Thank you:)

You never really thought about love. Not really. 

Not because you thought that it would make you special or ‘unique’, it just never occurred to you. 

A therapist would probably say that it has something to do with your parents and their kind of love. 

Or maybe the therapist would trail it all back to your internal self hatred, but like, everyone has that and they still love people and lead happy lives and everything. Which you do, by the way. 

Your life isn’t depressing or anything, not more than the normal amount. You live alone in your tiny apartment in southern Italy, you make my dinners alone, you work alone at your own flower shop. And it’s all great, you’re happy and content with your life. 

So how come you’re sitting here on your balcony, feeling a void in the middle of your chest? Well, you know why, it’s because of that stupid bloke who came in yesterday to buy a bouquet of lilies. 

He was nice and handsome, actually he was gorgeous. But so what? Plenty of  pretty people come into your shop and you don’t pine for them, so what the fuck are you doing?

The sun has almost set now and with it has the warm summer breeze. You down the rest of your white wine before balling up the fuzzy blanket you had wrapped around your body and step inside. 

Your whole apartment is visible just from the balcony, the bedroom separated by a curtain that you hung up around your bed when you first moved in. The only thing that’s not out in the open is the tiny bathroom with only the basics: toilet, sink, shower. 

The apartment (or closet as one could call it) lit up by the fairy lights that are entangled all over the walls and ceilings. Fairy lights and candles are basically the only thing that you use for light so that you can save some money here and there. Owning your own flower shop doesn’t exactly bring in the bag. 

Slowly you begin your nightly routine, brushing your teeth, putting on your pajamas, loading your (tiny) dishwasher. And while you do all of this, his face is there. 

It’s there when you put away the clean dishes and it’s there when you lay down in your bed and all you can think is how stupid this is. 

Not only because you barely talked to him or because you don’t know him, but he bought lilies! Beautiful lilies that are probably for some beautiful girl and you hate it. Hate that that doesn’t seem to be enough of a reason for you to get him out of your head, his touch on your skin as he handed you the money out of your head.

Fucking hell...

---

The sun's warm streaks hit your face, slowly waking you up from your slumber. Its glow kisses your whole apartment as if it’s something straight out of an indie movie.

Slowly you stick out your feet from under the warm comforter, placing them on the chilly wooden floor while stretching your whole body.

After making your first cup (but not the last) of coffee, you open up the door that leads out onto the balcony before opening your closet.

Even though it’s only 6:30 AM, you can already tell that it’s going to be yet another hot summer day, so you decide to wear your white dress with flowers with your usual converse.

As you get dressed his face pops into your mind again, but this time you quickly wave it out of your head. It’s a new day so you really need to get over your weird crush or whatever it is.

You step out of your building and onto the somewhat busy street. The good thing about not living in a big city is that the kind of busy isn’t lawyers and attorneys, but people setting up their market stands.

All through town there are stands with homegrown vegetables, homemade candles, sustainable stuff for your home, basically everything your heart could desire.

Your shop fits in perfectly, with its big windows filled with flowers and plants, fairy lights and light green sun shades that match the sign over the door.

On the other side of the street there’s a small cafe owned by Anne, one of the first people you befriended when you moved to town.

Usually you go to her to get your morning coffee but she’s been sick lately so her cafe has been closed. You spoke with her on the phone yesterday and she told you that though it isn’t anything too serious one of her children would come to town to handle the store.

You’ve never met any of her kids but you know that she has a daughter, Gemma and a son, Harry. The only pictures that you’ve seen of them are from when they’re kids so you’re kind of excited to see what they look like now.

You go about your day normally, watering plants, making ordered bouquets and helping the customers.

Around 5 pm just after you’ve closed the store for the day, the bell dings. Without looking up from your budget-notebook you say, “Sorry, I’m closed.”

“Oh, sorry...” It’s a male voice, it sounds sort of familiar. You look up at and the sound of your heart exploding could probably blow up the whole town. 

He turns around towards the door, but you stop him.

“No, wait!” Yeah, that didn’t sound desperate. “What can I help you with?” He almost looks relieved when he walks over to where you're standing by the counter. 

“Do you have any flowers that say ‘get well soon’?” 

“Marigolds,” you say without thinking twice. A smile lights up his entire face at your quick answer before saying,

“Great! Could I have a bouquet of those?”

You start assembling the flowers, making them beautiful with some extra leaves and smaller flowers that compliments the marigolds beautifully. His eyes watch your every move and you can feel the warmth crawling up your neck, so you decide to make some conversation.

“So, is this for your girlfriend?” Always so subtle, huh Y/N?

“Uhm, no. They’re for my mum, she’s ill and I'm taking care of her shop.” And that’s when you realize it. 

“You’re Harry?!” He looks surprised that you know his name. 

“I- Yes? How do you know my name?” You laugh at your stupidity, he’s the spitting image of his mother. 

“I’ve seen basically every baby picture of you that exists!” He blush while running his hand through his beautiful curls. 

“Right...”

“Oh don’t worry, nothing too embarrassing, just the cute ones,” you smile at him while finishing up the flowers. “Here you go!” you hand him the bouquet.

“Thank you-” “Y/N,” you tell him.

“Y/N,” he repeats as if he has to think about it for a second. “Thank you. How much do I owe you?” He begins fumbling for his wallet in his jacket but quickly you stop him. 

“It’s on me. Say hello to your mom from me.” He sends you a warm smile that you almost melt in.

“I will. The café opens tomorrow morning by the way. My mom wanted me to tell you that.” And then he walks out of the door, leaving you absolutely flabbergasted. You met him again.

[starrynite7114]

TikTok: Divorce Challenge

A/N: I know, I have so many other requests to do, but this one was quick and fun! I promise, I really am making my way through the requests. I’m sorry you all have been waiting long, but I’m trying to make my way though them! I truly appreciate the requests I’ve received. The fact you all trust me to make your idea come to life is very awesome. Thank you! <3

The first of the TikTok challenge, the Divorce challenge!

Enjoy!

Word Count: 615

Masterlist

Request tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @thewarriorprincessxo : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life :  @claytoncardenasbabymama : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @mrs-losa : @1-800-imagines : @phoenixhalliwell : @lady-pswrld : @dazzledamazon  : @getyourcrayoncas : @fvckthisbxtchup : @lukealvxz : @scuzmunkie : @lilac-tea-time : @danie1432 : @cocotheclown : @soaronmywings : @my-rosegold-soul : @buttercup812 : @itskiranbitch : @angelreyesgirl : @sheeshgivemeabreak : @vicmackeybullshxt : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer : @khyharah : @strawberrywritings : @cherry-icetea : @fuzzy-jellyfish : @losolvidad0s : @brownsugarcoffy : @courtrae89 : @prdsdjarin : @blessedboo : @marvelmaree : @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat : @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead : @thesandbeneathmytoes : @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind : @maddie-georges : @pearlkitten33 : @aquamento : @incorrect-mcdanno​ : @that-chick212​ : @rebel-without-cause-x​ : @inscribeddiatribes​ : @kaystacks17​ : @mindless-x-dreaming​

If you would like to be added for the tag list, let me know!

Ever since quarantine, you were not ashamed to say that TikTok has been your form of entertainment, especially after a hard shift at work. You were a respiratory therapist at Santo Padre Community Hospital. While COVID did not hit your hospital hard, that didn’t mean there were no patients. Extra shifts and long hours, which was why TikTok provided you a form of distraction.

You made an account and made a few of the dancing video trends with your co-workers.

With your first day off after a stretch of five, all you wanted to do was spend it with your husband of four years, Angel and your son Thiago, who was five and your youngest son Raphael, who was two. 

There were a few trends you wanted to try with Angel and the first one was simple.

‘If we got divorced, what three things would you take with you?’

Currently, Thiago was down for a nap while Angel had Raphael in his arms as he rummaged through the pantry for some snacks.

“Babe, if we were to divorce, what three things would you take with you?” You questioned Angel, partaking in the latest TikTok trend. You held your phone, pointing it at Angel. 

“What?” Angel looked out from the pantry, Raphael mimicking his actions.

You held back your laughter. “If we were to divorce, what three things would you take with you?”

“That’s cute.” Angel chuckled, going back to what he was doing.

“What’s cute?”

“Baby, you ain’t leaving me.” Angel was holding your two year old son, shaking his head. “Mama thinks she can leave papi, can you believe that?” He stepped out of the pantry with some Hot Cheetos. “We signed a contract baby, you’re in it for the long haul.”

“Come on Angel, it’s a video.” You pouted, knowing you’re husband would participate when he saw it.

“Okay, I’ll take you, your crazy ass when you’re pissed, and your horny ass when you want me.”

“Angel!”

You stopped recording, placing the phone down. Angel opened the bag of Hot Cheetos and grabbed the cream cheese from the fridge since he knew how you liked to eat your Hot Cheetos.

“You okay too much babe.” Angel shook his head, placing Raphael on the counter. “That word isn’t allowed in this house, you know that. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

You giggled at that. “Forever is a long time.”

“We signed a binding contract, baby. We got kids, this is till death do us part. And even in the afterlife I’ll come looking for you.” Angel has always been an intense man who gave his all in a relationship. You’ve been together a total of six years and every day, Angel made you feel as loved as he always had, at times a little bit more. He was devoted to you and your little family. You could not have asked for a better husband. “You’re my soulmate, the only person who truly gets me.”

“You know I feel the same about you babe.” He wasn’t upset, but you didn’t think that question would bring this up. Walking over to him, you pulled him down for a quick kiss. “I love you mi Rey.”

“I love you mi reina.” Angel had a hold on Raphael who was eating the animal crackers Angel grabbed for him. He grabbed your ass, causing you to slightly jump. 

“Angel!”

“See, for that question, you own me at least four orgasms. What would I take if we divorce,” Angel scoffed. “I’d take your shoe collection, the kids and your car, just so you’ll chase after me.”

You laughed at that.

There was never a dull day in the Reyes household.

[muertawrites]

Aphrodite Kallipygos (Zuko x Plus Size Reader) [Modern AU]

Summary: Zuko takes up an art class as part of his therapy and ends up falling in love with a woman who’s a work of art in her own right.

Word Count: 3,500

Disclaimer: There’s a scene in this fic where a couple of thin girls engage in some rude behavior and are criticized in a few none-too-kind words. I want to make it very clear that this scene does not reflect my views of thin people or body positivity - these characters are meant to be a metaphor for greater culture and its strict, unrealistic views of what women should look like. 

Author’s Note: I hate rom coms but after writing this fic it dawned on me that I would be excellent at writing them. Also, this one goes out to all my art hoes out there. I geek out pretty hard about art history in this one. 

Speaking of which, I reference real-world cultures within the structure of the Avatar universe in this one as well. Something I like to do when I zone out is think about which actual countries would belong to which bending nations; my heritage is primarily from the British Isles, and what with liths like Stonehenge and the hella castles hanging around out there, I think we’d be earth benders - same with cultures like the ancient Egyptians and the Pueblos. I also love the idea of Pacific Islanders who can bend both water and lava, and Incan air benders, and I really wish the idea of global cultures as benders were explored more in the Avatar universe. 

Have I mentioned that I’m a massive fucking nerd?

~ Muerta

Zuko never considered himself much of a creative. When he thought about it, he realized that that part of his life had never really been explored; his father always pushed him to focus solely on his bending and combat skills, never allowing even the consideration of other practices or hobbies. As much as Zuko was passionate about the martial arts he'd mastered, he also came to learn that he never had a choice in being passionate about anything else. 

“I think you should take an art class,” his therapist suggested. “It would be a good outlet for you, and one that isn't directly influenced by your family.” 

“I don't think I've ever drawn anything, though,” Zuko admitted. “I wouldn't be any good.” 

“It's not about being good,” his therapist explained, “it's about exploring things that weren't available to you in your youth, freedom of expression. Consider it - there's a shop in this neighborhood that offers classes.” 

She handed him a business card adorned with an array of different art styles, from delicate watercolors to bright, bold cartoons; it read, “classes for everything” in a cheerful, clearface font.

Zuko shrugged and pocketed the card. A week later, he was enrolled in a basic studio art course. 

He arrived for his first class embarrassingly early, passing under the bell of the shop’s front door twenty minutes before it was scheduled to begin. 

The building that housed the shop looked to be older than the rest of the neighborhood around it; the storefront was tiny, with crowded shelves lining each wall and tables and racks wound throughout the center of the space, creating a maze that led to the checkout counter. The room’s ceilings were high, supported by beams in a dark stained wood that matched the floor below. Paper mache sculptures and handmade lanterns hung from the rafters, and the simple, antique plaster walls were decorated with paintings and sketches, likely given by the shop’s clientele. From somewhere in the back, a radio sang folk music, accompanied by the hum of an electric fan. 

Zuko wandered through the labyrinthine merchandise displays until he reached the register, where he was met with the single most beautiful sight he may have ever laid eyes on. 

You stood behind the counter, leaned over a textbook with a pencil in hand, tapping it back and forth over the pages; you bit your lip in concentration, a few strands of your hair falling loose from the messy knot atop your head and over your cheeks, though you were too focused on your reading to care. An apron bearing the shop’s logo was tied around your waist, emphasizing your body's dramatic curves. 

To Zuko, you were gorgeous. He couldn't place what exactly about you allured him; all he knew was that his pulse had quickened to a near dangerous pace. 

You looked up at him when you noticed you were no longer alone, flashing him a kind, somewhat distracted smile. He nodded curtly, too nervous to do anything but stare. 

“Can I help you?” you greeted him politely. 

He cleared his throat, his voice coming out a pitch higher than normal as he spoke. 

“I'm here for the art class,” he told you. 

You smirked a little, peering down to check the time on your phone. 

“It's a little early,” you said. “I was just about to start setting up. You could help me if you want? So you're not so bored while you wait?” 

“Yeah,” Zuko mumbled, “yeah, sure.” 

You grinned, waving him behind the counter and through a door to the back room. To his surprise, what he expected to be a minuscule stockroom turned out to be a space larger than the actual shop, lined on one wall with massive warehouse windows that poured late afternoon sunlight into the room. Metal shelves and boxes lay haphazardly about, mixed in with a scattering of easels, pottery spinners, canvases, and other art supplies. You directed your guest to a stack of chairs in the corner, instructing him to line them in a half circle in an empty portion of the room while you placed the easels. 

“So, do you have a name?” you asked, attempting to make conversation that could drown out the repetitive radio drone. 

“Zuko,” he introduced himself. 

You stopped what you were doing, fixing him with an awed, slightly amused gape. 

“Firelord Zuko?” you wondered. 

He blushed, nodding. 

“Oh spirits, I'm sorry I didn't bow!” you exclaimed, dropping into a low curtsy. The gesture was mixed with equal parts mirth and genuine respect; Zuko was unsure how to respond, his heart flickering as he watched you. 

“I heard you were living somewhere in the city,” you continued after making your own introduction, setting an easel in front of each chair he positioned. “Not into the whole royalty thing?” 

Zuko shrugged. He focused on his work, too nervous to look you in the eye. 

“Just weird going back there,” he told you. “I don't really want taxpayer money going to making sure I live above my means.” 

You leaned against the last chair he set down, smiling warmly at him. 

“That's very respectable,” you responded. “Thank you. Y’know, as someone who pays taxes.” 

Zuko chuckled softly as you handed him a bin of art supplies, instructing him to set one of each item at every station. He did as he was told, stealing glances at you whenever he was sure you weren’t looking. 

“So, uh… do you own this place?” he asked, fumbling over his words. 

“Oh, no, this is my professor’s shop,” you replied. “I just work here part time.” 

“You’re a student?” 

You shook your head. 

“Nope. Graduated last year. I work days at the history museum downtown. I also give art history classes here, and help out with the ones Professor Cong teaches.” 

“Oh.” 

Zuko paused, unsure of what else to say. 

“... They teach a different type of history just for art?” he asked after a moment. 

You laughed, covering your mouth to muffle the sound and apologizing, giving him a little nod as you collected yourself. 

“Yes. Some people even get whole degrees in it,” you giggled. “Not that it’s a useful field to learn anything about.” 

Zuko shrugged, trying to shake off the embarrassment of sounding stupid in front of such a cute girl; little did he know, you found the question beyond endearing. 

“It sounds important,” he contested. “I’ve been meeting historians from all over the world to correct all the propaganda from the past hundred years. It never occurred to me that I would need different historians for art.” 

You smiled at him, meeting him where he stood and handing him one of the sketch pads from your bin. His cheeks pinkened, his eyes darting away from yours as he took it and mumbled a “thank you”. 

“I like you, Firelord Zuko,” you decided aloud. “My classes are on Wednesdays. You can come if you want - free of charge.” 

Zuko nodded, swallowing heavily as he met your gaze once again. 

“Thank you,” he replied. “I appreciate it.” 

You laughed a little bit, taking his now empty bin and returning both to their place on a nearby shelf. The shop’s bell rang from beyond the threshold and you went back to the front counter, telling Zuko to take a spot wherever he liked. He sat in the front row; wherever he thought he could be closest to you. 

For the next five weeks, Zuko attended not only his studio art class, but your art history class, showing up early to each lesson so he could spend time alone with you. Despite the fact that you invited him to sit in, he paid the fee for the second course, not wanting you to go without the extra pay for your work - he found a doodle of a turtle duck on his seat the next time he showed up, the fuzzy little penciled duckling telling him he was a terrible listener, but thanking him anyway (with a heart scribbled in beside the words). 

With your guidance, Zuko learned that there was much more to art than just vibrant colors and pretty decoration. Everything in art, it turned out, had significance, each piece and work holding insight into the people and cultures who created it; you spoke passionately about the art of the Egyptians, who used specific shapes and colors in their imagery to tell stories beyond the written word, about the mysteries of prehistoric structures that revealed how early humanity was much more sophisticated and interconnected than considered at a glance, about the symbols that translated and influenced across centuries to shape how each nation, each culture, portrayed themselves into the modern world. He found himself hanging on every word, falling even more deeply enamored with you with each moment he spent with you. 

It didn’t take you long - what with the easy, pleasant conversations you shared before classes - to discover that Zuko lived relatively close to you, only two stops away on the local metro. Knowing this, you often saw each other on the days you weren't at the shop, meeting at the station between each of your respective neighborhoods and having coffee or dinner in one of its many cafes, talking about anything and everything and managing to pass several hours together in what seemed like the blink of an eye. You loved being with Zuko, finding the more you did it, the less you wanted your rendezvous to end; you thought about him all the time, getting all kinds of giddy whenever he crossed your mind. 

On one of your extracurricular excursions, you and Zuko wandered around the local high street, marveling at the different streetside vendors and dreamily window shopping behind the glass of the upscale boutiques, doing little more than enjoying each other’s company. It was a hot day, and along your way, Zuko stopped at a coffee stand to get you each something cold to drink. 

A pretty young woman in line in front of you eyed you up and down, her gaze flicking from between you and Zuko with disgust. She jabbed her slim, graceful elbow into her equally as flawless friend’s side, whispering something in the other woman’s ear as they both glared at you, sniggering cruelly behind flat stomachs and angular, willowy frames. 

You sneered at them, making a point of hooking your arm within Zuko’s and pressing your much wider hip against his, the poison of the encounter sinking into your skin and infecting your thoughts. Zuko noticed your change in demeanor immediately, steering you away from the scene as soon as your drinks were served. 

“You okay?” he asked, still holding tight to your arm. 

“Fine,” you quipped, biting back tears. “Just a couple of pretty bitches proving how fucking hideous they are on the inside.” 

“Wait, seriously?” 

Zuko halted, pulling you to the side of the street and out of the way of traffic. He lay a hand on your shoulder, the firm, able grasp of his palm somehow making you feel even worse. 

“Someone would really make fun of you?” he wondered, outraged and incredulous. “Why?” 

You shook your head, smiling defeatedly as your lower lip quivered. 

“People have made fun of me since I was a kid, Zu,” you told him, speaking as if he should’ve just assumed it. “I’m fat. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” 

“So?” Zuko replied. You were so shocked, you physically leaned away from him, raising your eyebrows. “Yeah, you’re fat. That doesn’t mean you’re not pretty. I… I think you’re really pretty. Gorgeous, even. You’re beautiful.” 

You blinked at him, taken aback. He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his eyes never once leaving yours. 

“... Did I break you?” he tried after a moment, sounding concerned that it was a genuine possibility. 

You laughed, shaking your head in feverish disbelief, attempting to clear the confusion that fogged your battered brain. 

“No, I just… Nobody’s ever called me pretty and fat before.” 

Zuko shrugged. 

“Both are true,” he told you. “I like your body. You look like one of those Greek sculptures. Of the goddesses.” 

You stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign of dishonesty or patronization; all you found looking back at you was the clumsily genuine man you were quickly falling in love with. 

“... Have I ever told you about Aphrodite Kallipygos?” you asked. 

Zuko shook his head, as confused as you had been a few seconds ago. 

“She’s a statue of Venus,” you explained. “She’s got her dress raised up over her backside, and when they found her originally, she didn’t have her head; the guy who restored her sculpted it so that she was looking back at herself, admiring her body. There’s even a whole folktale about a pair of brothers who fell in love with two women because they had, like, beautifully fat asses and the town built a temple dedicated to Venus and her butt. The name literally translates to ‘Aphrodite of the Beautiful Buttocks’.” 

Zuko chuckled, raising the hand at your shoulder to cup your cheek. 

“See?” he said. “Men have worshiped thick, juicy butts since the dawn of time!” 

You laughed, your cheeks turning bright red as you buried your face in your hands, leaning forward to rest your forehead on his chest and further hide yourself. 

“Zuko, oh my god,” you breathed. “Promise me you’ll never say that out loud in a public setting ever again, please. You’re the fucking Firelord for Tui’s sake.” 

Zuko chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and hugging you tightly. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, still grinning. “Made you feel better, though.” 

You pulled away from him, affectionately punching him in the shoulder. He laughed, gasping at you in mock reproach before pressing a finger into your side, shocking you with a burst of static electricity; you cackled as you jumped away, sticking your tongue out at him. 

Zuko felt a rush of lightheadedness as he watched you, savoring the sound of your laugh and the radiance of your smile. It was then he realized he was in love with you. 

The next studio art class focused on model drawing - more specifically, a nude model. Zuko, having been raised in what was arguably the most reserved family in the world, was nervous about the idea of having to sit in front of a stranger for an hour, not only staring at their naked body, but immortalizing it in graphite on a page. 

He was mortified when he arrived at the class and found you sitting in the corner, wrapped in nothing but a silk dressing gown. 

As you climbed the platform you were meant to model on, your limbs rattled. You began to question your sanity, wondering what you thought you were doing offering to pose for the class, what kind of statement you thought it would make. You faced enough judgement from others about your weight with your clothes on - what the hell did you think they would do when you stood before them completely naked, every bump and crevice on full display for them to gawk at and criticize?

You glanced to the side at Professor Cong, seeking some sort of assurance or comfort from him; he, being the seasoned professional in his mid-sixties that he was, sat reclined in a chair in his Hawaiian shirt and flip flops, scrolling totally undisturbed through Pinterest on his phone. Honestly, you expected no less - his obtuse reactions in the face of the awkward and uncomfortable were basically a superpower. 

Taking a deep breath, you untied the knot holding your dressing gown together and let it fall, slipping gracefully from your shoulders and to the floor. You assumed a comfortable, classic pose, purposely facing yourself away from the man whose eyes you could feel searing into your back. 

Zuko’s breath hitched as he watched you undress. Though he only saw the full of your body for a moment, he was captivated. The swell of your breasts and curve of your stomach sent him into a dizzy spell, his mouth going dry and his skin heating with a noticeable flush. The rolls of your back, the ripples and divots along your thighs and rump, the stripes etched into your skin like the veins through a granite block, he drank in every part of you, moulding every detail with a focused hand as he sketched. He made note every scar and beauty mark. Once or twice, his mind drifted towards the salacious, imagining how your body would feel beneath his, soft and supple, releasing exalted breaths and enraptured moans, your nails dragging down his back as he drove you closer and closer to infinity… 

He inhaled sharply, snapping himself back to his work. You were Venus, Minerva, Diana - a goddess among men. He would gladly spend the rest of his life worshiping you. 

The moment the class ended, you gathered your dressing gown and made a beeline for the employee bathroom, getting back into your clothes as quickly as you could physically manage. The experience of nude modeling wasn’t nearly as harrowing as you expected it to be; you actually found it kind of freeing, being able to show yourself to a room full of other people and come out of it unscathed, in fact feeling quite beautiful - what had you nervous was the fact that you’d have to face Zuko immediately after the fact, seeing as you took the train home together after classes. His was the only opinion you cared about, and you wanted nothing more than to convince yourself that he hadn’t judged you as harshly as the self-hatred brainwashed into you made you believe. 

When you emerged from the bathroom, Professor Cong stood in front of one of the empty easels in the back, smirking at the drawing the student had left there. 

“Your boyfriend left you his piece,” he teased. 

You blushed, glaring at him as you approached and snatched the sketch from his hands. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you tried in vain to defend yourself. 

Professor Cong just chuckled. 

“I’ll believe that when I see evidence to the contrary,” he replied. 

You looked down at the paper in your hand and felt the breath drain from your lungs, your heart and stomach soaring into your throat. 

Zuko had drawn you in the image of Venus, your body draped in gossamer fabric and your head turned over your shoulder, eyes cast downward and lips slightly parted in a blissful, ethereal expression. In the corner of the page, he’d written “Aphrodite Kallipygos” in his sweeping handsome script, beneath which was his signature and the date. You’d never once seen yourself look so beautiful, let alone in the eyes of someone you loved so fiercely. 

You swallowed hard, rolling the drawing and securing it with a hair tie from your bag before exiting the shop through the back, knowing Zuko would be in the alley waiting for you. 

“Hey,” he greeted you when you appeared through the storeroom door. “Are you okay? You looked really ner-” 

You interrupted him by throwing your arms around his neck, slamming your lips into his in a desirous kiss. It took him less than a second to recover himself from the shock of the action and curl his arms around your waist, pressing his body against yours and lifting you every so slightly off the ground, kissing you just as hard as you kissed him. When you parted, you were breathless, your cheeks fiery red and your lips swollen the color of vermilion. Zuko smiled at you, one side of his mouth curling up slightly higher than the other. 

“So you liked it?” he asked. 

You laughed, nodding. 

“Zuko, I loved it,” you gasped. “I love you. I think I loved you as soon as I met you but that sort of thing is really cliche and stupid to admit.” 

Zuko chuckled, raising his hand to your cheek and kissing you again, his lips soft and tender this time around. You sighed happily into his mouth, closing your eyes and losing yourself in the feeling of his body sharing the same space as yours. 

“I think I loved you the moment I met you, too,” Zuko confessed, his nose grazing against yours as he pulled away. “But you’re right. That sort of thing is really stupid and cliche.” 

You giggled, tugging gently on the collar of his jacket. 

“Come on,” you prompted him. “Let’s go back to my apartment. You’ve already seen me naked; we need to make it even.” 

Zuko laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the alley, his side pressed firmly against yours. 

“Fair,” he agreed. “But if you want me to pose for any art, you’ll have to sign some paperwork. I’m still Firelord, you know.” 

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[thatwriterkei]

-Moment of Tangency-

Series Summary: When Y/N's favorite fictional characters come to life, a mystery ensues as a killer wreaks havoc in Bangor, Maine.

~

Chapter Summary: What started out as a sleepover with your best friend turned into a night of unexplainable events.

Warnings: cursing, underage pining if you squint, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Here's the first chapter of the big series I was talking about! I really hope you guys enjoy this, I've been working on this for about a month and it would mean the world to me if you have feedback and brought attention to this to those who would enjoy it too! I'm really excited to see how this goes.

~

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_________________

Chapter One: The Beginning

"You will soon receive support from an unexpected source.." 

The red letters of your fortune stared back at you ominously.

"Hey, that's great timing huh?"

"Too soon, Marcus..Too soon."

A sheepish smile formed on his freckled face, "Sorry..Here, have another."

You shook your head, waving away the cookie. "I'll just stick to mine. I only have a little bit of room left for it." 

You took small bites, slowly indulging in the delicious treat, afraid of letting it go to waste with just two or three bites.

"I'm surprised your dad let me spend the night."

"Honestly, me too..I don't think he noticed that you're in the middle of transitioning."

"He probably just thinks I'm gay or something.."

You let out a choked laugh, "Maybe because you are."

"Hey, you can't tell me that Mr. Fisher isn't hot as fuck!"

"He isn't, oh my god!" You tried to finish the rest of your cookie without inhaling crumbs, suppressing the laughter building in your stomach.

"Have you seen his hands?! Y/N, I don't think you understand how much I adore him!"

"He's 20, Marcus!! Not to mention, he sucks at teaching physics."

"Hey, I didn't say my future man had to be smart."

"You're ridiculous."

"Yes, yes I am. Oh! Speaking of guys, any good gossip for the ship of a century?"

You could help but roll your eyes at his teasing, blood rushing to the apples of your cheeks.

"Kolby and I haven't spoken since last week. I don't think he likes me anyway. He's been talking to Heather more recently.." 

And, for some reason, you weren't too interested in him either. Yes, he was a nice looking, athletic guy but you just didn't care enough to go further than a 'hi, how're you?' with him.

"Well, his loss. You're a wonderful girl and it's a shame he's wasting your time with his boyish nonsense. Besides, he doesn't even wear watches like Mr. Fisher."

"I swear to god, if you mention him or watches one more time.."

"You're right, sorry," he held up his hands defensively before putting them down, "I just don't wanna see you get hurt, Y/N/N.."

"I know you're worried, Marcus, but I'm fine. It's our junior year, I don't think long-term relationships are supposed to happen for us until we're in like college."

"You never know..Anyway, what do you even see in him?"

You let out a sigh, sinking in the mounds of pillows and blankets that are laid astray on your bed.

"Umm..He's cute, without a doubt. His jokes are sometimes funny, depends on who he's around. He has a nice sense of style, I guess? I don't know..We've only known each other for a little over two months."

Marcus laid beside you, rolling to his side with a dopey grin plastered on his pale face. "And a lot could happen in two more months if you just talk to him. I promise, I won't even bother you in Algebra..Okay? Just trust me on this.."

You groaned but, nevertheless, agreed with a silent nod.

"Love shouldn't be this complicated.."

"Sometimes it is, sweetie..But only time can lead you to where you're supposed to be.."

"Yeah, I know...Since when did you become my therapist?" You let out a scoff.

"Since third grade! Now, c'mon, get off your lazy ass and let's do something cool!" 

He pulled at your limp arm once he stood up, dragging you to the floor and down the hallway towards the mini library your stepmom installed about a year ago; who has yet to use it.

"If you were looking for 'cool', you brought us to the wrong place." 

Your eyes scanned over the bookshelves, catching titles of famous works.

To Kill a Mockingbird

The Great Gatsby

War and Peace

Charlotte's Web

"You only have that perception because you hate her."

"Of course! Have you seen her?"

"Yeah, but this is still cool! You should take advantage of it while you can." 

Marcus released his hold from your ankle, scampering over to the section of the library where a red and white book was gleaming for attention.

"Oh my god! Miranda got the newest edition of IT?"

You stood up abruptly and made your way over. "She got what?!" 

"Holy shit, this is amazing! We haven't fangirled over this book since freshmen year."

"Oh yeah, our biggest obsession since One Direction." You laughed, taking the book out of his hands and running your finger over the textured title.

"Not gonna lie, the older cover looked better."

You rolled your eyes and ushered him over to the desk in the middle of the room. "Wait, let's see if they kept in that one part.."

"Which one? Does it have to do with Stanley? You had a major crush on his fictional ass." He teased, pulling up another chair beside yours.

"No no no, the one with Eddie and-Oh, I found it!"

Man, he had hated it when Richie called him Eds…but he had sort of liked it, too. It was something….like a secret name. A secret identity. A way to be people that had nothing to do with their parents’ fears, hopes, constant demands. Richie couldn’t do his beloved Voices for shit, but maybe he did know how important it was to creeps like them to sometimes be different people.

"Oh, I absolutely love this part..It's just, mwah, beautiful. Stephen King certainly knew what he was doing.."

"C'mon, let's go back to my room and reminisce." You took his arm and pulled him back to your bedroom.

~

You internally screamed at Marcus's onslaught recollection of memories.

"Oh, and that one time when you had a major attraction for-"

"Okay okay, that's enough reminiscing!!" You tossed the book at him.

"Aww, what? Feelin' embarrassed, sweetie?" He barely dodged the book, letting it bounce off your bed and onto the ground with a dull thud.

"Shut up.." You grabbed the nearest pillow and slightly smothered yourself with it.

The memories he continued to bring up brought back some nostalgia but looking back at it now made you cringe. You were practically grown up now, not 15 years old. 

"Okay, I'm sorry. But wouldn't it be cool if the losers club was real? Like actually around, in real life? Derry was based off of Bangor so it's more than likely you could find your own Stanley Uris." 

You cracked a smile at that and threw the pillow at him, situating yourself underneath the covers of your bed. "Yeah, yeah. I wish."

Marcus promptly pulled out his phone and checked the time, turning it over towards you  and flashing the bright light in your face. "Well, it's almost 11:11..Make a wish!"

"Seriously?" You deadpanned.

"C'mon, it wouldn't hurt!"

You sighed, sitting up on your elbows and closing your eyes. "Tell me when. You wish it too, okay?"

"Okay," some time passed, "now."

I wish the losers club was real..The entire gang. Every single one of them.

I wish I could blow Bill Denbrough.

You opened your eyes after you recited your wish a couple of times, sighing. You raised an eyebrow at Marcus, seeing him struggle to contain his laughter though the crimson red covering every inch of his face gave it away.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I wished that I could blow Bill."

"Goddamnit, Marc."

~

It took about a half hour before the two of you could fully relax into a deep sleep but once you guys did, Marcus took up most of the bed. 

A heavy gush of wind pushed open your window, the cool air from outside blowing into your room. You snuggled a little more under the covers, face being buried into someone's back. They smelled so nice, a light hazelnut scent and freshly washed hair that reminded you of late night drives with your older cousin when you were younger; Just absolute nostalgia exuded from them. You felt your entire body relax against theirs, the warmth overtaking your slightly exposed skin from the nippy air coming through the window.

You hear a quiet groan from the opposite side of you, the noise causing you to stir from whatever you were dreaming about prior; It was a bit fuzzy.

"What the fuck? Dumbass window.." It was just Marcus.

You felt the weight from the bed disappear, his dull footsteps moving around the carpeted room as he shuts the window.

He turns around and gives one look over the room, his eyes partially open. He sees a couple of people in the room, the sight confusing him in his drowsy state.

"What the..?"

A mix of someone screaming bloody murder and a smoke alarm going off floods the room, echoing off the walls and throughout the house. Even Marcus wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors heard him too.

It takes just a few seconds before your sleeping mind can process the screeching, thus causing you to flip over to your other side and turning on the lamp. Your eyes are piercing with annoyance, though you were still a little concerned about your astonished friend across the room.

"Marc, what the hell?! What's wrong? What happened?"

You cast a glance around your room, trying to pick the oddball out.

"What the hell?!" You hear from behind you, the sudden noise alarming you and making you jump off the bed towards the ground. 

Your head whipped around so quickly you were sure it was the dizziness that made your imagination run wild from the sight. There laid a guy, around your age, with very curly light brown hair that just looked absolutely divine to twirl your fingers around.

Underneath you comes a strangled groan, almost upon impact. Looking below, you find a girl with fiery red hair in a bob style. You push yourself off of her and scoot away until your back hits Marcus's legs.

"Who the fuck is yelling-Oh, holy shit..!" You hear another slightly deep voice exclaim. 

Turning to your right sat five other guys with drastically different appearances, one after another coming to the realization that they had no fucking clue where they were.

The room grew quiet, fear growing in your eyes as you try to find a person to focus on but the thought only made you even more dizzy than before.

_________________

Let me know if you wanna be tagged for future chapters!! 💖

-Moment of Tangency- tags: @beauregard-s @demoniclust @deepestofwaters @grapesauze @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @soulwillower @19tozier @phrogtheguitarist @kindofokayimagines @stenbrozier @stenbrozier @brxken-heartsclub @fucking-greywater @theliterarymess

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x04)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 04: She Who Seduces

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: wow! lots of stuff you guys want but at the same time aren’t gettin’ any

Word Count: It’s a weird feeling to be tagged as an essential worker, but not be made to feel like an essential worker? I mean I feel I’m not one. But if I am being forced out of my house, being exposed to the possibility of catching the virus, being ignored by corporate, media and the govt as humans, I have to wonder why am I even sitting here. I get the doctors and nurses and no amount of verbal praise can even come close to what they are doing right now. But if me and my colleagues have be ignored and made to work at large, I’d rather we do it from the safety of our homes, man. (Just when I had started to get better on my own)

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The camera focused on a blue egg the colour of sky lying in the dirt, zooming in on it a little before jolting back as the egg moved. The camera did the entire cycle once again before a fluff hand tried to smack that egg like a cat curious about this unexplained cute atrocity in front of them.

“Lulu!” a voice called from somewhere in the distance in the midst of a mixture of all sorts of noises- like the ones experienced in your neighbourhood local market. But the camera did not budge till it recorded the sky egg crack bit by bit before a pair of blue eyes popped out on a little white head. Those gorgeous cute eyes looked at the camera, blinking out of coordination before looking at the little golden fuzzy arm slowly coming towards its head. Blinking again- this time with curiosity- the blue eyes froze on that snail-paced extension of a husk behind the camera before a tiny void opened under those innocent eyes to take that husk arm into it and bite down with an audible crunch.

Javier’s camera swiftly turned to Lulu’s cries, finding him far behind in the crowd of aliens trying to knock something away from his arm.

The little husk- screaming and howling like a little dog in pain- was rescued by pale fingers catching hold of the round head that was too stubborn to let go. A little squeeze and those surprisingly vicious teeth let go, breaking the remnants of the eggshells to let out white paws attached to the tiniest legs.

“Scram,” Loki ordered the white alien- who ran away as quickly as possible- before turning towards Lulu, “what were you trying to do with that beast? Have it for breakfast?”

Lulu chirped, nodding before slumping a little into the ground.

“Yeah, good luck with that while you’re in Y/N’s care,” he stated, getting and turning to look at the judgmental zoom Javier’s camera threw on him. “What. You want her to keep another alien as a pet?”

“Guys, I found a restaurant,” your voice called out of the frame, making Loki look in your direction, “OH MY GOD YOU GUYS! THERE ARE REAL LIFE SAILOR SOLDIERS IN HERE!!”

Loki looked at the camera, ageing a thousand years more. “Please tell me it’s not one of those mangas she keeps talking about.”

When Javier spelt it out for him from behind the camera, Loki’s eyes closed and he let out the heaviest sigh he possibly could

Loki: *with a very serious face* the prospect of me having died before being teleported here does not seem so bad. It looks fantastic now. *camera zooms in on his face while you scream in delight in the background, “I’m sitting with real-life Sailor Soldiers!! Aaaahhhh-”*

 The Lounge

"Where's Stark?"

One camera panned in on Bucky's face as he came out of the dorm with bed hair while the other looked at a mildly surprised Scott drinking orange juice from a crystal wine glass.

"He said he'll come in twenty. He's gone for his weekly therapy session," Scott replied, swirling the juice in his glass with his pinky out while observing Bucky from head to toe. "You should try that sometimes. It's really good."

Bucky sat down on the sofa with a stare filled with judgemental questions in Scott's direction. "Me? Therapy? That stuff's for looneys."

Scott furrowed his brows at Bucky, pause all moments for a second before bringing the glass ever so slowly to his lips. "Okay, Boomer."

"What?"

"What?"

Bucky: I don’t need therapy. *mocks a laugh* Shuri made me better than ever in Wakanda. All I need is exercise, healthy food in my stomach and a good amount of sleep. *nods in satisfaction*

*camera zooms out to reveal Scott sitting next to him, shaking his head lightly in mild disbelief*

Scott: *softly* Now I know where that attitude in this present world comes from.

Bucky: *turns to look at Scott* *shifts uncomfortably in his seat while shifting his gaze between the camera and Scott*

*silence erodes the room before Bucky finally breaks*

Why are you looking at me like that? I haven’t killed anyone recently.

Scott: *furrows brows in confusion* what?

Bucky: *stops mid-way and looks away from Scott towards the camera* Nothing

Scott: I never said about killing anyone. *pitch grows higher with every word* Bucky, I never said about killing anyone. Bucky, did you kill someone?

Bucky: *shakes his head with disinterest* mm-mm.

Scott: *mouth opens wide in disbelief* *hands go into his hair on his head* OH MY GOD YOU KILLED SOMEONE!!!

Bucky: NO! I DID N-

Fifteen Minutes Later

Bucky: *softly* So I’ve decided after...a lot of thinking that I should go talk to a...a therapist.

Scott: *nods and smiles at the camera like an encouraging wife*

Bucky: *gives a forceful smile*

Scott: And I too will be going to see a therapist.

Bucky: *nods* *presses lips*

Bucky and Scott: *look at the door, forcing the camera to turn and land on a somewhat irritated Natasha glaring at them from outside the door with arms crossed across her chest*

 Back In The Lounge

Wanda walked into the living room space where Bruce was working on some calculations on his laptop while another camera discreetly caught Bucky and Scott giving each other the stink eye.

"You should take a break, Bruce," Wanda stressed while placing a mug of hot tea on his table. Bruce half-looked at the mug before turning back to it, pulling it close and smelling it. "Since when do we drink so much tea?"

Wanda shrugged. "Since Loki and Y/N came into our lives?" She was unsure but that's what all things pointed at. Bruce went with it too.

He rubbed his eyes and shut his laptop. "Yeah, I guess we can take a break." He yawns and gets up. "Loki seems to have everything under control anyway, so…"

Wanda seemed to wince very quietly, her expressions showing no surety in Bruce’s words; or a reflection of an upset stomach.

“I mean, Y/N is being a levelheaded person too. It’s not all Loki.”

A scoff came from the other side of the room where Bucky stood, all eyes and camera turning to stare at him, his crumbling confident posture trying to display reason. “I mean...she hasn’t been to space before. She does not know what’s out there as well as Loki.”

“So, what you are trying to say is she won’t be able to survive if it wasn’t for Loki?” Scott stretched his words to make sure Bucky heard every single one of them.

“Of course she wouldn’t survive out there. She is a kid.” A very sweaty Clint walked into the lounge and went straight for the orange juice inside the fridge. The camera caught the muted gasps coming out of Wanda and Scott for the men in the room not having much faith in your survival skills.

“So are you,” a very sweaty Natasha acknowledged Clint’s words as she grabbed the juice bottle from Clint’s hand, “but you survived the Infinity War without your family. Oh, wait. You didn’t really survive. You just turned into a whiny little bitch and started killing the first thing you saw.”

Wanda looked at the camera with her eyes wide and her lips pressed tightly to stop her from screaming at the burn. Bruce, on the other hand, whispered ‘oh shit’ and tried to disappear in his mug. Scott sipped his juice like the best tea he had been served in a long time, all the while smirking like a content goofball.

“That was so below the belt, Nat,” Clint protested, his hands resting on his hips as he watched her gulp down half the bottle of juice before handing Clint the rest and smacking her lips in satisfaction. “Y/N is in outer space with a frost giant. And so is Javier. But I don’t hear any of you mention him in this conversation when it comes to surviving on one's own?”

“Javier is a-”

Bruce paused before finishing his sentence as he realised the error of his words right before they came out. “Nice guy?” He finally breathed out, his lungs not being able to take the torture. “He is also in danger, of course. That is a given. I was in danger too when I was stuck in space. Thor can vouch for me.”

Thor: *standing on a cliff while the Asgardians celebrate in the background around a fire* *yells over the sound of waves crashing in on the rocks below* BRUCE WAS SO MUCH FUN ON SAKAAR! WE HAD DRINKS AND DANCES AND SO MANY GIRLS OGLING AT HIM! OF COURSE, THAT WAS WHEN HE WAS THE HULK. WHEN HE WAS BACK TO BEING A BORING OLD SCIENTIST ALL HE SPOKE WAS OF HIS PHDS AND HIS HOW MUCH THIS ONE GUY HERE WAS ALL OVER HIM! I THINK HE LIKED IT. HIM! HE LIKED HIM. IF THIS IDIOT WASN’T STUCK ON BORING OLD NAT THEN I WAS BETTING ON THEM DOIN’ IT. YEAH!!! *pauses and smiles his widest smile* *blinks into an invisible void in the distance* PLEASE DON’T TELL NATASHA  I CALLED HER BORING. OR-OR OLD.

Bruce gulped where he sat. “Maybe he can’t vouch for me. He was too trippy throughout his trip to space anyways. Maybe the lack of oxygen did it to him.”

The silence grew uncomfortable by the second as he exchanged a look with a camera while Clint just shook his head and let out a defeated “dude”.

 Space Place

“Hey, where’s Loki?” you asked Javier while Lulu climbed up the bar stool in the small inn right by the farmer’s market that you had just passed. “Right behind you?” you looked past Javier before walking towards the way he had come- “but he’s not he-”

Your words were cut short by something you saw from the window, forcing the camera to shift on seeing the concern cloud your face towards the scene outside the window. Outside, four buffed up aliens stood surrounding Loki while he raised his hands a little like a white flag.

Instinct took over and you stepped out of the inn but stopped on the porch as Loki yelled, “No! Do not come any closer!” without making eye contact.

One of the buff guys did step closer, his face breathing down right into Loki’s. And Loki? He chuckled at the alien. “One more inch and I think we’ll be kissing, Kronk.”

Kronk the big boulder looking guy hissed at him. “You stepped on the wrong planet, Silvertongue. Hudon wants your head or your body. And he will make sure you pay up your dues.”

Loki tried to increase the distance between him and Kronk, moving back a little; enough to stop smelling his breath on him. “Wow. Looks like someone had a lot of raw Siluji fish today. Hehe. And I thought Hudon was on Myscul. Anyways. How about I talk to Hudon and offer him something that he cannot refuse. And both of us can get back to our respective business.” No matter how much he smiled, Loki did not seem to be getting through that guy.

“Hudon does not want to talk to you. He knows how you work, trickster. He will cut his ears off before he listens to you.”

Loki wanted to contradict the guy but shut his lips to be on the better side of this guy. “Okay. Fine. I will meet him in two hours then? I’ll even bring some good sushi for you.” Loki started to walk away from them when one of Kronk’s men caught hold of him and slapped black handcuffs onto his wrists. 

“You are coming with us, traitor.”

The camera recorded Loki being dragged away in broad daylight while no one even batted an eye at the incident. You walked to the end of the porch- the end close enough to watch Loki being taken away as his brows reflected concern in your direction before disappearing behind the nearest stall of berries.

“Javi,” you uttered softly, your eyes still looking for Loki, “I think Loki’s in trouble. Oh, God. I think we are in trouble.”

 The Foreigner’s Inn

The camera settled on the window sill and a pair of hands moved away to reveal Javier sitting back in the seat of the corner table far away from the bustle of the inn. You sat opposite him, nervously biting your nails and moving your leg under the table while Lulu sat right in the middle, facing the camera, drinking some green concoction you bought him with a few talons from the ones Loki handed you once you had landed on this planet. Javier’s blue eyes scrutinised the place before coming back to you. He tapped your hand for attention before signing something.

“Yeah,” you acknowledged with a nod, “a plan. We need to come up with a plan to save Loki. But we don’t know where they took him. Oh, shi-should we have followed them? Ah fuck! Now, we won’t know where they went. Maybe we should ask someone. But we don’t know what kind of guy Hudon is. What if he’s got eyes everywhere? Then if we ask someone about him, we’ll be the ones walking right into the lion’s den. And we’ll be the ones who will need saving. Okay okay okay okay okay okay. Right right right right right right.”

Javier knocked the table to get your spiralling conscience back to him, directing you to stop, breathe in and breathe out. And you did, pausing for a moment before things got worse in your head. “Right. We need to think this with a clear head. Um...what would Mr Stark tell us to do.”

With your back straight you looked right at Javier. “He would say stop, take a breather. Make sure that you are safe first. It’s fine to worry about Loki but he is a great strategist. He will definitely find a way out of trouble. But that does not mean we do not go look for him. No one gets left behind. Not even that ugly gourd. Help is always around. All you need to do is ask. And never forget that I love you no matter what. Now go save that son of a bitch.”

Javier stared blankly for a second before breaking into silent applause. “So, we need to find something or someone that can give information about that guy holding Loki. Where can we get someone who would know that and help us, complete strangers?”

Lulu, who, all this time had been swinging his bushy bottom from the chair, suddenly stopped, put the drink from his hand on the table and pressed his belly with a click.

[Hippie Sabotage’s Righteous starts playing]

Lulu got down from his chair and moved towards the door of the inn. You called after him but he did not stop and so you and Javier followed with the camera.

Lulu’s camera took in the boots stepping into the inn first. Then the ripped pants, going up to the open shirt revealing perfect abs. Then came those familiar faces carrying their smouldering looks with them still.

Javi’s camera recorded your expression of surprise followed by a hint of something schemy going on in those eyes. A smile was all that you gave them though. “Never thought I would see you guys again.”

The camera swerved to the rainbow k-pop donning shades that were being taken off as slowly as possible. White turned to look at you, the smoulder still holding strong on his face. “And leave you to fend for yourself, princess. Not on my watch.”

You: Yeah *mildly disgusted* I forgot how clingy he is.

“I need your help.”

Sky jumped where he stood and clapped his hand before slipping behind Mauve and blushing.

“Loki’s in trouble. I need to help him es-”

“Say no more,” White whispered while bringing his pale finger on your lips, which you smacked away. “But before we go on the adventure together, my beautiful princess, I urge you to imagine going on another adventure. Just you. And me. And planets with no one but us.”

“And me,” came a faint whisper from behind Mauve.

“Oh, my G-is there anyone of you who is a normal one?”

“I don’t know about normal,” Green came forward and tucked at the edges of his shirt, “but I can take him away from you and help you save your…”

You waited for him to finish his sentence.

“Boyfriend?” he sounded as unsure as the uneasy lines on his face. Before you could say anything to contradict him, White gasped and Sky whimpered. “Boyfriend! He is your boyfriend?! Oh my stars,” White cried, “what are the odds that fate made us meet when you were already someone else’s.”

You stood there, blinking, questioning whether it would be a good decision to tell him the truth. “So, because I have a boyfriend, you will stop pursuing me?”

Sky sniffled, White sighed in defeat and Orange clicked his tongue at the lost opportunity. “I am a creature of code. I would never even think pretty thoughts about someone else’s queen,” he assured with a weak vibration in his voice.

“Cool,” you exclaimed, “Loki is my boyfriend! And I am Y/N, hi. And you are…”

“Call us whatever you like,” Green replied with a smile. “We don’t have names. Just voice notes as a way of identification. Now, let’s get to work.”

“Oh my God,” Mauve groaned audibly and rolled his eyes under those shades, “finally. She definitely needs that work.”

You and the cameras looked at you, wondering what was so wrong to have blunt judgement thrown at you out of nowhere. “Why would I need work?”

Green gestured to you to move up the stairs of the inn with them. “You mentioned Loki being captured by the alien named Hudon.”

“Never mentioned that.”

“He is a classic brute,” Green continued, like he never heard you, as you walked next to him while Lulu got himself lifted into your arms, “who owns all the brothels of this base. He trades in creatures who can exploit their own bodies for what he pays them. The fact that Loki was taken away by his men points at the possibility of trade between them gone wrong.”

You gasped at the sudden revelation that was dawning upon you. “Wait. So, that could mean he wants payback from Loki. Does he want payback in...in cash or...in kind?”

Green’s eyes reflected sympathy for your situation. “Let’s hope, for you and Loki, that it is cash.”

“But wouldn’t that mean he has to sell his body?!”

Green nodded. Lulu’s camera caught White murmuring to Violet, “do you think that furry thing is their child?”

“We have something that might help you. And for that-” he stopped in front of a door of one room at the far end of the corridor, twisting the knob and clicking it open for you to enter- “we would need your help.”

“Okay,” you nodded before confusion took over your face and Lulu purred while rubbing against your shoulder, “what kind of help.”

Mauve sighed loudly, pushing you away- gently- to enter the room first. “We would need your help to do something about the drab that you humans call fashion on your planet,” he nearly puked while looking at your clothes.

“Hey! This shirt is really comfortable. So are these leggings and boots!”

Mauve screwed his face at you. “Oh, they better be! Because that hue-combination is a disaster,” he stressed.

You felt your head go back a little. "Just because I don't have much interest in fashion, I'm gonna let that pass. But I am pretty sure the Queer Eye won't stand for that insult."

"The Queer Eye would've made you into a walking weapon had they been in your vicinity darling," Mauve mentioned matter-of-factly and walked towards the lone dresser and dragged out the chair before tapping it. "Now sit your ass down and let me show you how it's done while Mr Green fills you in about everything."

You looked at Green. He nodded jovially. White on the other hand went and plopped on the bed. Violet went and splayed himself on the sofa, Red went for the window sill to go and brood there. Sky took the foot of the bed and made himself comfortable to look at you for the next two hours. Orange took off his shirt and trousers and went into the bathroom.

"Hey, Lulu," White called out from the bed, "put on a sexy getting-ready song."

Lulu got up on the dresser and pressed his stomach to play Rachel Bloom’s Sexy Getting Ready Song.

“Wait. Hold on,” you called out, making Mauve and Green stop in their tracks and Lulu pausing the song, “I...I gotta poop. Please get that orange pervert out of there?”

 Hudon’s Whorehouse

A hush, beginning from the entrance, fell as the eyes followed the figure. A sweet yet strong melody seemed to follow that black-clad creature, stirring both fear and excitement in the witnesses; who completely missed the two companions walking on its either side.

Never feel too good in crowds With folks around when they're playing

The clack of those pointed heels seemed to be a pound at the doors of the devil himself and every minion that walked in the path she walked, only stopping in the room fit for a queen; nothing less. A seat was taken on the gold-framed sofa, legs spread in comfort and defiance of the one in charge, arms rested on the armrest while popping a grape in the mouth with lips painted red as the blood that flowed in her veins.

A creature with the body of a human- except for the extra pair of hands- and the head of a furry with antlers entered the hall, sitting opposite you. “Welcome to the house of Hudon!” he greeted, the gold on his antlers jingling like bells on Rudolph, “the finest whorehouse you would find in this system.”

“I will evaluate the ‘fine’ myself, Hudon,” you stated quite indifferently, your attention taken by a golden strawberry resting in your fingers, “how old is this rotten blasphemy.”

The anthems of rape, culture loud Crude and proud creatures baying

It was easy to get that accent on your tongue. The tone was smooth enough to show not much effort was being put to talk while the words were spoken like a dagger stabbing the listener with every breath.”

Hudon directed his men to take those old fruits away and to replace them with new ones. But you had already lost interest in them. Sitting straight up, you let your arms go back on the headrest, your suit jacket revealing the skin underneath, the acne on your chest from the sweat and dust revealing itself in full glory. Hudon nearly feels himself blackout with the sheer audacity of a human woman walk into his house and sit there as a client while making him- the one who runs the sex business- make him feel things that were quite transparent in his gaze.

All I've ever done is hide From our times when you're near me

“Here I am, out on a vacation from my boring home, looking for some fun and adventure when someone suggests to me your name and business,” you mutter loud enough for him to hear. “Hudon the hoarder. The one who has everything you can ask for. Anything out of your fantasy. You name it, he has it for you.”

“I do,” he agreed with a smile, interrupted just as he is about to start listing his merchandise.

“Oh, but I don’t think you do, Hudon.” You leaned forward, your legs still spread apart in those black trousers, your frame bent enough to reveal more and still reveal nothing at all, making Hudon’s eyes linger there far longer than he expected them to. “I don’t think you do. What could you possibly have that could seem human enough for my taste and yet not human at all, Hudon? What could you possibly have that could meet my demands, unlike the men on my planet? One who is not meant to be ruled and yet-” your voice turned to a whisper, and Hudon’s eyes were stuck on the hypnotising moment of your lips under that netted veil covering your smokey eyes- “he bends under my commands like a good dog because he knows he will get a treat if he behaves.”

Hudon gulped and blinked.

Honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes I feel like a person for a moment of my life

“I am not here to have some cheap fun, Hudon. Nor some sloppy seconds. I want a challenge that I can smother between my thighs, making him question how he ended up there, under me. And then make him question how he can get under me, again.”

A silence proceeded your laced words. A long lingering silence which would have stretched even more had one of Hudon’s men not brought that shook fur-face back to the present.

“I I I I I think I have the perfect specimen for you, miss…”

“Lady. Lady...Morticia Addams,” you declared, blinking at Javier’s camera.

You: *cringing* I did not think this part through. But I did come up with a nice personality? *does a weak thumbs up*

“I will send for him immediately, Lady Morticia,” Hudon declared, getting and taking a bow, “and if he is not able to satisfy you, I will humbly present myself to you as a sacrifice.”

You: *deadpan* Pervert.

“If your specimen does not satisfy me, then mark my words, Hudon, you won’t find any piece of him in your excuse of a brothel.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a weak voice, walking out and scolding his guards to get him ‘Silvertongue’.

You noticed the two guards still in the hall by the door, looking at you and your companions. Javier moved from his place by the fireplace to the door, to let the tiny camera- courtesy of the rainbow k-pop- strapped to his chest take in the patient steps of the man of the hour; at the same time, directing with his hands to Lulu to resume his score.

But you don't know what hell you put me through To have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

Loki, bare-chested and in chains, was walked towards your hall with four guards- two on front and two on back. This was the first time any of the cameras had seen so much of his bare skin. Neither had they seen so many muscles on that body that seemed so lean on the outside with the clothes on. The raven hairs snaked around his shoulders while his eyes were set at the goal in front of him: you. And if you did not know any better you would have thought those peach curtains were flying right and left to get a one-touch, one whiff of that God.

To feel your weight in arms I'd never use It's the god that heroin prays to

You almost choked on the juice you were offered on seeing Loki like that- in just his pants. Like a healthy supermodel straight out of a pin-up hidden in your childhood drawer. Quickly recovering and changing into the persona created for this place you leaned back on the sofa to admire the view when all five men came to a halt in front of you.

It feels good, girl, it feels good It feels good, girl, it feels good

“Hm,” you muttered, your eyes going up and down an apparently tight-jawed Loki, “decent. Where did you catch this fish?”

“Caught him fresh in the market today,” Hudon’s henchman answered, surprisingly in an Australian accent, “owed our master for quite some time. Will finally pay his debts now.”

It feels good, girl, it feels good Oh, to be alone with you

The laugh that came out of the prude was murky. You got up and nonchalantly waved your hand to make the guards stand away from the merch, letting you get a good three-sixty view. Loki could feel your eyes on him even when you stood behind him, carefully studying these marks on an otherwise flawless skin that ran all over his back and some did on arms, right down his wrist.

A wave of emotion washed over you on seeing them, which you hastily veiled for the sharp eyes lurking in the background. Clearing your throat, you took out your silver hair stick from the bun at the back and walked to face the frost giant.

There are questions I can't ask Now, at last, the worst is over

“Sit,”  you commanded.

Loki’s eyes grew dark. The camera recorded the silent change of roles for a quick moment before Loki finally obeyed, getting down on his knees.

See the way you hold yourself Reel against your body's borders

You took a step to his side before looking at the guards still standing there. “What. You want in on the show as well?” Your raised-up brow was judging them hard at this moment.

The guards stood there looking at each other before one of them finally spilt. “We are not allowed to leave him alone with you till you sign the contract and make the payment.”

“Hm. Well, if that is the case-” you took another step to stand right behind Loki- “I will inspect this...merchandise before I make the payment.”

I know that you hate this place Not a trace of me would argue

The hair stick in your hand made its first contact with the bare skin on Loki’s back, promptly making his muscles move underneath that pale skin. A smile found its way to your lips. “Sensitive to touch, I see. I prefer virgin skin.” You dragged stick all the way from one end of those shoulder scales in the back to the other, taking light steps to move towards the front.

The camera zoomed in on the shadow of something brewing inside Loki’s eyes while his lips stretched ever so slightly with a thought only he knew. The stick came to the collar bone, travelling up his neck to land right below his chin, lifting it up to watch your tongue in between your teeth, peeking out for a look.

Honey, we should run away, oh, someday Our baby and her momma And the damaged love she made

“Say, boy,” you asked softly, letting the stick dig into that chin to raise it up further, “what does that mouth do.”

A chuckle rose in Loki’s chest and burst out to close his eyes before they could look at you in a new light. “They do things you wouldn’t want to know.”

But I don't know what else that I would do Than try to kiss the skin that crawls from you

Questioning- or pretending to question- his audacity you responded with a sly ‘uh-huh’ before getting down on one knee, letting both your arms rest on the other. “Well, it better-” your voice grew duskier by the minute while that thin stick landed on his lips, circling them- “do things unspeakable. Otherwise-” you gently pushed the stick in his mouth, and he took it in, wrapping his tongue around it- “what is the point of that pretty pretty mouth.”

Then feel your weight in arms I'd never use It's the god that heroin prays to

Javier could not help but record the drooling and uncomfortable faces of the guards standing by the door, half of them looking at each other, other half stuck on the hypnotic movements happening between the two of you; all of them standing with their hands hiding their bulges in those leather pants.

It feels good, girl, it feels good

“That tongue better work like it is the only thing that can save your life, pretty boy.” The low pitch of your voice was drowning the whole room. Your other knee too went down, allowing them to touch his as you sat down, your back arched and your chest moving closer to his. “It better work fast because I don’t like being made to wait. But it better not rush and ruin it for me either.”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

The stick was still in his mouth with Loki’s lips sucking it good when he looked up at you and gave you a judgmental glare. With a gentle tug to the stick from his mouth, you took it away, down the trail it came from, down the chest, the perfect line between his abs and then somewhere further down where the guards could not see; but that did not mean they could not imagine.

It feels good, girl, it feels good

“Now, let’s see how good your hands work,” you ordered more than questioned, turning to Javier and nodding.

Javier nodded back and Lulu’s camera recorded him walking to the door to close and bolt it. The guards could not suppress their smiles, delighted at the thoughts of what was about to go down.

“You,” you pointed at Hudon’s henchman, gesturing to him to come close, “I want you to help me with these.”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

More than eager to ‘help’ you, he skipped to where you now stood and Loki was still on his knees. “Yes. W-what can I help you with, my lady?”

Oh, to be alone with you

Your hands went down your shirt, into your bra and out came four silver balls the size of peas. “Are you done?”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

The henchman did not understand the question. Then came a click from below and Loki’s voice yelled, “NOW!”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

Oh, to be alone with you

A lot of things happened at the same time. Loki stabbed the man right in his calves while you threw those peas on the air; at the same time you and Javier ducked down to let those peas be attracted to the nearest form of flesh in their linear way, sticking to them to shock the living lights till they could see more galaxies in their vision. 

The henchman yelled in pain, down on his knee, which Loki took advantage of and stabbed him in his shoulder before wrapping his arm around his windpipe long enough to make him lose consciousness. 

You grabbed the other pin from your hair and with its pointy end pointed at the men still struggling with the aftermath of the shock, you stood in defence. “Everyone okay?”

The guards groaned. “I meant everyone I care about okay?”

Javier nodded and Lulu chirped, jumping onto your shoulder. You turned to Loki. “You okay?”

Loki nodded, grabbing the henchman’s gun and tucking it in his pants. “Oh, here.” Loki looked at you unbuttoning your suit jacket. “Woah, what are you-” and stopped when he saw a vest peeking from underneath as the shirt was thrown in his direction. “I am almost jealous of the endless choices of these for women here. Does it fit you?”

“It’s quite loose,” Loki absentmindedly responded while buttoning up, not comprehending that disappointed stare till it was too late. “I meant...it’s...how did you even get all of this stuff?”

“Ah, changing the topic, typical,” you muttered while dragging the guards behind the sofa, “I have friends besides you.”

The suspicion in Loki’s eyes suddenly changed to shock. “What are you doing with them?! I told you to stay away from those...those...Hardy-pop spawns; whatever you called them.”

“A, you never said that. B, I had to do something to help you out. C, get us out of here!”

Loki looked at you, about to speak something when he stopped, the camera panning in to watch the surprise colour his face. “You didn’t plan an escape.”

“Oh, no. I was thinking I should get into the prostitution business myself considering what a fine human specimen I am.”

Loki rolled his eyes and smacked the recuperating guard back into the ground before gesturing Javier to follow him out the door.

“I was also thinking how great it would be to settle down here because all I ever wanted was to live in an alien whorehouse. I mean, Silvertongue what? God of Mischief, who?”

“Fine! We get it,” Loki called out, leading you all straight down the corridor, “though you would have fit perfectly here.”

“Excuse me!”

“Oh I saw that look in your eyes!” Loki spat, “you played the character like it’s in your blood.” Loki pondered walking straight, “Well, Stark’s involved. So wanting to control naturally comes in your blood. But playing a full-blown Dominatrix?” Loki chuckled. “You feisty little witch.”

You pouted at his comment. “A Dominatrix! Coming from the one who used his tongue like a fucking lock pick machine to shape that metal thing into the exact pattern that could open your cuffs,” you uttered under your breath while trying to keep up with him till you ran smack into his back.

The door to the exit was closed as guards surrounded the reception from all four sides, cornering the four of you in the middle.

Lulu wrapped his fluffy arms around your neck, holding tight while his camera took in Hudon’s figure entering right where you had walked through. “I cannot believe I was played by a human,” he hissed.

“Wasn’t that hard, really. It’s like I opened my legs and boom! You were open for business,” you shrugged while Loki smacked your arm to shut you up.

“Guards!” Hudon shouted, “cuff them and throw them in the dungeons!”

Before the guards could take a step towards you all, you found yourself screaming, “wait!”

“I almost forgot,” you added, patting your vest and then your pants to find a little black box, “I was told to give this to you with the message ‘your ex says hi’.”

Hudon looked at the box placed in his hand. Javier’s camera captured you putting your fingers over Loki’s hand and dragging your index down towards the ground. Loki gave you a silent look before tangling his fingers in yours, moving Javier right behind him.

“Lulu,” you whispered discreetly, “you know what comes next right?”

Lulu purred a little before shifting to your back, his arms still secure around your neck. All eyes watched as a tweet rose from the box, increasing in pitch. And just like that it dropped in silence, the code for you four to duck down.

Loki was already shielding you with his body, his arm wrapped around you when the flash came and with it a crash. Hudon was enclosed in what looked like lit up ropes sparkling with electricity while the Hardy boys entered from the roof on ropes as smoothly as always.

“Your ex also said ‘time to die motherfucker’,” Mauve declared before electrocuting the furry.

“Seven years, Mauve,” Violet stressed with a shaking head, “it’s been seven years. Let it go.”

 Night Time at the Inn

Javier’s camera rested on the platform outside in the balcony that sat atop the inn to the view of the city. Javier himself was busy with the little yet powerful cameras in the shape of silver flies Violet was showing from his own collection. Lulu ran about chasing fireflies that glowed in multiple colours around him. A few even came and sat down on his fur, making him pause anything and everything he was doing so as not to scare them.

You walked in from the other room, showered and shampooed, in your old clothes cleaned and dried, throwing a quick glance at the surroundings before going straight for the figure sitting outside on the cemented boundary of the balcony looking down at the soft bustle and glow of this little city.

The platform was wide enough for two people but you still stood leaning on the door and knocked on the glass first. “Mind if I join you?”

Loki scooched over to the other side to make room for you. You got up and slid your butt and legs up, a lungful of the foreign air bringing with it the smell of all that was cooking in the streets. “Hmm, smells heavenly,” you hummed, letting your headrest on the brick wall behind.

When your senses had absorbed all there was to the night, you finally found the courage to speak.

[Lulu, still as a cat, clicks his belly to play Sweater Weather (feat. Fruitypoppin x Koven Wei]

“How are you doing?”

Loki’s head turned to look at you, his fingers still moving around the bracelets that did not let him use his full potential.

You shifted where you sat, scratching some itch in your head. “I mean, you okay? Like being forced into sex trafficking can leave a deeply rooted trauma if not addressed in time.”

Loki smiled and looked down at the bracelet. “I appreciate your concern. But I am fine. I have had worse”

Your lips parted in a gasp that was controlled in time. “...okay. Okay.”

His green eyes reflected the lights in a mellow hue under the brilliant duvet of stars above you. His stare had a pinch of something soft as he continued to look at you. “I also appreciate-” he shifted his glance to his arms right when you turned to look at him, adjusting the hem of the sleeve of his black t-shirt- “you not asking me about the scars.”

There was a shift of emotion visible in your eyes. A smile forced upon your lips that those y/e/c pupils betrayed. The unconscious movement of your fingers over your own arm, the repeated motion of them over the same place as if trying to soothe some underlying ache; none of it went unnoticed by those sharp smaragdines. Neither did the cage you tried to make around your waist, wrapping your arms around it, trying to block some invisible evil. “No problem-” you blinked and one of those flies recording you two zoomed in enough to see moisture gathering on the edges of your eyelids- “just know that whenever you are ready to talk, I will be there for you.”

Your smile widened, using your usual trick of letting your eyes close to hide that moisture, even adding in a chuckle here and there.

Loki had to take in a whole lot of air to bring the words out of him. “And I will be there when you need to talk about it too.”

The smile was gone. Knees were drawn closer to your chest. “Yeah, that might take ages,” you muttered as you rested your head on your knees.

“Good thing that I’m immortal then?” And the chuckle came back, bringing the stress in Loki’s shoulders down a little.

“What did you do to Hudon anyway? Why was he so pissed at you to force you to be one of his prostitutes?”

Loki groaned and let his head fall back. “I let all of his unwilling workers escape.”

You raised your brows in praise.

“While tricking him into thinking I was in love with him.”

And your jaw drops. “WHAT?!” you nearly screeched while Loki tried to shush you. “You...what?! Why??”

“Well, he comes from an orthodox planet that did not stand for the choices in the life partners he wanted. Which is why he ran away and opened brothels with no restrictions. I took...advantage of that knowledge to use him and run. From...my torturers.”

Loki’s eyes went to his arms. So did yours. “And in doing so I broke the heart of a man who was into bad trades. So I am the lesser evil here, for your information,” he recovered. 

“Yeah, freeing sex slaves and breaking a stone-cold bitch’s heart isn’t as much as evil as it is a ‘making the world a better place’, dude.” You acknowledged. “And I hope your torturers are dead otherwise they’re gonna catch these hands.”

A chortle left Loki, scaring the Lulu and making all the flies fly away from what had looked like a fluffy Christmas tree. “What, I’m serious.” A punch landed in his gut to show just how serious you were.

“Right. How do you think you will defeat them? Using black latex clothing, handcuffs, a whip and anal beads?”

You looked at the flying cam with a twist in your jaw while Loki laughed in the background.

You: I am too pissed right now to even question how he knows about anal beads.

“Haa haa. You laugh at the idea while I will actually be making them beg for mercy in leather bonds and chains,” you announced, angry at the God for losing it at the thought of you in that role again. “And I’ll definitely be doing a better job of a Dominatrix than you ever did.”

“You take that back.”

Lulu went around chasing the fireflies again while the two of you teased each other under the starry night far away from home, for the very first time not worrying about your way back, the music adding to the soothing colours brewing in the night.

 In the Darkness of The Lounge

All the ladies were lined up on the sofa, binging on drinks and popcorn in the dark, eyes stuck on the big screen when a sniffle was heard from behind them. All of them turned to watch a very worried Steve and Clint looking at Bucky and Scott sit next to them. Their faces glistened in whatever light came from the screen, the streaks of tears and swollen eyes visible even in the dark. Not to mention the blocked noses.

“Are you guys okay?” Wanda asked softly, never giving up what she saw in their minds.

Both of them nodded.

“Are you crying for Loki right now?” Clint asked with a hint of disgust in his voice, earning a smack from Natasha.

“No,” Bucky grunted from the midst of his tear wave while Scott shook his head in agreement. “I’m crying because this stupid bowl in my hand does not have any more popcorn.”

“Yeah,” Scott bawled, “I am mad at this stupid bowl too. Come, let’s get some more popcorn.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed in his hoarse voice, still crying as they got up and went away, past the kitchen and into the elevator while the rest watched them silently till the doors closed. 

“They forgot their popcorn bowl,” MJ pointed out. Clint looked at her in confusion. “Who are you?”

“None of your concern,” she replied, making Clint feel a little jolt of ‘the audacity of this kid’.

“Should weeee,” Pepper stretched the words in her whisper, unsure of how they would be seen, “watch the part with Loki and the Dominatrix again?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Natasha whispered back, happy to have recorded the live broadcast. Wanda adjusted herself and MJ passed the soda cans across the row.

Clint watched the ladies in shock while Steve sat there in hollow surprise, waiting for the screen to go back to the scene as heartfelt wails of two people could be heard from the garden outside with the words ‘so soft’ and ‘my heart ow my heart’.

[im-captain-egg]

Masterlist

Harry Potter

Bedroom Eyes (E, 1.4k, Wolfstar) ”You’ve been giving me bedroom eyes for the past half an hour now, Sirius,” he said. “Wanna show me what you were thinking about?” Remus asked hoarsely, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

Our Friends Are Idiots (E, 2.8k, Wolfstar) James and Peter think that their best friend is in trouble but Sirius thinks that they're idiots. All he wanted was some sexy time with his hot werewolf boyfriend.

i don’t want to be your friend, i want to kiss your lips (E, 3k, Wolfstar) Remus tried to find the right words. He had played this out in his head a thousand times, had imagined how it would be to finally admit his feelings, to tell Sirius. But now, all the words were gone, his thoughts filled with nothing but Sirius.

i’ll make the moon shine just for you (not rated, wip, Wolfstar)

Punny Little Thing Called Love (T, 1.2k, Wolfstar) Three times Sirius gives Remus a stupid nickname and one time he doesn't.

breaking through the atmosphere (E, 2.1k, Wolfstar) Sirius struggles with being locked-up in 12 Grimmauld Place but Remus is there to take care of him.

sit still, look pretty (E, 1.5k, Wolfstar) Remus is a tease but Sirius doesn’t mind.

tell me about last night (M, 1.9k, Wolfstar) In which Remus Lupin drinks too much and hooks up with Sirius Black, captain of the university’s Polo team and Remus’ long-time crush. Awkwardness ensues the next morning.

waves (E, 6.6k, Wolfstar) Hell breaks loose at 12 Grimmauld Place and an injured Sirius Black seeks refuge at the Potters.

A Purrfect Match (G, 1.6k, Wolfstar) When Remus walked into the shelter that day, he expected to leave with a new furry companion and not meet the love of his life.

bewitched you in the moonlight (T, 4k, Wolfstar) Sirius is absolutely smitten by an adorably awkward Remus dressed as a werewolf.

Lightning in a Bottle (M, 11.1k, Wolfstar) 29-year-old businessman Sirius Black finds himself falling in love with 23-year-old art student Remus Lupin, who turns Sirius' life upside down in a matter of seconds.

Red, White & Royal Annoyance (T, 3k, Wolfstar) A royal wedding, two rivals, a kiss in the garden.

The Big Birthday Cake Catastrophe (T, 1.5k, Wolfstar) Sirius and James attempt to bake a birthday cake for Remus when disaster strikes.

Of Sharks, Manatees, and Master Matchmakers (T, 2.1k, Wolfstar) Remus works at an aquarium where he meets Sirius, a guy with a PhD in marine biology who can talk to sharks and thinks that Remus' lanyard is funky.

Red, White & Royal Blue

Paris Nights / New York Mornings (E, 1.7k, Alex/Henry) Henry is stuck in a hot hotel room in Paris and Alex is more than happy to keep him company.

smoke and mirrors (E, 3.1k, Alex/Henry) Henry owns a blue suit that drives Alex crazy and Henry thinks that the baby blue tie just looks too good around Alex's wrists.

Honey and Lemons (G, 668, Alex/Henry) Henry has a cold. Alex is there to take care of him.

Champagne Bubbles (T, 788, Alex/Henry) When Alex comes home from work, Henry has a surprise date planned for them.

David and the Case of Finding Furever Home (G, 1k, Alex/Henry) It's another normal day at the shelter for Alex until Henry walks in.

Night at the Lake House (T, 599, Alex/Henry) Henry goes skinny dipping. Alex thinks his boyfriend is the most beautiful person in the world.

Shower Curtains (E, 2.5k, Alex/Henry) Taking a shower with Henry is never about getting clean. Never.

you take my breath and steal the things i know (E, 56.4k, Alex/Henry) Alex hates Henry and Henry hates Alex—at least that's what Alex likes to tell himself. It all changes though when Henry comes to the States to film a docu-series with Nora and June, and Alex involuntarily gets to know Henry better, finding his world completely turned on its head by the end of it.

baby, it’s cold outside (T, 2.4k, Alex/Henry) A collection of all my drabbles for the RWRB Winterfest 2020!

dogs that bark don’t bite (T, 415) Alex was a weird kid.

notes from David (G, wip) A compilation of David having thoughts.

I will adore you until eternity (E, 4.3k, Alex/Henry) Alex got Henry two sets of lingerie and Henry is eager to try them on.

completely and perfectly and incandescently happy (G, 254, Alex/Henry) “What endearments am I allowed then?” Henry asks with a smile, cupping Alexander’s face with his hand and brushing his thumb across the sun-kissed skin there.

Tidal Wave (E, 4.8k, Alex/Henry) Rivalling captains Alexander and Henry have been neck to neck for years but their relationship takes a different turn when Henry shows up unexpectedly on the Claremont.

your mouth is a hurricane (E, 3.7, Alex/Henry) Drummers hit it the hardest, they say.

like fireflies (E, 5.7k, Alex/Henry) Alex and Henry see each other again. Featuring dark storage rooms, leather gloves, and a weird fuzzy feeling that simply won't leave Alex alone whenever he's around Henry.

to be kissed by you (T, 1k, Alex/Henry) Alex and Henry meet for a quick rendezvous before attending an official event.

like cherries and wine (T, 640, June/Nora) June meets up with Pez for brunch where she, literally, runs into a cute waitress.

she is my all, she is the one, she is (T, 1k, June/Nora) Nora struggles to find a fitting Valentine's present for her girlfriend.

can i call you tonight? (E, 7.8k, Alex/Henry) Falling in love with someone who lives an ocean away is weird. Especially if you are staying at their house and they stay at yours. or Alex and Henry swap houses and fall in love in the process.

shouting curses at ursa major (T, 1.2k, Alex/Henry) Sometimes, forever doesn't last as long as you might want it to.

Shifting Gears (E, 1.7k, Alex/Henry) Henry and Alex plan on taking a short vacation in Wales when a punctured tire ruins their fun. Or does it?

you’re the beat playing in my heart (E, 6.6k, Alex/Henry) Things between Alex and Henry get weird after Pittsburgh but then Henry invites Alex to London.

what is grief, if not love persevering? (T, 423) As suggested by his therapist, Henry writes a letter to his dad.

rosemary & firewood (T, 1.1k, Alex/Henry) When they brew Amortentia for the first time, Alex discovers something new about himself.

i hope you don't mind that i put down in words how wonderful life is while you're in the world (T, 827, Alex/Henry) "What do you love the most about Henry?" - "Does everything count as an answer? Though even that wouldn't be enough." Some of the things Alex loves about Henry.

spell my name with her tongue, like (uh) (E, 2.5k, June/Nora) Stuck at a state dinner, Nora decides to have some fun with June under the table.

i’ll tell you what i like / my wildflower (E, 2.6k, Alex/Henry) Henry takes Alex on a ride on a motorbike which quickly leads to something more heated once they make it back to the garage.

oh, honey, pray to me between the sheets (E, 2.8k, Alex/Henry) Henry comes home after being away for three weeks and Alex is very eager to welcome him home properly.

if they only knew how you talk to me when it’s just us two (E, 5.3k, Alex/Henry) With Henry being gone for a week to take care of things back home, Alex is left in NYC on his own but when he feels needy, Henry is only a text message away.

when he calls me pretty (E, 2.7k, Alex/Henry) Alex is horny and Henry is happy to help out even if they are an ocean apart.

Cherry Bomb (E, 3.1k, June/Nora) June gets a new lingerie set. Nora is more than happy to admire it.

One Last Stop

sugar & spice (E, 1.5k, August/Jane) August can't sleep. Jane offers to help.

Voltron

Birthday Boy (E, 2k, Klance) It's Keith's birthday and the boys are a little drunk and horny and utterly in love.

Song of Achilles

he touched my soul, skin to bone (E, 2.3k, Achilles/Patroclus) It’s Achilles’ birthday and Patroclus brought some figs for them to share.

[cuteandtwisted]

are bfyt isak and even living together at this point? miss them xx

i miss them too 💛.  here’s what they’re up to. (i got carried away. sigh.)

.

“I could put my desk here.”

“Why not there?” Even points to a wider corner in the empty bedroom.

“Hm. Your desk could go there instead. It’s bigger.” Isak responds absentmindedly as he continues inspecting the walls of the bare living room.

Even’s gasp is barely audible, but Isak hears it. 

He stifles his own when he realizes what he’s just said and wills his feet to remain glued to the floor. His back turned to Even. His ears and neck probably flushed already.  

“My desk?” Even asks behind him, his voice soft, his tone playful. Isak knows he’s smiling. “Why would my desk be in your apartment, Isak?”

Ugh.

“I don’t know. Most of your shit is currently at Kollektivet. Figured it’s only a matter of time before you start carrying your furniture to my new place as well,” Isak responds with a shrug, then walks away to where the person showing them the apartment is standing. 

Good save, he tries to tell himself. But was it? His therapist would argue that he’s falling back on his usual coping mechanisms, that he’s regressing by resorting to sarcasm and evasion tactics instead of voicing how he truly feels, what he truly wants, what he truly needs. 

What I really want.

But Even understands. He’s currently chuckling at Isak’s weak and unconvincing retort to his teasing. He always does. He’s never upset. He’s never impatient. He’s always kind and forgiving. He understands that Isak’s years of social ineptitude and prickly responses aren’t just undone and done away with because he started getting professional help. 

Still, Isak isn’t sure that what he wants is right, that it deserves to be voiced and spoken out loud. Because wanting something doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s the right thing right now. 

As though sensing the turmoil currently eating Isak up (and knowing that a touch would suffice to anchor him and bring him back), Even squeezes his side as he walks past him and absently presses a phantom kiss to his hair before continuing to the broker. An uninhibited touch that carries so much meaning, so much weight. 

‘Stay with me. Don’t get too lost inside your head. Stay here with me.’

It’s so casual yet deliberate that Isak feels like melting into the hardwood floors. 

“Do you have any apartment facing East?” Even asks the lady with a smile so blinding, Isak can see her blushing too. “Isak has trouble waking up in the morning if it’s not bright enough. Also counter space. Isak needs more counter space. Do you have anything with more counter space?” 

Isak watches Even complain about details and nice-to-haves he would never otherwise care about to the broker and feels his chest swell, a warm and fuzzy feeling settling there and spreading down his limbs. 

It’s Sunday morning and Isak can’t think of any other place he’d rather be.

He walks up to Even mid-rant about the height of the ceiling and presses a sweet kiss to his cheek, making him pause and blink, visibly flustered.

“What was that?” Even smiles, turning away from the broker lady almost completely. 

“I don’t like this one,” Isak says simply, before linking his arm with Even’s.

“No?”

“No. It’s too far from your school.” Not the full truth. But a truth nonetheless.

Even just stares at him, smiling fondly like he’s keeping himself from speaking his mind. The real estate person somehow feels like she’s left the empty apartment.

“What?” Isak asks, embarrassed. 

“You’re being cute. Why are you being cute?”

“Am not,” he scoffs. “I’m being pragmatic. I just don’t want to spend money commuting to you.”

“I could just get an apartment next to this one.”

“What if you spend the night here and have to commute to school or what if i want to pick you up from school?”

Even cups his face with both hands and kisses him on the lips. It’s just a kiss, but Isak still feels dizzy when Even lets him go. 

“You’re being cute again,” Even says before kissing him again. 

.

They’ve been apartment hunting for two weeks now. Separately, however.

Isak had been crashing at kollektivet since he moved back from Trondheim, and it was only a matter of time before he had to find a place to live.

But when he asked Mutta if he knew of any good options, he found out that Even was looking to move out of his mother’s house as well. 

It was rather embarrassing to hear it from a third party when they spent every single night together, either in Even’s bed or latched onto each other on Eskild’s couch. (Isak secretly loves the latter sleeping arrangement the most. He loves not having to justify curling himself around Even and molding into him like he can’t bear being apart from him).

“Heard you were looking for an apartment.”

“Heard about you, too.”

“Maybe we can go to places together. Share one broker. Save time. We’re probably looking for different things anyway.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

But they’re not looking for different things. They hate the same living rooms and fall in love with the same bedrooms. Isak thinks about where Even’s desk would fit and Even complains about Isak’s counter space and sun exposure. Even wants a large bedroom that can fit a king sized bed, and Isak wants a living room that can fit a couch big enough for two tall men. Even thinks about the distance to Isak’s lab and Isak thinks about the one to Even’s uni. They bicker about hardwood floors and appliances, and somewhere along the line, their broker stops asking who the apartment is for, a quiet and knowing smile on her lips. 

.

It’s the perfect apartment.

Isak can just picture where everything would go. All of Even’s film equipment and art supplies. All of the little props he takes to the kindergarten where he’s completing his training. He can tell where Even’s drawings would go on the walls, where he’d leave his backpack as soon as he enters through the door, where Isak would find his socks crumpled on the floor. He can see himself on the kitchen counter, legs spread for Even to fit in between, their heated kisses filled with laughter and ease and ‘scientific’ foreplay. He can see the cupboard they’d keep forgetting about and against which Isak would hit his head every time Even kisses him too deep. He can see where Isak would retract to brood when Even calls him out on something. He can see where Even would nap and where Isak would just perch up to watch him, happy to just be able to watch him.  

It’s the perfect apartment. 

“I might as well put an application down now, right?” Even grins at him, seemingly agreeing with Isak’s entire train of thought and reminding him that he’s the one who found this apartment. 

“Right.”

Even talks with the realtor about faucets and finishes and where the washers and dryers are located in the building while Isak recoils into himself.

They walk out into the night after Even fills out an application and Isak feels a lump in his throat. 

“What’s up?” Even asks, eyes curious and pensive.

“Nothing.” Isak shrugs.

“You’re quiet.”

“It happens to me sometimes.”

“Oh does it, now?” Even laughs. 

“Ugh.” Isak laughs too, shoving him playfully. 

“Are you upset I found an apartment before you?”

No.

“No.”

“Then what is it?” 

Isak considers his next words carefully. He could say how he truly feels or he could go down the pragmatic route. 

“Iss?”

“I just don’t think it’s a very economical decision,” Isak huffs out. His therapist would be so disappointed right now. 

“Huh?”

“The apartment, I mean. The rent, for starters, it’s too high. I mean where are you gonna get all that money every month? It feels like a waste because, well, it’s too big, honestly.”

“Are you telling me to find a smaller apartment?” Even muses quietly. He doesn’t sound irritated. He’s smiling, like this is amusing to him. 

“No! No. The apartment is perfect. Like it’s actually perfect. I’m not saying that.”

Even furrows his brows in confusion. Frankly, Isak is confused by his reasoning, too.  

“Hm. Are you trying to steal my apartment by any chance? Is that what this is about?” Even laughs.

“No. No, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then what is it?” 

Isak looks up at him then. Even is smiling. And he’s so self-assured, so present, so intimidating like this. 

“I’m saying we can both have the apartment,” Isak blurts out, his heart pounding hard in his ears.  

“Hm. And how would that work exactly?”

“We’d call the lady and ask her to add my name to the application,” says Isak. “I’d fill out my part and that way we’ll have more chances of actually getting the apartment with our salaries combined. Not to mention that we’d pay half the rent. And half the utilities! Half the electricity and heating bill! We could share groceries that way food doesn’t go to waste. And we won’t even have to spend money commuting from each other’s places. It’s perfect.”

Isak’s face is flushed by the time he finishes his rant. He’s beyond embarrassed. Even is probably fighting a smirk right now. 

“So this is a money saving strategy?” Even asks. He’s still smiling.

“What?”

“You want us to share an apartment to save money?”

“No. Not just money. I mean, it would be energy, too. Right? We’d lower our carbon footprint. We’d share one fridge, one radiator, one set of lightbulbs. We’d only have to use the vacuum once at a time. We could even share laundry cycles. It’s quite the responsible choice actually.” 

“So.. you want me to be your roommate to fight climate change?”

“Not roommate.” 

“I mean it sounds very close to what you were doing with Eskild.”

“I never showered with Eskild!”

“Oh, we’d be sharing showers, too. To preserve water. Of course.” Even laughs, but Isak doesn’t feel like laughing.

“Even. This is not funny to me! I’m serious!”

Oh. 

There it is. A crack. A small crack. Isak raising his voice and being visibly upset because he is. Because he feels cornered. Because he doesn’t know how to say what he truly feels, what he truly wants. 

And it hits him then. The reason why Even didn’t tell him he was looking to move out of Julie’s apartment in the first place. The reason he never brought up the fact that they spend every single night together and that it doesn’t make any sense that they’re looking for two separate places.

It hits him then: Even doesn’t want this. Even doesn’t, because Isak doesn’t give him enough. 

Isak doesn’t tell him that he loves him very often. He writes it. He implies it. He traces it on his skin, presses it against his lips, whispers it into his neck late at night. But he doesn’t say it. And while Even is kind and patient, he probably wishes Isak were more open by now, more normal. Isak wishes he were, too. 

Even is getting sick of him. Even doesn’t want-

“Isak? Isak, hey, stay with me.” Even brings him back with both hands on his face. A sweet touch, the most comforting touch. Isak will never stop burning for his touch. “I’m sorry for teasing you. It’s not nice. Forgive me.”

I should be the one apologizing. 

“Come on, let’s go back to my place and talk about this later. Yeah? Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“No buts.” 

.

It’s late and dark. It’s past midnight. They’re in Even’s bed at Julie’s apartment, sleeping. Even spooning him. But Isak can tell Even is awake too, his breathing too shallow, too uneven. 

“Even?” Isak asks, his voice a whisper.

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to share an apartment because of money.” 

Even tightens his arms around Isak’s stomach.

“What about climate change?” he asks, making Isak elbow him lightly.

“Don’t be a dick.” 

Even laughs. They both do. Then it’s quiet again.

“Why do you want to share an apartment then?” Even asks then, his voice wavering with nervousness.

It’s late and it’s dark, and Isak can feel Even’s heartbeat against his back. 

He turns around in his arms and tangles their limbs again. He can almost see the blue in Even’s eyes, even in the dark. 

Even is scared, Isak realizes. He’s holding his breath and he’s scared. 

“Because I love you.” Isak says simply. It’s simple because it’s true.    

Even lets out a soft but heartbreaking sigh. Isak wants to hold him until he knows. Until he knows just how deeply and impossibly Isak loves him. 

Isak wants to tell him so much. The words tumble inside his brain while they hold each other in bed rather desperately for a warm night in June.  

I want to share a home with you because I want you around. Because I love hearing you put on clothes in the morning when I’m still sleeping and I love the sound of you unzipping your jeans after a long day before you proceed to sing terribly in the shower. Because I love having you around and watching you make art or marathon some pretentious show or simply take a nap in the middle of the day. 

“Because I’ve never had a home until I had you,” Isak confesses with a tremor to his voice.

Even kisses him then, and it’s wet and salty and desperate. 

Isak can’t tell whose tears he’s tasting.

“Odd night to get emotional about climate change,” Even sniffles with a chuckle when they finally part for air.

“Ugh. Fuck you.”

“Ugh. I love you, too.” 

They kiss again and again and again. 

“My home. You’re my home, too.”  

.

They move in together a week after that.

x

[hydra-collector]

Whole: Chapter One

AO3

Fic Page (all chapters listed here)

Second Fic in the Series

Chapters Finished: 6/6

Ship: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders (minor)

TW: self-harm, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, food, sex mention

Words: 3,630

Summary: 

Logan can't feel.

Because every time he does, someone gets hurt. His emotions have no place in the world. He vows to squash them down until finally, maybe they'll be gone. But it's not a good idea to suppress such an important part of yourself, to tear your sadness, happiness, anger, until you're left dry and empty.

And Logan doesn't understand that until he meets someone. Someone very, very special.

Note: I actually have this finished, it will be updating daily. I’m likely going to write some extra works, later in Remus and Logan’s lives.

Why are you yelling? Stop yelling, stop.

Logan didn’t know what else to do. He had to tell them why this was happening, they were wrong, he couldn’t control this. It was awful, this awful feeling that made him completely unable to focus while incredibly worried about how he wasn’t focusing. He was just trying to tell them why.

 But he didn’t have to yell.

He had no reason to be angry at them. They did nothing wrong. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to scream and cry and hug his mom. He wanted her to understand what this was like. The fuzzy mold that dug into his brain and gave him fears that he didn’t want. The bricks that crawled into his chest and weighed him down and he couldn’t get up. But she didn’t understand them and he couldn’t explain, so he yelled.

 He hated yelling. It hurt, it scratched, he knew it was bad and he should stop, but he couldn’t. He needed to cry and he did cry, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to destroy something, he was angry, he wanted to punch someone.

 He couldn’t.

 He was nine, he shouldn’t be doing this to his mother. She was good and kind, and all he did was hurt her. He was awful to her, and she tried to help, but he couldn’t stop from getting annoyed, or angry, or sad. He couldn’t help but wail when the bricks got too heavy, he wanted them to be lighter. He had to move, had to hit something when the fears wouldn’t go away. He was scared his mother hated him, that she would abandon him with his brother. It didn’t make any sense, but he knew what he was doing to her and he didn’t stop. He was too much work for her.

 Two years later, he was the same. Still loud, still full of emotions. His throat hurt all the time, his mother kept getting fed up (she’d tried to take him to a therapist and that didn’t work), his brother Patton was scared for his health, and his dog wouldn’t let him anywhere near her. He’d developed ways to stop bothering them, though. Hold his hand to his mouth and bury his head in the pillow until the frustration went away. Bite his arm so he couldn’t keep screaming. Hit his head again and again and again until he couldn’t be angry anymore. It hurt. It was calming.

 He’d managed to become a bit less of a nuisance, at least. He’d tried to stop explaining the bricks and the mold and just let them be. They always fade after a while to something manageable. His tears were his own now. His emotions were his, and no one else needed them.

 He tried to be happier for his mom. He spent more time with Patton, trying to make him happy. Patton was concerned for him, and he appreciated that, but he knew asking for help would only make them suffer, and they weren’t allowed to suffer. Only he could suffer.

 He vowed to become a robot someday. Where he didn’t want to scream or hurt people. Someday it would be gone, everything would be okay. Maybe he’d have a wife and kids that he didn’t hurt like the people he loved now. They would love him and he would deserve it.

 Another two years and it had a name.

 Depression. Anxiety. Mental illness. They told him what he was and he hated himself even more. He was a thirteen year old being told that he’d been sick since he was a child. He was given ways to cope. He’d never tried to bleed.

 He did the day he learned he could.

 It was freeing. Hitting and biting was hard, but slicing his skin was so easy and so pretty. The blood that rose from within told him that he was a person, and an awful one. If anyone ever saw, it would be the end of this.

 He didn’t yell anymore. Most of the time he was absolutely silent. Yes, he participated in class so he didn’t get a bad grade, but only the bare minimum. He never raised his voice, never allowed himself to laugh too loud. His brother was scared for him, but he didn’t know the half of it. He had few friends, only one other anxious teen named Virgil. He felt more comfortable talking about fear and self-hate, but only in a joking way. He had to close himself off from everyone. He couldn’t hurt anyone.

 His mother had, again, tried to get him to go to therapy. She said it would help his anxiety. God, she didn’t even know. He stopped cutting his arms pretty early on, since his mother got concerned that he always wore long sleeves. His legs got all the more blood on them.

 How could he have this with people who care? How could he hate himself this much when nothing had ever happened to him? Why had this ever happened?

 He didn’t know.

 Fifteen was his worst year yet.

 He’d made so many friends this year, yet it all got worse. He felt like he couldn’t breathe most days, like every day he was dying. He wanted that, he wanted this feeling gone. How could he heal after eight god damn years?

 It was a warm October morning today. The sun shone on his back, glittering across the autumn leaves. The normally boring school looked orange and majestic. Students laughed and chatted as he passed by.

 It had been a bad month. He was sure that he’d only been happy for a couple hours in the past thirty days. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t killed himself yet.

 Patton was talking to him about something, probably about another cute kid. Ever since he’d come out as pan, he’d endlessly talked about the people he found attractive. It was exhausting for Logan to hear his brother point out girls he might like. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to come out.

 He wanted to date. It might be nice to have someone to kiss and cuddle, to offer comfort when the days got bad. To have more comfort than cold, sharp blades. He couldn’t do that, though. He’d hurt enough people already.

 Still, he couldn’t help but fantasize about some guy that would share his interest in science, talk to him about space and chemistry and biology. He wasn’t good enough for someone like that. Someone that would never date him.

 He waved to Roman and Virgil as they passed. They were probably scheming some new way to get out of doing classwork. Logan sped up, realizing it was nearly time for him to organize Ms. Kachinsky’s books. He had to finish before she left her room in the morning to teach. There was supposed to be another kid, too, so he couldn’t be late.

 “Hey, Lo, where’re you going?”

 “Kachinsky, remember?”

 “Ohhh, yeah.”

 The building was cold inside. He headed into his teacher’s room, decorated blandly with supposedly motivational posters. He’d volunteered to do this job, no one else was going to organize encyclopedias for a 70-year-old woman. He didn’t know why she even had so many.

 As he walked into the half-renovated closet, he was presented with many emotions.

 One, this man was munching on a sheet of paper.

 Two, he was not adhering to the dress code.

 Three, Logan was glad he wasn’t because a crop top and booty shorts looked damn good on him.

 “Um. Hello.”

 The teenager looked up, paper in hand. He stood up and tossed it in the trash, swallowing. Logan pointed slightly to the trash can.

 “You were eating a piece of paper.”

 “Yeah?”

 “That doesn’t seem like it should be healthy.”

 “I looked it up, it’s pretty much fine. Are you here to start on the books?”

 Logan nodded and the two of them got to work in silence. The boy was pretty, he had a slight mustache that doesn’t work for many people, but it did for him. He looked a little like Roman, but with a broader build and stronger jaw. He was exactly the type of person that Logan would have designed as the most attractive, in his opinion, if he would have ever designed an attractive man.

 “How’d you get roped into this?”

 The boy turned his brown eyes to look at Logan expectantly, who wasn’t expecting any kind of interaction with him.

 “I volunteered.”

 “Oh, teacher’s pet?”

 “She’s 70. No one else was going to help.”

 “Fair. This is my substitute for detention ‘cause I have to work after school. I’m Remus.”

 He stuck out his hand, which Logan took.

 “Logan.”

 “Oh, really? I was kinda looking into that name. One of my friends stole it, though.”

 A look of confusion crossed over Logan’s face, but it disappeared as Remus held out the trans pin on his jacket. He noticed now how many pins there really were. There was the trans one, he/him, a weed symbol (however he got away with that), a skull one, an atom one, a chemistry tube, a gay flag, and various other little ones. They offered quite a bit of insight onto his personality, which seemed more and more attractive as their interaction went on.

 Remus kept talking to him, which he didn’t quite understand. He didn’t have much of a personality, and what he did have, he didn’t really show. Most of his personality was just extreme emotions. He didn’t show those, either.

 They did get to talking, though. Remus somehow pried out Logan’s interest in science and his plans for the future. They talked about how they’d do anything in STEM if they could. They talked about how annoying humanities majors were, and how annoying they were to humanities majors.

 They finished the books, and Remus’s conversational skills got Logan to stay a tiny bit longer. Too much longer.

 Before they even knew, there was a click at the door. The closet was big, so it wasn’t like they were right next to the door.

 “What was that?”

 Logan headed cautiously to the door and turned the knob. It wouldn’t budge.

 “We’re locked in.”

 Remus whispered “shit” under his breath before running to the door and banging loudly. The sound was fast and loud. They were locked in, they wouldn’t make it to class, they’d get in trouble, he’d be awful all over again-

 He couldn’t breathe. He was a failure all over again. He needed to get to class, his nails dug into his skin, his razor could help now, but he was shaking now and everything was wrong and this was supposed to be a simple morning thing and he shouldn’t have stayed and he shouldn’t have liked Remus and he shouldn’t feel anything, not anger, not fear, not sadness, not love-

 “Hey, hey, are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

 This is the first time you meet him and he’ll already know you’re fucked up.

 Logan dodged away from him, tripping over a chair and falling on the floor. He could barely control his movements, his arms and hands wouldn’t listen to him, and he was already seeing this, he was never going to get a boyfriend or make another friend and he was dumb for thinking that. He grasped his upper arms with his hands, digging his nails into them, hoping it would help enough to stay fucking still.

 “Logan, can you take my hands? If you don’t want to, that’s fine, I know we don’t know each other, I just wanna help.”

 Logan tentatively reached out his hand, well aware of the indents on his arm. Remus’s hand was warm and strong, so he reached out his other hand as well. He rocked slightly, trying to steady his breathing.

 “If you’re worried about getting in trouble, they can’t exactly blame us for getting trapped in a closet. It’s only one day, I’m sure it won’t hurt to miss a class or two. You can make up work and you can talk to your teachers if you’re concerned about missing important stuff.”

 “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks. I’m sorry for wasting your time with that.”

 “Don’t be. It’s okay.”

 Logan leaned against the wall now, holding his knees. Remus slid down beside him.

 Why do you feel comfortable with him?

 Even from their distance, Logan could feel his presence there.

 You just met him.

 “Whaddya wanna do?”

 “...I think I have travel checkers.”

 “...Sure.”

 Logan searched through his bag, pulling out a tiny box and opened it. The little magnetic pieces had to be pried off of the board and rearranged. They played probably over ten times before the game couldn’t sustain their attention any longer. Logan started trying to stack them, knowing it wouldn’t work, but hey, he was bored. Remus took the ones Logan wasn’t using to form the shape of male genitals.

 “Hey, could I borrow some of yours?”

 Logan wasn’t getting anywhere anyway. He pushed his pieces over to Remus and leaned back on the wall. He checked his watch. It was already an hour past the time they were supposed to be in class, and no one had come by yet. They probably weren’t going to until Ms. Kachinsky came back to get her lunch. Since her room was being renovated, she was teaching health either in other classrooms or outside if they got desperate.

 Remus looked rather proud of himself when he finished his creation. 

 “So we’re stuck in here for another few hours, with nothing to occupy us but encyclopedias, whatever we have in our bags, and each other.”

 “The things you could do to someone in here… With someone. That’s not better.”

 “Who cares what anything implies at this point?”

 Remus joined Logan against the wall, staring blankly with him. 

 “You got your phone?”

 “Didn’t think I’d need it. How about you?”

 “Broken. Like it usually is. At least I have a job. And a brother.”

 Remus paused for a moment before speaking again.

 “I suppose we’re kinda obligated to become friends. After spending so much time alone in a closet.”

 “We could play a game. You do that with friends, right?”

 “Never have I ever been stuck in a closet before.”

 Logan held up his fingers and put one down.

 “If we’re talking metaphorical closets, yeah.”

 He took a moment to realize what he’d just said. He’d half-outed himself to a practical stranger. He hadn’t come out to anyone yet.

 “Oh, I guess I told a lie then.”

 Remus put one of his own fingers down.

 “...I’ve literally never come out before. You’re the first person and I barely know you. Heh, maybe I should actually tell my brother so he starts pointing out cute guys instead of girls.”

 “I’m honored. Your turn.”

 “Oh, yeah. I guess I’ll go for the boring one. Never have I ever been in a relationship. Not surprised, though.”

 “Can I be excused ‘cause it was a girl?”

 “Fair. You go.”

 “Mm… Never have I ever had a dog.”

 “Really? You seem like a dog person.”

 Logan put his second finger down, shifting slightly.

 “Nah. My dad’s allergic. I keep trying to sneak one in anyway, but my brother always catches me. Didn’t think it’d be that hard to get him on board. He loves dogs. Side effect of being the perfect child, I guess. You don’t let yourself do what you want. My parents are good parents, they just… trust him a bit more.”

 “It’s not so bad to be independent. No trans kid with transphobic parents ever chopped off their hair, or binded for the first time, or wore a wig or a dress with their parents’ permission.”

 “No one ever found their passion from someone who tried to choose their path.”

 “Very insightful.”

 “Thank you. Anyway, it’s your turn.”

 “Never have I ever worn a crop top.”

 “Hey, that’s cheating. You should, though, you’d look good.”

 “Would I?” Logan’s cheeks dusted slightly pink.

 “Would it be weird to offer you to try mine on?”

 “Probably, but I don’t think either of us are very normal. Plus, you develop a certain kind of relationship with someone you’re locked in the closet with.”

 Logan’s small blush only darkened as they turned away from each other and he heard fabric moving about. Remus tossed the shirt over his shoulder, and probably blushed as Logan took his own shirt off.

 Remus had buttoned his jacket to cover his chest. It didn’t completely cover it, but it didn’t matter to him all that much (Logan, however, turned red when he saw it). The shirt fit reasonably well, a little loose but it looked good nonetheless. Logan was hesitant, but Remus might have thought it looked very good according to the color of his cheeks.

 “Didn’t think you could get much hotter. I was very wrong.”

 Well that confirmed it.

 Logan didn’t usually get flustered so much that other people could tell, but this had triggered the darkest shade of pink to cross his cheeks. Remus giggled at that, which only made them darker.

 “Hah, made you blush.”

 “Was that your only intention?”

 “Oh no, don’t get me wrong, I meant it.”

 “We barely even know each other.”

 “Are you saying I’m not allowed to flirt?”

 “Do what you want, I guess. Sure. Flirt. All laws are broken, we’re locked in a closet.”

 “Whatever I want?”

 “Now it’s enough.”

 “Fine. Got any more ideas?”

 “Search for a morsel of food in my bag, maybe.”

 “I might have chips in my bag. If not, I may have to resort to cannibalism.”

 “Then you wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. And didn’t you say I was hot? Pretty sure a half-eaten body won’t be as nice to look at.”

 “You never know.”

 Remus found a small bag of chips in his bag, opening it and handing Logan some chips. They both munched quietly until it was done, then returned to their placement on the wall.

 “Oh, do you want your shirt back?”

 “Not really, but I should take it. Someday when we’re not trapped in a closet I’m gonna buy you a crop top.”

 They changed back into their original clothes, Remus nearly stealing a glance at Logan’s shirtless body.

 “How much time do you think we’ve got left?” Remus turned his head lazily towards the other boy.

 “Probably another hour or so.”

 “We never finished the game, did we?”

 “No. Your turn, I believe.”

 “Except now we both have to put a finger down ‘cause you wore the crop top.”

 “That’s not how it works!”

 “Hey, I put a finger down for metaphorical closets. Plus I let you wear my crop top, it’s only fair.”

 “Well… I guess I have two left now.”

 “Hah, three. I’m winning. Never have I ever,” Remus began, “eaten pie. It’s the one sweet thing I’ve never had. My mom tries to make it sometimes, but it always gets burnt. I’ve tried to convince them to let me eat it anyway.”

 “Hm. Me neither.”

 “Seriously? Hasn’t basically everyone eaten pie?”

“Too much sugar.”

 “At least it’s fruit, though. I mean, you accepted the chips, those aren’t exactly healthy.”

 “That’s an exception. We don’t have any other food.”

 “Well, fair. Your turn.”

 “Never have I ever… heh, never have I ever been happy. Shit, no, didn’t mean to say that.”

 It’s not that inaccurate, though.

 “Guess we’d both have to put a finger down. You’re smiling.”

 “Hey, doesn’t mean I’m happy.”

 “I know how smiling works. If it’s real, your eyes squint at least a little bit. Your eyes are squinting a lot. It’s cute.”

 Logan accepted this and put another finger down. He hated feeling because he knew what it did to people when he did. When he was happy, he wasn’t on guard. He had to be careful about what he was doing, else he could end up being insensitive.

 “Okay. If I can get one more, I win. Never have I ever been on a plane.”

 “God, I wish.”

 “Oh, come on. If you end up beating me, I’ll eat your homework.”

 “Never have I ever had to copy someone’s homework.”

 “Well I guess you managed to get both of us to one. My threat still stands. Never have I ever played piano.”

 “Nope.”

 “I’m gonna change that at somepoint. You’d be hot playing piano.”

 Logan leaned in closer.

 “Never have I ever been as pretty as you.”

 “We both lose.”

 “That- doesn’t even work.”

 “Sure it does.”

 “God, I barely know you and I’m flirting with you.”

 “Like we’ve both said, locked in a closet. Who cares what we do? Honestly I’d be down to fuck if we weren’t in school.”

 “We’re teenagers.”

 “So? Heh, we’ve already taken our clothes off in front of each other.”

 “We weren’t looking at each other.”

 They heard footsteps from outside. Remus got up immediately and started knocking on the door as loudly as he could. They thankfully got closer, and they were both relieved when the doorknob turned and the classroom’s light poured in and it wasn’t just a dim lamp lighting the room. Logan felt as if he’d lost something, despite the return to class supposedly being a good thing. He felt just a little bit emptier.

 “Ms. Kachinsky! I apologize, it seems as if we were accidentally locked in.”

 “Oh no, I’m sorry, boys. I mean, I’m the one who locked you in here, I’m guessing. Well, you’d better get to class. I’ll send you both with a note.”

 She wrote them both a note and they went on their way, no way of knowing what she’d just created.