#also sorry the quality of the last page is a bit terrible i made a mistake with that page that i didn't notice or fix until i'd already

[artsying-ifer]

my submission for this year's @zinebash - the theme was cowboys so obviously I had to do something based on my favourite cowboy musical oklahoma, and particularly something about my favourite horse girl laurey williams

I had a lot of fun cutting out different words and phrases from the oklahoma libretto (or really screenshotting, since I made this digitally) for this - it's one of my favourite ways of making zines!

[unloneliest]

JAM !! How are you my love how are things? What have you been up to? How's Art? I have many questions wow...also have you eaten anything good lately??? Ok that's all. Much love darling

hello henry my dear!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i'm sorry this is so terribly belated. (i'm putting this below the cut because it got somewhat rambley.. i am a guy who goes into a lot of detail it turns out!!)

things have been! well! it's january. so not great because winter is hard on me, though having left alaska it has been significantly easier than i've been used to? and part of why january's been hard is. i realized this year that there's a trauma anniversary somewhere in here that my body remembers even if i don't have the exact day written down which - not having the details recorded was almost more upsetting than the fact that it's a thing in the first place. memory means so much to me, is the thing.

but! a good recent memory:

we had a snow and then ice storm one week this month. this city isn't prepared for it at all, so everything shut down and was cosy and quiet and - here's a secret: i have been missing snow very badly. (it's not a well kept secret, and i wouldn't go back to alaska, but - but. the quiet and the shadows hold you gently in a snowy night, in a way they never do elsewise. and i loved it, and i wish i could have just a little bit of it). i frightened the pants off of one of my friends by walking home in the ice storm (it was just freezing rain, and i have ice cleats, & winter clothes - i was safe) & the night had the quality i'd been missing - it felt like cross country skiing when i was young.

AND! I saw two coyotes when i was walking home, kittycorner across the street. their destination was perpendicular to mine, we never got too close to each other. which is probably good ! and that's the first time i ever saw a coyote. they're so magical to me; they remind me of a very dear friend.

i have been up to a lot of making it through winter, and trying very hard to be present in my life & build new habits. i've been writing! not as much as i was before winter happened, but my story has legs now and i couldn't stop it if i tried - which is the opposite of what i'm trying to do ^_^. tomorrow i'm picking up the first animorphs book from the library because i need that story to go into my brain as ingredience influencing what i'm thinking about!

most of my recent story-work has been feeding it in that way - reading, and tinkering with ideas, and talking a lot with @alecsalamander about HIS wonderful story, and talking about my story with @inncarnate, who's half of my brain to the point that sometimes they know the details before i've even begun to describe what i've come up with to them.

art has been good! grappling with the complications and conflicts of deciding to grow out dyed hair, especially when the middle styles between start point (shorter, black undercut fauxhawk) and end point (natural hair color for the first time in 5 years, longer, no more undercut, natural curl thriving again) are less personally enjoyable. (right now their hair is a red gradient.. he hasn't begun to grow out the undercut yet but is staying the course)!

they've also been very good about wrist exercises so the bakery job+constant comic art combo are no longer indicating potential carpal tunnel. but! comic stuff! all the pages of @farragone have image descriptions now, and the character page with links to the character playlists is updated, too! and this week's update is going to be three entire pages and it's barely going to dent into his buffer at all. (because my love is a virgo they've got. such a rock solid comic process. their buffer goes all the way out through the end of may)!

i have eaten good food lately! i made a friend's vegan potato pot pie recipe last week which is perhaps the most comforting meal possible for winter weather (though this week feels more like what i'm used to in april in alaska)! this week i'm making that same friend's (vegan) cheeseburger salad (ground "beef", shredded "cheese", red onion, mini pickles, tomatoes, romaine, avocado, the recipe we found on google for vegan big mac sauce - it's so FUN and tasty and feels like a treat which is the best kind of salad)!!!!!!! i have also been getting into tea it's a wonderful habit in the morning and i'm working on the evening too!

thank you for the ask it's always such a delight to hear from you! i always find myself beaming at my devices about it when we get a chance to talk back and forth. much love to you as well darling!!!!!!!!

[regrettablewritings]

Soulmate AU: The First Drawing You See From Your Soulmate is Tattooed on Your Skin

A detective having a tell would probably be considered inappropriate to most people. Detectives were supposed to read tells, not have them. But then again, Benoit had never been much for keeping up appearances. Besides, what was the harm in rubbing his thumb along his right wrist? It helped him focus; it helped him think.

Or at least, that was what he’d told himself. He wasn’t entirely lying, either, rather the larger whole of it all was more so that when he rubbed that spot on his skin, he felt calm. Composed. He liked to think that that was the feeling his soulmate had intended when they painted that image, whenever they made or would make it. Whatever it was. After all, it had plenty of blue in it.

He was pretty sure it was meant to be a pond or some kind of body of water; that might explain the blues and greens and maybe the bits of white that he could make out. And if he squinted his eyes a little, he could swear there were little flecks of gold. Goldfish, maybe? Honestly, he had no clue. Benoit wasn’t much for complaining or expressing a lack of gratefulness, but he couldn’t help but sometimes feel envious of those whose tattoos covered a larger part of their body. Not a massive amount, but at least just enough to be able to tell precisely what the heck their soulmate’s image was trying to portray. Clearly, the image was larger than what that patch of his skin could afford, and honest to God, he’d spent a good part of his life trying to make out what it was!

(The embarrassment of it all, he would sometimes muse deprecatingly: That the acclaimed “Last of the Gentlemen Sleuths” could solve the most absurd cases in the country, yet had spent most of his natural-born life completely stumped by what might as well have counted as a body part!)

And yet, Benoit could never stay frustrated about it; not when his thumb gently grazed against the image, imagining the smoothness of his skin ebbing into the aquatic swirls of the proposed water. But just for extra precaution, he saw no harm in distracting himself.

That afternoon’s distraction? A quick skim of the local paper, accompanied by a mug of hot tea. He tried not to think of how such a method revealed his age, instead snapping the paper open to a page discussing the local goings-on. It was the usual sort of content: The community theater’s spring production was seeking house crew members, a mom and pop-style restaurant was having an anniversary special . . . It was the same sort of thing Benoit had grown used to expecting.

But what his pale blue eyes landed on next didn’t make the rest pale by comparison -- it downright washed all else from existence: An art show.

Benoit considered himself a well-rounded person, but it was more so in an almost tongue in cheek sort of manner: As a detective, it was his job to be appropriately versed in an assortment of fields. However, a jack of all trades was never truly a master of none. Benoit’s experiences with art theft and forgeries had lent him a hand in only about as much observation as was necessary for the respective occurrences.

But . . . he knew those swirls. He knew that blue, those greens, that white -- he recognized how the gold was patterned! Sure, the cheap ink job of a colored newspaper picture might have dulled the quality ever so slightly but there was no mistake to be made: That painting was his. No . . . It was theirs!

You tried to make calming breaths without making your anxiety obvious. A nervous but otherwise acceptable smile twitched into place, fooling the guests as they wandered about the gallery. Or, at least, you certainly hoped it was fooling them; but it was probably all to be outdone by the fact that you’d been nursing the same champagne flute for the last half-hour.

Is this what “making it” feels like? you wondered. Because if it was . . . you weren’t too fond of it. You felt bad for not relishing this opportunity; the art world was highly competitive, and you were more than blessed to have had the chance to not only display your work in a showroom, but to have said room be dedicated entirely to your pieces. But in that blessing was also a curse: The curse of criticism, of weary eyes, of people both waiting to pounce on you with ribbings of how you lack the magnanimity of the classics or the free thinking of the contemporaries --

Shitshitshitsmile! You did as you were told -- both by your brain, and by your manager earlier when they walked you through how you were to compose yourself through this entire ordeal. Just smile, enunciate when spoken to, and let the potential schmoozing flow and oh god, that Karen-looking lady who definitely owns a house in Martha’s Vineyard for when she wants to get away from her husband for a day totally hated that piece you’d spent months working on, didn’t she?!

The thought made your stomach twist, your already awkward smile along with it. You inhaled sharply. You had to find something to distract yourself with. 

You turned and faced the painting nearest to you. Some might call it vanity, but you were actually quite pleased with this particular piece. That, and its blueness gave you a sense of . . . serenity. You imagined the ripples washing over you and into you, the scent and sound of the painted environment gently caressing your nose and drowning out both the stench of perfume and pretentious chattering . . . And also, apparently, the sound of approaching footsteps.

You hadn’t realized anyone had joined your side until the rumble of a southern baritone carded through the water.

“It’s gorgeous. Isn’t it?”

You hadn’t meant to jump and appear so clumsy.

“Oh, sh -- ” You cut yourself short as you eyed the droplets of spilled, room temperature champagne. If your manager found out that you had cussed around a potential buyer, they would’ve mounted your head on the wall. Thankfully, however, the stranger didn’t appear at all fazed. If anything, the chuckle he responded with sounded genuinely amused.

“Oh, my dear girl, I’m terribly sorry!” he insisted, holding up his left hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I can imagine most anyone would be mighty transfixed over a piece like this.”

You gulped as you looked up at your unintentional scarer. His eyes were the same blue as the one that brought you calm just moments earlier, yet they had the almost opposite effect to you now. As you looked into them, you didn’t feel calm; not necessarily: Instead, you felt your heart beginning to ripple the pattern of the painting, your cheeks burning as bright as the gold swirling amongst the little waves. And yet you found yourself transfixed by them, only offered freedom when the older gentleman offered you a hint of a smile. A warm one.

Crap! Uh -- Answer his question! Think of something to say! your mind scrambled.

“Uh . . .” you stammered. The only way to save what atoms of confidence you still had left was to turn your eyes back to the painting. “I -- I should hope so.” Smooth. You tried to remember your calming breaths. You heard the man hum, shifting his position ever so slightly in your peripheral.

“What can you tell me about it?” he asked, revealing just how close to you he truly was. You could feel the warmth of his person and the richness of his voice vibrating into you. Or perhaps it was butterflies? Maybe both? Well, whatever it was, it almost made you stumble over your words. You’d spent the entire evening up to that point rehearsing stories of your inspirations, recounting whatever education you had to people who probably didn’t give a crap.

But this instance was different: Maybe it was foolishness sourced from a sudden and sophomoric attraction, but you almost wanted to believe that perhaps this man genuinely cared. That he was genuinely interested in what you as the actual artist had to say and not you as some painting mannequin made to recite lines over and over.

The excitement of such a possibility broke through your nerves . . . and, unfortunately, right out of your mouth.

“I just really wanted to paint a mermaid in a mall coin fountain,” you admitted. You wanted to kick yourself. Up until that point, you’d been rather proud of your nifty little idea. But when you said it out loud, you sounded ridiculous! You could barely hide the reactionary wince, much less how your breathing hitched and hiccuped with nervousness. Just as soon as it had come, the hope that perhaps this man was different disappeared, leaving you awaiting his ridicule.

A ridicule that never came. Instead, there was quiet between the both of you. Perhaps he was at a loss for words?

“Mm,” he hummed, making you tense with expectation. You glanced at him just enough to see him nod, his blue eyes still focused on the canvas before him. “Go on . . .”

You blinked. Was he . . . for real?

“I . . . What more is there to say?” you wondered. The entire night, nobody had really asked for more on your part. They usually just took whatever purple prose you gave them and left it at that. Your initial assumption was right after all: This gentleman was cut from a different cloth from the lot.

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “What inspired this?”

“Oh, uh . . . Well . . .” Was it worth telling him? Aw, hell: you’d already made a bit of a fool of yourself being honest, so what harm was there in doing it some more? “I did it because I never saw anything about a mermaid that lived in a mall fountain, collecting the coins people toss in there.”

You didn’t even have a chance to worry about his criticism before the man’s features broke into a smile. It wasn’t like the others’ more courteous grins; this one reached his eyes, making their icy coolness warm and welcoming. You hated the cheesiness of it all, but for a very split second you wished that you could be a mermaid in them.

He chuckled once again. “Can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything concerning a coin-hoarding mermaid myself, let alone a professional art piece.” It was small, but the assurance made you offer your own smile.

“Well . . . But then maybe I have . . .” At that, your heart dropped. There it was: The anticipated criticism. He thought you were a hack after all: Uninspired, boorish, unskilled, whatever word there was to describe a person who didn’t know how to use a fan brush properly if any.

The wound stung as one so sudden should: Heavily and down to your core. You wanted the floor to open up and eat you whole. Or better yet: You wanted to climb into your apparently uninspired painting and drown in the mall fountain. But none of those could be an option, and neither was the possibility of hiding in the bathroom or an empty corridor. Instead, you had to put on a brave face and do your best to get through the moment.

“Oh?” you uttered. Your throat pained from the threat of anxiety. “Where do you suppose? I’ll admit, I’m not much into contemporary art so I don’t know the what’s what of what if you catch my drift.” You tried to weakly smile at your sad attempt for a joke. God, this so wasn’t what “making it” felt like.

But the man didn’t offer a courteous hint of laughter. Nor did he offer you a verbal response. Instead, he turned to face you. You did the same, even though you really didn’t want to. But it was the polite and expected thing to do when being confronted. Damn politeness and courteousness.

You weren’t sure how to respond when the man began to make work of his right sleeve, unbuttoning the cuff and beginning to roll the rest of it up. Your paranoia was unfortunately the first to respond due to your preexisting discomfort of the entire ordeal of an evening. You were just about prepared to scream, yelp, make any kind of distressed call -- only for it to trickle out into a gasp. An amazed exhale. The image the man presented to you on his wrist was small. Clearly, for it to be recognized for what it was, it needed a larger stretch of skin to belong to. But you knew what it was: You knew those swirls, the placements of those flecks of gold, those blues and greens surrounded by white.

For the umpteenth time that evening, your breathing changed. Only, you were pretty positive that none of your deep breathing would be necessary this time around; you would be more than happy to look at your painting on your soulmate’s skin for the rest of the night.

Epilogue:

“Mr. Blanc, please,” you insisted. “You’ve grown up with that thing on your arm, surely you’re bored with it by now. You can have your pick of the gallery. Hell, I’ll even make you something on request!”

Pickings hadn’t become slim, but the night had ended surprisingly successful. Well, surprising to you: You hadn’t expected anyone to buy anything of yours that evening, let alone six. You supposed that perhaps they just wanted to participate in the elitism brought on by owning newcomer art. Benoit, however, insisted that the buyers simply had functioning eyes. What a sweet-talker your soulmate was.

You watched as he shook his head stubbornly, eyes still fixated on the painting that adorned his wrist. He’d seen all the other remaining paintings, and even the ones that wound up selling by evening’s end. They were all gorgeous, he insisted, but . . .

“Benoit, if you will, Ms. (Y/N),” he corrected, apparently missing the irony. He gestured insistently at the composition. “And no. I . . . I truly would be quite satisfied with this one.” He heard you raspberry in defeat as you made your way back to his side, folding your arms in exasperation. 

“Seriously, though,” you sighed. “Is a painting of a mermaid dwelling in, like, a fountain you can find nearby an Auntie Anne’s really . . .” You waved a hand as if searching for the right word. “. . . Befitting? Of a detective’s abode? I was thinking more of a bucolic piece or like a portrait of some kind or . . .” You trailed off, only to be met with an amused huff.

“Some detective I am,” Benoit muttered. He broke his gaze back to you and placed his hands on his hips. “Took me well over a damn decade or two to learn what it even was. And only because you told me!”

[atlafan]

Office Neighbors - Part Nine

a/n: more Andy angst, some embarrassing dad moments, and the ski trip, not proofread (reblogs and feedback are super helpful!)

warnings: slight angst, fluff, and smut

words: 17K

masterpost

Caroline had started coming to some of Andy’s basketball games, which you could tell went right up Brandon’s ass because Andy would want to talk with her after the game. She was his girlfriend now, though, so what could Andy do? It was really sweet, he told you all about how he asked her out, and not Harry. He had called her and just asked her if she wanted to be his girlfriend and she said yes immediately.

“Do you wanna meet my dad?” Andy asks her after his game.

“Yeah!”

He takes her hand and walks her over to where all of the parents were sitting and talking while all of the boys got their things together.

“Dad, this is Caroline.”

“Oh! Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” He extends his hand for her to shake and she blushes. She gives Andy a funny look.

“What?”

“You didn’t say your dad was British…”

“Oh, well sometimes I forget, honestly.”

You burst out laughing at that and try to compose yourself as Harry side eyes you.

“Anyways…” Harry says. “I’ve heard so many good things. You’re from Maine?”

“Mhm, we just moved here, and-“

“Caroline.” Mrs. Stearn comes walking over to the group. “We need to go, you still have homework to do.”

“Oh, sorry, Mom, I was just saying hello to Mr. Styles, you know, Andy’s dad.”

“Hi.” He smiles at her and shakes her hand. “You just started at the university, right? Y/N and I are professors in the CM department.”

“Oh! Yes, I’m in the Psychology department. My husband also just started there. He’s the new Director of Operations for the IT department.”

“Wow.” You say, impressed.

“So, you’re the woman who chaperoned their first couple of dates?” Mrs. Stearn smirks.

“That would be me, yeah.” You smile. “Harry was in London at the time.”

“Well, I appreciate it, honestly. I felt terrible we couldn’t really have Andy over since we were still unpacking. We sort of still are. We’ll have a housewarming at some point.” She sighs and looks at Caroline. “Ready to go, honey?”

“Mhm, bye, Andy.”

“Bye.” They smile at each other before her and her mother head out.

“She seems nice, tired, but nice.” You say. “She has three other daughters all in high school.”

“That can definitely be tiring.” Harry chuckles. “Are you ready?” He says to Andy.

“Let me just say bye to Brandon.” Andy races over to Brandon to say goodbye before you all head out.

“Andy, you played so well. You’re good at everything.” You say in the car.

“I actually sucked at basketball when I first started. Mr. Stewart is just a really good coach. Brandon taught me how to skateboard too. He’s the one that’s good at everything.”

“You’ve shown him some art tricks.” Harry points out.

“True. Art starts up this week, I’m so excited. We get to do more clay stuff, I can’t wait.”

“Maybe we could go to that pottery paint place sometime.” You say. “We could go on a little double date.” You wink at Harry.

“Yeah! Can we, Dad?”

“Sure.” Harry shrugs. “Sounds like fun.”

“And you said we could go ice skating, Saturday, don’t forget.”

“Don’t worry, we’re all set to go to the free skate at the university.” He looks at you. “You’re still coming, yeah?”

“Mhm, although, I can’t promise I’ll stay on my feet for very long. I’m not a strong skater.” You laugh.

“I’ll keep you steady.” He puts his hand on your thigh and gives it a squeeze. Andy rolls his eyes not that either of you see.

//

Syllabus week was alive and well. Your classes were off to a good start, which you were thankful for. Many of the students had gotten to know you by now, so you were starting to see some repeat faces. It gave you a major boost of confidence. It was time for your meeting with Lisa. You had sent her everything you had so she could look it all over beforehand.

“Lisa?” You tap on the outside of her office door.

“Come in, Y/N!” She beams. “Please have a seat.” You nod and close the door before sitting down. “How was your break? I know we spoke a bit during the faculty meeting, but we didn’t really get to catch up.”

“Oh, it was good. Got a lot done, relaxed a little.”

“That’s great. I heard you got to spend some time with little Andy while Harry was in London?”

“I did.” You nod. “It was some good quality time.”

“I’m sure everyone says it to you, but I just think it’s so wonderful you and Harry got together. You’re such a great pair.”

“Oh, um, thank you.”

“Anyways, let’s get down to it, shall we? What you have so far is really good. You’re very articulate in your writing. It’s clear and concise. I think anyone who’s not up on the times of social media and anonymity would be able to follow along, but it’s also no to so low level that someone who does know about the subject would be bored, I appreciate that a lot.”

“Thank you, I was worried it almost sounded condescending.”

“Not at all. It’s good that you have those pockets of extra explanation.” You nod at her. “Keep doing what you’re doing, and I think you’ll have an excellent piece of writing here. However, you also need to be thinking about how you’ll defend yourself during your presentation. You need to start thinking of a committee. Obviously Harry can’t be on it, but I’m sure you know that.”

“Right, major conflict of interest.” You chuckle.

“Exactly.” She chuckles too. “I think Sandra would be a good person to start with. I wouldn’t suggest Janette either since you’re close with her. I’ll obviously be on the committee too. I think some people from the English department could be good as well.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll definitely start thinking of some people. At least Harry can help me with the presentation aspect of things. He’s such a good presenter.”

“He definitely is, that’s an excellent idea.”

You felt better than you thought after your meeting with Lisa, you were practically floating through the halls as you made your way back to your office. After you sit for a few minutes, you look up and see Harry standing in your doorway.

“Hey.” You smile.

“Hi…got a few minutes?”

“Sure! Come on in.”

“Great.” He closes the door and sits down in front of your desk.

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Andy’s February break. It’s about a month away, and I know it would be a lot to ask you to cancel your classes for that week, but I’d like if you joined us.”

“Oh, wow, um…would I have fun? I don’t know how to ski, Har.”

“They have beginning adult lessons! I could take one with you so you wouldn’t be alone either.”

“You’d let Andy go off on his own?”

“Well…he wouldn’t be alone…here’s the catch.” He chews the inside of his cheek. “We all had a lot of fun last year, making the trip more of a blended family thing, it was good bonding for everyone, and-“

“You want me to go on a ski trip with you, your son, your ex, her fiancé, and his daughter? Is that what you’re asking me?”

“Yes.”

You lean back in your chair and let a breath out. You go to speak, but nothing comes out. You keep rethinking what you want to say.

“Harry, I-“

“Don’t say no yet. Think about it, yeah? I’d really like it if you were there.”

“That just feels really serious, and you and I haven’t even talked about where this is all going yet.”

“Where what is all going?”

“Our relationship.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious, I didn’t think we needed to have a conversation about it. We always say little things about the future, thought we were solid.”

“We are, but there are things we haven’t exactly discussed.”

“Like what?”

“Like…um, like, Jesus, I can’t talk about this here.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “We’re at work, now isn’t the time.”

“Neither of us have classes for the rest of the day, just talk to me.”

“Harry, I wanna have kids someday, not that I don’t love Andy, and not that I wouldn’t treat him as my own, but I would like to have a baby myself, and I have no idea if you want that too. You could easily not want to do the baby thing again, and I’d like to know that sooner rather than later.”

“If I didn’t are you saying you would break things off? Andy and I wouldn’t be enough?”

“Maybe for a little while, but I feel like I’d become resentful. There’s this piece of me I feel really deep inside myself that’s missing, you know? I know in the grand scheme of things we haven’t been together that long, so I know it’s a lot to be talking about this now, but-“

“No, I get it…you’re valid.” He sighs.

“And I wouldn’t want you to just say yes to me because you want me around. I don’t wanna have a kid with someone that doesn’t want that kid.”

“It would be such a big age difference…Andy would be at college by the time the kid would even know he has a brother, and Andy would just feel like another parent. Wouldn’t even be able to enjoy having a little sibling, would he?” He was more so just thinking out loud because he wasn’t looking at you as he spoke, but then he makes eye contact with you. “How many do you think you’d want to have?”

“Um, I don’t know…two maybe?”

“You, you want to have two of my children?”

“I’d like you to be the father, yeah.” You chuckle. You didn’t really know the weight this carried in Harry’s heart. This was very serious to him. “I’m not in love with anyone else last time I checked.”

“So you want it all with me, then? Marriage, house, kids?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Wow.” He sits back and looks off again.

“There’s no rush or anything, I just want us to be on the same page and make sure we want the same things.”

“No, that’s totally fair, Y/N.” He plucks at his bottom lip as he looks at you. “You realize in order to have all that you’d have to move in with us at some point.” You nod at him. “How do you feel about that? Do you like my house enough to want to live there? I don’t particularly want to move…”

“I love your house! And I have some design ideas that could make it more ours at some point. I think it’s the perfect size.”

“Maybe I should invest in that pool then…” Again, he was just thinking out loud. “I…I could see myself having more kids.” He says, looking at you now. His gaze could be so intimidating sometimes. It was the shape of his eyebrows, he could look so fucking scary.

“Really?” You ask as softly as you can.

“Yeah.” He smiles at you. “If it’s with you, yeah.”

“Oh, Harry.” Your eyes were starting to water. You get up and sit sideways on his lap, hugging him.

“We’re at work, Y/N.”

“Don’t care.” You kiss his cheek and hold him close to you. He holds you just as close, rocking you slightly. His eyes were watery too.

“When, um, when do you think you’d wanna move in?”

“God, I don’t know…my lease is up in July, maybe then?”

“You’d wanna wait that long?”

“I think I should so I can still focus on my work, it’s my quiet space.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” He sighs. “Even though you’ve been staying over more and more.” He smirks at you. “Lot of money to pay for a quiet space.”

“If I feel like I should move in sooner then we can talk about it, but right now I think July is good.”

“Alright, July it is.” He pecks your lips. “Now, what about February break?”

“God, won’t it be awkward?”

“No.” He shrugs. “I had fun last year. You’ve seen how spacious the cabin is, we’d have our own section of the house, so would Noah and Paige, and the kids would stay in the bunk room. Plenty of privacy.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you smack his shoulder.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna get busy with you under the same roof as all those people.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“It’s a very reluctant yes.”

He kisses you again.

“You’ll have a great time, I promise.”

“You better not laugh at me when I fall a ton on those skis.”

“You learned how to hike no problem, you’ll be a pro at skiing before you know it.”

“Harry…” You stand up. “Walking up a mountain at a leisurely pace is a lot different than zipping down a snowy mountain.”

“So you’ll stick to the bunny trails.” He shrugs and stands up as well. “God, you’re gonna look so sexy in all that gear.”

“Yeah, the helmet hair is gonna be a major turn on.” You roll your eyes.

“Fuck, I better leave before I get a stiffy just thinking about it.” He winks at you and steps out as you shake your head at him.

“Moron.” You laugh to yourself as you sit back down at your desk. You chew on your bottom lip and text Nora immediately.

//

Saturday rolls around, and you meet up with everyone at the ice arena to go ice skating. Afternoon free skate was something a lot of community members went to, not so much the college students. You smile when you see Harry inside helping Andy and Caroline lace up their skates.

“Hi, Y/N!” Andy says, waving at you.

“Hi.” You sit down on the bench next to Andy and kick your boots.

“Alright, you two are all set, go on.” Harry smiles at Andy and Caroline.

They stand up and hold hands as they walk over to the entrance for the ice. Harry looks up at you and you have grin on your face.

“What?”

“Gonna lace my skates for me too, Daddy?” You bat your lashes at him and his cheeks flush.

“Don’t be a brat.” He mutters as he stands to sit next to you. “And if you really need help I will, but I’m done crouching.” He pulls your leg between his once you get the skates on. You’re almost mesmerized by watching his strong hands pull the laces nice and tight. “Next.” He says as you switch legs. “Your hat’s cute.”

“Thanks, it’s one of my favorites.”

“Your hair looks pretty with it like that.” He mumbles as he finishes your laces. You bite your lip and lean in close to him.

“I’ll tell you a secret.” You whisper and his eyes flick to your eyes. “You don’t need to butter me up, you’re gonna get laid later.”

You hadn’t been over much in the last few days so you could get some work done, and you knew Harry was missing you physically. You just catch his pupils widen from your words.

“Is it such a crime for a guy to compliment his girlfriend?” He scoffs, trying to play it cool.

“Not at all.” You peck his lips and lean back so he can stand up. He puts his hands out for you and you stand. “Whoa.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah, just don’t let go of me.” You clutch at his shoulders.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Andy and Caroline were happily skating around like it was nothing. It seemed like they were racing each other. Harry was happy to see them having such a good time. He gets you gliding on the ice, but your hands stay in his.

“Do you know how to roller skate? You just move your legs the same way.”

“That’s on pavement with wheels, not blades on ice.” You say as you look down.

“I’ve got an idea, hang onto my hips and I’ll lead you around.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

He turns around, and you grip onto his love handles (let’s face it, Harry has no hips), and he starts moving forward while you just glide along. You giggle here and there because it really is a lot of fun. It was also impressive that he didn’t seem tired just pulling you along.

“Your dad and Y/N are really cute.” Caroline says to Andy.

“Huh?” He looks over at the two of you. Your arms were now just wrapped around Harry’s neck from behind and he had to lean down a bit because he was so much taller than you. You were laughing really hard. “Yeah, they are.” Andy shakes his head. “They’re really goofy.”

“You’re goofy too.” She nudges his shoulder. “You always make me laugh.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re, like, super funny.”

“I am, aren’t I?” He smirks and it makes her laugh. “Come on.” He takes her hand and they continue to skate around the perimeter of the rink.

“Y/N, you’re starting to choke me.” Harry says and you let go of him.

“And here I was thinking you liked that, my bad.”

“Y/N.” He pulls you to the side as you laugh. “If Andy ever heard you, I-“

“Relax, he’s a little preoccupied.” You nod over to him and Caroline skating in a circle, holding hands and laughing. Harry looks at them and then you, and you kiss his cold nose.

“I’m gonna help you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He has you face forward and he put his hands on your hips (because you actually have hips), and he pushes you forward. “It’ll be like teaching a kid to ride a bike, just glide one foot at time with me.”

“Okay, but don’t let go like a parent would while teaching a kid to learn how to a ride a bike, I’ll never forgive you. All trust between us would be gone.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus.”

You end up getting the hang of it enough where you and Harry and can just hold hands and skate around. You stay close to the walls, but still, you’re doing it.

“Hey, Dad?” Andy says, skating over to you both. “Can I have some money for hot chocolate? We’re gonna take a break.”

“Sure.” He reaches into his pocket for his wallet, and takes out ten dollars for Andy. “Figured we could go downtown for a slice after, so don’t fill up.”

“Alright! Thanks.”

You sort of wished you could just pull Harry in for a kiss, and even make out with him, but you couldn’t with all the families around. You’d just have to wait. It doesn’t stop you from kissing his cheek every so often though. Harry didn’t mind one bit, he loved it when you were a little more affectionate in public.

“I told Andy you were in for the ski trip, by the way.” He mentions nonchalantly.

“Oh? Is he excited?”

“Very, he nearly squealed.” He chuckles. “I’ll tell Paige Friday when she comes to pick him up.”

“Why not just text her?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “It can wait. I don’t really feel the need to chat with her all the time, you know?”

“Right, makes sense.”

Your ankles were killing you by the time you got your skates off, but you didn’t let on about it because everyone else seemed fine. You follow Harry downtown in your car to the pizza place, and sit in the booth with the kids while he gets all the food.

“Andy, why don’t you go help your dad carry everything over?”

“Okay.” He slides out and you smile as he does so. “Did you have fun with him earlier?” You ask Caroline.

“Yeah! I always have fun with Andy. He’s really nice.”

“I’m glad you both get along so well.”

“Me too, I was sort of hoping he’d ask me to be his girlfriend, I was so excited when he did.”

“I know he was excited to ask you.”

Harry and Andy come over with four slices of pizza, and a liter of diet and plastic cups. Harry snatches some napkins as well before sliding in next to you. The table was quiet as you all ate. It dawns on you that maybe you and Harry should have sat in a different booth to give the kids some more privacy, but it would look weird now to get up and move.

“Do they have free skate like that a lot?” Caroline asks.

“Yeah! Even throughout the summer since it’s an indoor rink.” Harry says.

“Good to know, I bet my sisters would wanna go sometime.”

“What grades are they all in?” You ask.

“My oldest sister, Emma, is a senior, and I think she’s planning on going to the university for school next year. My parents even said she could live there so she could get the full experience. And then my other sisters, Sophie and Charlotte are twins, they’re sophomores. I was sort of a surprise.” She giggles.

“Most kids are.” Harry says with a smile. “Good surprises though.” He leans forward to pinch Andy’s cheek and Andy swats his hand away immediately.

“That’s exciting that Emma wants to come to our school. I think we have a great curriculum across the board.” You say and the kids just blink at you. “Um, we have some great professors is all I mean.”

After pizza, you tell Harry you’ll meet him back at his place since he needed to bring Caroline home. Andy walks her to her door and they hug goodbye.

“I had a lot of fun today, Andy.”

“Me too. Um, we were thinking of going to that pottery place where you can’t paint stuff sometime. Is that something you think you’d wanna do?” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Definitely.” She smiles and hugs him again. This time she lingers and gives him a light peck on the cheek. “See you Monday.”

“Yeah…see you Monday.”

Harry saw the whole thing, and he was trying not to laugh at his wide eyed son as he came back to the car.

“Did you see?”

“I did.” Harry says as he backs out of the driveway.

“She kissed my cheek.”

“It was very nice of her.”

Andy presses his fingers where she had kissed him.

“Should I have done it to her?”

“Only if you felt like it.”

“I didn’t think she was gonna…I mean…wow.” He sighs happily. “Wait until I tell Brandon.”

You were inside the house already, reading something on your phone on the couch as you waited for them. You look up when you hear the door open. Andy’s face was flushed, but he had a smile on his face. He goes right to his room and closes his door.

“What happened?” You ask as Harry plops down next to you.

“Got a little smooch on the cheek, and now he needs to discuss the whole thing with Brandon.”

“How cute!” You pout. “Sorry I missed it.”

“I was really cute. She’s smooth, she went in for another hug and pecked him.”

“Ah, so he walked her to the door?”

“Course he did, I didn’t raise a degenerate.” Harry scoffs and you laugh. You snuggle up to him as he puts an arm around you.

“No, you certainly didn’t.” Harry kisses the top of your head and flips the TV on.

You were itching for some true alone time with Harry, so around eight you tell them both that you’re a little tired, and that you were going to turn in early. Harry watches as you go down the hall to his room.

“Andy, uh, why don’t you watch TV on your laptop in your room?”

“Why?”

“Because the noise from the TV could keep Y/N up. In fact, I might turn in early too. All the fun today really tuckered me out.”

“Whatever.” Andy shrugs and gets up to go to his room.

Harry plays it cool, not wanting to seem too eager, as he walks slowly behind him into his own room. He walks in and sees you just laying on the bed scrolling on your phone. He locks the door and comes over to you.

“You don’t look like you’re going to bed.”

“I just said that to get you to come in here, glad you picked up on the hint.” You set your phone down, and he takes his glasses off. The second he’s on the bed you’re straddling him. “Where’s Andy?”

“I told him to go watch TV on his computer.”

You grin and lean down to kiss him. You suck on his top lip first and then his bottom. His hands slide down to your ass, and he tries to get his hands inside your jeans to untuck your shirt, but he gives you a wedgie by accident.

“Oh! Stop!” You sit up.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m wearing a fucking bodysuit.”

“Oh shit, sorry.” He chuckles. “I was gonna say your shirt’s really stuck in there.”

“I wanna kiss for a bit before we get naked, is that okay?”

“Yeah.” He smiles and cups your cheek, bringing you back down to him.

You lick in his mouth and roll your hips down on his. His hands splay across your back as he keeps you close. You kiss along his jaw, and sponge kisses to his neck. You know you can sink your teeth in, so you just lick and suck gently. He moans softly as you grind against him.

“Y/N.” He groans. “Can we get naked now?”

//

Friday evening Paige swings by to pick up Andy for the weekend. She comes in to not be out in the cold. You were hanging out in some sweats since you couldn’t wait to change after you got home from work.

“Hi, Y/N.” Paige smiles.

“Hi, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. Ready to go?” She says to Andy as he comes out with his duffle.

“Mhm, hi, Mum.” He gives her a quick hug.

“Hi, honey.”

“So, Paige, uh, Y/N’s gonna join us in a few weeks up at the cabin.” Harry says as he walks closer to her with his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, that’s great! Y/N, you’re gonna have so much fun. We ski up at Cranmore, it’s a fantastic mountain.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’ll tell Noah and Rachel the second I get home.”

“What’s Gram gonna do while we’re there?” Andy asks.

“Auntie Allie and Uncle Ned are gonna come stay with her. She’ll be all taken care of.”

Andy nods and says goodbye to you and Harry before going out to the car.

“Any news on the girlfriend? Still going well?”

“She kissed him on the cheek last Saturday.”

“Oh my.” Paige chuckles. “Have you had a little chat with him yet? I really don’t wanna be the one to do it.”

“We’ve chatted, yeah.” Harry nods. “Mostly on asking before touching, that sort of thing, being respectful. I can’t go fully in depth with him yet, it’ll all go over his head I think.”

“I’m nervous about sticky sheets.” She whispers.

“Hasn’t happened here yet unless he’s gotten up before me to do his own laundry. Think we’re a ways away from that.”

“Oh, thank god.” She sighs with relief. “Okay, I’m headed out. Have a good weekend.” She turns to leave. “Oh! Happy almost birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll have some things for you Sunday when you come to get him. Rachel’s outdone herself for your gift.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Have a good weekend with him.”

“Thanks, bye, Y/N!” She waves off as she leaves.

Harry comes over to lounge on the couch and opens his arms for to come to him. You crawl up his body and settle on his chest.

“Still feeling a little yucky?” He asks. You had caught a little cold after ice skating last week.

“Just a little, but this helps a lot.” You nuzzle into his chest and he rubs your back.

“We don’t have to go out tomorrow night if you don’t feel up to it…”

“No! It’s your birthday weekend, we’re going out, don’t you worry about that. I’m sure I’ll feel better, baby.”

“Okay, just know there’s no pressure. M’only turning thirty-three.” He shrugs. “Remember when you got me flowers last year?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle.

“I think that was when I knew I really fucking liked you.”

“Oh stop.”

“I’m serious, it was the sweetest thing a colleague had ever done for me.”

“Maybe we need some new colleagues then.” You both laugh at that.

“And you brought me some coffee that morning too. I think I was able to keep those flowers alive for a couple of weeks. Tried to anyways.” He kisses the top of your head.

“You and your little budding crush.”

“Hey, it’s better than, ‘well, I was having sex with this guy and I thought of you to get off, so that’s how I knew I like you, Harry’.” You sit up slowly and glare at him while his smile grows. You huff and get off of him. “Oi, where are you going?” He chuckles.

“To the loveseat where I can curl up alone.” You snatch the blanket off the back of the couch and wrap it around yourself before sitting on the loveseat.

“Don’t be like that.”

“Nope, you ruined the moment.”

“It’s funny when you think about it.”

“I’d prefer not to, thanks.” You roll your eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I was just teasing.”

“You’re always just teasing.” You say in a monotone voice.

Harry gets up from the couch and scoops you up from the loveseat before sitting down with you in his lap.

“There we are.” He says, kissing your temple.

“You’re annoying.”

“Too bad you’re stuck with me, huh?”

“Oh, am I?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yup.” He smiles. “I’m afraid so.”

“Fine.” You sigh. “Can’t fight you much on it when you can so easily man-handle me.”

“Exactly.”

You chuckle and snuggle back into him. He plays with your hair and rubs your back until you fall asleep. It was some much needed rest.

//

Saturday morning you got up before Harry, somehow, and took a very long shower to clear out your sinuses. You had some work you needed to get done before dinner later, and he knew this, so once you’re out and your hair is dry, you go up to the loft to get some things done while he continues to snooze. Harry’s actual birthday is Monday so you didn’t feel too bad not spending every little second with him.

When you smell coffee from downstairs, you know he’s emerged. You hear the creaks of the stairs, and you turn to look at him.

“Hi, baby.” He says, holding two mugs. “Coffee?”

“Please, thank you. You don’t mind I’m using your space?” You take the mug from him and take a careful sip.

“What’s mine is yours, you know that.” He yawns as he goes over to sit on the loveseat.

“Are you attached to all the furniture in this house?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I couldn’t help myself, I was looking on the Bernie and Phil’s site, and saw these nice couches and loveseat sets. They all recline and there’s USB ports to charge your phones and stuff. Might be fun to go looking one of these days.”

“Sure, we could do that. The couch in the basement is really old, so I could put the furniture from the living room down there. I’d like to keep that couch because it’s a pull out.”

“That’s an excellent idea. It’ll be like upcycling in a way.”

“I’m planning to do some painting over our spring break. Andy’s been nagging me about the rooms being too dark or something.”

“Because they are. I was talking with him about it last month, and we both think a light grey for the living room would be perfect.”

“Are you suddenly telling me I have no taste?”

“No! You have taste…it’s just surprisingly manly.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He chuckles as he sips his coffee.

“It’s just an oddly masculine home for such a…metro guy.”

“Metro guys are well sculpted and care too much about their appearances.”

“Harry, if even one of your nails is chipped you sit down and redo all of them, and you’re always so put together with what you wear. All I’m saying is, you would think a macho guy was living here, not that it bothers me.”

“I guess I just didn’t really put a ton of thought into the interior.” He shrugs. “I focused more on getting the outside of the home to look nice, and there were some structural things I had to take care of too.”

“Alright, so we’ll put up some fresh paint to liven the place up a bit, nothing too drastic. I think you’ll have fun looking at things with me. Just don’t say yes to every little thing I like, I don’t wanna takeover the house.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, darling.” He smiles and grabs one of his books to read. “Is it okay if I sit up here with you while you work?”

“I’d like that.”

You turn back to face the computer as he gets cozy with his book. You and Harry had become quite domestic, and you loved it. You loved being able to just be around someone in a comfortable silence. He told you once that the sound of you typing was pretty calming to him and he could concentrate on his book or whatever else he was doing just fine.

“It’s been an hour, you need to take a break.” He says to you.

“Harry.” You hum warningly.

“Your wrists will thank me later, come on, let’s have a proper breakfast.”

“I don’t wanna eat a lot since we’re eating out tonight.” You say, still typing away.

“Hit save, now.” You look at him and laugh before continuing to type.

“Was that supposed to be threatening?”

“Yes.”

“Mm, and how’d that work out for you?” He sighs as grips the back of the chair to wheel you away. “Hey!”

He reaches forward on the mouse and clicks save before looking at you.

“How’d that work out for you?” He smirks. “Come on we can have some eggs and toast or something.”

“Okay.”

You and Harry work together to make breakfast.

“What time are we going out tonight?”

“I thought we could be there for seven.” You shrug. “You’re still good with going to the Thai place?”

“Definitely, you know I’ll never say no to going there.”

Harry still had no idea everyone from the department would be joining, which made you very happy. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise party, but you thought it would be fun to get everyone together. A special version of game night.

“Great.” You smile. “Are you going to do any work today?”

“Nah, I have a bit of time before I need to work on my next manuscript, so I’m giving myself a break. I think in March I’ll start up on it. I’m even caught up on my grading.” He leans back in his chair and looks around. “I wouldn’t mind doing some work to the kitchen. I’d like to get some new cabinets.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like, how do you think white cabinets would look with a colored backsplash? I like the granite that has, like, grey and mint in it, you know what I mean?” You nod. “Course that means I’d have to re-stain the floors in here. Can’t have dark floors with such a light kitchen.”

“What you’re talking about is very modern, which could look nice in a ranch.” You pucker your lips to think on it. “I personally love a white kitchen, it just takes more work to keep it clean.”

“I just think it could look really sleek, you know?”

“I agree.”

“It’s nice having someone to bounce ideas around with. I feel like I didn’t do much before because I couldn’t decide on my own.” He sounds a little somber, and then he clears his throat. “Well, if you’re gonna be working I might go to the gym for a bit. Would you mind?”

“No, babe, go right ahead.” You smile.

“Cool.” He gets up and clears the plates from the table before going to his room to change.

Harry liked having you in his home, and he liked that it was slowly becoming this shared space. He wished you’d just move in altogether, but he respected why you wanted to wait. He left things open so that if you decided to move in earlier than July then that would be perfectly fine, and you knew it. He was just grateful you didn’t want to find a different house because he quite liked this one. Just as you’re cleaning up the dishes he comes out in his workout clothes.

“I’ll see you later.” He says, kissing your cheek.

“Bye, babe.” You watch him leave, and then you had back upstairs to get some more work done.

//

Harry was dressed and right to go by quarter of seven. He was wearing this pair of pink dress pants, which looked exceptional on him particularly in the area of his ass, and white button up. You were still getting ready, wanting to look your best for him.

“Okay, I’m ready.” You smile as you step into the living room where he was puttering about. You were in a short green dress. He looks you up and down.

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“I can’t tell if those are real stockings or if you’ve got that garter on again.”

“I guess you’ll find out when we get back.” You wink at him and grab the keys and your coat.

“You look lovely, baby.”

“Thanks, you don’t look too shabby yourself.”

“Are you sure we need to go anywhere?” He puts his hands on your hips and gives you a squeeze.

“So eager.”

“You didn’t let me touch you all day!” He whines.

“I was busy!” You laugh. “You can have me all you want later, let’s go.”

You drive Harry to the restaurant and pull into a parking space. You hold his hand as you walk in, and tell the hostess you’re ‘the last of the Styles party’. Harry gives you a confused look as the hostess leads you to the back of the restaurant where the private dining area was.

“Hey, there he is!” Andre says, and Harry’s face grows into the brightest smile.

“Hey!” He says.

There was Janette, Andre, Mateo, Sandra, Lisa, and Lucas. The whole gang made it just for Harry.

“Thought it would be fun to have dinner with everyone, what do you think?” You ask him as you shrug your coat off.

“Think you’re brilliant as usual.”

You all sit down at the large round table provided. Drinks were ordered all around as were many appetizers and dishes to share. You wished there was a bar to go dancing at in the area, but then again your colleagues don’t need to know you like that. If the mood felt right you could always go to the bar you and Janette usually go to.

Harry keeps his hand on your thigh most of the night. He was having a great time, which made you happy. It was always a good time with this group. Without fail someone would make you laugh so hard you’d cry. Harry’s hand was distracting, though, you could tell he was almost searching for something. He really wanted to know if you were wearing standard tights or not. You were, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t wearing something cute underneath. You assume he’s figured it out when he feels your thigh enough to not feel any bare skin.

“Any special plans with Andy for your birthday, H?” Sandra asks.

“We’ll do cake Monday night most likely. He’s got a basketball game, so that’ll be fun.”

“How’s his little girlfriend doing?” Janette asks.

“She’s good, took ‘em ice skating last weekend. You should have seen it, they were pretty cute.”

“I can’t believe kids so young are dating.” Mateo says.

“It’s not real dating.” Harry says. “If it lasts longer than a couple of months I’ll be shocked. Kids like to act so grown up, you know?”

“It’s true, my daughter had a ‘boyfriend’ in seventh grade for, like, a week. I flipped out over nothing.” She laughs. “Eighth grade is when it gets serious, though, just a heads up.”

“That’s when they’re really teenagers.” Lisa says. “Will Andy be fourteen when he goes into eighth?”

“Yup.” Harry nods. “I’m dreading the true teen years. He’s already starting to get snippy about things, I’m trying just to live in the moment and enjoy him while he’s still sweet.”

“Does he ever get snippy with you, Y/N?” Andre asks.

“Her?!” Harry says before you have a chance to answer. “These two are in cahoots. He always listens to her.”

“That’s only because he sees me more as a friend. I don’t think he really sees me as a symbol of authority…” You say. “I’m sure if I really told him what to do he’d give me some bull about not being his mom or something.” You sip your drink.

“Think he’d only do that if he was really having an episode, don’t worry.” Harry gives your thigh a squeeze.

“And he does get snippy with me, but I try to bring things down to his level, and we usually come to some sort of compromise. He’s easy enough to read.”

“Just wait until he’s a hormonal teenager.” Sandra says. “He’ll be less easy to figure out.” She laughs.

“My kids are at that stage where they’re telling me things they used to get away with.” Lisa chimes in with a chuckle. “It’s best to do it over wine, but it’s pretty funny.”

Lisa tells a few funny stories about her kids to the table, and his has everyone roaring. Overall it was a good night. You had some cupcakes made, and everyone sings happy birthday to Harry. He blows out the candles and kisses your cheek before taking a cupcake. You both thank everyone for coming, and he can’t stop looking at you in the car on the ride home.

“Why are you staring, hm?” You side eye him.

“I just think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life, and I feel really lucky that by some chance our paths crossed.”

“Oh.” You swallow. “I wasn’t expecting such an articulate answer.” He hums his response and takes one of your hands in his and kisses your knuckles.

“Thank you for putting all that together, it was nice to be out with friends tonight.”

“My pleasure, baby.”

“So…what do you have planned for when we get back?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, well, sometimes you like to get freaky with me.” He smirks.

“I keep all my freaky shit at home, you know that. The last thing Andy needs to find is a pair of handcuffs or my special candle.”

“Special candle?”

“You haven’t her yet.” You grin. “I was thinking Valentine’s Day could be at my place for that reason.”

“What, what makes it special?”

“It’s for dripping wax on people. It feels really good, you have no idea. Well, you will, I mean, if you want to.”

“What are you gonna do when you move in?”

“I’ll have to fucking lock the drawer, won’t I?” You both laugh at that. “I don’t really have anything special planned for tonight, just though you could do whatever you felt like.”

“You realize that means I’ll just be taking my time then.”

“Yes, and I’m willing to suffer to please you.” You pull into the garage and lean towards him so your lips ghost over his. “Just wanna be your good girl.”

You pull away before he can kiss you, and you giggle as you unbuckle your seatbelt. He chases you into the house, and into his bedroom before he catches you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and picking you up.

“Don’t make fun of me for saying that, it was in the heat of the moment.”

“Mm, a very heated moment.” You smile up at him. “I’m not making fun, I liked it.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat and lets you go. “Alright then.”

“Unzip me?”

His fingers skim the zipper and drag it down your back. You had a black lace bra on with your tights. The dress drops to the floor and he squints at your ass. You look over your shoulder and smirk.

“What?”

“These are really opaque, can’t even see what panties you got on.”

“Oh, well, that’s because I’m not wearing any.” You wiggle your bum at him. “Consider it one of your gifts to unwrap.”

“You need to stop spoiling me.” He says as he unclasps your bra.

“You deserve to be spoiled, Harry.”

He tugs you to his chest and kisses on your shoulder, your neck, and then your other shoulder. He sinks his teeth into your right shoulder and your head rolls back. One of his hands drifts up to your left breast, and his other hand cups your center.

“H-Harry.” You breathe. “Just take them off.”

He hums as he sponges kisses up your neck and he now uses both of his hands to grope and knead your breasts.

“Get on the bed for me.”

“Back or stomach?”

“Your back, please?”

You nod and get on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him get undressed. Once he was only left in his boxers, he joins you. He hooks his fingers into your tights, and drags them down your legs. You lift your hips up to help him, and he tosses them somewhere once they’re all the way off. He leans forward to kiss your lips, three quick smooches, and then he opens your legs. He licks his lips and gets comfortable on his stomach in front of you, then he licks a flat stripe up your center to your clit. He does this a few times.

“M’surprised you didn’t want me on my knees for you.” You say with a shaky breath.

“Monday’s my actual birthday, save that thought for then, would you?”

You giggle and nod as he continues to lick and suck at your folds.

“Consider it filed away, sir.” You salute him and he smirks at you.

“I love you so fucking much.” He chuckles against you.

“I love you-ah!”

Harry fucks into you with his tongue while his thumb rubs at your clit. Your hands fly to his hair and you tug harshly. He groans into you as he continues to lick and suck on your center. Before you know it, you’re being flipped over. Harry pulls your ass back by the hips, so you know to prop yourself up on your elbows and knees. Two of his fingers slide into you from behind while his mouth goes right for your other hole.

“Harry.” You moan out, egging him on more.

He pumps in and out of you, the tips of his fingers brushing your g-spot. You had to be dripping for him, you could feel it on your inner thighs. His teeth nip at one of your cheeks, and he feels you squeeze around his fingers.

“Getting close, baby?” He smirks.

“Y-Yeah, please don’t stop.” You pant.

His other hand comes around to rub your clit, and the combination of things working you had you tipping you over the edge. You clutch at the blankets on the bed while you cry out for him. He kisses on your back while he slowly retracts his fingers.

“Shit.” You breathe as you get up to grab a condom. “Get on your back.”

Harry grins and does as you say. You rip the foil packet open and roll it down his length before swinging your leg over him. You line yourself up and sink down, making you both moan. His hands run up your stomach to your breasts, and he kneads them while you adjust to his size. You start moving your hips around, not exactly in circles, but around. In that song WAP, Megan Thee Stallion says she spells her name while she rides it, and you had heard the song for the first time in a while the other day while working, so it gave you the idea to try it for yourself. Harry could see the concentration on your face.

“What are you doing?” He chuckles. “Feels good, but what are-“

“I’m, oh fuck, I’m spelling my name.”

“You know I do the same thing when I eat you out…”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it helps me concentrate.”

“Well, aren’t we just two peas in a pod.” You chuckle and run your hands up and down his chest. You plant them flat on his pecs and take a breath.

You raise yourself almost completely off of him before slamming back down. He grunts and grips your hips, but he knows to just let you continue on your own. You keep doing this to build a rhythm until you’re essentially bouncing up and down on him.

“Can I move?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, baby, move with me.”

He yanks you down to him so you’re chest to chest, and then his hands slide to your ass to get a really good grip while his essentially moves you on and off his hard cock. You sponge kisses on his neck and collar bone while you move along with him. Your clit was rubbing against him in the perfect way, not to mention the angle of his dick inside you was perfectly hitting your g-spot. You were moaning right into his ear, and it was driving him nuts. He loved knowing how good he could make you feel.

“Y/N.” He groans. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Soo good, Harry, so fucking good.” Your nails claw at his shoulders. “You’re the, oh my god, you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” Harry spills into the condom, but tries to keep you moving so you can get yours. You really caught him by surprise.

You squeeze around him and come undone, moaning out, and moving your lips over his. He sucks your bottom lip and it makes your eyes roll back. He slowly lifts you off his now sensitive prick. He discards the condom and lays next to you with a big smile on his face.

“What?” You coo as you push his hair back off his forehead.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“You’re the best I’ve ever had too.” He rubs your side up and down soothingly.

“You’re just saying that because I said it.” You mutter.

“No, Y/N, I really mean it. I’ve never wanted someone all the time like this. I mean, usually I’m pretty physically affectionate in my relationships, but…” He moves some of the matted hair away from your face. “I can’t explain it, I feel like we really have this connection, you know?”

“Yeah, like we just…fit.”

“Exactly.” He sighs and leans in to peck your lips.

Once you both get cleaned up and settled into bed, you work up the courage to ask Harry something that’s been on your mind.

“Baby?” You say.

“Mm?” He was wrapped around you already, face nestled into your hair.

“Do you think once spring rolls around, we could do another weekend in Boston? My friends are dying to meet you.”

“Oh, you mean Janette isn’t your only friend?” He teases and he scoff at him. “I’d love to do that. Suppose that’s one of the perks of Andy going to his mum’s every other weekend. We can just plan it for one of those.”

“I’d like to take him into town some time. We could take the bus down for the day and take him to the aquarium or something.”

“He’d love that, honestly. Oh! We could bring Brandon along, really make a day of it. I feel like they haven’t been hanging out as much because of Caroline…he needs to know that there’s a balance with friends and significant others.”

“Maybe he’s clingy just like his daddy.” You chuckle, and Harry pinches your hip.

“You know the more you say that the more I’m gonna start thinking you wanna call me that for real.”

“I don’t, I just think it’s funny to joke about. My best friend Nora and I joke about daddy all the time.”

“Oh really?” Harry chuckles into your hair.

“Mhm, we came up with a list of celebrities and made this fake awards show called the daddy awards when we were younger. We were texting at like one in the morning, and I was trying so hard not to laugh because I didn’t wanna wake up my roommate.”

“Tell me more about your friends, I wanna know everything.”

“Right now?”

“Mhm, I’m all ears.”

“Okay, well, there’s Nora, Mark, Claudia, and Darcy…”

//

  You decide to stay back at the house when Harry goes to pick up Andy from Paige’s. You didn’t know if he’d need to go inside to do presents with Rachel and Noah, and you weren’t really in the mood to see Lydia again since you told her off.

“Happy birthday, Uncle Harry!” Rachel beams at him as he enters the home.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” She hands him a card.

“Rach, give him a second to come through the door.” Noah chuckles. “Happy birthday.” He shakes Harry’s hand.

“Thanks, mate.”

Andy comes down the stairs with all of his things, and Paige comes out with some other gifts.

“I’ll just put those in the car, and open them tomorrow if that’s alright…” Harry says.

“Of course. It’s mostly some new sk-“

“Mum, no!” Rachel yells. “It needs to be a surprise.” She pouts.

“Okay, okay.” Paige chuckles.

Lydia comes into the living room with her arms crossed.

“Bye everyone.” Andy says as he goes through the rounds of hugs. “Love you, Gram.”

“I love you too, precious.” She kisses his forehead and smiles. “So, where’s your girlfriend, Harry?”

“She stayed back to get dinner started.” He says as he grabs the gifts from Paige. “I’ll tell her you asked for her, though, Lydia, that’s so nice of you.” Harry smiles at her, and then looks at Andy. “Ready?”

“Mhm.”

They both head out and get in the car quickly. Harry rolls his eyes to himself, and then takes a deep breath before driving off.

“How was your weekend?” He asks Andy.

“Good.” He shrugs. “Gram took me out for lunch yesterday.”

“That’s great! I’m glad you’re getting to spend so much time with her.”

“You are?”

“Yeah…I mean, just because she and I don’t exactly get along doesn’t mean that I don’t want you spending time with her. I think it’s important to do things with your grandparents if you’re able.”

“She took me and Rachel with her. We went to Friendly’s, it was actually pretty fun.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“How was your weekend?”

“Really good, Y/N got the department to take me out to dinner last night. It was nice hanging out with friends.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I sort of have a…problem…”

“With what?”

“Um, well, I guess there’s a Valentine’s Day dance in a couple of weeks and I don’t know what to do.”

“They have dances for you so young?”

“I guess it’s a sixth through eighth grade thing. Last year they just had that craft party for us, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I came in to help for that I think. So what’s your problem?”

“I have nothing to wear! I don’t wanna wear my suit, it’s too formal.”

“Okay, so I’ll take you shopping.” Harry shrugs. “Are you gonna ask Caroline to be your valentine and all that?”

“Do I have to? She’s already my girlfriend.”

“You definitely need to because she’s your girlfriend. You need to ask her to the dance too.”

“I wanna go with my friends too…”

“You can! Tell you what, invite everyone over to take pictures at our place.”

“Really?”

“Sure, I used to love doing that with my friends.”

“What if I’m the only one with an actual date, won’t that be weird?”

“Not unless you make it weird. It should be fine.”

“When can we go shopping?”

“Let’s go next weekend, dance isn’t for two weeks right?”

“Yeah, it’s on a Friday. I told Mum already…Brandon said he might have a sleepover that night.”

“That sounds like a great weekend then.”

Harry gets Andy home to you, and they both take a big whiff of what you’re making.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells really good, Y/N.” Andy says.

“Thanks! I made butternut squash soup.” You smile. “It’s so col out today, and I figured it would be good leftovers for later in the week too.”

“I see my cook once eat twice policy is starting to rub off on you.” Harry kisses your cheek. “Only took you eight months, but I’ll let it slide.”

“Mhm.” You roll your eyes. “Go wash up.”

The three of you eat dinner, and Andy tells you about how he’ll need to go shopping for the dance. He goes to his room after dinner to work on a card for Caroline.

The next morning, you grin when you hear Harry’s alarm go off. Usually he would get up to do yoga in the loft so you could sleep, but this morning you immediately roll over on top of him. He chuckles slightly as you start kissing on him.

“What are you doing?” He whispers.

“Happy birthday.” You whisper back.

You stay under the covers as you work your way down his body. You may not like Harry’s head between your legs first thing in the morning, but he had absolutely no problem with it. He moves the blanket so he could see your head. He knew you’d be too cold if he took it away completely.

You lick over his tip and around his shaft before sinking down on him. He expects you to move, but when he looks down at you, you’re looking up at him, waiting.

“Are you serious?”

“Mhm.”

“God, I love you.”

He gently grips your jaw in both of his hands and starts fucking your mouth. He grunts and groans, especially when you choke around him in the beginning. You widen your throat as much as you can as you relax around him. It wasn’t something you did often, but you knew he’d really appreciate it this morning. Your nails dig into his thighs, and your eyes flutter closed as you concentrate on breathing through your nose.

“Fuck, baby.” He moans. “So good, so fucking good.”

You knew he was trying to be quiet in case Andy happened to get up early and was roaming around the house. You would typically keep morning sex in the bathroom if Andy was home just out of respect. But it was Harry’s birthday, after all.

“I’m close, Y/N, just hold on.” He pants, and you appreciate his courtesy. He knew your jaw had to be getting tired, and your throat had to be getting sore. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He grits his teeth and bites into his bottom lip harshly to keep quiet as he shoots his load down your throat.

Your eyes are watery, and you’re about ready to start gagging, but he lifts your mouth off him, and you can breathe properly again. You swallow everything and smile at him.

“What a way to wake up, I feel dizzy.” He chuckles and brings you down to him, holding you close. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” It comes out raspy, and for once he doesn’t tease you. You nuzzle into his neck and kiss on him for a bit before letting him get up.

“Do you wanna do some yoga with me?”

“No, I think I’ll take my shower while you do that.”

“Alright, love.” He kisses you and you both get up to start your day.

You get Andy up and get breakfast going while Harry gets in the shower. You even get the pasta boiled and set in the glass pan with the sauce for tonight’s baked ziti.

“Happy birthday, Dad!” Andy exclaims.

“Thanks, buddy.” Harry looks around the kitchen in awe. “You…got everything together already?”

“Yeah.” You shrug and hand him a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast.

“Thank you.” He gives you a soft smile. “And thanks for getting this one up.” He nods towards Andy.

“She’s nice than you, she doesn’t take my blanket away.” Andy sticks his tongue out at Harry, and Harry sticks his tongue back at him.

“Alright, boys.” You say and sit down. “I would prefer to not gag while eating my oatmeal, thank you.”

“He started it.” Andy says.

“Well, I’m finishing it, how’s that grab ya?” You say, and Harry bursts out laughing. You look behind you to see him wheezing.

“I’m sorry, it was the accent that sent me!” He can barely catch his breath, and it makes Andy laugh too.

“Kay, bruv.” You say and stand up. “I’m going to work.”

“No, come on, don’t be like that. We can carpool.” He says, wiping his eyes.

“What does that even mean? ‘How’s that grab ya’?” Andy says.

“I don’t know, it’s just something my dad used to say to shut us up.” You shrug. “Seriously, can we get going?”

“Yeah.” Harry says. “You ready?” He says to Andy.

“Mhm.”

Harry drives everyone, and Andy hops out of the car to head into school.

“Okay, now that he’s gone, can you not do that again?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh at me when I’m being authoritative. How’s he supposed to take me seriously if you don’t?”

“You have to admit the way you said and phrased that was funny? And it’s not like he and I were having a legitimate argument. We were just palling around, you know?”

“Well, either way, can you not do that again? I felt a little…disrespected, Harry.”

“Oh.” He moves his hand to your thigh to give you a squeeze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I’m still getting used to all this, babe.”

“What?”

“Raising him with someone that’s right there. I mean, you helped with so much this morning, and it was such a relief. I hope you know how much I appreciate you.”

“You really see me as helping to raise him?”

“Well…yeah…I wouldn’t let just anyone tell him what to do. I trust your judgement with him, especially after how amazing you did alone with him for so long.”

“Oh…okay then.” You your hand over his and give it a little rub. “I mean, I know I’m not his mom or anything, but-“

“But at some point I’d like you to be his step-mom, so you’re valid here. I’ll try not to lose it like that again, okay?”

“Okay.” Your cheeks were red now. “Um, I suppose my tone was a little funny.”

“Just a little.” He smirks and takes your hand to kiss it. “I love how much you care about Andy, and I know it’s probably hard to tell your place in all of it sometimes.”

“Yeah, sometimes. It’s only been eight months between us, and I haven’t been a parent for almost twelve years like you have. I feel underqualified, if that makes sense.”

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “You’re more than qualified, more so than anyone else I’ve tried to bring into his life, trust me.” He parks his car in the faculty lot and looks at you. “If I didn’t think you could handle him, the whole situation, I wouldn’t have dragged you into it, Y/N, no matter how much I liked you.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. Drag me along all you want.” You lean in enough that your noses touch and you peck his lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.”

“Me neither.”

//

Andy was waiting by his locker for Caroline. She would usually meet up with him at his so they could walk to homeroom together. He smiles when he sees her walking towards him.

“Morning, Andy.” She says, hugging him.

“Morning.” He smiles. “I, uh, have something for you…” He reaches into his backpack for the card he made her.

“You do?”

“Mhm, here.” It was pink and red and had glitter on it. Her eyes widen as she opens it. “I know it’s early to ask, but I just wanted to make sure you knew I wanted to go to the dance with you and all that.”

“Oh, Andy.” She smiles. “Of course I’ll be your valentine, and I’d love to go to the dance with you!” She throws her arms around him again and kisses his cheek. “This is so sweet, thank you.”

“Um, great! My dad said everyone could come to our house for pictures and stuff.”

“Do you think Tyler and Brandon will have dates?” She asks as they head to homeroom.

“I have no…oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“Brandon’s talking with Molly at her locker.” He rolls his eyes. “Look at them! Jesus.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“They were boyfriend and girlfriend at the beginning of the school year, but it didn’t work out. I hope he’s not getting back together with.”

“Why?”

“She was annoying, Caroline, you have no idea.”

They both sit in their seats. Andy lets Tyler know about the dance plans before Brandon sits down.

“Hey.” Brandon says with a smirk on his face. “Guess who has a date to the dance?”

“You are back with Molly.” Andy says with furrowed brows.

“Yeah, I’m giving it another go with her.” He shrugs. “Can’t really remember why we broke up in the first place.” It was a blatant lie, but Brandon wasn’t going to get into it with Andy right now.

“Good for you.” Andy mumbles. “My dad said everyone can come over for pictures before the dance…so I guess she can come too.”

“Thanks.” He smiles. “Still wanna sleep over after?”

“Yeah.”

“Tyler, you know Molly’s friend Alexis, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You could go with her if you want since Andy’s going with Caroline.”

“Sure! Sounds good to me.” Tyler shrugs.

Andy side eyes Brandon.

“What? You are going with your girlfriend to the dance, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I asked her this morning. Don’t you think it’ll be awkward for Alexis to come to my house?”

“Please, all of that’s in the past. It’ll be fine, Andy, chill out.”

“You chill out.”

“I’m plenty chill. Cooler than a cucumber, actually.” Brandon sits back in his seat and crosses his arms behind his head.

“Good for you.” Andy mumbles and faces forward. Caroline turns around slightly to smile at him and he smiles back.

//

Harry’s birthday was good all around. He enjoyed all of the gifts he got from his family and friends. You got him a gift certificate to his favorite nail salon so he could get a spa manicure and pedicure at some point, and Andy got him a new face mask kit. He was extremely grateful. He loved having you there to sing happy birthday with Andy. He didn’t need to make much of a wish when he blew out his candles, he was already getting exactly what he wanted.

//

“No, Dad, that’s so ugly!” Andy was nearly in tears while he and Harry were shopping. You had gone home to get some work done, so you couldn’t be there, but Harry wished you were, he was beside himself.

“Since when do you not agree with my taste in clothes?!” Harry really didn’t want to be arguing with his son at a fucking Old Navy on a Saturday afternoon, but there they were. “You said you didn’t want to go to Macy’s because their clothes are too fancy, so you need to find something here.”

“Just let me go around the store myself!”

“Fine! Come get me when you’re ready to try things on.”

“I don’t need you for that either!”

“Yes you do! You’ll need a second opinion, and I have to do that thing where you tug at the pants to make sure you have room to grow in them.”

“No, I hate that.” He whines. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Every parent does it! I’m gonna go sit outside the dressing rooms. Go find some clothes.” Harry huffs and storms away from his son. He sits down rubs at his temples.

Harry: really wish you were shopping with us

You: why? What’s wrong?

Harry: he’s being a little brat! Suddenly the clothes I think would like nice on him are ugly

You: well of course they are, don’t you know how this works?

Harry: apparently not!

You: just let him pick out his clothes on his own

Harry: I am…

You: okay so it���ll sort itself out…I can try to come over later, maybe he can do a fashion show for me

Harry: no it’s okay, I know you have work to do

You: maybe tomorrow then…just try to get through it, you’ll laugh about it someday

Harry: someday can’t come soon enough

“See, these are the dress shirts I like.” Andy says as he comes up to Harry. “And no one wears nice slacks to school dances, they wear khakis…it’s just a valentine’s dance.”

“Go try it on, now.” Andy rolls his eyes and goes into the changing room. “And you better come out to show me or I’m not buying you a single thing.”

“Okay!” Andy slams the door shut and takes a deep breath.

He comes out to show Harry himself in a pair of khakis and a nice blue button up with the sleeves rolled up.

“Do you need a tie or anything?” Harry asks as he tugs on various parts of the clothes to make sure they fit properly. “How do these pants fit, can you move alright? Gotta make sure you can dance comfortably.” He tugs at the waist and Andy swats his hand away.

“Stop! They fit fine, Dad. Does someone do that to you when you try on clothes?!”

“I do it for myself, actually. I’m also done growing, as opposed to you. These could easily not fit in a month with the way you’re growing.”

“Well, they fit now, so-“

“You know what? Let’s get Mum’s opinion on this, come on.”

“What are you doing?!” Harry pushes Andy into the dressing room with him.

“I’m not gonna make a scene in front of some strangers, hold on.” He swipes his phone to FaceTime Paige, and has a growing smirk on his face.

“Dad, please!”

“Hold on, she should have a say in this.”

“Harry, why in the hell are you FaceTiming me?” She chuckles.

“Because our son is having a fashion dilemma, hold on.” He flips the camera on a very aggravated Andy. “What do you think of this for the valentine’s dance?”

“Oh! You look so handsome, honey! Do you need a tie?”

“No!” He pouts and crosses his arms.

“Turn around so I can see the back of the pants. Harry, did you tug on them?”

“I did. Go on, turn around so Mum can see the whole thing.”

Andy groans, but does as he’s told.

“Well, I think it would be great for the dance. I like the sleeves pushed up like that too, very cute.”

“Okay, we all agree on the outfit, can I have some privacy to change now?”

“Sure.” Harry says and leaves the dressing room. “Thanks, he’s driving me bananas.”

“Well, anytime you wanna embarrass him, I’m more than happy to help.” She laughs. “I’m good to come by Friday during the picture taking?”

“Of course. It’s his first real dance, after all.”

“You know,” Andy says, coming out of the dressing room. “you look like a real boomer walking around FaceTiming in public without any headphones in.” He smirks. “It’s rude.”

“He’s right, Har.”

“Shit, wouldn’t wanna look like a boomer now would I? Better go, Mum.”

“Talk to you later, Dad.”

Harry shoves his phone in his pocket and takes the clothes Andy wants up to the register.

“You have shoes, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, anything else you need?”

“No, I wanna go home now.”

“Andy…”

“That’ll be $45.20.” The young cashier says.

“You know what, I have a coupon on my phone, one second.” Harry gets his phone out again and shows the girl so she can scan it.

“Alright, your new total is $33.40.” She smiles.

“Excellent!” Harry inserts his card into the chip reader.

“It’s so nice of you to take your little brother shopping.”

“Oh, um, he’s not my…this is my son.”

“No way, you don’t look old enough to be a dad.” She flirts.

“That’s, uh, very nice of you to say.” Harry clears his throat and takes his card back. “You can just throw the receipt in the bag.”

“Sure thing.” She hands him the bag. “Have a nice day.”

“Dad, no offense, but you look way too old to be my older brother.” Andy laughs. “That girl must’ve been desperate for your number.”

“That girl was way too young to be flirting with me.” He shakes his head.

“Dad, I’m sorry if I was acting bratty in the store. I don’t know why I get like this…”

“You’re hormonal, and you’re at an age where everything I do is embarrassing.” Harry turns around to look at Andy. “It’s okay, we’re okay.” He smiles. “You’re gonna look really handsome in your new clothes.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

//

“Mum, please!” Andy swats her hands away because she wouldn’t stop pinching his cheeks.

“I can’t help it, you just look so handsome! My little baby, going to his first dance.”

“Better to let her act like this now before all your friends get here.” Harry says.

“Remind me again, what time am I picking you up from Brandon’s tomorrow?” Paige asks.

“Um, like ten probably.” He shrugs.

“Okay, Andy stand with Mum so I can take your picture.”

Andy rolls his eyes, but he poses with Paige nonetheless.

“I can take one of the three of you if you like.” You say.

“Oh, that’d be great, Y/N!” Paige says. “I’m so sad Noah couldn’t be here. Rachel’s school does a father-daughter dance for Valentine’s Day. She looked so precious in her dress.”

The three of them pose together.

“Can I have one with you two?” Andy says to you and Harry.

“Here, I’ll take it.” Paige takes your phone and snaps the photo. “Andy take one of just you and Dad and then one of you and Y/N.”

The doorbell rings, and Andy feels a flood of relief when he sees that it’s Brandon.

“Thank god, my parents are being super embarrassing.” Andy says to him.

“Mine are too. I had to take a picture with my mom.” Brandon groans.

“Me too!” Andy takes a step back to look at Brandon. “You, uh, you look nice.”

“Thanks, so do you.” They were both blushing, but the doorbell rings again, so it pulls their attention from each other.

It was Caroline, and Andy’s heart stopped. Her hair was half up, and it looked pretty with waves. She was wearing a simple blue dress. She and Andy hadn’t even talked about coordinating, they just did by accident.

“Great minds think alike, huh.” She blushes as she walks up to him.

“You…you look so pretty, Caroline.”

“Thank you.”

Brandon’s eyes were about ready to roll out of his head. Eventually Tyler, Alexis, and Molly all show up. All of the parents gather around to take a ton of pictures of everyone. Andy and Tyler get a photo just the two of them, as do all of the respective dates.

Paige takes Andy, Caroline, and Tyler in her car, and the others go with Brandon’s dad.

“They all looked so cute.” You say with a sigh.

“I know.” Harry pulls you down onto the couch with him. “I just hope they all have a good time.”

//

The dance was…awkward to say the least. Each grade pretty much took a section of the cafeteria and stood around. No one was dancing to the music, and anyone that started to just looked awkward. There were teachers everywhere chaperoning.

“I thought dances were supposed to have punch bowls and snacks. All they have over there are bottles of water that you need money for.” Tyler says. “Did anyone’s parents give them any money?” Everyone shakes their heads no.

“I don’t get why no one’s dancing…” Molly says as she looks over at the eighth graders. “Even the older kids are just standing around.”

“Maybe if they played better music.” Andy says.

“It’s the beginning of the night, they have to get all of the lame songs out of the way.” Caroline says. “It’ll get better.”

And it did. About an hour in the music picked up, and the lights got dimmer, so everything was less embarrassing. Everyone was having fun dancing in a group. Towards the end of the night, just like at any dance, Stairway to Heaven starts to play, and everyone pairs up.

Caroline puts her hands on Andy’s shoulders, and he hesitates at first.

“You can put your hands on my waist if you want.”

“Oh, okay.” He nods and does so gently. There was plenty of space between them as they swayed back and forth. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yeah, did you?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really glad Molly and Alexis came too. They invited me to their sleepover.”

“That’s great!” Andy glances over at Molly and Brandon and sees that they’re dancing much closer. “Um, do you wanna, like, put your head on my shoulder?”

“Okay.”

They dance closer like a lot of other people. Andy and Brandon make eye contact, and it’s a little intense. Andy watches as Molly kisses his cheek, and then…he sees Brandon kiss her quickly on the mouth.

“Jerk.” Andy scoffs.

“Huh?” Caroline looks up at him.

“Oh, nothing.” He smiles at her.

She keeps looking up at him, almost like she was waiting for something.

“You can kiss me, if you want to.” Andy leans in and kisses Caroline on the cheek and then smiles nervously at her. “That was nice.” She giggles. “But I was sort of hoping, um…”

“I just don’t wanna do it in such a public place, it’s not special.”

“Oh.” She blushes. “That’s actually really sweet.” She hugs him close as they keep dancing.

Once the song is over, everyone goes outside to wait for their parents. Andy gets into Harry’s car. You were sitting in the passenger seat.

“Well, how was it?” Harry asks.

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” Harry questions him.

“Um, Andy, Dad and I started this puzzle tonight, it’s one-thousand pieces! It’s gonna be a tough one, but when we’re done it’s gonna be this really pretty lake scene.”

“You guys had the night off from me and all you did was work on a puzzle?”

“What would you have liked us to do instead?” You chuckle.

“Don’t knock a puzzle, it was actually really romantic. We listened to music, had some wine. It was a perfect Valentine’s Day.” You also got a couple of quickies in, but obviously Andy didn’t need to know that.  

“Oh, well, good for you guys.”

It was clear Andy wasn’t up to talking about his evening, so you and Harry didn’t press him. Once you were all inside, Andy tugs you into his room with him when he sees Harry step into the bathroom.

“We don’t have much time.” He whispers as he gets his things together to bring to Brandon’s.

“For what?” You whisper back.

“To talk about the dance.”

“Okay…what happened?”

“Caroline said I could kiss her so I kissed her cheek, but she really wanted me to kiss her and I told her I didn’t want to in front of everyone and she told me that was really sweet.”

“Well, it was really sweet.”

“I wanted to kiss her, but I saw Brandon and Molly kiss, and I wanted hit him.”

“You wanted to hit Brandon?!”

“Shh!” He puts his finger up to his lips. “Yeah, he’s been such a jerk since he got back with Molly. We were looking at each other and he looked at me while he kissed her.”

“Is it just you sleeping over tonight?”

“No, Tyler’s gonna be there too.” Andy rolls his sleeping back up. “I-“ Andy’s eyes widen when he sees Harry in the doorway. You turn around to look at Harry.

“Um…everything alright in here?”

“Yeah, Dad, uh…Y/N was just helping me roll my sleeping bag. She’s gotten pretty good at it since you showed her how. Let’s go, bye, Y/N.”

Andy brushes by you and Harry.

“Is he alright?” Harry whispers.

“I can’t tell…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Let me take him alone to Brandon’s, maybe he’ll talk one on one.”

“Wait…let me take him. He was opening up to me.”

“Will you please let me know what’s going on afterwards?”

“Yes.” You rush out and grab the keys. “Andy, I’m gonna bring you to Brandon’s.”

“Okay.”

Once you’re both in the car, Andy speaks up again.

“Y/N I like Caroline a lot, but…” He starts tearing up. “I feel really guilty.”

“About what, honey?” You hadn’t really called him that before, but you felt like he needed it.

“Because…I think I wanna kiss Brandon.”

“Oh, Andy.”

“But I also wanna kiss Caroline! But I don’t know if I want her to be my first kiss, you know?”

You pull up to Brandon’s house and turn around to look at Andy.

“Promise me something, Andy.”

“What?”

“Don’t rush into anything. I know it feels like everyone’s doing things, but just because your friends are kissing doesn’t mean that you need to. Don’t let anyone pressure you. If Caroline really likes you, she’ll understand if you want to wait. Also, if you like someone else, you shouldn’t string her along.”

“But I really like her! I just…I like Brandon too.”

“Are you sure you want to go in there tonight? I can take you home if this is all too much.”

“No, I wanna go inside. I’ll be fine. I’m just freaking out for no reason.”

“Andy…”

“Thanks for driving me, see you soon.”

Andy gets out of the car and heads into Brandon’s house. You explain things best you can to Harry when you get back.

“This ski trip can’t come soon enough, he needs some time away from everyone.” Harry says. “Poor kid.”

//

“Andy, how come you didn’t kiss Caroline?” Tyler asks him as they were all hanging out in Brandon’s room.

“I did.”

“You only kissed her on the cheek.” Brandon says.

“Why was everyone watching?!” Andy groans. “I just think something like that should happen in private.” He shrugs. “I’m really tired, can we go to sleep now?”

It was nearly midnight. The other boys agree. Brandon gets settled into his bed, and the other boys get into their sleeping bags.

“Andy, you can come on the bed with me, there’s plenty of room.”

“But then Tyler would be left out, it’s fine.”

“But you always-“

“I’m more comfortable on the floor, B.”

“I’ll take the bed.” Tyler says and comes up onto the bed with Brandon.

There was tension in the air. Andy couldn’t wait for February break.

//

Andy made it through another week of school. Caroline hadn’t pressed him about kissing, which he was thankful for.

“So…you’re doing the big family trip thing again, huh?” Brandon asks on Friday at their lockers.

“Yup, but Y/N’s coming this time, so that’ll be fun. It’s gonna be her first time skiing since she was our age or something. My dad’s gonna take a lesson with her.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Mhm.”

“When do you get back?”

“Next Friday…we’re going early tomorrow morning.”

“Maybe we can hang out when you get back.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You know you can call me or whatever if Rachel or Noah get on your nerves.”

“They’ve been on my nerves less lately, actually, but thanks.” This would normally be the part where they hug, but Caroline comes over to them.

“Andy, wanna walk me outside so we can say goodbye?”

“Yeah.” He smiles at her and takes her hand. “Have a good break, B.”

//

You were making Andy feel better already. You had put a mix of early 2000’s hits on, and you were singing really obnoxiously. Harry hated this kind of music, but you knew it would make Andy laugh, so Harry sucked it up for his sake.

“Okay, I’m gonna turn it down for a bit, we might scare the neighbors.” Harry says. “We’re just about there.”

The three of you get into the cabin, and Andy races to go claim his bunk before Rachel gets there. Harry shows you to which room would be yours.

“See, we even have our bathroom, babe. Total privacy.”

“Harry, once again, I’m not boning you while we’re under the same roof as-“

“Hello! We’re here!”

“Them.” You say.

“You say that now, but you’ll be wanting me after you see me on the slopes.” He pinches your butt before leaving the room to go greet everyone. “Hey, everyone!”

“Y/N, would you like to come grocery shopping with me?” Paige asks. “Gotta stock up on all the good stuff for the kids.”

“Oh, um, sure, I could tag along.”

“Great.” She smiles. “Better to get it all done now, and then we can just relax the rest of the day.” She kisses Noah’s cheek. “Be back soon!”

“Uncle Harry, I brought all new colors to paint our nails with this year. Wanna do it tonight?”

“Sure, I think that’s a great idea.” He smiles at her. “You better go see what bunk Andy left you with.”

“Oh shoot, you’re right!”

“So…how’s fifth grade treating her?” Harry asks Noah.

“Pretty good, actually. She loves her friends, although she’s closer with some of the kids at her Hebrew school. She can relate to them a little better.”

“Where are Mum and Y/N?” Andy asks as he comes out to the living room with Rachel.

“They went grocery shopping.” Harry says.

“Together?!” Andy was nervous you might fill his mother in on everything, but you wouldn’t do that.

“Yeah, they’re gonna get all your favorites.” Noah says.

That night Harry sits at the table with Rachel so they can do each other’s nails. You end up on the couch with Noah and Paige to watch some TV. Andy comes over, and almost automatically lays his head in your lap with a pillow, and you mindlessly start playing with his hair. He puts his feet up on Paige’s lap. It was a bit odd for Paige since Andy rarely let her play with his hair anymore, but the closeness was nice nonetheless.

“Are you excited to ski tomorrow?” Harry asks as you get ready for bed later.

“A little…I’m more nervous than anything.”

“No need to be nervous, baby. I’ll be right there with you.”

“And you’re okay wasting an entire day just to take a lesson and hang on the bunny trail with me?”

“It won’t be a waste! Noah’s gonna be at the bunny trail with Rachel too. Paige is gonna go on the longer runs with Andy. It’ll all work out great.” He gives you a smooch before wrapping himself around you.

//

“Have I told you enough times how cute you look in your gear?” Harry asks as you wait outside in the beginner skier area.

“Once or twice.” You giggle. “Thank you.”

“I hope you have fun, babe. If not, you can go to the pool the rest of the week and I won’t even complain.”

“Seems fair enough to me.”

“Good morning everyone!” A young man starts. “I’m Trevor, I’ll be your instructor this morning.”

Trevor goes over the basics, getting the skis on and off, walking around with one on at a time, turning with one on a time. You were working up quite the sweat. Eventually, Trevor takes everyone over to the bunny hill, and he explains how to step onto the belt so you don’t fall backwards.  

“Great work today everybody, have fun!”

“Okay, are you ready to try going down?” Harry says to you. “I’ll be right beside you the whole way.”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

You start squatting as you push off, but Harry grabs you.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Go that low. Stand up straight, or you’ll go way too fast and you’ll have trouble stopping.”

“Maybe you should have given the lesson.”

“He’s just some college kid making a quick buck, he did his best.”

You take a deep breath and push off with Harry. He stays beside you and you’re glad you listened to him because you still whipped down the hill even while standing up straight.

“That was great! How do you feel?”

“Um…definitely won’t be going on the chairlift anytime soon.” You chuckle. “Perhaps I’ll be hanging with Rachel this week.”

“No worries. You’ll get the hang of it. I’m really proud of you for trying. Ready to give it another go?”

“Yeah, let’s go again.”

Your legs were extremely sore by the end of the day. Paige and Noah volunteered to cook while you sat in front of the fire with Harry. The kids were playing a board game, and Harry was rubbing your shins. You didn’t even have to ask.

“Dad, can we go to the pool after dinner?”

“Sure, we could go for a bit.” Harry nods. “Feel like swimming?” He asks you.

“No, I’ll stay here and read I think. I’m a little tired. Maybe tomorrow though.”

“I’ll go with you, H. Wouldn’t mind some time in that hot tub.” Noah says.

So then after dinner, it was just you and Paige hanging out. You wanted to go to your room and just veg out alone, but you also didn’t want to be rude.

“I’m really glad you were able to come this year.” Paige says to you. “It’s really nice seeing you and Harry together.”

“Oh, um, thanks. I was happy to be invited. My classes are doing some online work this week. I bet a lot of them went out skiing to the mountains closer by.”

“So, was today your first day of skiing ever?”

“I tried it when I was younger, but haven’t since. It was fun, but I’m definitely tired. Did you have a nice day with Andy?”

“I did! It was nice for us to go on the lifts together and just be together. We had a nice lunch together too.”

“That’s great.” You say with a yawn. “Excuse me.” You chuckle. “I think I might turn in early.”

“No worries, go ahead.” She smiles.

“Goodnight.”

“Night, Y/N.”

You get into a large tee shirt and settle into bed with a book. When Harry gets back from the pool he sees you passed out with the lights on and your book on your chest. He takes a quick shower to rinse off and then he gets into bed with you. You turn over so he can hold you, and he snuggles right in.

“Love you, baby.” You say in a sleepy voice.

“Love you too.” He kisses your head and you sigh.

//

The next morning you hear rustling and sit up to see Harry doing some yoga. You giggle at him and he turns to see you.

“Make fun all you want, but it really gets me ready for the day.”

“I didn’t say a thing.”

You get out of bed and throw on some sweatpants and a sweatshirt, both Harry’s after doing your thing in the bathroom. You both go out to the kitchen and get some coffee started for everyone. He wraps his arms around you from behind as you both look outside at the fresh snow.

“This is the life, isn’t it?” He says as he kisses your cheek.

“Can’t complain too much.”

“You were so cute last night when I got back. You had completely passed out.”

“I was tired! My legs were killing me.”

“How do they feel now?”

“Fine, I should be able to get back on the bunny hill. Don’t feel like you need to babysit me or anything.”

“I’ll spend the morning with you just to make sure you’re good to go, and then I’ll do a couple of runs down the black diamonds.”

You turn your face and pucker lips. He smiles and then leans in to kiss you.

“Oh! Um, good morning.” Paige says as she walks into the kitchen with Noah. You start to move away from Harry out of instinct, but he keeps his arms wrapped around you.

“Morning, we made coffee.” Harry says.

“Thanks, I was thinking of making pancakes for the kids, that work for you two?” Noah asks.

“Sure.” You say and tap Harry’s hands so he’ll let you go, which his does reluctantly.

The kids emerge just as Noah’s finishing the last batch of pancakes. Everyone scarfs the food down, and you discuss who’s going with who for the day. Noah and Paige are going to ski with Rachel, and Harry and Andy are going to go with you.

“Were you alright in there this morning?” Harry asks you as you both get your ski clothes on.

“Yeah, why?”

“You stopped letting me hold you, like, the second they walked in.”

“I just felt a little…weird, I don’t know. I feel like a teenager on a family trip with my parents and boyfriend for some reason.”

“We’re all adults, babe, you don’t need to feel that way.”

“They’re not exactly showing off…”

“That’s because they don’t have a hot young thing on their arm like I do.” He smirks and puts his hands on your hips.

“You make it sound like I’m twenty years old, or like you’re forty. You’re not that much older than me.”

“Six years is a decent gap. I mean, think about it. When I was in my first year of uni, you were in the eighth grade.”

“Hm, good point, maybe I should call you Daddy more.” You wink and walk away from him to put your hair up into a braid.

“Save it for when we have kids.” He gives your bum a smack before leaving the bedroom and you shake your head.

//

You have fun doing the bunny hills with Harry and Andy in the morning, but you assure them they don’t need to stay with you the whole day. In fact, you end up going to the lodge for the afternoon to read and chill out while they go on the lifts to the higher mountains. It was relaxing to watch the snow flurry outside while you were curled up on a couch with a hot drink.

“There’s my little snow bunny.” Harry says as he plops down on the couch next to you.

“Hey, baby, where’s Andy?”

“Sent him up to the counter to get some hot ciders…I see you have one already?”

“Actually it’s tea, so a hot cider sounds great.”

“Perfect.” He kisses your cheek. “Still having fun?”

“Mhm, thanks for checking in.”

“Hi, Y/N, got you a cider.”

“Thank you.” You smile and take the drink from him. “I love apple cider, it’s so good.”

“It’s my favorite, second to hot chocolate.” Andy says as he grabs the spot next to Harry.

“Did you two have a good time on your runs?”

“Yeah! I only fell once.” Andy says proudly.

“It’s not icy at all, which is nice, Makes it easier to not whip down the mountain too fast.” Harry explains. “You know they have gondola rides in the early evenings, we could do that some night so you could see what it all looks like.”

“I’d like that.”

//

You were surprised at how easy going the week was. There was zero tension, neither of the kids acted up, and everything was just really chill. You were a little anxious, but you realized you really had no reason to be. A lot of laughs were had, you and Noah have a few inside jokes now, and you’re really starting to see the beauty of a blended family. Harry and Paige joke around here and there, but you notice they never sit next to each other, they never touch, and they’re not typically left alone in the same room for too long. Everything between them was purely platonic. You could tell they both were doing all of this for Andy, to give him some sense of normalcy. To see his parents together in some capacity.

You also noticed how much Harry really needed you there. He must have felt almost a little left out last year when he came with everyone. Andy’s used to living with Paige, Noah, and Rachel, but Harry isn’t. Having you there gave him some consistency and comfort. You could go off and take a walk together if he just needed a break. It was nice.

“You two have fun, we’ll just be here watching a movie.” Paige says as you both leave to go on a gondola ride back at the mountain resort.

“Thanks for watching ‘em tonight.” Harry waves off and leads you to his car.

“I’m really excited, babe.” You say as he starts the car.

“Me too, I guess they provide hot chocolate and stuff, and it’s a pretty smooth ride. Everything will be all lit up too.”

You were happy you brought your long coat to wear for this since it was a bit chilly, but it didn’t matter once you were inside your gondola since it was heated. Not to mention Harry put his arm around you immediately, keeping you extra toasty.

“This is so fucking romantic.” You nearly squeal. “Thank you so much, Harry.”

“Told you you’d have a great time this week.” He kisses your temple.

“They have these in Disney World, rides like this across the different parks, it’s so cool.”

“Yeah? You know, I was thinking of taking Andy there for this thirteenth birthday, give him a place he can really use his new phone in.”

“A little over a year to plan it out too, smart.”

“I thought it would be nice, too, as an end of middle school thing, finishing up the eighth grade in one piece and all that.”

“He’ll love, Har. You already know he loves all those Pixar movies. I bet he’ll really like that Toy Story Land in Hollywood Studios.”

“You…seem to know a lot about Disney Word.” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“May or may not have gone with Nora after I got my master’s.” You chuckle. “It’s a lot of fun as an adult. You drink around the world, and there are tons of bars and shops. A lively night life.”

“Well, if you’re such an expert I’ll have to make sure you come too.”

“Duh.” You scoff and it makes him laugh. “God, it’s so beautiful out there.” You gaze out the window at the lights below you illuminating the mountains in different colors.

Harry looks down at you and tilts your chin up. He tucks some hair behind your ear, and you smile as he leans in to kiss you. He lightly nips at your bottom lip before sucking on it. He licks into your mouth, and your tongue molds with his. Your fingers lace through his hair while he holds you as close as he can. He unzips your coat enough that he can kiss down to your neck.

“Harry.” You breathe. “I can’t diddle you in a gondola.”

“M’not asking you to.” He moves to look at you, a smirk growing on his face. “We’re just kissing, is that alright?”

You nod yes and let him continue his attack on your neck. You loved the way Harry would leave marks on you because he was so subtle about it at first. He’d gently kiss on the area, then he’d lick over it, and mouth at it, that would really get you going. Then he’d lightly graze his teeth over the area before really sucking on your tender skin. He was doing that now, and it felt so fucking good. You let out a soft moan, and you wish you could just crawl into his lap, but you didn’t think that would be safe right now.

His hands slide inside your coat so he stick his fingers inside the back of your jeans, squeezing at what he can of your ass. You continue to tug at his hair as he sucks on your skin. He was practically blood thirsty tonight. As much as you loved summer, you loved winter just the same. Turtlenecks and scarves were your best friend, so you didn’t really care how nasty of a bruise Harry left because you could easily cover it.

“Baby, don’t you wanna, um, look outside?” You were breathing heavily. You hear him grunt a ‘no’, and his hands move up your body to grope at your breasts.

His lips meet yours again, and you tug at his jacket, balling the material into your fists. God, you needed him, badly. You lick into his mouth and suck on his tongue, eliciting a groan from him that filled the gondola.

Needless to say, when your ride was over you got a few looks from the crew as you both had swollen lips and red cheeks. When you reach his car, you bite your bottom lip as you watch him get the key in the ignition and turn the heat on blast.

“What are you doing? Get in the car.” He chuckles.

“Is there somewhere private we can go?”

“Yeah.” He nods and you get in. “The movie theater lot is good for privacy.” A few minutes down the road, Harry parks the car in the theater lot. You both look at each other. “What do you wanna do, Y/N?”

“I wanna get in the back seat.” You mumble.

It was around this time last year that you had fucked some random guy in the backseat of his car. Funny how much could change in a year. You and Harry climb into the backseat of his car, heat still blasting to keep you both warm. You weren’t sure if you wanted to full on fuck since it was so cold, but you need to relieve some of the pressure that had built up in your stomach. You get onto his lap, and straddle one of his thighs.

“Gonna use my leg, darling?” He asks as he sponges kisses to the side of your neck that he didn’t attack earlier.

“Mhm.”

You rock back and forth on his thigh, and his hands grips your hips to help you along. He was desperate to see you come like this. He lifts his leg a little to add to the friction he knew you needed.

“That’s it, baby.” He grunts.

“Fuck, Harry, feels so good.” You groan and hide your face in his shoulder. “N-need your fingers, please.” You look at him almost doe-eyed, and he couldn’t say no to that.

He works swiftly to unbutton your jeans. He knew how much you hated having to keep your underwear on, but he assumed you didn’t really care right now from how hard you were grinding against him. He slips his hand inside your underwear and moans softly when he feels how wet you are. He’s able to slide three of his fingers right in and you gasp loudly. You needed the stretch right now. You have one hand tugging at his hair, and the other one tugging at the collar of his shirt. You ride his fingers with him barely needing to do anything.

“Oh my god.” You start panting. “Harry.”

“I want you to come so fucking hard, baby, go on.”

Your head rolls back, giving him such a wonderful view of your body. You squeeze around his fingers over and over, and he feels you pulse around him. Your eyes snap open as you come to your release, not that you can see anything because your vision’s gone hazy. Your scream fills the car, and Harry works you through it, his thumb rubbing at your clit so you can ride it out.

“Harry, please fuck me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You press your lips to his. “Do you have any condoms in here?”

“Mhm, in the glove. Get on your knees, I’ll fuck you from behind so you don’t have to take your pants all the way off.”

You nod and get into position for him while he grabs a condom. You feel him behind you, and he spreads you apart to push inside. He grips one of the headrests to keep his balance while he thrusts inside you.

“Are you, shit, comfortable?” He says as he gets a pace going.

“As much as I can be, yeah.” You look over your shoulder at him and smile. “Are you?”

“Yeah, babe.” He gives your ass a light smack before gripping both of your hips to ram in and out of you. “Gotta make this quick, sorry.”

“It’s okay, feels good!” His tip was already hitting your g-spot, you were done for.

“Yeah, you like it like this?”

“Yes! Fuck, Harry.”

“Taking it so well for me, being so fucking good.”

“Call me your good girl, Harry.”

“You’re my good-oh shit!” He couldn’t finish his sentence. You telling him to call you that made him lose it. He uses the strength his has to reach around and rub your clit so you could get off with him.

“Ah!” You cry out as you release around him. You both take a moment to catch your breaths. He pulls out and gives your ass another smack, but more towards the area between your cheeks where you were a little sensitive right now. “Oh!” You gasp.

“Good girl.” He whispers in your ear and then kisses your cheek.

You were speechless, to say the least.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

it wasn’t power i coveted; it was acceptance.

Titans 3.06

y’know, i was just thinking the other day that 1.06/1.07 and 2.06/2.07 were the best episodes of their respective seasons, so i have great hopes going in to this one. fingers crossed!

as always, typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. oh! um... that was a Cold Open, all right. *nudges* get it? cold? because it’s snowing? and two people got murdered in cold blood? eh?

... oh, i’ve just started.

1.5. i wonder if “i want to be sipping pina coladas on a beach with you” is the new “i’m just one day away from retiring.” i was so on edge after that--i kept expecting that car to explode. even so, the way they died wasn’t an anticlimax: brutal, and quick. 

1.75. so i’m assuming that’s the titular lady vic! this show better bring up why this doll was important or why these two cops needed to be killed, and not leave it to the ether like jericho’s little mindscape jaunt in 2.08 (i’m still dying to know what that was about???)

2.

i love how deliberately unappealing wayne manor is. 

(sorry for the pic quality. i don’t have hbo max! ssshhh.)

2.3. i love the many references to “home” and “our house” when they’ve been here for less than a week and saw one of their friends get blown into pieces. i mean, i unironically love it: home is where family is, after all!

2.5. i’d like to say that kom is playing some sort of long game here, especially given the build-up we had last season and some of the more niggling details this season: why did kom choose now to use her bond to lure kory when she’s been on earth for months? why did justin call kory now, just around the time that she started getting kom’s visions? and what about kom’s ability to exactly imitate other people? hmmm.

2.75. the reason i wrote i’d like to say is that i’ve made the mistake of assuming plot complexity where there is none; i was so invested in the jason todd orchestrated his own death theory for instance, when it turns out that oops! ra’s al ghul just happened to leave a little lazarus puddle in gotham, and oh yeah! scarecrow just happens to have a network of henchmen working for him on the outside and a fully functional laboratory and a weapons cache fit for a new supervillain in the basement of the high security psychiatric unit/prison that he’s in! 

(no i’m not bitter, why do you ask)

2.8. iiiii don’t know what to say about the implications of sex slavery being a thing on tamaran, so i’m not going to say anything at all. for now.

3. gotham, six years ago... wasn’t it five years before s2 that jericho died and the titans disbanded? and when was the flashback from 1.06 where dick let zucco die? i think it was after the events of 2.08: jericho? i can’t seem to find any transcripts or reliable information online, so i’m going to have to rewatch 1.06 at some point. 

(i love the old-fashioned batman music in this heist scene)

3.5. “security is a joke... it’s my way of keeping my dad on his toes”. what you’re an ethical thief now, like an ethical hacker? i don’t think that excuse is going to sell, barbara, on the day you do encounter a decent security system and your father is forced to arrest you.

(then again, gotham’s security is piss-poor. did you know that you could just walk into arkham asylum without any official clearance, ply one of its most dangerous inhabitants with contraband, and said inmate could get away with having an entire laboratory and weapons cache--NO I’M NOT GOING TO LET THIS GO)

3.8 so that flashback between dick and barbara was really cute! and also illuminating:

a) dick sounds so light, so... um. look. i have some apologies to tender to mr thwaites, because while i’ve always thought he does a fine job as dick grayson, i’ve never been terribly fond of his cadence as he delivers dialogue. it’s often monotonous, i thought, but then again, he’s usually delivering exposition or dealing with one soul-crushing crisis or the other. so i was pleasantly surprised to hear dick sound so carefree and alive in his conversation with barbara, laughing frequently, his emotions so bare and bubbling to the surface. it’s really a fantastic contrast to the traumatised and world-weary dick grayson that we see now, even more so than the costume department just bunging a backwards-baseball cap on mr thwaites’ head and hoping that will convince us of his relative youth. 

b) and god, when he wakes up from that memory, all alone in his bed, bleeding from bullet holes in his shoulder (bullet holes that are--in a somewhat convoluted way--barbara’s fault)? yikes. it’s great. you have my apologies, mr thwaites!

c) can you imagine dick just... crawling back to wayne manor, trying not to be seen by anybody, shedding his suit and just... collapsing onto his bed without even tending to his wound? the sheer emotional and physical exhaustion of it? 

d) it’s so interesting to see how barbara and dick approach the idea of legacy--a big theme on the show!--in this flashback. barbara is the one bucking the idea that she should follow in her father’s footsteps, while dick seems pretty content with the batman-and-robin setup, and even tries to get barbara to join their team (robin-girl. pfffft). obviously after this several traumatic things happen wherein dick ends up questioning and then resenting his role as robin, his relationship with batman or even returning as a vigilante at all. and barbara... ends up replacing her father as commissioner. it’s tragic, really. 

e) the dynamic between dick and barbara in the flashback reminds me of how it was between dick and donna in 1.08 and even between kory and dick in early s1. it’s like having an older, strong-willed woman by his side means he gives over the steering wheel for a while and lets himself... unspool, a little bit. it’s kinda endearing.

also:

*pinches his cheeks*

3. you know, we talk about dick and Eldest Daughter Syndrome, and that’s definitely valid, but here gar seems to me the embodiment of it, with all the emotional gardening and firefighting that he’s expected to do. he’s kind of the guy expected to keep his shit together and take care of everyone else while they are falling completely to pieces, unable to carve out time to process his own trauma. he’s also picked up dick’s and kory’s tendencies to bottle up their struggles and shun appearing vulnerable, and he’s struggling in the shadow of both dick and kory undergoing acute crises, his best friend (and frequent confidante) on the other side of the world, and seeing hank die, utterly helpless to stop it. 

i’m glad that he got a chance to tell dick even a smidgeon of what he really feels, and i hope this is at least a semblance of a wake up call for dick to actually sit down and work with the people he repeatedly calls family.

3.5. it’s heartening to see that dick immediately makes it his priority to go talk to gar. but don’t blow off kory in the process, man!

4. i’m really loving this dynamic between kom and conner--i get the idea that both of them consider each other as Unknowns, alien two times over. but conner’s only ever known the titans, who embrace being different, and kom’s only ever known... well. 

anyway, kory is Really Stressed, and honestly? #relatable. 

when you’re forced to bring an estranged family member to hang out with your friends...

4.5. i love that the titans are spending so much time in the kitchen. a real family!

5. jonathan crane is a creep and i absolutely cannot stand him.

5.25. how did he get a whole lab setup (in the basement of a hospital...?) with a bunch of whitecoats to work for him? how did he just waltz into the viewing room of an operation theatre when he’s one of the most wanted men in gotham right now? why is jason wandering around maskless when--presumably--as the adopted son of the most famous person in gotham he’d be a tad more recognisable than your average joe?

why do i expect this show to answer anything anymore?

5.5. that’s not necessarily a criticism, mind; i’ve said since season 1 that titans is very comics-like in this aspect, all about the Aesthetic and the splash-page splendour rather than the niggling unimportant details of how or when the characters got to said location. like. the camera gliding over the operation being set-up, lady vic bursting in and doing her murder dance (imagine the luck of the poor intern who chose this day and this surgery to assist) and jason, shocked and slack-jawed, framed by blood.

5.75. it’s a sobering reminder for jason that, though he chose this path in order to gain control over a world that seemed like it was rapidly spinning out of his grip, he’s only succeeded in handing over even more control to a man with an agenda that is very clearly not aligned with his own. he’s in too far to stop now, though.

5.9. i have a lot more thoughts about jason! saving it up for the end of this recap, though.

6. more kitchen time! i better see dick do some cooking soon...

(”our kitchen”! it still delights me! kitchens are So Important)

6.25. so much of dick’s issues have revolved around his relationship with bruce, so it’s completely understandable that in the wake of a huge crisis where bruce literally asks dick to replace him and be a “better” him, dick would default to all the worst things he learned from the man. and i’m glad kory’s having none of it, but come on, guys. the woman’s literally fetched her fratricidal sister out of a hole in the ground with no idea what said sister is going to do next and experiencing a burgeoning sense of guilt far, far beyond her history with the titans, and dick’s too far into his autocolonoscopy that he can’t see that she needs help.

6.5. “he services your urges”--well, as far as we know, kory is the last person he had sex with...

7. “i hope [gar] isn’t angry with me...” SIR! i thought you’d already spoken to him! smh, as the kids say. kory wouldn’t be needing to reassure you if you just took the effort to build two way emotional relationships with the rest of the team. @superohclair​ was taking about dick’s relatively low emotional intelligence? i agree.

7.5. “i got my own problems [...] you and barbara? fix it.” YOU TELL HIM, KORY

8. man i really like this weird, sad tension between dick and barbara--this sense that both of them are approaching the other based on how they remember them and are ultimately disappointed by the truth. barbara thought she could trust dick to... well, be a better batman, but dick has not only failed at that in her eyes, but repeatedly undermined her while exploiting the authority that she gave him. in dick’s eyes, this is nothing like the barbara that he knew, rebellious and ready to do whatever it takes to find something. 

like. this show sometimes really hits me in the chest about the ways it shows kids grow into adults and into caretakers, and the way it’s stop-start, the ways nothing can happen at all for a long time and then it’s Crisis Central all at once and there’s no space to breathe. the weird sort of sadness that comes with nostalgia. 

8.5. oracle name drop! i agree with barbara, any system that can just randomly tap into gotham phonelines is a monster.

8.7. (i don’t know if it’s my imagination, but is dick holding himself... differently in this episode? like that wound is definitely bothering him, and he’s running on fumes)

9. man, that was a really sweet scene between kom and conner. “feeling alien in your own world”... “not quite here nor there”

honestly this team runs on conner and gar’s faith in their value as a family, and it’s a sign of conner’s generous heart that he extends that opportunity to blackfire. this arc of maturation for him, where he’s now able to consciously choose which parts of himself he can use to do the thing he wants to so--save people--has been so fulfilling to recognise. this baby’s grown with the titans! and what he’s learnt is that people can get fucked up, but the titans is a place where they can be fucked up, and grow.

MY MAN CONNER

10. oh man i’m drinking in the gar-dick interaction in this episode like i’m three days into the desert and it’s the only source of water for miles around!

a) gar is absolutely not dealing with dick’s bullshit this episode and I LOVE IT. it’s such a far cry from the man who was idolising dick/robin back in s1 and expecting him to solve all their problems. dick is fallible, dick is fucked up, but he Tries His Best and that’s ok.

b) dick, huffing and puffing through that vent, unable to put any pressure on his left shoulder, trying to have a heart to heart with gar... fuck i love this asshole. 

c) bruce took in a kid who was suffering... “and made him into a weapon”. well. i absolutely agree with dick that it was bruce who put these kids into these horrible situations with him and they came away with a bucketload of trauma to add to the one that they already had. but we know that bruce was really trying with jason, and at the end of s2, dick was coming to acknowledge that bruce had offered him something that wasn’t just darkness. jason’s death and bruce’s reaction to that shattered that fragile progress.

d) “gotham got to me too.” i feel more sympathetic towards dick running off on his own than most, and it’s not just because i’m an unapologetic stan.  we’ve seen before that dick... devolves when overwhelmed, and he lashes out and makes ill thought out decisions and just Does Not Deal. it happened after hearing the news that deathstroke had returned in s2, and it didn’t help that everyone around him was reeling at the news, either. this time, however, he has his salvation in his family, and despite some stupid decisions like running off and kidnapping supervillains without telling his team, he’s been really on the ball this season. thinking clearly and logically, holding it together and working on a plan, thinking two steps ahead of the villains... yes.

e) gar needing to believe that jason isn’t beyond redemption... there’s a lot of blood on his hands, too, from when he was manipulated by cadmus last season. it makes sense why he’d relate to jason’s predicament, and i hope dick picked up on that.

f) my head just added a plaintive ow after dick jumped feet first into the storage room

i need, crave gifs of this scene!

11. *sits on hands* i’m going to talk more about red hood, i promise!

12. more gar and dick! is it my birthday??!!

(actually, according to the tamil calendar, it is my birthday! my “star” birthday)

12.5. excellent. dick using some implausible training that bruce taught him to solve a mystery? passing some of that knowledge onto gar? that proud smile when he sees gar perfectly execute moves that he taught him? MY HEART IS EXPLODING

13. aw, i love flashback!dick and barbara, they’re so cute <3

13.25. why does it not surprise me that the way he proposes a relationship to barbara is by saying “we make sense”? this guy can deduce exactly who was present where and what weapon they were holding from a garbled audio recording but other times he’s utterly clueless, and that’s a consistent character beat right from s1

13.5. so.... that’s why lady vic has it out for... barbara....? i don’t get it. it’s flimsy. but hey! the fun thing about titans is that i don’t have to get it. the payoff has nothing to do with the plot.

14. i can’t believe that barbara fell for that, but at least that wheelchair fight looked awesome, so.

15. oh yeah, i forgot that red hood bullied the mob into helping him and scarecrow... at least that explains the whitecoats and the elaborate set-up.

15.5. honestly i love how this dynamic between kory and kom is developing, though i wish more of the team would pay attention to it. time to call justin, i think!

16. i wonder what happened after that second flashback where barbara got hurt during that heist. did she give up on doing any more (maybe jim caught her)? was it because dick was called away by bruce and then the titans and got caught up in his own issues? maybe barbara froze him out because she wasn’t looking for the relationship that he was looking for? maybe the idea of doing that with someone turning into batman-lite was just... unappealing? scary?

whatever it is, it doesn’t look like dick ever processed the end of that relationship. it’s very intriguing to see where their dynamic goes next.

17. so.... what, did vic deliver some fear toxin to barbara? i... what?

17.5. and i TOLD YOU that they would never explain that doll or why vic attacked those two cops at the beginning! oh, titans. never change. 

18. did jason just randomly have tim’s restaurant burgled? god, i’m feeling a bit nauseous... are they going to kill tim’s father?

18.25. i feel like the rest of the season is going to wrestle with jason’s culpability in the horrible stuff he’s doing and i’m already seeing that prospect divide fans. on one hand, his story is taking a lot of oxygen away from other equally interesting story arcs, and he’s done some truly awful things, like indiscriminate murder, threatening to kill children, blowing up hank, and potentially killing tim’s parents. 

there’s something to be said for the kind of hold that crane has over him, and the so-called ‘anti-fear’ drug that he keeps plying jason with--he’s alone, drugged almost constantly (to the level of dependence), fresh from the trauma of being bludgeoned to death. he hasn’t conquered fear; he’s ruled by it. on the other hand, given that he’s the one character on the show given an obvious and identifiable ‘mental illness’ arc (maaaaybe dick too), one can argue that it’s irresponsible to show this progress into such violence: jason was vulnerable because he was struggling, and that left him vulnerable, but it took only a push before he became a fucking serial killer.

but that could mean we underestimate the degree of that vulnerability, and the mechanics of this universe where he fell into the clutches of the one supervillain perfectly designed to exploit that vulnerability. that helpless spiral into further and further self-destruction is all too real. it’s valuable to know that someone who has sunk that low can still seek help--actual help--and get it. 

18.5. i don’t know. it’s not a question i’m going to resolve at the end of an overlong recap at 1 in the morning. i don’t believe it’s even a question that titans can resolve. but i am interested in where they’re going next with jason.

19. this episode was genuinely great! i’m pumped for the rest of the season!

[thenightling]

The Sandman / Locke & Key crossover review

I just read The Sandman / Locke & Key crossover issue 2 and though the artwork is beautiful some of the continuity issues really start to bother me very quickly

Warning, there are some spoilers below.

Continuity problems on the first few pages.  What's with Gilbert's dark humor about Lucien being blinded?  I know he has some quirky moments but that seems a bit much, like mocking Rose for nearly being raped in the alley.  The Corinthian being banished.  In Overture he fled.  He went on the run to avoid being uncreated. Since when is The Corinthian sexist? He's many things but "You're just a woman."  That didn't quite fit him.   He's an asshole but for many other reasons.  The title of the book Mary asked for to trick The Corinthian was a parody on "How to make  friends and influence people."  That book wasn't published until 1936.  The year this is set in is 1927...   They still keep calling him Shaper.  Only the fae called him shaper, it's a direct translation of Morpheus.   They should be calling him Dream or Morpheus in The Dreaming or in the case of Cain and Abel "Prince of stories."   They claim only "The shaper" can uncreate his dream folk.  Okay but... holding The Dreaming from 2018  Lucien uncreated Merv's friends...

And that’s just in the first five pages.

One thing that really felt wrong to me is when Gilbert and Lucien find out that their master is being held in a cage in The Waking World they decide NOT to rescue him because it would “humiliate” him.  And he can be “dangerous if he resents you.”  So you let your world deteriorate for a century because it might bruise his ego.   

By that reasoning in issue 2 of The Sandman when Morpheus ended up at The House of Mystery Cain and Abel should have left him on the doorstep.

(Mocking scenario:   Abel: “Should we help him?” / Cain: “Naw, don’t want to embarrass him. Just leave him on the doorstep.”

Seriously, it would have been better to just not let them know their king is caged- rather than “We left him there because it would bruise his ego to be rescued.”  That’s so... stupid.

Also, no, Lucien.  His last lover did not suffer in Hell for ten thousand years.  He had lovers after Nada including Titania. YOU would know this.  

She literally says fuck him and none of his subjects say otherwise?!

Ha... ha?

Also why does Gilbert know who Rose Walker is already?   He says “You remind me of someone I haven’t met yet” and then name drops her.  Did Joe Hill completely misunderstand what was going on in Soft Places?  That though Morpheus was fresh from Captivity, for Gilbert it was the 1990s?

The characterizations in here are so terrible. Lucifer is portrayed as more of a traditional Devil and for some reason not just resembling Bowie but specifically 1997 Bowie including 1997 clothing for some reason.  And his behavior was more traditional maniacal villain.  

There are so many continuity errors.   Etrigan isn’t a rhymer yet.  Hell somehow already seems to have its triumvirate.  Azazel was eating Choronzon but somehow he’s fine when The Sandman starts.

Even the bonus article about a massive fire at Fawny Rig is a current canon contradiction.  Fawny Rig is in tact in The Dreaming (2018) comics.   

 I had trouble reading it simply after she woke from The Dreaming knowing Gilbert AND Lucien voted to leave Morpheus caged.  

 I can’t believe Neil was okay with Gilbert and Lucien deciding it’s better to leave Morpheus caged for the next century.

Yet again, the art is lovely but the characterizations and continuity errors are just so terrible, it made it an unpleasant read.  The first volume wasn’t as bad even with mysteriously de-aged Alexander Burgess...

I feel like Joe Hill wasn’t trying to emulate Neil Gaiman and his universe but rather the continuity created by Caitlin R. Kiernan during the era of The Sandman presents and I ...I am not a fan of that era of Sandman writing. I doubt many people are.  I disliked Caitlin R. Kiernan’s Sandman content so much it almost made me lose interest in The Sandman all together and doubt the quality of the original Sandman.  This had nearly the same effect.   I sat here thinking “How could Neil Gaiman approve Lucien and Gilbert literally voting to leave Morpheus caged and bad mouthing him worse than Merv Pumpkinhead?”  

This is harder to ignore than Caitlin R. Kiernan's Dreaming because this was written by Joe Hill as part of his Locke & Key comics.  That means it'll forever BE canon to Lock & Key.  There's no de-canonizing this...

I think I liked it better when it looked like Joe Hill was just going to stepstep The dream folk asking about where Morpheus is but instead... they really opt to leave him a cage for a century and let their world crumble around them as a result all because it might bruise his ego.   It made a lot more sense when they did not know where he was at all. I know Morpheus was a jerk in this era but it makes me feel extra sorry for him that his own subjects would treat him this way, especially Lucien.

I can’t get over their reaction to Mary suggesting they rescue Morpheus.  Honestly, it would have made more sense for them to try to save him, fail, and somehow lose the memory of the effort.  It would have been frustrating but it would not have character-assassinated Lucien like this, that he LET his library be destroyed because he didn’t want to free his master from his cage.  Seriously, this makes no sense.

Based on one of the variant covers of issue 2 of this crossover it does look like they originally planned to have a subplot of Mary trying to rescue Morpheus, perhaps with Gilbert and Lucien’s help, but maybe Roderick caught them and erased their memories of seeing Morpheus there, via magick spell. That would have made more sense than what is actually inhere.  It’s like at the last second someone decided they shouldn’t do that so now you have Gilbert and Lucien going very out-of-character and literally voting to leave Morpheus caged indefinitely and talking Mary out of trying to save him.

I am unnerved that Neil was okay with how poor Gilbert and Lucien were treated to accommodate plot convenience.  Raising Morpheus from the dead is forbidden but having Lucien and Gilbert vote to leave Morpheus caged and destroy their own world- AND The Dreaming Library- that's fine?!

Mary’s story ends okay but the portrayal of the dream folk and how they act about Morpheus, even during his darker phase of his existence, is pretty terrible. 

[lilac-melody]

Mister Darling Honeyworks Novel Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I’m not a professional translator. Also, I would like I make the note that this chapter, as well as the next one, DOES have an image on it. However, they are both literally just uncolored screenshots from the Mister Darling MV, and they don’t even take up half of the page. As such, I’ll be grabbing the exact same screenshot from the MV for full quality.

Thank you.

Masterlist here

After leaving the train station, Ayako hurried to the meeting place. She checked the time on her cell phone as she ran, and saw it was 15 minutes after 1pm. She rushed towards Yusuke, who was waiting in front of the usual shop.

“I’m sorry! Did you wait long? You did!”

“I haven’t been waiting long. Were you with someone?”

“W-what?” She had been in a rush to meet with him, but...

“You’re later than usual.” Yusuke glanced at her and rephrased. “Or maybe...you were having an affair?” He asked with a serious face.

Ayako stared at him with a pokan expression.

Cheating? Who did he think she was?

“Sorry, that was a joke.” Yusuke laughed.

Realizing she was just being made fun of, Ayako puffed her cheeks out in a pout.

“It’s terrible to doubt your partner!” She only wanted to be with Yusuke, she couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. She grabbed his arm.

“I was just curious. You’re not usually late.”

“Sorry...some business took longer than expected.”

She wasn’t a child...but this was a secret.

“Business?”

“Ah, there’ a crepes shop place! I want to eat crepes! Let’s go eat some now!” Ayako pointed at the park where there was a cute wagon car selling crepes parked. Several customers waited in line.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to eat omurice today?”

“I want to eat omurice and crepes!”

“I guess it’s fine...as long as you won’t be too full.” Yusuke started walking towards the park.

She couldn’t show him what she was doing.

Right?

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Ayako hugged Yusuke’s arm very tightly.

When the two of them starting dating and living together, she thought they would move fast. But living with him felt normal.

And before they knew it, calling out each other’s first names became second nature. They had some time, so they went on dates at times.

They were really boyfriend and girlfriend.

She sat next to Yusuke on the park bench, and she brought her strawberry crepe to her mouth.

Yusuke had a custard and banana crepe. It looked delicious, especially since it was covered in chocolate. Though Yusuke didn’t like sweets that much. Whenever she saw him eating a crepe, he always tried to keep her company, but he always seemed to have too much.

In another two months, it would be their first anniversary of dating.

“It’s early, huh...”

“What?”

“I didn’t think it’d get cold so soon.” Yusuke bit into his crepe.

“We should buy Yusuke a jacket next time.”

“It’s fine, I have a hoodie.”

(Are you planning on wearing that brown bear hoodie you wore last year again this year?!)

“We can definitely buy a jacket!” She had ideas what cool jackets would suit Yusuke, and she could probably find them on sale! This was her new mission.

“I only need one outfit.”

“Eh, but a jacket would suit Yusuke better!”

The brown bear hoodie wasn’t bad, though. She just wanted him to be fashionable once in a while! He was too indifferent about his clothes!

As a fashion designer, she wanted to coordinate amazing outfits for him.

It would be a waste.

"Ayako, is there anything you want?”

“Eh, me?” She blinked and made a list of things she wanted in her head.

A new kitchen knife? The knife she had now was not sharp enough. There was one thing. She also wanted a nice frying pan that wouldn’t burn, and some cute tableware.

“I want a cute mug!”

She saw a cute cat mug at the general store and thought about buying it and decided she’d get it next time, but forgot.

“Um...I didn’t mean like that.”

“Eh? What do you mean, then?” Ayako looked up at him in confusion. Yusuke stuttered and turned away.

“Nevermind.”

“Ehh, I’m curious though! You have to say it now, Yusuke! Are you cheating on me? Say it!”

“Didn’t you cheat on me earlier too?”

That’s right-

Ayako pouted.

“I’ll tell you next time.” Yusuke laughed and gently rested his hand on her head. He had a sly smile.

She couldn’t easily forgive him!

When he first started working part-time at the pub, he didn’t smile at all. When he practiced his greetings, it was awkward to hear him say any cheerful greetings.

But ever since they started dating, he was smiling more often and his facial expressions were softer than before.

While it made Ayako happy, it also made her worried.

She leaned against Yusuke’s shoulder. “...Don’t flirt with others.”

Yusuke’s ice cream dropped onto his knees and he stared at her with a weird face. “What?”

“Don’t do it!”

“Are you jealous~?” He joked.

She lightly glared at him. “I’ll get mad.”

“Sorry.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

She couldn’t tell Yusuke yet, but recently, she started taking cooking classes. She wanted to surprise him and make him happy with a delicious bento. She wasn’t that good yet, so it was a secret.

She always took care of her skin and makeup more carefully and the two went out on dates a lot.

She wanted this to work out.

Please...

(I’m in love with you!)

She wanted to be pretty, and do her best.

* * *

Standing in the kitchen of their apartment, Ayako shook the frying pan with both hands. She was cooking a beautiful looking omelet, and it made her grin.

It had been almost a month since she started attending cooking class. She’d made a beef stew in class the other day that was also delicious.

She was better than before!

She looked back into the living room. Yusuke was watching a science fiction movie while lying on the sofa.

Ayako slipped the omelet on a plate.

“Yusuke~!” She called. “Let’s go on a date on Sunday. I want to buy a jacket.”

“...Oh. I have something to do that day.”

“An errand?”

“I’ll be meeting with some people for a bit.”

“With who?” She hadn’t heard of this. Last week, he was saying how he was free on Sunday.

“Just an acquaintance.” Yusuke replied, still laying on the sofa.

She moved to the living room with the frying pan in her hands.

“Then, when can we do it?”

“At the end of next month...maybe.” Yusuke finally got up.

“So far ahead?!”

It’d been two weeks since their last date where they ate crepes. Until now, no matter how busy he was, he always made time for a date. But recently, Yusuke had been going out alone.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you next time.”

“That’s not it!” She wasn’t a child. She knew he was keeping secrets.

Ayako puffed her cheeks and gripped the frying pan tightly. There would be no time to show off the bento she was working so hard on.

October was already over. Next month, it was going to get cold, and they won’t feel like having a picnic.

“Yusuke, you’ve been really secretive lately...are you hiding something from me?” Ayako stared at him. Yusuke looked away.

So he was hiding something.

So that was how it was.

“I’ll talk...next time.” Yusuke raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay. If Yusuke wants to leave me alone, he can.” Ayako turned back to the kitchen. The second omelet she was making was ruined and crumbled.

Now it was just scrambled eggs.

“Oh, now I’ve done it...”

Her teacher would have pointed it out to her. “Fujita-san is uneven. You have to cook them calmly one by one.” 

That’s what she was told.

Yusuke came into the kitchen, seeming a bit worried. He sighed as she served a plate.

“I’ll...eat, then.” Yusuke said.

Ah-

She wanted him to eat the delicious one.

_

When Ayako got out of the bath, the dishes and frying pans that she’d left in the sink were already washed and tidied up. Yusuke was laying on the sofa in the living room, fast asleep.

She crouched in front of him, hugging a cushion. While watching him sleep, she puffed her cheeks.

Even if they fought, she still wanted to sleep next to him!

They promised that.

She carefully removed his glasses from his face, making sure not to wake him up. After picking up the magazine he’d been reading, she pulled a blanket and futon from her bedroom.

She put the blanket on Yusuke and wrapped herself up next to the sofa.

“I love you. Goodnight.”

_

The next morning, Ayako woke up to the aroma of coffee. Yusuke had woken up first and was in the kitchen. The blanket he’d used was folded on the sofa.

Ayako sleepily stood up.

“Good morning.” Yusuke came into the living room with a plate of toast and a mug. The cat designed mug was full of coffee with milk.

Ayako blew on it to let it cool down. She took a sip. It was sweet and delicious.

Maybe she was a little unreasonable yesterday, she thought vaguely about it and grabbed a piece of toast. It had a lot of butter on it.

Yusuke had his own circumstances, and sometimes communicating was hard.

They still couldn’t fully talk it out.

After all, she could make him lunch any time. Even if she had to wait until spring.

“On Sunday...do you want to go out together?”

“But Yusuke, don’t you have something to do? You don’t have to overdo it. We can wait on the jacket.” Ayako answered, biting into her toast.

“I had my business done the other day.” Yusuke flipped through a guitar magazine and sat with her with a matching mug. He brought it to his mouth.

“But it’s important, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine.”

“Is it because of me and what I said?” Ayako felt guilty for bothering him. “I’m sorry!” she clasped her hands together and apologized.

“So do you want to go out?”

Ayako couldn’t bring herself to lie and say she didn’t, so she nodded slowly. “...Yeah. But is it really okay?”

“Yeah. I...also wanted to go out with Ayako.”

Ayako brightened at his words and hugged his arm tightly. The mug in Yusuke’s hands shook as he struggled not to spill.

* * *

Over the holidays, Ayako pulled Yusuke to a men’s shop that she’d been interested in for a long time. Today was the last day for the sale.

Yusuke seemed a little disheartened by the atmosphere of the shop, as he didn’t normally come by it.

Ayako pushed Yusuke into the dressing room with a jacket of her choice. She waited in front of the fitting rooms.

“How does it look?”

Ayako moved and opened the curtain a little, peeking inside. Yusuke had just put on the jacket.

“It’s perfect!” Ayako was satisfied with his appearance and smiled.

“Is that so..?” Yusuke blinked, shaking his head a little.

“It’s a simple jacket, so it suits Yusuke!” The color was nice, and the collar design was fashionable, and it looked neat. “And, above all else, it’s on sale!”

“Then...I’ll get it.” Yusuke said after looking at himself in the mirror.

_

“Would you like to wear it?” The male clerk asked at the counter.

“Yes, I will.” Yusuke paid the bill and left the store. As he left with it, he seemed to be in a better mood than usual. He seemed to like it more than Ayako expected.

“Maybe it’s not that bad...”

“It’s really cool!”

It was cool. But his price tag was sticking out, wasn’t it? They forgot to have the clerk cut it off.

Sometimes, she really was careless.

She hid the price tag in his collar so it wouldn’t be noticed.

“..?”

Ayako hugged Yusuke’s arm tightly with a big smile on her face.

“Let’s go out on another date! ♡”

She was going to fall in love with him over and over again, no matter how many times they went out.

_

The two went on a hill in the park where cherry blossoms were planted, and spread a blanket out on the ground.

The wind was a little strong, and the blanket was going to go flying, so she quickly put her stuff on it.

It was a little too cold to have a picnic since October was ending, but Ayako still sat down and took out the lunch boxes from her bag.

“When did you make lunch?”

“When Yusuke was still sleeping this morning!” Ayako confidently opened the lunch box lid.

“...Ayako really made this?” Yusuke looked at her, astonished.

“Of course! It was hard work!”

She had made mechi katsu and potato salad, classic sweet omelets, and marinated carrots with cheese. All of these were Yusuke’s favorite things.

“Actually...I went to a cooking class. I kept that a secret from Yusuke.”

That’s why she was late on dates sometimes!

She clasped her hands together. “I’m sorry! Did you notice..?”

“I didn’t realize that’s what you were doing...but I did notice your cooking was improving.”

“You did?!”

“I thought someone at our old part-time job was helping you, but I didn’t think that was enough to be a secret.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

It would be boring if she just told him, right?

Yusuke glanced at her. “Well...I never told Ayako this either...”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember my acquaintance?”

“E-Eh?”

Yusuke had a serious face, so Ayako paid close attention nervously.

“He runs an IT company, and I've been helping him for a while, but he's expanding his business and invited me to come with him.”

“IT...company?” Ayako couldn’t keep up with the sudden story, staring at him with a pokan expression.

Yusuke worked a lot for a long time, so she never knew all the details. He’d even quit his part-time job at the pub last year because he was busy with the work he was helping with.

“Yusuke, did you decide to take the job?”

Did it mean if he didn’t go, he wouldn’t be an employee?

“I thought I’d talk about it once I made a decision, because I didn’t want to worry Ayako...”

So that’s why he’d been going out alone lately.

It was all good.

Ayako slumped over in relief.

She believed in Yusuke, but she had been pretty worried.

“If Yusuke wants to do it, I won’t oppose it.” Ayako finally answered with a smile. “Oh, but then is it really okay you have today off? Since you had important work to do.”

“It’s fine. I was just supposed to clean up the office.” Yusuke looked relieved and muttered. “I’m glad, I...”

“Let’s not keep anymore secrets between us!” Ayako poked him with her finger. She knew he couldn’t tell her everything, but she was still worried.

She wanted him to know he could talk to her about anything, and she also wanted to properly talk about things with him.

“Answer me!”

“Yes!” Yusuke jumped up in a strange tone.

Ayako laughed.

* * *

“I want to introduce you to someone.” Yusuke had said, and the two of them went to an old coffee shop. They were the only customers.

The coffee Yusuke ordered and the hot coca she ordered were brought to the table.

A man who looked big enough to tear his own jacket sat near them.

Ayako couldn’t make eye contact with the intimidating person, so she just stared down at her cocoa.

Since she and the guy were quiet, Yusuke cleared his throat. “Um..this is Oki-san, my acquaintance who runs an IT company earlier..?”

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you!” Ayako squeaked out. “Um, I’m Fujita!” She lowered her head, but raised her eyes.

In front of Oki-san was a cream soda with a cherry on top. Was he really the president of an IT company?

“He was my junior in high school.” Yusuke explained, but Ayako felt more confused.

He said Oki-san was his junior, but he seemed older than him.

"I’ve been indebted to the president for a long time.”

There was a sudden bang, and the cups bounced on the table.

Oki-san made a sound and bent over as if in pain.

“That’s not..?!”

Yusuke lifted the cup to his lips with a smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“What did you mean, president?”

Ayako glanced at Yusuke’s face.

“Well...it’s actually more like a student council president.”

“That’s right. Narumi-san was actually the president of the student council and was in the best shape ever.”

There was another bang under the table, and Oki-san leaned over.

“Weren’t you?”

Yusuke, still smiling, lowered his voice.

“Well, it’s thanks to Oki-san I managed to graduate high school, even though I repeated it five times.” While he spoke, Oki-san suddenly started crying, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Sorry, I’m just getting a bit emotional.”

Yusuke gave Oki-san a tissue, as he had a messy face with tears and a runny nose.

“Thank you.” Oku-san accepted the tissue and wiped at his face.

“He's not a good salesman, so clients often run away from him... so I was asked to help him out.” Yusuke explained.

“Sorry, sorry.” Oki-san muttered.

He seemed a little scary...but he also seemed like a good person?

He was polite and obviously Yusuke respected him.

"Thank you for taking care of Yusuke.” Ayako bowed her head.

Oki-san panicked a little and bowed back with a quick “It’s been my pleasure!”

_

After they left the store, Yusuke walked in silence for a bit. He finally spoke up. “Were you surprised?”

“That Yusuke is actually the president of a whole school?” Ayako teased, crossing her arms.

"It’s a bit different from that...” Yusuke held his mouth with one hand and looked up at the sky.

The sky was cloudy and the wind was stronger than earlier. Leaves fell from the trees and landed on the concrete below.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s fine. There’s some things I can’t say to Yusuke.”

When Ayako was a high school student, she was more quiet than she was now, and she wasn’t conspicuous about it.

She was fashionable and wanted to change, and she wanted everyone’s attention.

It was the start of her third year of high school that she decided to change.

She stopped wearing glasses, changed her hairstyle, and did her makeup. She also threw away all of her clothes and bought fashionable clothes.

She decided to go into the fashion industry because she wanted to fulfill people’s wishes of wanting to be cute.

“After all, if you saw me from high school, you would laugh.”

“...I want to see it.”

“Can Yusuke also show me his pictures?”

“I give up...”

“Well, I want to see your high school photos too? Back when you were practically the president...” 

Yusuke quickly put his hand over her mouth.

“They called me that on their own...” Yusuke released his hand and spoke quietly.

She was sure everyone loved him.

Within half a year of working part-time at the pub, everyone had become dependent on Yusuke, and the manager had even asked him if he wanted to be a candidate for manager.

But as soon as they started dating, Yusuke got busy and ended up quitting.

“Also...I don’t have a photo of myself from high school.” Such words came from Yusuke’s mouth. He turned away and looked down.

Not even one? She wanted to ask, but kept her mouth shut.

Everyone had some of their past that they wanted to erase.

Even when Ayako looked at pictures of herself before she changed, she felt like running away. It wasn't until after she graduated that she was able to accept that "this is just me.”

She couldn’t even imagine how Yusuke was in high school.

Even though he had regrets and things he couldn’t swallow, couldn’t he still talk to anyone? She didn’t ask.

It was more important to keep Yusuke happy and smiling now.

[purplerayne17]

The Letter (BAKUDEKU)

Ugh.

Izuku had been staring at this blank page for the past five hours. He began, only to find himself deleting everything he had managed to type. How to convey his emotions correctly without coming across as too much of a creep was harder than he figured.

You see, he had been going to a psychologist for his anxiety, but after a few sessions the doctor had determined that he had to work on his self-esteem first.

Bullshit.

He was fine.

Izuku wasn’t the best-looking guy around, but he was smart and creative.

Then again, he had also settled to study for something he knew would be easy because he was afraid he wouldn’t be good enough. He’d wanted to study law, and he was even accepted to the best programs, but this was foolish of him; he was terrible at social interactions and he hated memorizing things. It was the smart move to give that up.

Izuku had also stayed at his quaint little hometown instead of traveling because he knew it was a risk to leave his current job.

His current job where he didn’t talk to anyone; his current job that he kind of hated.

Getting off track again to sulk about the past—awesome.

Izuku’s assignment was easy. He, despite all his best efforts, had fallen for a guy in his town. Stupid. He should be looking for a guy to whisk him away to another part of the world and that way, at least one of his dreams would come true. But the blonde smelled so good though…

Again, side-tracked.

Izuku’s assignment was to write a letter to the crimson-eyed man, letting him know of his true feelings. Even if the man never received it, he needed to write a letter that included zero self-criticism, and a hundred percent sincerity. It should be easy, right?

“Dear…” No, too formal.

“Greetings!” Was Izuku an alien?

“To whom it may concern…” What the hell? Was Izuku writing to a random company?

“Dude!” Eliminated before it was even typed.

Izuku pushed his laptop to the side and got up, made himself a sandwich with yesterday’s leftovers, and ate. Some distractions might be good. This did not work; his mind kept drifting to the blank slate he had left on standby. He sighed and decided to start again—this time focusing on the message and leaving the greeting for later.

Just to catch you up, they had met through a mutual friend, and Izuku thought he was cute, but looked a little too stuck up for his taste. Izuku didn’t exactly have a type. Piercings, tattoos and an adventurous spirit made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, but he also liked smart men, artistic men, men in uniforms; hell, even women with all of the aforementioned qualities! This man was part(most) of those. Biggest problem was that he was a small-town man with simple aspirations, but something about him stuck. The next time they met, they talked a little more and they realized they had a lot more in common.

The blonde could never like someone like Izuku, he thought. You see, the blonde was tall, had flawless skin, and was brimming with confidence. Izuku on the other hand had pale skin littered with scars, terrible fashion sense, and a world of baggage.

One day, he had made plans to go to the movies with some friends and he knew the man was going. What Izuku did not expect was for everyone to bail and leave them alone. This is just friends at the movie theater, he thought. Izuku felt mortified as he remembers what he had worn that day. He stayed stiff and silent throughout the whole movie just drowning in embarrassment.

The man, Katsuki, was polite and asked Izuku to get a bite to eat. No big deal, friends go get a slice of pizza all the time. Okay, maybe Katsuki was a bit fancier because this wasn’t Pizza Hut, but an actual restaurant. Izuku just had to play it cool and enjoy the time with his friend, no biggie.

Afterwards, the blonde offered him a ride to his car which was back at the theater, and Izuku couldn’t refuse; I mean, he wasn’t about to walk all the way back. But as they neared Izuku’s car, Katsuki parked. Izuku felt a bolt rush up his spine.

‘What is he doing?’

And that’s when it happened. The crimson-eyed hottie told him he liked Izuku in a long, well-thought-out speech. Izuku’s mind was mush and he just mumbled a quick reply before bolting towards his own car.

His mind buzzed, still reeling from the information he had received, unable to process what he had heard. He was so deep in his thoughts that he reached his home without noticing. Izuku was about to leave for a different state in two weeks and NOW he says something? Also, why? There were much better candidates all around.

So, to help him process his emotions, he went to his therapist, who—although a little condescending—was usually a big help. In the end, his dark-haired therapist helped him see he had probably hurt the guy, but Izuku also knew that he didn’t want to give up his dreams yet again over a guy he had just met.

So now, Izuku sat once again in front of his laptop, trying to type in some sort of apology/explanation that could satisfy them both.

The best approach, he decided, was to be blunt and then soften it down.

“I know you said you liked me, but why?” This implies low self-esteem. Delete.

“I’m sorry. I can’t date you right now because I want better things out of life.” Harsh much? You can be nicer, Izuku.

Okay, last try.

“Thank you for your words last night; I really did not expect a friendly outing to have that outcome. You’re hot an pretty much perfect, however, I shouldn’t be in a relationship right now because I need to work on myself first.”

Not bad, but also VERY cliché. Delete.

He stretched and let out a big groan. Why did he have to agree to this exercise?

Stupid paper. It was fine when he spoke the words, but having to write them? Ouch!

In the end, he did write up a small, honest letter that would appease his therapist and left the office thinking he had done okay.

Izuku did feel better, and the best part was that Katsuki would never see it. When he got to his apartment, he began packing for his trip.

Little did Izuku know, that his therapist was Katsuki’s friend and would actually hand him the letter.

On his last day home, just as he finished taping up the last box, he heard a knock on his door.

“Coming!”

Izuku went over to get his wallet and reached in to pay the take-out guy, but when he looked up, his face blanched.

It was him. Katsuki Bakugo. He looked...angry.

Izuku blinked his emerald eyes slowly, as if waiting for the specter of his nightmares to disappear; however, he didn’t, and instead spoke in an urgent tone.

“I think we should talk.” Waving the letter in Izuku’s face as he entered the flat.

Ugh!

Why couldn’t he have just left the damned page blank?

[sparklingpax]

My favorite pages of a Transformers Prime Halloween fanfiction I wrote in 5th grade. In this story, the Autobots and Decepticons call a truce. Well, the kids call up Megatron and organize this and then Optimus catches them but then also agrees jdsjdjsdjdshsdh I know this makes Zero Sense but yknow what that’s,,,,how my brain worked back then. Made no sense. Still doesnt make sense actually--

ahhhh so.........enjoy ^^’’ 

Um and sorry for mistakes and potentially immature perceptions of the characters...remember I wrote this literally almost 5-6 years ago,,,, O//O’’

OH AND. LONG THREAD. (Mostly because of the photos. But forwarning I guess ^^’’)

(I’ll just do some explaining since I only picked parts of this story. Also sorry for the terrible picture quality :’D)

Edit: The grammatical errors. I’m in Pain.

In no particular order: 

1.) This. Because?? Mood. 

2.) Ratchet’s change of heart (sort of) aND THE FACT THAT I MADE HIS COSTUME AN ANGEL AJSJSJSDJ

(he made them some tasty energon goodies <33)

3.) fjdfjdfj idk why but I really like this part of the chapter in general,,,maybe it’s just me lmfao but uh....well.....good job, younger me lolol you’ve made older me genuinely laugh 😹😹😹😅😳

I do have one question for myself: wHY did I choose a MONKEY COSTUME?? FOR STARSCREAM???! *cries laughing* that is so random I can’t even rn--

4.) This one single part. It comes earlier in the story ofc, and again idk why but I just,,,this part is decent. And I kinda like it lmfao 

After this, I remember reading something about Megatron visiting “blogs” and reading about Halloween and costumes and all that. Which I’m 99.9% certain was some sort of reference to Tumblr. So. Make of this what you will, I suppose owo 

5.) The description of Op’s costume! He went as a cat and I distinctly remember making him dress up as a cat because cats have always been my favorite animal so my logic was: favorite character + favorite animal = pERFECT!! <D Anyway, uhhh.....sometime I wanna draw this :3 it’s a cute costume idea actually....so congrats again to younger me for doing something right...sorta..^^’’

(if you wanna know the end of that sentance, it just says smth like how neither of them had made a costume like this so even if it wasn’t all that perfect, it was a really good effort for a first try <3)

6.) Very much like the way I opened this chapter too,,,,lol why am I even trying to explain my thoughts my brain just,,,I Like This Bit Too,,,,I hope y’all like it as well,,,,idk--

7.) wHAT was this ending asdfjkldjsdkjsdj 

all I can say is that the Starscream adding that he will crush them later is the Best Thing and I’m still laughing about it,,,kudos to younger me yet again ^^’’ 

8.) SAVED THE BEST FOR LAST! I really liked this part??? For many reasons. I remember it was my favorite part to write :3 Of course, my stupid immature humor had to ruin it with the “thug life” joke because that was another thing I found extrememly hilarious back then sooo.....oh and I apologize for the way Megatron abruptly destroys the mood....I was tryna be deep I think?? BUt...idk...that moment just throws the vibe off too abruptly....idk....y’all lmk what you think I guess...? But anyway, my favorite part of the whole thing >:33 

LIKE I WANT OPTIMUS TO DO THIS SOMEDAY. IT’S CUTE. LIKE,,,,SUE ME BUT IT’S FUNNY,, 😹😹😹😹

(also what I meant by “a shade of crimson darker than Jack” is: a few pages back, a fake spider scared the living daylights out of jack and he landed flat on his back after screaming so loudly that literally everyone burst into laughter for a good few mintues. And Jack had blushed  like super hard. That’s. Idk why I didn’t specify that in the writing sdsjsdj anwyay--)

///

And bonus: the cover page that um. Is atrocious. Please forgive me O//w//O’’ 

tHAT IS nOT what his costume was supposed to look like in my mind’s eye but I suppose on that day I gave up and did....that....so..............

///

Well! Ok! You made it to the end of this thread!!! <3 THank you so much for reading through it all!! You’re the best!! Like,,,seriously thank you so so much Q//w//Q And I’m so sorry for wasting your time 

Please have a lovely day/evening!! Maybe sometime I’ll post pics from that Christmas fic ;3

See y’all around then! ^^’’

[literaphobe]

I finished watching she-ra yesterday! I decided to watch it after seeing your posts on my dash a lot and watched the whole thing in just over a week. Can you recommend some more she-ra blogs to follow?

i’ve recced blogs before but i barely knew anyone back when i did that. this time i know a couple more people and even tho im not like miss popular nor do i talk to every one i’ll do a blog rec that’s a tiny bit more thorough! (disclaimer, this is low key in order of people that showed up on my blog aka i reblogged something from them etc hgdfjsd not according to like. how much i love them or anything)

@catradoraism mmm i’m p sure i indirectly rec jules as a blog a few times every day, because of how i sometimes. talk about her. anyway i hate jules! but she does have a really great blog, she makes very good posts and is very talented. she can draw and write really well, and is just a lot more talented than me. follow her u will regret it but do it anyway <3

@catralatina mar is unfairly big brained. they are galaxy brained and make incredible posts and they get really good asks too! so if you’re looking for a blog who’s got good rapport w their followers, look no further! also they are a talented writer and i saw some of their art it’s good. one time they posted a picture from an atla comic and i thought they drew it. it was very embarrassing <3 but yes if you’re not following them u should!!

@catralovesgirls yo definitely follow izzy!! he has excellent takes and i’m like scrolling through his top posts section right now and it’s like impeccable. mine are hm! well! but if you’re following me following izzy would definitely be a step up <3 he also writes fic and i uh admittedly have not read any (sorry i have read like less than 20 catradora fics :( all of which came from page 1-2 of the tag filtered according to kudos. i’m still working on this oneshot but i will def check out his fics when i’m done and so should u all!) 

@catheriaa yes follow cath!!!!! cath said adora hair down jacket open rights! cath said good posts rights! ur takes are very good congratulations on making excellent meta with excellent points <3 also ur post about the inherent rivalry of people with adora icons vs people with catra icons FGHHGH 

@mer-mystery is like straight up excellent. good posts, good reblogs! for some reason i will definitely always list them if u ask me for good she-ra blogs. also like that url. inspired. literally just look at mine n u know immediately who is quality and who isn’t. i also think she leaves great tags, so it’s a treat when she reblogs one of my terrible posts <3 

@gfshera karlie is quality!! love her takes love her posts love her tags. things i remember about her aside from this is her new girl au and the one time i reblogged some incorrect killing eve post and she immediately made it into a bfs post, which i wanted to make but didn’t know how. so clearly they are smarter than me <3 although being smarter than me. not the highest praise gdfhsdj

@swordlesbean one of those. god tier blogs. intimidating but in a good way, they write Meta™ and its very articulate and thorough and well put together!! they’ll link to like past meta within one meta sometimes and its like they’re sourcing their work and its kinda cool ngl!! 

@marahoping YES definitely follow kenna!!!!! love her gifs like so much it’s the chef’s kissness of it all....... also will post other good things not just gifs, very entertaining blog in general to follow!

@horde-princess yeah!!!! Big Love for their content and posts and they got sick ass meta and they write fic!! (once again i am not sure i have read the fic of anyone listed here. i am very sorry. i know, i should be lynched) very very worth the follow. very value for money <3

@scorpia a perfect character url? how are u not already hitting that follow button. no they are not hogging the url. they run a full very good blog too! definitely makes good posts of a variety of types, like meta, funnie stuff, and this one richard siken post because bro...

@catriadora a great gif maker! scrolled through some of their top posts and they made some gifs/sets that i really liked! you’ll love her too!

@homophobicshadowweaver very funny posts in the top posts section ghdfjshfds also eleanor has read the she-ra books? the ones that like that letter from adora to catra came from? and i remember seeing ur posts about it and it was really fun to follow :) also that url. incredible. just by having that url u prove ur funnier than most people on here congratulations

@egirlcatra i really like u a lot ghdfjsdhdfsj def has good tags and takes and very fun to interact with <3 go send them asks! 

@appsa i like LOVE their art and also they are so fun to interact with! they have other good posts too obviously and they have funny tags and buddy. once again love ur art its good as well as being very funny i need like so much more of it 

think i will stop here now. my apologies if i follow u and left u out, or if i recced u last time and forget to rec u again ghdfsjfhd. also there are some people i follow that i wanted to rec but their blogs aren’t fully she-ra so i decided not to? idk. this took a while so ya definitely follow these blogs, and to these blogs have a nice day keep doing you <3 

[dasibom]

haven't read it but heard mostly very positive things about a little life, would be interested in why u think it's bad? (if u want ofc)

ofc i love talking abt how much i hate this book. i answered a similar ask on my old blog so i'm just gonna copy paste (with a little editing):

content and trigger warnings for rape, csa, suicide, self harm and abuse. both for the book and this post.

i have so, so many problems with this book. lets start with... the gay stuff. here’s an bit from a goodreads review (link) by Michael Flick, which says it better than i could. the whole review is worth a read, too.

“Some believe that this is “The Great Gay Novel.” That couldn’t be more wrong. There are only two recognizable gay men in this work, JB and Caleb. A creative queen and a violent, probably psychopathic, sadist. All the other “possibilities” are pedophiles (categorically not gay—that’s a sickness, an evil, that has nothing to do with being gay) or so hopelessly confused (and impotent) that you can’t know what they are (JB and Willem). The take on gay men here is antediluvian—a dangerous and discredited brand of heteronormative delusion in which all gay men, no matter the glittering surface of their lives, are fated only to die a lonely, miserable death. Caleb dies an excruciating death (so we’re told) from pancreatic cancer. JB, the witty, flamboyant, unstable, creative queen is merely a plot point. His happiness, told but not shown, at the bitter end doesn’t mean anything more than that. He’s a device to wring one more regret from you, one more sorrow. You can be assured that he, too, will die an ignoble death just beyond this novel’s last page. And you won’t be troubled or offended or titillated by the gay sex (or really any sex) here because there isn’t any: it’s the sex that dare not speak its name. All this is because the author knows absolutely nothing about gay men other than the most superficial stereotypes and doesn’t have the imagination to venture deeper than that. She can’t even imagine that a man (Willem) doesn’t need a woman to quench his sexual needs—he has a solution readily at hand.

other than this, i remember this book having lesbophopic language but i don’t own a copy and i'm not gonna search the internet for that.

basically the whole book is just pure torture porn. so many bad and traumatising things happen to the main character it feels unrealistic and i think the only reason it happens is because the characters life has to be miserable. that's the whole point of the book to me. there is no reason to so graphically include a ton of this stuff in a book other than shock value. some of this graphic stuff includes very extreme descriptions of self harm (mostly cutting but also other stuff), suicide (including possible methods), physical and sexual abuse (part of it when the main character is a child), violence and medical trauma. i’m afraid that there is a real danger to this book teaching people how to hurt themselves (or even stuff like where to hide the tools they do it with) and i can’t imagine what an actively suicidal person might get out of this book. it really, really concerns me. i’m afraid this book teaches people to not get help, to not go to therapy and get help if they’ve been traumatised and/or are struggling with living. i've been traumatised in childhood and i can imagine what someone younger than i am, someone more impressionable, could get out of this book. like seriously some very fucked up ideas, i felt like the whole thing about being traumatised, and the constant self harming and suicide attempts were presented in almost a romanticised way. obviously my opinion here isn't like objective, or something, cause i'm a person trying to recover and deal w childhood trauma, which still affects me every day, in several ways, and realistically, it will never stop affecting me, but the point is that although it was terrible and it fucking sucks, it doesn't mean i will have a life with no quality and will forever be unhappy and unable to cope. and this book so clearly disagrees with it. the fact that the main character is traumatised and that horrible things happened to him as a child feels like a death sentence when it doesn't have to be.

^ lmao a point i also wanted to bring up in this section is that not all of the shit that happens to the main character needed to happen because it's fiction and it's a made up story, like after some point when i was reading it and seriously messed up shit just kept happening and it kept on going i thought like... why? it servers absolutely no purpose after some point. reading a rape scene after rape scene stopped having an affect on me eventually and... that's not very good, is it? like, i'm trying to say, this is fiction, it doesn't need to go that far? at some point, a very early point at that, it was enough to get the message across that hey, what happens to this character is bad and fucked up, it didn't need to go on.

the whole book is also full of people enabling the main character to hurt himself over and over again and do nothing. every character is there to some way hurt the main character and people praise this book for being such a great tale about friendship. it is so pretentious and again, just pure torture porn. the book so clearly seem to think therapy and reaching out to people for help it bullshit!

i’m not saying you can’t write or discuss the themes that are present in this book but i just don’t think this is the way to do it. probably a therapist specialising in trauma should consult with the writer and someone should make sure the description of self harm and suicide will not harm anyone. i think there are guidelines made for that by people working in the field and i just feel like something like that would be of benefit here. like, i don't know, i don't have a solution, i'm just saying this is not it.

also, here is a link to the author literally saying she does not believe in trigger warnings. and i think those would have been extremely beneficial to have at the start of this book and i certainly would not have read it if it was for them. that would have saved me from so much triggering content that i did not want to read and i wish badly that i did not read. it seems clear to me the author does not have any idea how traumatic things can work, or at least that is what i think based on what she says. here is a link to an interview in which she says she does not believe in talk therapy. there, a point about a persons autonomy to end their own life is brought up which is a topic but if that’s what she wants to talk about then it should be done in clear terms and not with the only message “therapy doesn’t work if you’ve suffered enough trauma.” at least that’s how the whole thing seemed to me. like of course a persons own choice to end their life is a discussion i do think is worth having, but... that did not come across in the book.

lastly, here are some links i have saved about this book which i think point out excellent things if anyone wants to read more:

https://www.reddit.com/r/books/comments/a0e1yi/convince_me_a_little_life_is_a_good_book_please/

http://post45.org/2016/06/im-so-sorry-a-little-life-and-the-socialism-of-the-rich/

https://cannonballread.com/2016/07/narfna-a-little-life/

& you're welcome to ask me to clarify something or just discuss, this is a little bit of a mess cause i copy pasted that old answer and edited it a bit to hopefully word things better but like. idk if much of it makes sense

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.03

The Portrait’s Success

10/02/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 7,071

Warnings: Language, exhaustion (both reader’s and mine), Medieval Bucky

A/N: Welp, finished the chapter. Went back to edit. Ended up adding another thousand or so words to it. Went from 5k to 7k. Sorry they seem to keep getting longer but this isn’t new for me so...enjoy! Also, I’ll probably be using a lot of dresses from Reign as they are gorgeous costumes and fit the semi-historic style but not exactly as accurate as they should be that I’m going for. Let me know what you think. What you love. What’s your favorite part? I love y’all. Sorry I’ve been slow to update. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Not enough sleep. You have been up all night practicing your letters and sounding them out as you trace them.

With burning eyes, you reach for the modest serving of bread, ripping a piece and then dipping it into a small dish of strawberry jam. It’s full of seeds and they stick in your teeth a bit, but the sweet taste is too good to pass up. You have never had such tasty bread, or such tasty jams.

The food is by far the most enjoyable thing about your new life here in the castle.

You’ve been practicing your writing, but you’ve focused on three words only. All proper nouns, but words that you will come to live by.

The first is obvious, for he is your benefactor now. Your adoptive father.

S-T-A-R-K. You write, in big loopy letters that squiggle unevenly across the top of your parchment paper.

With a lick to your lips, you dip your pen back in its inkwell, and start on the second word that you’ve spent all night practicing.

This one will be the most important for yourself. Because it is who you are. It’s you’re name. Letter by letter, same loopy shapes, sloppy lines, but thankfully legible.

You write it out three times before you’re satisfied with it then move on to the word that will change your life forever.

R-O-G-E-R-S. Here in Malibia, Queen Virginia, or Pepper as you’ve been told to call her, was allowed to keep her own surname. Morgana has taken the King’s but in Broklin, you know that you must take King Rogers’s surname.

You don’t really mind. You must belong to that kingdom entirely and not having to lie about your surname by pretending that it’s Stark will help you feel like you truly do.

As you write out his name a fourth time, you tap against the bottom of the S creating a dark pool of ink, blotting across the bottom of the page as you remind yourself that King Rogers hasn’t accepted you just yet.

You’ve decided to dedicate your life to becoming a good Queen. A good wife to his Majesty King Rogers, but that doesn’t mean that he will want you.

You’re poor. Of course, he doesn’t know that but all of this, not knowing how to read or write will no doubt bother him.

You’re also common in your looks. Natasha tells you otherwise but how can you believe her when she’s so blindingly beautiful herself?

She should be the one marrying a king. Not you. What will you do if you fail his Majesty and can’t make King Rogers fall in love with you?

No. You don’t need him to love you. Just accept you.

As long as he marries you, then everything will be fine.

Is it wrong that you want him to love you?

The subtle creak of your door surprises you and you jump, sitting up straight. Like you were taught.

A young girl no older than fifteen squeaks at the sight of you. She’s wearing a plain maid’s gown, white and gray and brown. Stiff and of good quality. Prettier than anything you’d owned before but sturdy like your old tunic.

Hmph. Even the common folk in the castle are different.

“Forgive me, your Highness.” She gasps with a curtsy and stays ducked down. “I did not know you were awake. I was sent to mend your fire and deliver your morning tea.”

You spring to your feet, waving both hands at her, hoping the smile on her face is not full of surprise and helps to reassure her.

“No. Please, stand up. It ain’t—It’s no problem. Don’t let me stop you from doing what you were told to do.” When she doesn’t rise, you hurry to her and place your hands just underneath her elbows to coax her up.

“Thank you, your Highness.” She watches you with curiosity as if she’s trying to read you, but she goes about the room doing her work while you keep out of her way.

Soon the fire is roaring again and she’s serving your tea while you munch on a biscuit smeared in purple jam. God, this food is going to kill you, it’s so delicious. Once more the door opens, and you jump.

This time, you see two figures, one tall with red hair. The second shorter with fluffy brown hair.

“We’ll wake her gently. Then we can-” Natasha is telling Peter then stops and straightens out of her stooped posture as she spots you standing by the small cards table that’s been cleared for you to eat on. “Oh. You’re already awake.”

You smile at her, then look beside her at your guard. “I am. Good morning. Good morning, Peter.”

“’Morning your Highness.” Peter smiles.

“I thought you’d be exhausted after all of your lessons yesterday.” Nat confesses, a small chuckle in her voice as she moves towards the thick curtains that have blocked out most of the light from coming in through the floor to ceiling windows in your room.

“I was tired.” You admit, feeling a little bit of shame for not sleeping. “Do we have a lot to do today?”

You put your teacup down, biscuit dropped on its plate as you move to take a seat. Your body is finally catching with your fatigue and feels a hundred pounds heavier suddenly.

“Well, we’re meeting his Majesty for breakfast, then we are to go meet with the painter for your portrait. We must get something out by tonight if not tomorrow. King Rogers is eager to see you.” Natasha finally wrangles the curtains open and her smile slowly fades into an expression of dour disappointment. “Oh, Y/N!”

She chastises you, the maid staring with wide eyes at the apparent liberties that Natasha is taking. Peter also looks shocked. You however cringe because you know that she can finally see you for the sleep deprived mess that you are.

“Um…if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to get changed and…yeah…” Peter says, ignoring your pleading looks for him to stay as he slips out, following the maid, then shuts the door.

You’re chewing on your lip when Natasha reaches out to touch the space underneath your eyes.

“You’ve always looked a little tired—and I figured it was just because of your circumstances—but this is unacceptable. We’re supposed to be painting you today to entice King Rogers not warn him. I told you how important this portrait is.” She growls and goes to fixing your hair.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper.

“Were you up all night?”

You nod as she finishes with your hair.

“Why?” She asks and you can’t help it, you jump to your feet and skip to your desk.

You pull out the piece of parchment you’d been writing on then hand it to her.

“I was practicing. When I must sign my name, I wanted to be able to do so nicely and I thought…maybe, to help him see that I want this as much as he does, that I could write to him? But my writing is so terrible. I needed to practice.” You lean around the paper as she looks it over.

Her expression seems to soften, her hand running over the repeated letters and finally that ink blot at the end. It’s almost as if she can guess what you’ve been thinking, and her eyes wander to the desk where you left the small compact with King Rogers’s portrait open to look at as you wrote.

You hurry to grab it, shut it, and hold it in both hands. Slightly embarrassed but it’s Natasha. If anyone is going to know your mind inside and out, it should be her. She’s your lady.

“This looks good, your Highness, but you’ll need much more practice before you’ll be able to write an acceptable letter.” She says as gently as she can manage.

You deflate, your sleep deprivation suddenly too much.

“Does it look that bad?” You look at your scriggles again, trying to see them with fresh eyes and not with the effort that you’ve spent the night using to do them.

“No.” Natasha’s hand finds your shoulder. “No, your Highness. You have made much progress. I only mean that it’ll take time before you can write to his Majesty King Rogers. You still need to learn how to spell other words. Not just names.”

It feels like you’re being hammered into the ground. Every word, although she means it in comfort, makes you feel as if you’ll never be good enough.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We have time. Not much, but I’ll help you.”

As she wraps an arm around your shoulder, you frown and reach out to touch the last iteration of Rogers that you’d written.

“He’s going to be so disappointed with me.” You worry, knowing that you’re nothing special. Worse because not only are you not a real princess, but you’re uneducated.

Then, like the flipping of a switch, Natasha says sternly, “We don’t have time for that.”

She pushes you away and hurries to your wardrobe.

“I’ve allowed you to wallow in a bit of self-pity the past two days because this is not your fault and you’re taking on something that even I would find hard to do but if you’re going to do this, you need to go in with your chin held high. Can you do that?”

You stare as she rifles through your dresses, frowning at each one as if none of them are right.

What answer can you give her? There’s only one answer. You wouldn’t have agreed to do this if you weren’t sure that you could dedicate yourself completely to it and you have! You haven’t even tried to run away.

Part of that is because this place is nicer than any place you’ve been before. But it would be a lie to say that you don’t miss your village. You were no one there but at least you were on somewhat equal footing with all of them.

Even in the village you were slightly lower, uneducated as you are, but you were accepted. You belonged there in a sense. You were your own woman. Hungry most of the time. Alone. But it was home.

“Your Highness?” She checks, turning back to you. “Can you do this? Truly?”

There’s a wavering of confidence in her green eyes and you realize that you don’t want to let Natasha down. Or the Kingdom. Or his Majesty.

“I can.” You nod, hating the way sleep seems to call you making your words slur a little and your shoulders slump. You stand up straighter, chin up. “I will.”

Natasha’s face relaxes, her smile more than makes up for her rightful scolding. “Good. Your dresses aren’t finished yet.”

“Oh.” You worry. “Then, maybe we should wait to do the portrait for when they are? I need to look my best for King Rogers.”

She sees through your attempts to ditch and gives you a knowing smirk.

“Nice try. You should have slept.” With a sigh she places her hands on her hips.

“Who didn’t sleep?” You turn towards the familiar voice eyes bright but worried too as King Anthony moves in with Peter trailing behind him.

“I-”

“Our new princess was up all night practicing her writing because she wants to impress Steve.” Natasha’s tone is teasing, and your neck and ears burn in slight embarrassment.

Wait…why does she call King Rogers by his first name. That’s weird right? Not normal?

The King smirks. “Is that so?” He moves to the parchment on the table and gives it a look.

“I…I wanted to write to him.” You confess, but now that you think about it, it was a silly plan.

You don’t know how to spell. You don’t know how to read. You’re learning but it’s only been two days.

“I’m guessing you saw his portrait?” The King checks.

“I gave it to her night before last.” Natasha moves away from the wardrobe to stand beside her king.

“They all fall for his looks.” The king teases. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Y/N. Steven Rogers might be handsome, but he comes with baggage. Really big, heavy baggage.”

“I know.” You counter, moving to lean against your bed post. “Natasha told me.”

His dead wife. What sort of man has he become since that? You can’t think that it will be anything but bad.

“He’s marrying you because he has to. And he still might not. Which is why we have to trick him into it. Maybe we can make him feel responsible for you somehow?” He wanders deep into thought as Natasha finally looks up at Peter and what looks to be a bunch of shiny burgundy fabric.

“What’s this dress?” She asks.

Oh, it’s a dress. Stupid sleep deprivation.

“But I don’t wanna trick him.” You say quietly, everyone else too distracted to hear you.

“That’s her dress for the portrait. I started having it altered the moment she arrived. Steve’s preferential to reds.”

“This isn’t red.” Natasha laughs. “This is burgundy. Like wine.”

“It’s in the red family.” The king argues.

“Tony…” Natasha laughs.

You’re too sleepy to keep paying them any attention and your eyes are glued on the dress as Natasha holds it up and out to look at.

Damask burgundy silk with golden embroidery along the waist, sleeves, and bust make up the bodice. The skirt is long and slightly ruffled underneath with rough tulle. Your under dress will help you keep from feeling it but this dress is slightly puffed at the skirt.

It’s beautiful but nicer than anything you’ve worn to date.

“Isn’t that too nice?” You wonder, maybe his Majesty made a mistake? You’re not going to a ball. More importantly, can you do the dress justice?

“What?” He turns to you, eyebrow quirked as he eyes you with incredulity. “Nothing is too good for my daughter.”

Your heart skips a beat and warm flutters fill your tummy as he looks back at Natasha and begins to explain something fully unaware of how his claiming you as his daughter has made you feel.

Peter on the other hand moves around them towards you and holds his arm out for you to take hold of. “Are you alright, your Highness? You look a little sick.”

“I’m okay.” You assure him. “I just…”

Wait…Peter doesn’t know about you, does he?

“It’s been a long time since his Majesty called me his daughter. I forgot what it felt like to hear.” You confess which is not a complete lie.

“Was it hard in that school you went to?” Peter asks, concern written all over his kind face, hazel eyes laced with secondhand sorrow.

“It wasn’t easy.” You tell him, again, not a complete lie. “Everything is better now that I’m here. I only hate to leave it so soon.”

“But you’ll be going to another castle, right? And Natasha and I will be coming with you.” He promises. “You won’t be alone.”

“Yes, that does make me feel better. Thank you. But I hope-” You steal a glance over at Natasha and the king as they rummage through your wardrobe and argue about the dress.

“You hope?” Peter urges.

“I hope I can make him happy. King Steven? I really want to make him happy, Peter.” You worry.

“You will.” He nods. “You’re really pretty and nice and you don’t act stuck up like most of the other ladies at court. He’d be crazy not to like you, your Highness.”

His words nearly make you float. “Thank you, Peter. That means so much to me.”

He beams and Natasha’s voice pulls your attention. “Come, your Highness, let’s get you into this burgundy gown.”

“Oh, will you drop it? You’re like a dog with a bone.” King Anthony tells her.

“Did you just call me a dog?” Natasha glares at him and it shocks you how comfortable around each other they are. How relaxed in convention. Even Peter. He calls Natasha by her name instead of her title.

Is that normal?

“I said like a dog. There’s a difference.” King Anthony says, but he chuckles. When his eyes fall on you as you stop before her, he sighs. “We’ll just have to tell Tom to make her prettier than she is at the moment. We can’t have him painting her looking that tired.”

“You won’t lie through my portrait, will you?” You demand, feeling strongly about giving King Rogers exactly what you are. If he doesn’t want you, you’d like to know now instead of later when he’s married you and he’s unhappy with what he has.

“No, not lie. We’ll just paint you more rested than you are.” His Majesty assures you. “Peter, Tom should be in the main hall by now. Show him to the third courtyard out by Pepper’s vegetable garden. We’ll have him paint her on the bench in front of the pink and white peonies. It’ll look good with the dress.”

“Right away, your Majesty.” Peter affirms and hurries out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Once gone, the king turns back to you, frown in place. “Look, kid. I really need you to start playing your part. The modesty is a good touch, there aren’t many people from privilege with it so, keep that but you can’t keep questioning every time I want to lavish you with a gift. You’re a princess. Start acting like one.”

Feeling remorseful, you nod. “Of course. I’m sorry, your Majesty.”

“Also, I’d really prefer it if you called me ‘father’. You should only refer to me as Majesty when you are referring to me to someone else or introducing me to someone I haven’t met. We’re feeding everyone the story that you were sent abroad but I don’t really need them to think that I shipped you away without affection to keep you out of sight.” He urges. “If I’d really had a daughter with emotional problems, they’d have had to pry her from my arms if they wanted to send her away.”

As he speaks the words, you know that he’s thinking of Morgana. She’s still missing. But you get what he’s saying. If you act distant with him, people will think that he never visited and sent you away so that he could pretend you didn’t exist. That’s not what you want for him either.

He’s been nothing but kind to you and considerate.

“Yes, f-father.” You frown. “Sorry. Father.”

That’s better. Sounds more natural.

“She’ll pick it up, Tony. Don’t worry.” Natasha assures him.

“Right.” He says. “Get her changed, curl her hair a little. Waves. Maybe a braid or two but keep it simple. Steve will respond more to her innocence than regality.”

“I thought we weren’t trying to trick him?” Natasha challenges.

“We’re not. I’m trying to sell him my daughter.” He looks at your stunned expression and shakes his head. “Not like that. We’re not getting any money for you. I just mean, I have to make you appealing to him.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” You ask for what must be the millionth time.

“He doesn’t have to like you.” Tony nods. “He just has to marry you. Breakfast in ten. Hurry up.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting still for hours and trying not to fall asleep is one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do.

Natasha keeps clearing her throat to remind you to sit up straight and you hear her most of the time, but Peter catches you once or twice when you’ve teetered to the side after dozing off.

Tom, the artist painting your portrait clicks his tongue every time you move and you bit your lip which makes him frown.

“Sorry.” You mutter, then sit still.

Your only solace is that the cool breeze, in combination with the warmth of the sun, is bliss. It’s this comfort that seems to lull you to sleep repeatedly so, good and bad.

Normally, according to Natasha, portraits like these are usually done over several days but because of the urgency to get your portrait to King Rogers, you sit on the white marble bench for nearly ten hours before you’re allowed to get up.

No bathroom breaks. No food. No water. It’s not torture but after two days of constant feeding, it hurts.

“Thank you, Tom.” Natasha tells the painter as he packs away his brushes and paints, staring proudly at his portrait.

“Can I see it?” You ask, Peter scurrying up to help Tom balance his bag as he begins to pull away the canvas he’s painted you on.

“Get that to his Majesty for approval immediately.” Natasha continues, ignoring your question.

“Wait,” You struggle to move.

Your ass feels numb, legs weak, head is splitting, stomach growling, eyes burning. Before you can get two steps, Tom and Peter are gone.

Disappointed, you’re so done with the day and yet, “Are you ready? You’ve got your reading and writing lessons in five minutes.”

You almost whine, complain that you’re exhausted, and you need to sleep when Natasha’s questions from the morning remind you that you’d told her you can do this.

“Yes.” You reply, tired and not doing a very good job at hiding your drowsiness with the saddened lilt of your voice.

“Just a few more hours, princess, and then you can sleep.” She assures you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder to help support you as you walk towards the door back into the castle.

“Okay.” You relent as your stomach grumbles loudly.

You’re pulled to a stop.

“Damn.” Natasha exclaims, stopping just inside the doorway to look at you apologetically.

Your shock at her swearing is maybe not pronounced enough but you’ve sworn lots yourself back home. And much worse than a simple ‘damn’.

“I’m so sorry, your Highness. You haven’t eaten since breakfast.” Natasha’s remorse is touching but you shake your head and give her a smile.

“It’s okay. I’ve gone longer without eating.” You assure her.

“Not under his Majesty’s care you haven’t. Can you make it to your lessons without me? I’ll run and get you something to eat if you can.”

“Of course, I can.” You nod. “I’m not completely useless.”

She smiles and then grabs the front of her navy dress and rushes off down the hall and out of sight.

She moves so gracefully and her navy dress and its sparkling silver embroidery make her look like a piece of floating night sky.

You hope that you can move with her grace soon.

Halfway to your lessons room, you begin to teeter from left to right. Shutting your eyes for steps at a time and all you want to do is sit down and sleep. You’re very tempted, as you pass several sturdy wooden chairs and benches as you make your way through the light limestone halls of Castle Stark.

But you persevere and keep going.

When your eyes close a third time, they stay shut much longer and you don’t realize you’re sleep walking until you’re slammed into a large firm body that very nearly knocks you off your feet.

Eyes shooting open, you watch as a tall man with shoulder length dark chestnut hair and gorgeous ice-blue eyes drops his bag and an array of scrolls he’d been carrying under his arm. The contents of said bag go spilling out across the floor along with his scrolls. Books and quills and a box of what looks like cookies that spill out across the floor.

“Oh, damn!” You exclaim, unthinking. “I’m so, so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I had my eyes closed.”

In a panic you throw yourself to the ground and begin to gather the spilled contents. Ignoring the cookies because those are ruined now. Fuck.

Way to go, Y/N.

“It’s alright. Please, don’t trouble yourself.” The man says, his deep tone easy and flowing.

As you both reach for a small black journal, you gasp at the sight of his left arm. It shines in stunning silver. It’s not a glove. Of that you’re sure because his metal fingers close around the leather book and he pulls it to him.

“You lost your arm.” You blurt without thinking, so surprised and no filter in your exhausted state.

The man swallows and you finally look up to take him in properly. He is indeed handsome, and his blue eyes are stunning. His lips are full and pink, his brow intense but kind. A full beard covers his otherwise strong jaw. You can see the peeking of a dimple on his chin.

He’s wearing a black leather tunic, black pants, tall knight’s boots and several pieces of armor. Primarily a shoulder guard on his right shoulder, emblazoned with a plain white star.

The collar of his black silk shirt peeks out from the neck of his tunic, laced shut. Around his hips rests a long sword and on the opposite side a dagger.

“I’m sorry. That was so rude of me.” You gasp, flustered by your slip. “I didn’t mean…”

“No.” He smiles. “Don’t apologize. Forgive me, I was also not watching where I was going.”

“Here.” You reach for a scroll and hand it to him. “I’m sorry about your tin of cookies. I…I can see if I can get you some more? There are these good biscuits that they make in the kitchen here. With jam they are very tasty. Or if you like plain cookies, I can make them myself?”

It’s been a while as you hadn’t been able to afford the flour to make them, but the kitchen in the castle is well stocked. You could make them if Natasha and his Majesty let you.

“That’s not necessary. Really.” The man says, smiling at you kindly.

Together the two of you finish picking up the mess you’ve made and when he has the last scroll tucked underneath his arm, you step back with a smile.

“I really am very sorry that I bumped into you.” You fuss. “I haven’t slept and I’m a little out of sorts.”

“You haven’t slept?” He asks curiously, adjusting his cargo.

“No. I was up all night practicing my writing.” You confess, not thinking. If you’d been well rested, you might not have told him any of this.

“Practicing?”

“I don’t know how to write.” You nod. “Or read. And I’m supposed to get married soon. I…I’m terrified of disappointing my husband.”

The handsome stranger smiles and looks down at the ground, then back up at you with those kind blue eyes. “I don’t suppose any man who marries you will be disappointed. Unless he’s a fool? Not many ladies would have stooped down onto the ground to help me pick all this up, much less offered to make me cookies when there are so many servants to do it for her.”

He seems to think about it for a moment.

“In fact, they would have probably held me responsible for crashing into them and left me here to pick it all up myself.”

“That’s not very nice.” You shake your head. “Besides, I was the one falling asleep while walking. I really am very tired.”

“Can you not go to bed early?” He asks, purely out of concern.

“No.” You shake your head, lips sloping into a pout. “I need to go to my lessons. Writing and reading and etiquette.”

Oh! This is a good chance to practice your lying in the heat of the moment.

“I spent a long time away from my family and now that I’m back I want to make them proud.” You sigh.

“Why were you away from your family? If you don’t mind my asking?” He steps closer so that the two of you aren’t speaking across the hallway at each other.

“I was ill. I had many issues, emotionally, and my father and mother sent me away to get help.” You explain and the young Knight’s eyes seem to brighten with recognition.

“You’re the Princess…uh…Y/N. You’re the daughter Tony and Pepper had before they were married!” The Knight exclaims.

Oh, shit. You hadn’t even thought about it from that angle. The fact that you’d have been born out of wedlock, considering your age. Wait…Tony and Pepper? Someone else going by first names? What’s going on here?

“Don’t you think that maybe they sent you away because of that and not because you were sick?” He jokes, pulling your attention away from the lack of convention.

“Are you saying that my parents cared more about their reputations than they did for me?” You frown, not liking this point of view at all. “That they didn’t love me enough to keep me?”

The Knight goes a little pale. “No. Oh, God, no. That’s not what I meant.”

“But it is.” You frown.

“Okay, it is what I meant but I did not mean to cause offense. Forgive me. Sometimes I speak when I shouldn’t.” And he does look sorry. “Please, your Highness, forgive me.”

You consider him for a moment then maybe it’s because you’re so tired and don’t have the energy to stay upset, you nod. “Okay. I forgive you.”

He beams, his smile wide and stunning.

“So, it is you set to marry Steve, and not the Princess Morgana?” He asks, stepping closer as two maids walk by giving you both curious looks.

“I am.” Your worries are brought back by his mention and you remember that you should be at your lessons. “I should go to my lessons. I need to work hard if I want to please him.”

“He’ll be lucky to have someone so pretty and kind as his wife.” The Knight says. “I think you might be just what he needs. His old queen was kind but stern, like him. Fixated on duty. I think a sweet-tempered queen with eyes that shine like the sun will do him a world of good.”

Your ears burn hot like fire. So many compliments loaded into one statement…how does a woman recover? However, you are distracted enough by the way he sounds so familiar with King Rogers that you can ignore the flattery.

“Do…do you know his Majesty King Rogers?” You gasp, astounded by the luck you have. He sounds as if he knows him intimately.

“I’ve known him my whole life.” The Knight says. “My name is J-”

“James!” Natasha’s voice makes you jump, echoing around the hallway and turning your heart into mush.

“Lady Natasha.” The Knight named James says, and his voice wraps around the name like a caress. He likes her!

“Barnes.” Natasha frowns as she comes to stand beside you, a small basket held in her hands. You can hear the slosh of liquid—probably wine—coming from within. “Why are you keeping her Highness from her lessons?”

“We bumped into each other. She helped me pick up my things from the floor.” He tells her, smirking with amusement as she turns blazing green eyes on you.

“Your Highness, a Princess does not get down on the ground. You call for someone to come and pick whatever is dropped for you.”

“Oh, don’t do that to her Natasha. Don’t turn her into one of your stuck-up court ladies. She’s perfect just as she is.” James pleads, genuine in his praise and in his desire to keep you the same. For King Rogers?

“It’s my job to help turn her back into the princess she was born to be and that’s what I’ll do.” She gripes.

“Steve won’t like her if she’s like those ladies. Let her be who she is. He needs a little sugar in his life.” James teases, making your neck hot again.

“Did you just refer to the Princess of Malibia as sugar?” Natasha demands.

“Oh, come on, you know that’s not what I mean. She’s nice. And look at her smile. She’s perfect for him.” James assures her and for the first time since you’ve come to the castle and seen King Rogers’s portrait do you feel any sense of relief.

“Am I really?” You beam up at him, your smile wide but sleepy.

“You bet your bottom you are. I guarantee he’ll be worshipping the ground you walk on.” He smiles.

“James!” Natasha gasps, then hands you the basket. “Your Highness, off to your lessons now. Go on. I will follow.”

“But…”

“Please, your Highness, you’re already late.” She urges and because she’s always there for you, you go.

You don’t go far, however. You stop around the corner to listen. Not very princess-like behavior but you don’t care. You’re sleepy and you’re so curious about King Rogers. This man, James, he knows him. Childhood best friends! It doesn’t get any closer than that.

“First off, don’t refer to her bottom. She’s a princess and she’s going to marry Steve. What is wrong with you?” Natasha demands.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Secondly, what are you doing telling her things like that?” Natasha demands, glancing down towards the hall where you’re hiding with worry.

“What?” He chuckles. “She is sweet. And nice. And honestly, if I didn’t have my eyes set on someone else, maybe I’d have tried to make her fall in love with me a little?”

“You think every woman wants you.” She frowns at him.

“All but the one that matters.” He flirts, moving a step closer. “When will you agree to marry me? I’ve asked you six times already.”

“Ask me six more times.” She quips.

James chuckles again.

“I really wish you hadn’t filled her head with all that ‘perfect for him’ nonsense.” She frets.

“But she is perfect for him. Margaret was always so…She was kind and strong and after what happened to her, I think maybe Steve needs to have someone he can watch over. Someone he can protect.” James reasons.

“Yes, but she’s expecting love, James. She’s told me that she must make him like her nearly a hundred times since she saw his portrait and I’m afraid that she’s only going to make herself unhappy. He’s closed himself off from feelings like that since Maggie. I don’t think he has it in him to love like that again and the princess is already so enamored and I’m pretty sure she’s never been in love before. What if he breaks her heart?

“Then she’s stuck living with him in that castle and she won’t be able to leave, so she’ll just have to deal with it. I keep wanting to beg Tony to cancel this stupid plan because she’s the one that’ll suffer, and she doesn’t deserve that. Because you’re right, she’s nice and sweet, and she doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.

“What if he’s cruel? What if he resents her? He needs to marry her and have children because that’s what he must do but he doesn’t love her, James. What if he never can? Maybe I should take her away from here?”

“Shh, Natasha,” James closes the distance between them, his hands finding her shoulders which he caresses with affection. “Don’t worry about Steve, I’ll do what I can to help them along. And Steve isn’t cruel. You know him. He’s just…dealing with everything that happened.”

“It’s been two years, James. He still won’t dance. He won’t smile. When’s the last time he laughed?”

James sighs, “I know that things don’t look promising, but he’ll love her. I know it. She is perfect for him. And once she’s pregnant, I know that those protective instincts will kick in for him and he’ll devote every second of his life to her. And you’ll be there, too. Always by her side.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Natasha sighs, “I will be.”

“I think this girl is special.” He says, “For her to get you to love her so much so quickly?”

“The princess has had a difficult life. I want her to be happy now. She takes on so much. She just came back home and now Tony’s sending her away again, just to bury the hatchet?”

“That’s not why they’re doing this, Nat.” James chastises.

“Oh, really? When’s the last time the two of them were in a room without going at each other’s throats? All because of that stupid treaty the team-”

“Nat.” James frowns. “Not here.”

“Sorry.” Natasha says.

Team? What team?

“I know it’s frustrating. But they’re talking. They’re writing to each other. That’s a good thing. And as for the princess, she’ll be happy. I promise. She will, just, maybe not right away. You and I can be a team. We’ll do what we both can to ensure that her heart is as unbroken as when she first arrives.” James insists.

“You can’t promise that. I can’t promise that.” Natasha says, relaxing a little as James closes the distance a bit more, pulling her to his chest, arms wrapped around her torso.

“I can. I will do everything in my power to make sure that he sees her for the blessing that she is. For you.” He smiles at her, seducing her with his kind manners and consideration.

“I’m still not going to marry you.” She smiles, a half smirk with the corner of he lip sloping up seductively.

They both seem intent on seducing each other.

“Aren’t you?” He checks.

“No.” She shakes her head but stops when his lips meet hers.

Quickly you slide back, moving as quietly as you can down the hall until you can walk at full speed without being heard.

Natasha has been your champion since arriving here. Her positive attitude has kept you certain of the task you have set before you but to see her doubts spill out so quickly and numerous, your heart begins to writhe with fear because what if she’s right? What if you’re dooming yourself to a life without love?

There are worse things. You remind yourself again. You know that all you can do is hope that he marries you.

At least, if you marry him, you will have a place. Your home will always be Broklin’s castle and your family will always be the King, even if he doesn’t love you and would rather have his first Queen. You will finally belong somewhere and on one will be able to take that away from you.

Reaching into the pocket of your dress, you pull out the small silver compact that Natasha had given you and pry it open to stare at King Steven’s handsome face.

Those storm blue eyes…

Now all you have to do to ensure your survival is make sure that you don’t fall in love with him. And really, how hard can that be?

It’s late afternoon and you’re making your way from your room with Peter at your side, sharing a bag of berries that his Majesty had sent to your room.

“They’re tart.” Peter chuckles. “Here, keep the rest, I might not stop eating them if I keep going.”

You laugh with him. “So? Help me finish them. I’m eating too much as it is with all of this food they send to my room.”

Your dress is simpler today, plain white with a sheer pink underlay. You’re a gleaming pearl underneath warm yellow light. Your corset is still tight however, so despite the comfortable dress, there’s a hint of discomfort in the way you stand.

“No. I’ll finish them.” Peter argues.

“That’s the point.” You laugh.

“Princess!” A shout from the end of the hall startles both you and Peter.

He drops the bag of berries into your open hand and jumps in front of you to shield you on instinct. You nearly drop the berries but just manage to catch the small sack.

A man you’ve seen every day but never spoken to marches towards you, his short graying curly hair and stocky build give you comfort for some reason. He looks like a teddy bear, even though you’ve seen him grumble and roll his eyes a few times at his Majesty. Everyone acts different than they should. You still don’t understand it and are beginning to think you never will.

“Happy?” Peter says, then looks back to you as if he’s let something slip. “I mean, Harold, Sir Harold Hogan. Your Highness, I’m not sure you’ve officially met the King’s personal secretary?”

“I haven’t.” You assure him and try to look as unphased as possible by the nickname slip up. “Sir Harold, it’s nice to meet you.”

Harold ‘Happy’ Hogan bows to you, then stands up with an excited gleam in his eye.

“Your Highness,” He smiles. “His Majesty would like to see you in his office.”

“Right now?” But, what about your lessons?

“Yes. Now.” He nods and begins to walk away.

You hand Peter the bag of berries and begin to follow Sir Hogan.

“Don’t worry.” Peter says, “I’ll run and tell Master Rymond that you’ll be late.”

“Thank you.” You call out to him just before you turn the corner. “Is it very important, Sir Harold?”

“Please, call me Happy. Everyone does.” He smiles at you, no sign of the severe man you’ve seen over the past few days.

“H-Happy, have I done something to anger my father?” You check, keeping up the lie even with the King’s right-hand man. Does he know the truth?

“No.” He shakes his head. “Nothing like that. He’s actually really pleased with you.”

“Why?”

“King Rogers has written back about your portrait.” Happy begins, shocking your arms into numbness from nerves. “We sent it last night and he got it early this morning.”

“A-and he’s written to father about it?” You ask, your voice barely above a nervous whisper.

“He loved it.” Happy assures you.

“King Rogers loved my portrait?” You ask, all astonishment and disbelief. “He actually said that he loved it?”

“Well, no. Not exactly. But he said he wants to marry you as soon as possible.”

You can’t breathe. “And wh-when is that?”

“Day after tomorrow. We leave in the morning for Broklin. You’ll meet him tomorrow night and, in the morning, you’ll be married. Y/N Rogers, Queen of Broklin.” He looks back at you and you stop walking, the sound of blood rushing is deafening, like the sound of roaring carriage wheels as they crash into puddles of water.

Then everything goes black as your body falls backwards.

Happy’s last cry of, “Princess!” echoes in your ears.

[janedrakey131]

zukka hp au part 6

Thank you so much, everyone! I hope you continue to enjoy this au. I had a few minutes last night, so I wrote up a couple scenes for all of you. 

I haven’t written anything in so long though, so I’m sorry about the quality. Also, if someone is OOC, I’m sorry, I really tried. I need to rewatch atla at this rate. But feedback is always appreciated! I’m tagging anyone currently on the tag list, but if you missed it or just saw it, please let me know on the tag list post and I’ll add you in for future posts. (If you’d like me to reblog and tag you on this one, that’s also an option, but please comment or DM me so I know exactly who would like that.)

Also, if you couldn’t tell, I have no idea what I’m doing. So if I left someone off the tag list by accident or put it in a weird spot, I’m sorry! It’s possibly because I had to google how to make one yesterday XD But if I missed you, please tell me! I swear it wasn’t intentional. If you have any other suggestions or questions, let me know!

If you’d like to catch up:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13

If you would like to join the tag list

And with that, hope you enjoy :)

October 31 1981

There’s a suspicious bump.

The minister really does not like suspicious bumps.

But working in the Ministry of Magic for as long as he has, eventually he stopped jumping at every single one. He calls that progress. His wife says he’s finally lost whatever survival instincts he used to possess.

The minister doesn’t care overly much though. Today’s a happy day! The Avatar defeated Lord Sozin! He should be drafting congratulatory letters for the poor kid. Speaking of the child, he needs to find out where they are. And also who they are. There’s an astounding lack of information on this baby.

There’s a suspicious fwoosh and two masked wizards stand before him.

The minister is a calm and collected man. So, of course, he screams.

“None of that now,” says the older man with absolutely wild grey hair. “Stop screaming, Minister. We’re not here to hurt you.”

The minister wasn’t born yesterday, and his mother has reliably informed him that he isn’t a complete imbecile. He continues screaming.

The other intruder nudges the other and sighs. “You’re scaring him.”

“No, really?” Lunatic One groans. “I didn’t notice over all the screaming. Silencio. Honestly, he supposedly went toe to toe with Sozin in the Wizengamot for years. You’d think he’d have more guts than this.”

The nicer interloper (but still Lunatic Two) sighs again. “One who knows when to retreat will live longer than those who stay to fight past their abilities.”

“No, no, nope, we are not having your little philosophical riddles today. They just make my head hurt. You’re only here to make sure I don’t get bored and decide I want to wear his spine as a necklace.”

The minister’s eyes must pop out of his skull a bit.

“Just get to the point, my friend, so we can let this nice man enjoy his evening.”

“Nice man? He’s a politician. They’re all crackpots,” necklace man says.

The minister privately wonders why his friend bothers to sigh again when he clearly isn’t surprised.

“You’re a politician, too.”

“Yes,” the crazy one replies sagely. “I’m a crackpot. It means I wear the stench of insanity with pride and can identify it elsewhere.”

“Anyway,” the same man continues, but this time clearly directed towards the minister. “Simple request. Don’t look for the Avatar. No, no, no, I see you shaking your head at me. Just don’t look for them, or I’ll be back for my new bony accessories.”

His calmer friend looks the minister in the eyes. “We will keep the Avatar safe. But if Sozin’s followers find out where the child is, they’ll be dead before their next birthday. Do you understand, Minister?”

The minister likes to think he’s good at reading the room, so he nods a bit frantically. With them taking care of the child, that’s one less thing for him to worry about. And he gets to keep his spine. He’s rather partial to it now that he thinks about it. Anyway, it’s a win for everyone.

“Excellent.”

And then the two men are gone. 

Hurray for delegating responsibilities.

Today was enitrely too exciting for his delicate sensibilites. The minister pulls out the biggest bottle of Firewhiskey he owns and Floos home. Maybe he’ll get that takeout his wife likes today. She always deserves nice things, but especially today in exchange for all the blubbering he’s about to do.

oOo

“Did you really have to scare him so thoroughly, Headmaster?” Iroh asks once they’re safely back in the Headmaster’s office.

Headmaster Bumi throws his head back and laughs. “Fear is healthy! It keeps the blood pumping. The masks just added to the overall effect. And it’s not like I’d actually follow through. He just needs some character building. But at least that’s done. The kid’s with a friend of mine tonight. You’ll take the child to the orphanage tomorrow then?”

Iroh nods. “We’ll check in on him sometimes?”

“Of course,” Bumi says, looking scandalized. “What do you take me for? If he isn’t being treated well, prophecy or no prophecy, I’ll raise him myself. We don’t tolerate child abuse in this house.”

Iroh is extremely alarmed by the idea of Bumi raising any child, let alone the Avatar. But he is relieved they’re on the same page. At least now he doesn’t have to plan a kidnapping. Finally, after a long, but successful, night, Iroh leans back and enjoys his freshly brewed tea in peace.

Bumi’s chewing breaks the comfortable silence.

“Want a biscuit? They’re lemon poppy seed.”

Moderate peace then, but he thanks the Headmaster and enjoys his biscuit.

oOo

September 1, 1990

Sokka kind of assumes that he’ll be extremely bored during his first year of Hogwarts. He isn’t friends with anyone in his year yet, and Katara is a year younger.

Out of the limited number of other wizarding families he’s met, he hasn’t gotten along with many of the other kids. They were all either too dull, too old, or too annoying.

So Sokka has to admit he didn’t see this coming.

The boy in front of him is cool.

He’s already changed into pressed black Hogwarts robes with a red tie, so Sokka assumes the boy is maybe a second year Gryffindor. His black hair is neatly pulled out of his face, and there’s just a hint of the hair piece holding it up. Sokka’s busy staring at the rings on the boy’s fingers, a clear sign of an elemental magic user. But he’s too far away to figure out which element.

Sokka doesn’t really care though. People are people. It can’t hurt to ask if he can sit there.

So he screws up his courage and opens the door to the train compartment.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Sokka blinks. This boy isn’t very friendly, but he presses on.

“Everywhere else is full,” he says, lying through his teeth. “Mind if I join you?”

Five full compartments can be rounded up to all of them. Sokka’s a man of science. He would know.

The boy doesn’t answer for a beat, looking him up and down. Then he sneers. “Wolf’s tail, all that blue? You must be another Water Tribe peasant.”

Sokka can feel the blood rushing in his ears. Of all the compartments he had to walk into, it had to be a Fire Nation one.

“And you must be half troll with manners like that,” he bites out, before slamming the compartment door shut and walking away.

That was terrible. But it’s too late to go back and properly insult the other boy, so Sokka angrily walks away.

oOo

That’s all for now!

A few more things: 

I’m trying to make my life easier with dates for this au, so Halloween 1981 is when Sozin tried to kill the Avatar. Aang’s birthday is just going to be so late in the year that he got bumped to the year below. So we’re going based on Sokka’s years in school, first year starting in 1990. If something I’m doing doesn’t make sense or I’m completely contraindicating something, please ask! There’s a really good chance I’ve missed something. 

Also, any and all commentary or jokes made by characters about being insane and so on will not extend to actually poking fun at a character’s mental health. If they’ve got an issue that’s bothering them, that’s that. In this case, I think random people appearing in your office would scare you. And Bumi just sounds like someone who assumes everyone is as sane as he is. 

Lastly, say hello to one of the few straight characters we have. The minister was just a fun OC I made up, so I don’t have any corresponding atla character in mind for him. I was going to give him a name, but it just felt better having him be this random competent leader with a badass wife. 

If you’d like to catch up:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13

If you would like to join the tag list

@delievia @assyouwishh @aphrcditeee @theoneandonlyredrobin @dongdingheresthething @bring-back-wally @zuko-just-wants-his-honor @youcant-escapefate @iwillgodownwiththisship27 @animegeneral17 @uglybutuwu @cocoa-hooves @errvaaa

[jeogiyall]

𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞; 𝒍.𝒕𝒚

❥ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟾.𝟻𝚔

❥ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖿! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝗀

❥ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖻𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐! 𝖺𝗎, 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺.

❥ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 + 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗒 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗎𝖾𝗌; 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽.

❥ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ: 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇, 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗌-𝗍𝗈-𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍; 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖾𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇, 𝖮𝖢 𝖠𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒/𝗇

❥ᴀ/ɴ: 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍!! 𝗂'𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀! 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗂 𝖽𝗈. -𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

‘The Great International Bake Off’ was not something you were expecting anything to come from. Being a pastry chef in France, you were used to having doors slammed in your face. Everything, even things meant for beginners, were handed off to the people with a name and a home full of trophies. Even getting through to the final round of auditions, you were just hoping that the callback would be enough to get you a better job (it wasn’t).  

You had actually expected so little from it that you had actually forgotten the result date. You went into work normally, made simple chocolate cookies, spent your lunch break whipping up a complicated cake. It was a normal day, until your coworker (and team mate,) Amelie burst through the kitchen doors. Her smile was gigantic as she pulled you into a bone crushing hug, your cake falling to the floor in a mess of raspberry puree.

“What in the world?” You had whined, frowning at the mess of chocolate and fruit on the floor.

“We did it!” Your eyebrows had furrowed as you moved to grab a towel. Amelie grabbed you by the shoulders, her dark brown eyes wild. Slowly, realization of the date crept into your head.

“Oh, a-are we-” She jumped up and down, squeals piercing the room.

“We’re on the show!” 

Needless to say, you were getting a better job.

*

On the first day of filming you wore high waist jeans with a black turtleneck sweater. The blue haired boy on the Korean team had giggled when he met you while all of the contestants waited to enter the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” He began through his laugh. There’s an accent in his English that causes the words to slur together almost sweetly, “you just look very French. Like how people imagine French girls to look.” You laughed along with him, glancing down at your outfit.

“You’re right, I do.” His laugh is soft and squeaky. You notice his cheeks turning pink, “It’s the turtleneck, I think.” He nods in agreement with you before the large metal doors to the studio swing open.

You’re concentrated while cooking, like always, but you can’t help that you hear slurred English and a squeaky laugh permeating the room.

*

“So I saw you talking to Lee Taeyong before we went in today.” Amelie pokes as you lounge on the bed of your shared hotel room. She’s in the bathroom, washing the day off her hands. 

“Is that the Korean boy?”

“Oui.” She sings, shutting of the faucet. You stare at the magazine page in front of you, eyes glazing over a bite size dome cake covered in edible flowers.

“Yea, he’s sweet. Charming.” She laughs as she enters your bedroom, tossing a different magazine onto your bed. You can’t read the text since it’s entirely in Korean, but you see Taeyong on the front; He’s smiling with an arm wrapped around a glass mixing bowl. His hair was pink in this photo, “What does it say?” Amilie shrugs, flipping a dark strand of hair over her shoulder.

“Son of five star chef to represent Korea in international bake off.” You pull your eyes from the picture to smirk at your friend.

“When did you learn to read Korean?” She swiftly flips her middle finger up at you, sticking out her tongue childishly.

“I ran it through a translator app.” She answers, snatching the magazine up from it’s place in front of you, “It’s weird though, right? He’s like basically a celebrity.” 

“I don’t know, it’s kind of cool. If we beat them we’ll get major bragging rights.” She laughs, thumbing through the foreign glossy pages.

“True that, Korea will definitely be our biggest competition.” Your eyes glaze over as she rambles on, the feeling his sweet laugh had left in your chest dying.

You become a different person when fueled by competition, it’s what made you top of your class in culinary school. You knew you couldn’t win if you were also trying to keep up someones opinion of you, or fantasizing about blue hair and kind eyes. Best to nip it in the bud before anything happened.

“Yea,” you creek out while nodding, “beating them would be tough.” A small smile cracks onto her lips.

“We can do it.” A lump takes form in your throat. Amelie doesn’t notice “I’m getting dinner with Antonio and Maria, from team Mexico? Are you coming along?” You nod, pushing yourself up from the bed. 

All night long your minds drifts helplessly to the smiling pink haired boy from the magazine cover.

* 

You’re melting chocolate over a stove top in an industrial hotel kitchen at three in the morning when you settle on the fact that it’s difficult to not pay attention to Taeyong. It’s not as if he’s needy for the attention like his teammate, Donghyuck, but he gets it anyways. When it’s not for his ridiculous, angel like, appearance, it’s for the sheer beauty and sophistication of his desserts. He utilizes both his own culture, modern techniques, and a certain rustic quality while still keeping a certain refinement about whatever goes on the plate. You don’t want to say that you’re jealous of him, you’re rarely jealous of anyone about anything, but watching him present his desserts every other day makes your chest swell with something ugly. He captures everything in a dessert, leaving everyone wishing for a taste.

It would be nice to say that you are indifferent towards him, but that’s clearly not true. You’ve always had somewhat of a competitive streak. On your first day of culinary school your teacher announced that the class would be making pastry dough the next day; “If you can’t make this... Why are you here?” He had stated gravely, staring you dead in the eyes. You were the only girl in the entire class.That night you spent hours making the dough, three batches of it. You made it until it was perfect, reveling in the sight of your teacher eating his words the next day. You loved to win, and you hated anyone that tried to keep it from you.

A part of you finds it sad that you can’t bring yourself to like him anymore, he’s so sweet. One day in the kitchen you notice his sky blue hair falling into his face in delicate curls, then proceed to kick yourself while beating the devil out of a bowl of egg whites. In every place where you are competitive, Taeyong is docile. You often wonder if he even notices that dish of the day is always between your teams. He always cheers whenever Team France is announced as the winner for the episode, it makes you feel like an ass.

You throw in the last bit of your chocolate and fruit zest, trying not to notice the way your hand trembles. As it melts into rest of the liquid the large steel door of the kitchen creeps open. You don’t pay much attention to it, the staff is far too familiar with finding you here by now.

“Oh,” That voice is definitely not a hotel cook. It’s low and warm, the vowel long and messy, “Y/N! I’m sorry, I didn’t think-”

“It’s fine.” You interrupt quickly, turning around to see pastel blue hair and dewy skin, “I’m almost done, then you can have the kitchen all to yourself.” Taeyong is standing in front of you in plaid patterned pajama pants and tight black t-shirt with Korean writing across the front. When you return to your chocolate you can feel his deep brown eyes drilling a whole into your skull, He might actually be more tense now than he is in competition. 

“What are you making?” He’s peeking over your shoulder, watching intently as you measure out heavy cream.

“A dark chocolate ganache and raspberry tart.” You dump half a cup of cream into the bowl, a tuft of Taeyongs bedhead tickling the side of your face.

“I love raspberries, I haven’t used them much here.” You hum an answer, focusing on the bowl in front of you. A thick silence settles in the room, allowing you to work quietly how you always like. Taeyong can’t seem to leave well enough alone, “Congratulations by the way, about your dish today.”

The fact that he said that surprises you, so the “Thank you” muttered in response comes out as a question. He cocks his head at you from over the mixing bowl he’s begun working at.

“What? Did I say something incorrectly? I meant-”

“No! I understood you.” You wipe your hands on your apron, shoulders tensing, “It’s just... Well, I didn’t win. Why are you congratulating me, shouldn’t I say that to you?” His eyes soften. You want to throw something.

“Because you plated a beautiful dessert, one that you worked really hard on. I noticed, we... We all noticed. It’s not about winning.” You scoff, heat rising to your face.

“Of course it’s about winning! It’s always about winning.” His eyes grow even softer. It reminds you of the way your culinary teacher had looked at you; patronizing.

“That’s terribly sad.” You swiftly pull your hair into a ponytail, suddenly recalling the night you told your father that you were going to be a pastry chef, that instead of going to a traditional university you were going to culinary school. You remember the voice that used to sing you to sleep telling you he was disappointed. You remember how terrible every Christmas has been since then.

“It’s how it has to be.” You pick up your whisk and continue with the chocolate sludge.

“It doesn’t have to be-” Something inside of you snaps. In a whirlwind you turn around, whisk still in hand. The chocolate mixture flies across the kitchen, a dollop landing in Taeyongs sky blue hair.

“Some of us don’t have daddy’s five star restaurant to fall back on if they lose. Some of us have nothing to fall back on if we lose. Nothing. So don’t stand there and act like it’s not about winning, because while that may be true for you it’s not true for me.” Hot tears are welling in your eyes. You decide right then that your worst trait is the fact that you cry while angry.

“Y/N, I didn’t-”

“Yea, no. It’s whatever.” Your face is burning as you turn back to the mixing bowl. You want to leave, “You know what, the ganache split so I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.”

“Y/N wait-” You dump the half finished ganache down the sink, tears now pouring freely down your cheeks. Your throat is so tight that it’s a miracle you haven’t choked yet. 

“Goodnight Taeyong, I’ll see you in two days.” You take long strides to the exit, stopping as your hand comes to rest on the door handle, “By the way, congratulations.” 

*

“Y/N,

I suppose I should start with an apology. It was never my intention to offend you, but that’s the thing about offending people. You never mean to do it.

So; I am sorry. Sorry for forgetting how privileged I am in this sense, sorry for interrupting your midnight baking, inexplicably sorry for making you cry. And for your lovely ganache getting caught in the crossfire. You were just trying to have an escape and I came in and rained all over your parade. I feel like an absolute poop.   

I think you are a ridiculously skilled cook. I genuinely envy how you breathe life into traditional, stuffy desserts. Last night was the first time I drooled over a plain chocolate ganache in ages, where did you get the idea to put orange zest in it? Absolute genius, I’m honestly rooting for you.

That being said, I understand if you never want to speak to me again. I will respect your decision, but I do hope you want to speak again. I’ve always wanted to work with French cook.

Either way, I hope you will accept these tokens of my apology. I doubt mine are as good as yours would’ve been, but I do hope you enjoy these raspberry and white chocolate tarts. (There’s a bit of matcha in the ganache; I drew inspiration from the finest.)

Truly, apologetically, sincerely, Taeyong.”

*

You manage to avoid the kitchen again for a week. It’s a week filled with ignoring sad smiles from Taeyong. He thinks you don’t notice the big starry eyes that are constantly staring holes in your skin, but it’s impossible not to notice. The gaze isn’t even necessarily sad, or apologetic, just... Longing. It makes you want to die; the thought of facing him makes you want to die. Which is why solitary midnight cooking was out of the question, no matter how erratically your heart thumps after winning dish of the day, or how long you stare at the stark ceiling of your hotel bedroom. The thought of even going back to the kitchen and possibly running into the sweet boy is so daunting that it makes you feel sick.

You’re determined not to give in, until you find yourself hurriedly pulling on pajama pants and socks while laying in bed after a particularly long day. Glancing at the alarm clock, you think to yourself that he’s probably not even there. He’s probably tired after such a long day of filming. You’ll be fine.

*

You were wrong. Taeyong is already in the kitchen; head bent over a        saucepan simmering on the stove. The entire kitchen smells painstakingly of key lime pie. 

He doesn’t even notice that you’re there until you get two bowls from the island and begin separating eggs. When he looks up he turns red, offers a meek smile, then returns to the stove top. 

In the next hour you find yourself watching the way he cooks, admiring how his shoulders release tension every time he scrapes the edges of his pan. His hands skate across everything he touches, his breaths come out in long bursts. You almost think of writing a book based on his mannerisms.

Neither of you say anything until he turns to the counter top where you’re working, pouring a translucent mixture (presumably lime curd) through a sieve and into a bowl. You turn to the counter behind you, clicking a mixing bowl into the kitchen aid and turning on. As it whips your eggs and vanilla a deep sigh wrecks through your chest. Your palms firmly plant into the white counter top, you allow the contact to be grounding.

“It was my mom.” You finally say, bringing one hand up to wipe the tension from your forehead. He let’s out a confused mumble, shuffling from his spot at the island.

“What?” You turn around to face him, being greeted immediately with a furrowed brow and noticeably tired eyes.

“My mom, she’s where I got the idea for orange in the chocolate ganache. It was always her favorite flavor combination. I make it that way when I’m homesick. For her, or for... For childhood, I guess.” He stays silent, elegant hands throwing the lime curd into the refrigerator, “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s just a sensitive subject, I get defensive when someone comes close to knowing how much I actually need. A-and then there’s you. You’re so talented, and hard working, and kind, and you don’t... You don’t fight like I do, but you still succeed. It reminds me of the boys that I went to school with, but you make it so damn hard to be upset with-” “Y/N, it’s okay. I was rude to you, you don’t have to explain yourself. Not to me or anyone.” You shake your head, guilt settling into your gut. 

“Yes, I do. Even if you had been a dick, which you really weren’t, it doesn’t give me a right to yell at you. Or call you spoiled, or guilt you-”

“Why do you care so much?” A smile plays at his lips, you notice quickly that they’re not as thin as you previously thought. More puffy than anything, like a dolls.

“Because you work so hard!” The words spill out of you like air, flush rising to your cheeks, “And it’s unfair of me to assume that you do have something to fall back on, and I shouldn’t lose my temper, and... And... And I’d really like to be your friend?” The smile on his face intensifies, yet his eyes become even softer. You try not to let them tear you apart. 

“Oh... Um, then you’re forgiven. You never had to apologize in the first place.” He giggles, hands diligently returning to his work, “Did you enjoy the tarts?” You exhale a laugh, remembering the sweet note that you read over and over while sitting on your bathroom floor.

“I did! Actually, I hid the second one from Amelie. It was too good.” For the rest of the night you treasure how he giggles at all of your bitter quips. You two dance around the kitchen and talk for hours, time slipping into early morning. He tells you about what it’s like to grow up in a restaurant, whining on about never having junk food at home.

(“Wow,” You had laughed while shoving cream into a piping bag, “I’m jealous.” He playfully rolled his eyes, carefully layering lime curd and lemon sponge cake with pistachio honey ice cream.

“It’s nice. Sometimes I just want normal food, though” You had properly laughed, beige coffee cream splattering onto your hand, “I’m serious! I’d come home from school and ask for a snack and my dad would hand me something with eyes!” Your head arched backwards, laughter settling comfortably in the room.

“Aw, I’ll make you an after school snack Yongie.” He had cut his eyes to you, putting on a proper mischievous grin.

“Like what, crepes?” Your cheeks had gone pink, hands frozen as a laugh bubbled in your chest.

“... Yes?” A laugh ripped through him, all squeaky and warm.

“That’s hardly junk food.” He wheezed, words slurred together in sleepiness.

“I’m French, leave me alone.”)

When you finally get to taste a bite of his creation it’s via him spoon feeding it to you while you pipe chocolate buttercream flowers onto an opera cake. It’s wonderful; the citrus flavors making your lips pucker while pistachio and honey danced smoothly across your tongue. You barely even register the moan you let out as you savor every flavor on the spoon. 

“Taeyong,” you whine, swallowing the bite of heaven, “You need to make thousands of those. And give me at least ten, it’s amazing.” He flushes red, taking a bite from his own spoon. He smiles around the spoon, another warm laugh starting in the base of his throat.

“It is pretty good, but I’m ready to try yours!” You roll your eyes and smile, carefully placing the plate in front of him.

“Bon appétit!”  

*

“Taeyong,

The way that you so effortlessly execute flavors that have made me cry in my kitchen at 3am (no, I am not speaking from experience!) infuriates amazes me. I would have literally given a leg to try your desert today, who even thinks to make wasabi mousse? Like, ever? I’d love to live in your head for a day. 

This is nowhere near as innovative as anything you’ve made, but it is a classic. You’ve told me you like French classics.

I sincerely hope you enjoy: The Madeline. Don’t ask why they’re shaped like shells, it has to do with pilgrims. I can tell you at our next baking session:)

(Slightly) jealous, Y/N”

* 

“It was a what?” Taeyong questioned, a warm laugh bubbling in his throat.

“An emblem of Saint James.” You were separating edible flowers with a set of tweezers as Taeyong made batter for a green tea cake. Lately you had started working on desserts together, then debating once you were done if you should leave them at the doors of the judges hotel rooms. 

(“Oh my gosh, Taeyong please!” You had whined the first time he suggested it, giggling around your mouthful of chocolate.

“I was kidding! A joke! Haha, laugh, funny!” He answered, words spilling out like he was a wine glass someone knocked over. A large smile broke across his panicked face as you rambled on.

“Come on Yong, I could write a dessert ransom note and everything!” He clapped his hands, fork clattering to the counter as he trembled in laughter.)

“Would they just wear like... A shell? A straight up sea shell?” You laugh again, looking to his furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes catch briefly on the small scar on the right side of his face, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It’s weird when you notice something that reminds you that he’s a human, it’s often easy to forget.

“I’m not really sure, maybe?” He tied his apron in a neat bow, nodding along with your answer.

“Well, I loved the cookies so much I’m about ready to go make myself a seashell emblem. I’ll make it a pin and wear it every time I’m in a suit.” His voice is muddled with sleep, low and warm. It reminds you of when you snuck out of your house as a teenager to go to a bonfire on the beach; the way that the fire grumbled on as the waves crashed softly. He has a lovely voice, you think.

“And how often do you wear a suit?” You quip, causing him to poke his tongue out at you.

“Every. Night. When I eat at my fathers restaurant.” He put on a posh British accent, pulling an I take myself way too seriously face while splaying a hand across his chest. You laughed so hard that you damn near snorted.

“Okay, Draco Malfoy!” You manage once you can finally breathe again, “We can make seashell pins when you come visit me in France.” The room settles, something friendly seeping into the kitchen tiles.

“You want me to come visit you in France?” He’s smirking, yet his eyes are inexplicably soft. They’re so shimmery that you almost think he’s going to cry.

“Of course I do! How else am I going to stuff you with sweets?” You want to keep joking, but he’s staring at you in a way that makes your heart hurt. You’re not stupid, you know what this is. Heat is rising to your cheeks, your palms are sweating, the two of you are staring at each other like someone is speaking gibberish. You’re stuck between feeling guilty and never wanting this to stop.

(‘Korea will definitely be our biggest competition.’)

In an instant you sink your eyes to the flowers on the counter, taking to organizing them by color. The air you breathe in feels heavy.

“Well,” He breathes out, wiping his hands on his apron. He hadn’t even touched anything since putting on, “you might just have to come visit me in Korea.” He smiles to you, a smile that could calm storms. You say nothing, allowing the butterflies settled in the pit of your stomach to flap their wings freely.

*

“Dear Y/N, 

I’ll have to ask you to forgive me if this is too forward, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you mentioned France. Is that silly? I haven’t thought much about leaving here, about talking to people when I do leave here. I’ve kept brief contact with Johnny since the American team left, but I wasn’t sure of what you’d want. We don’t really talk outside of cooking together, but I cherish your friendship so much. 

I never had many friends while growing up. Even now, I’m only really friends with Donghyuck (and he’s annoying!) You’re the first person that’s let me be silly, let me enjoy my craft, reminded me of my privilege. It feels like everyone is so scared to say anything to me, but the second time I talked to you you scolded me! You're like a force of nature, and not in a ‘gentle breeze’ kind of way. 

I was honestly a little bit worried that you would never talk to me again once we left here. Clearly, I’m glad that’s not your intention. 

Anyways, I think I’ve rambled on long enough now. I hope you enjoy Hotteok; it’s basically a pancake stuffed with cinnamon, brown sugar, and peanuts. 

Sincerely, happily, Taeyong.” 

*

The next time you enter the hotel kitchen past midnight you’re slightly tipsy and finding it nearly impossible to not tackle Taeyong (or anyone, for that matter) into a bear hug. The crew had just finished the third to last day of filming, which meant it was down to the final three teams. Mexico, France, and Korea.

Naturally, Amelie wanted to get smashed. Her and team Mexico were actually still getting smashed in the lobby along with Donghyuck. You had nursed one gigantic glass of wine for the whole duration of your presence, feeling solemn without your sweet friend. When you started blowing bubbles into your glass while slumped in a big leather chair, Donghyuck rolled his eyes while reluctantly leaning over to you.

(“You know he’s waiting for you in the kitchen.” Your had eyes widened, a smile spreading across your face like an infection. Donghyuck had laughed so hard at you that he snorted, slapping your knee while he doubled over in laughter.)

“Hi.” You say now, head spinning. Taeyong grins at you, leaning against the white counter top, “W-why weren’t you downstairs?” He shook his head, blue strands of hair bouncing with the movement.

“I’m not feeling up to it. I was going to make something, but I don’t know what. Like... I think I’m having a mental block.” His knee is bouncing as his knuckles rap against the cutting board. Before you really know what’s happening you’re standing next to Taeyong, shoulders bumping together. He exhales a laugh, looking at you through a set of long eyelashes.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice comes out unbelievably calm considering how much wine you had slurped down. Taeyong digs the heel of his palms into his eyes, groaning then inhaling sharply. 

“Just surprised to be here. Final three, I mean. It’s a lot of pressure.” It’s clear that there’s something he’s not telling you, his words falling flat.

“Tell me what’s actually wrong.” He smiles sweetly, it feels like you’ve done this with him thousands of times

“It’s nothing, I’m just having a block. That’s all.” It’s clear that he’s still only telling half of the truth, but you decide to leave him be. Instead you move to the cabinet under the island, pulling out a steel mixing bowl, “What are we making?”

“I am making a family recipe, you are keeping me company.” He laughs, a smile fixing comfortably onto his face. You can almost feel a bubble form around the moment as he pushes himself up to sit on the white counter top.

“I think I can handle that.” He kept his promise. The next two hours were filled with soft, tinkling laughter, and quiet conversation. He keeps his voice as low as whispers, a rasp seeping in through the edges of his words. He asks what you’ll do when he comes to France, it makes your heart skip a beat.

(“Well,” You began, voice shaking, “obviously we have to go to the beach. It’s like eight minutes from my house, and we’ll go to a proper French bakery. Not the one where I work though, that’s gross.” He had chuckled, the same laugh you remember from the first day of filming showing up again.

“Unless you win.” He adds, eyes asking a question, “Then we’ll be at your own bakery, everyday.” Your heart had soared at the idea, hopes stacking themselves far too high. The warmth that rises in your chest at the thought of Taeyong sitting with you in a space that is your own, piecing together a creation through shared anecdotes and pitchy laughter makes you almost drop your whisk. The thought of making something with him in a place where you are just you and he is just him had always felt like an unobtainable fantasy, but you had realized then just how close it was to being reality. In a week you both would be back in your own kitchens, the high stress of this competition replaced with idle everyday life.)

“Here you are!” You announce, placing a baking tray filled with perfect white circles in front of him, “My personal favorite, lemon meringues.” He immediately pries one from the sheet, moaning as the soft shell dissolves in his mouth.

“You outdo yourself every time.” He says, reaching for another one, “I’m going to weigh a thousand pounds when I leave France.” You giggle, grabbing one from the sheet and popping it into your mouth.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” you start after swallowing, “not everyone’s as good as me.” He chuckles lowly, grabbing a third sweet.

“I’m sure.” A comfortable silence settles between you two, Taeyong eating nearly four more before he speaks again, “Y/N?”

“Yes?” His voice had been so soft, you were surprised you even heard him.

“How badly do you need this win.” His disposition shifted to one of quiet determination, steely eyes tracking your own.

“Pretty badly. I’ll be able to get by without it, I still have my job thankfully. It’ll just be a while until I can really do what I want. The bakery we work at is nice, but it’s clearly meant for tourists. Winning this means I could actually make what I like, even the gross stuff that you only order if you’re French.” He smiles as you bite into another petite meringue, “Without it I’ll probably be stuck in a baked goods assembly line for two more years, hopefully by then I’ll have enough to buy my own shop.”

“That’s so messed up.” He sighs, voice tired, “You’re the most talented chef I’ve met; more than that, even. The most hardworking. I hate that this all depends on hopefully. You deserve more than hopefully” He looks genuinely upset, pouting from his perch on the counter. You’ve lived with hopefully for so long that the idea isn’t disappointing anymore.

“I’m sure everyone has their own sob story of why they need it.” He shakes his head, a hand clamping the back of his neck.

“I don’t. If I lose, Donghyuck and I will return home to jobs where we make and design desserts for the best restaurant in Seoul. We need it the least, yet we’re one of the last teams here.” It’s hard to tell where he’s going with this, but it’s clear to you that he feels guilty.

“I mean yea, but don’t you want something for yourself?” He looks you dead in the eyes, gaze making you feel small in an unfamiliar way.

“Not if it means you have to keep doing less than what you love.” The words settle heavy like an accusation.

“W-what are you trying to say? If you’re trying to say what I think you are then-” He rests one of his hands onto your shoulder, teeth worrying his lower lip.

“What if I drop out? I’ll never forgive myself if I keep you from what you’re meant to do while I live comfortably.” You shake your head, bringing a hand to cover his own.

“You’re not keeping me from what’s meant to be! What’s meant to be is, and what’s meant to be is you and me head to head in the finale. You’re not throwing away the chance of a lifetime just to preserve feelings.” You don’t remember when you gripped the front of his shirt, or when the hand that had steadied your shoulder snaked around your waist. His breath was fanning across your cheeks, chests rising and falling in tandem.

“Are you sure?” Taeyong is almost two inches taller than you, it had never been evident until now. He borderline towers over you, keeping eye contact through drooping eyelids.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to win because I deserve it, so don’t you dare go easy on me either!” He laughs as you jab a finger into his chest, grabbing your finger with his hand. He slowly laces your fingers together, quickly adverting his eyes to the floor.

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that? I gave you a free shot at winning and you turned it down.” You laugh, ruffling his pale blue hair.

“You’ll understand how it feels to win something and know you’ve earned it.” 

“Don’t say that.” His pout returns, reminding you of the dog you got for your sixth christmas. 

“You said it earlier!” 

“That was different! I said unless!” You giggle at his defensive response, heart soaring as high as the clouds. 

“Whatever.” He was swaying slowly, your body moving with his. You weren’t too sure when that had happened. Similarly to how you weren’t sure when your hand had found a home on his shoulder, or when he had started humming a sweet lullaby. You were, however, sure of the way he was looking at you. It was the way your parents looked at each other while drinking wine on the terrace of your childhood home. 

As if all the stars were hung in your eyes, and he was endlessly searching for constellations.

*

“Dear Taeyong,

It’s official, final two! I’d hoped it would end like this, try to remember me in your next life. You know, after I kill it tomorrow;)

Just kidding mostly! I’m excited to see what you make, and for you to spoon feed it to me when you get to France. You have to keep in contact with me once we’re home! Texts and emails will suffice, but I think I’d like to keep up our letters. It’s nice to have a physical thing that shows how much you care, I’ve never had that before. I don’t think many people really have. Since I’ll be home, I can even send you real French junk food and not just crepes!

Sorry for the lack of sweets this time around, as you can imagine I’m just a little busy. I promise I’ll make up for it when you visit me! 

After tomorrow, it’ll be so long until we actually see each other again:( How will you survive without me?

I’m gonna miss your dorky self, (Y/N)”

*

Losing doesn’t hurt as badly as you had anticipated. When Taeyong and Donghyuck had been announced Amelie had turned to you, eyes sad.

(“We came so far.” Her hand rubbed a circle on your tense shoulders, a knot releasing in your throat.

“We did.” You look to her, offering a watery smile, “I’m proud.” She had nodded, swallowing tightly.

“Me too.” Her mood was... Uplifted by now, to say the least. She was curled on a couch in the corner of the after party, sipping on champagne and clinging to Antonio of Mexico’s arm. It turns out you weren’t the only one who had taken a liking to competition.)

The party was stuffed into your hotels ballroom, which had been decorated with black and gold bunting on anything that would sit still. Everyone was embellished in cocktail dresses and suits, drinks flowing freely from the bar into manicured hands. You were currently sipping on an apple martini (read: trying to lick the cinnamon and sugar from the rim of your glass) while team Americas Johnny laughed incredulously at you.

“You know, you’re kind of hilarious when you don’t have that whole ‘get in my way and I’ll bite your head off’ thing going on. Though the dress definitely adds to that. ” You rolled your eyes, swallowing a mouthful of gritty cinnamon and smoothing the silk of your short red dress. You had downed about four decorative drinks, allowing every one to think that you were drinking away your sorrows. It wasn’t quite true, but there’s no harm in letting people assume.

The truth was, you were doing absolutely anything to distract yourself from the fact that you hadn’t seen so much as blue shock of hair all night long. Apparently, you weren’t the only person that wanted to speak to Taeyong at his victory party. It’s not like you were expecting to have the whole night with him, but you were hoping for at least a minute alone. It would be terribly depressing if the last time you saw him for months was while soothing tears from your best friends eyes.

“I know, right?” You take a deep swig of your martini, successfully topping off the fifth drink of the night, “You were all too scared of me to realize my real potential. Nice and hot.” Johnny bites on another laugh, a brown strand of hair sweeping into his eyes. 

“I guess so.” He takes a long sip from his drink, swallowing with a sour face, “Taeyong was never scared of you, though.” You exhale a short laugh, lip still toying with the rim of your empty glass.

“Really?” He leans into his black chair, rubbing a hand over his face while exhaling sharply.

“Yea, he just talks about how skilled you are. He never viewed you as competition, just a sweet girl to learn from.” You try to suppress the pink rising to your cheeks, which is not easy considering all the drinks you’ve downed.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all, sounds just like Taeyong.”

“It really does.” He casts you a mischievous glance, lips quirking, “ You know, he would also always talk about how pr-” 

The boy is cut off by a low voice shouting something in Korean. Even if it weren’t for the hand snaking around your waist, or the blue hair that tickles your cheek, you would know immediately that it was Taeyong. Hearing him speak small Korean phrases had been one of your favorite parts of midnight baking.

(Had been, had been, had been)

“Johnny! So good to see you not embarrassing me! Mind if I steal (Y/N) for a minute? Nope, okay thank you” In a flurry he grabs you by the wrist, dashing to the exit while towing you behind.

“Taeyong!” You shout, laughs ripping through your chest, “Taeyong! Slow down, where are we going?” He laughs, warm and squeaky as always, refusing to let up.

“Just follow me, come on!” He whips you two around a corner, grip tight and relentless. At this point you’ve taken a form similar to that of a rag doll, Taeyong dragging you along.

“I’m trying!” You snort while dashing through the lobby, wrist almost ripping from Taeyongs hand, “It’s kind of hard to run in heels!”

“OH MY GOD! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize!” 

“WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?! It hurts!” Your whining only makes Taeyong laugh harder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Come on, we’re almost there.” He drags you straight through the lobby, into the kitchen bustling with caterers, and finally through a tall glass door leading outside.

“The pool?” you question, pulling off the clasp of your thin black heels, “I didn’t think it was open this long.” He’s clambering to a lounge chair, grasping his heaving chest.

“It’s not, that’s why we took the employees entrance.” You nod, rubbing the raging blister forming on your ankle.

“And the running?” He looks up at you from his spot on the chair, eyes glimmering.

“I didn’t want anyone to follow us?” You deadpan, dropping your shoes.

“Oh, you are a dead man!” You lunge at him with the small bit of energy left in you, immediately ghosting your fingers over his ribs. One thing you had learned from Taeyongs countless childhood anecdotes, was that he was ticklish to a (nearly dangerous) fault.

“Stop, stop!” He cries, writhing under your fingers, “I’m sorry! I’ll feed you!” The shrieks are muddled with squeaks and snorts as he grasps desperately at your wandering fingertips. Hot tears stream down his face while he jumps to his feet, placing your hands in an iron grip.

You find yourself in the same position as your last baking session, bodies pressed together like there’s no space left in the world. He giggles at the sight of you wiggling your hands, trying desperately to break them free.

“Taeyongie, I’m done! Promise.” His makes a short tsk tsk with his tongue, pulling you even closer.

“Im sorry (Y/N), you’ve broken my trust! I’ll never lo- Be happy again!” Despite the claims, he lets go of your hands. They immediately rest on his shoulders, one of his own hands poking a piece of hair behind your ear. With your limbs entangled, you chat idly for at least half an hour. It feels almost like you’re drinking up the final drops of him, heart growing heavy every single time he mentions Korea.

“How badly are you going to miss me?” You ask, eyes glimmering playfully. He laughs, thumb rubbing a circle on your cheek where his hand is still rested.

“More than I miss kimchi right now. You are the highlight of my day, every single day, and I have no idea how I’m going to cope without you.” The words are punctuated with a pout. You can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, maybe the strict stare of moonlight. Perhaps the breeze that grazes your thighs, or the heavy weight of Taeyongs beautiful hands holding you as though you’re something precious, but fat tears start to well in your eyes. As soon as Taeyong notices he becomes panicked, dropping his hand from your face, “What’s wrong? Did I say something?” Tears start to fall, your chest clenching so tightly that you have to gasp for air.

“No, no. It’s just-” He runs a hand through his hair, fingers getting caught in the gel. It sticks up in every direction, like he’s been struck by lightning. If it weren’t for the tears in your eyes you would’ve laughed.

“You hate me now don’t you? I’m sorry, I wanted you to win. I thought you were!” 

“What?” You blubber, Taeyongs chest starting to heave.

“I’ll give you my share of the earnings!”

“Oh goodness, don’t be an idiot!” You move a hand from his shoulder to wipe away a blackened tear, “That’s not w-why I’m crying.” Your lip quivers, rather pathetically. Taeyongs eyes are frantic, like he’s trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle. He wants to fix it, you don’t know if he can.

“Oh... Um, then why are you crying?” His sweet voice combined with the way he looks down at you with furrowed eyebrows makes you cry even harder, wet sobs wrecking through your chest. He says nothing, simply pulling you into a bone crushing hug. If it weren’t for your already subpar air supply he would’ve squeezed the breath out of you. 

“I just don’t want to leave!” You eventually force out, words bouncing around, “You make me s-such a nice person, I’m literally unbearable when I don’t have someone reminding me to be kind. A-and I don’t want us to not talk again, like I know you’re coming to France and all of that but I want t-to see you before then. I-i don’t want to not s-see you Taeyong, a-and I don’t want you t-to forget me a-” He swiftly brings a hand to the back of your neck, wrapping his long fingers around the curve.

“(Y/N), I will never forget you. Even if we didn’t talk for thousands of years, I will never ever forget you.”

“That’s what everyone says.” You look up as he sighs, coffee brown eyes flicking swiftly to your quivering lips.

“I’m not everyone.” He wipes away a tear, eyes gluing themselves to your lips, “I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?” The words don’t fully process, your brain still rambling from where your mouth was cut short.

“I don’t think you want to, I was just-” He drags you in from the waist with his free hand, heavy breaths hitting your wet cheeks.

“(Y/N)?” He’s taken on the same determined look he had earlier today in the kitchen, like he’s going to settle something.

“Yes?” Your voice comes out small, barely a whisper.

“I want to.” You don’t register nodding, or closing your watery eyes. The only things that exists within the next ten minutes are Taeyongs lips and yours. 

He tastes intoxicating, like expensive red wine and homemade pastry. Taeyong is not a selfish person, and this kiss is no different. He’s going out of his way to make you feel safe, fighting against any needy instinct.

You wrap your hands around his neck, thumbing his jaw while trying to say ‘it’s okay’. When he pulls away your chests are heaving, lips aching for him to come back.

“Should we get back?” He asks, breathless. His lips are puffy, you swipe over them with your thumb just because you can.

“Um, yea. Sure.” He nods, pulling his hands away to straighten his blazer.

“Okay, alright. But first, this.” He presses a matter of fact kiss to your lips, your hands taking over and grasping him like he’s a necessity. They travel up and down his torso, pressing into crevices and dips. You’re trying to find which of his buttons to push, taking a mental note for later (the base of ribs. He turns into jelly when your thumb presses into that valley,) “You are handsy!” He giggles, linking together your arms and moving to the tall glass door.

Before you return to the party, you both flee into the bathroom to freshen up. He thought it might be inappropriate to return looking like he had just run a marathon. Or stung by a bee on the lips.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, curled hair now disheveled. Your cheeks are wet and stained black with flaky mascara, cupids bow shining. (Hopefully it’s not with snot.) 

In that moment, you are positive that Taeyong is in love with you. 

*

“Dear Taeyong,

“Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, Be calm – love me – today –yesterday – what tearful longings for you – you – you – my life – my all–farewell. Oh continue to love me – never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved. Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours.” - Beethoven to ‘Immortal Beloved’.

Ever yours, (Y/N)”

*

"Hurry up!” 

“I’m trying, let me park the car!” You’re dashing onto the hot sand of the beach, shoes hanging precariously from your fingers. Taeyong clambers from his rental car, toting along a wicker picnic basket and plaid blanket. The sun is setting over crashing waves, sea salt piercing the air. You firmly plant your feet into the shore, inhaling deeply while taking in the view.

It’s almost weird to have Taeyong here, watching him assimilate so perfectly into your world. When he had landed last night the very first thing he had said was ‘Hello my love, I’m so excited to see you’ in flawless French. You crushed him in a hug, smothering his tired face in kisses. Having him here felt right, like the fairy tale ending on the last page of a book.

“This is my favorite sight.” You sigh, Taeyong wrapping an arm around your waist. He presses a kiss to your cheek, squeezing tighter.

“Mine too.” You snap your head to meet his gaze, affirming that he was staring lovingly at your profile. A giggle bubbles in your throat while you turn in his arms to match the embrace.

“You’re so cheesy.” He laughs, wind whipping blue tufts of hair in every direction.

“That’s why you like me, now help me set this up.” 

When he finds perfectly circular lemon meringues at the top of the picnic basket  a wide grin spreads across his face, immediately reaching into small bag they’re packed in. It makes the corners of his eyes crinkle, you decide that’s your favorite thing about him.

“That’s not all.” You sing, reaching into the mesh bag. Resting at the bottom of the package are two petite seashells, gold pins hot glued to the back.

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t!” An innocent laugh slips through your lips at your sweet boyfriend and his childlike excitement. You nod, leaning forward on your knees to secure the pin into his shirt.

“I did, and we’ll have madelines tomorrow.” He hums, quickly pecking your lips, “I wouldn’t recommend doing that  while I’m handling a needle, you might get poked.” He giggles, leaning back on his hands.

“I’d get poked a thousand times if it meant I could kiss you once.” You roll your eyes, finally fastening the pin.

“You’re so drama-” He surges up, kissing you soft and slow. One of your hands cradles his neck, the other dropping to the base of his rib cage. He smells overwhelmingly of cinnamon and vanilla, the taste of lemon meringues heavy in his mouth. 

“What were you saying?” He questions, a smirk toying happily with his lips. Taking in the sight of your sweet boyfriend relaxed on his elbows, the wind pushing his hair while waves crash mere feet away from you, makes something beautiful bubble in your chest. If weren’t for your grumbling stomach, you would sit there and kiss him until the sun set again.   

“Oh, be quiet. I’m hungry.” You relax onto the blanket, Taeyongs hand traveling with you. It rests on your thigh, rubbing noxious circles. 

When he secures your seashell pin into your white button up top his hands are shaking, knuckles softly brushing your jaw. You cover his hand with yours, offering a comforting smile. He giggles bashfully, turning his head to the sea. You sneak a kiss onto his jaw, then to the high point of his cheekbone, then again to the tail of his eyebrow. Taeyong finally looks back to you, something warm emanating from his smile.

“I love you.” He exhales, eyes sparkling. It reminds you of when you used to bake together, the way he would shine every time you would manage to slip into friendly banter, or the time that you accidentally turned the mixer on high after putting in a huge batch of flour. You remember your first kiss, the way Taeyong held you like the world was ending. The way he asked if it was okay. 

“I love you too.”

You decide then and there that those two phrases, uttered while basking in sleepy sunshine, are the only things that matter.  

[novelnerdqueers]

Tell Me To Stay - Chapter 5

Summary :  Logan's birthday comes around and he's shocked to find out that this year someone actually not only remembered but also got him a gift.

CW: Brief mentions of nightmares, unhealthy habits

Previous chapter  Next chapter  From the beginning Read on ao3

Chapter 5:  Dinner?... Just The Two Of Us?

They drove in silence for most of the way. Now and again they would exchange glances. They drove up to the building where Logan's condo was. "This is my stop."

"Right, of course. Would you like me to walk you up to your apartment, or are you okay from here?" Roman offered.

"Um well I mean it's not like I really need help finding my place," Logan started. Obviously, he could get back home fine from here. He thought he felt Roman shrink back a little at this. It then hit him that that question probably had subtext. Of course Roman would know he was fine on his own, yet here he was wanting to spend as much time as possible with him. "But," he continued, "I'm not against the company."

Roman smiled and then climbed out of the car, walking over to where Logan was. They started walking, their footsteps matching each other. "Hey, Logan?" Roman asked quietly as he looked around the small area they were walking in absent-mindedly. "Why did you move to our department from your last one?"

"Oh well um... let's just say that not all jobs at the CSI are esteemed in the same fashion. I was the head supervisor of the archives, but no one cares about you here unless you do something on the field or closely related to the field. No matter what I did, or what I accomplished, all I was to everyone was just a pencil pusher. Which hurt because I really truly felt like I could contribute more, but no one ever took me seriously." Logan was starting to get worked up as he continued speaking. "I've been told many times to stop playing Sherlock Holmes and leave the work to the real detectives." Logan stopped walking at this point, they were standing in front of his door now.

Roman watched Logan carefully, listening to him with a thoughtful expression. "Hey," he said gently once Logan had finished speaking. His voice was low and calming as he took Logan's hand and squeezed it, gently soothing him with the grounding touch. "Look... I don't say these things to people often, but actually, you’re a pretty good investigator... A real detective would encourage others to follow in their footsteps, they clearly weren't that great if all they could do was make fun of you. You are a great person to work with and be around... it hasn't been as bad as I thought..." He was very close as he held Logan's cool hands in his own. Logan could smell his musky, sweet-smelling cologne and his comforting expression was at least doing something to ease his mind.

"Why are you telling me this... why do you care so much?" Logan couldn't help but ask. His mind was reeling from Roman's words, his heart was pounding. He'd never felt so... so... valued before, it was jarring to him. His hands felt clammy and yet Roman was still holding them.

"I care about you, Logan," Roman said. "You're a good friend. Though I do believe we got off on the wrong foot. You are a good partner; I feel like I'm not doing all the work for once. It's nice to know there's someone I can work with who I can trust with a job and know it will be done well and with a good amount of effort put into it. You'll try to get it as good as it can be, I appreciate that. You also seem to...balance me out quite well. I suppose this is my way of saying thank you." He smiled, hoping he correctly put his thoughts into words.

Logan managed to offer a small smile back, he was truly touched by Roman’s words. “Thank you, Roman… it means a lot to me to hear you say that.” Finally, he pulled his hands away, the ongoing touch was starting to feel a little too awkward. He looked down for a moment before returning his gaze to Roman’s. “I also really have grown to appreciate having you as a partner. It’s nice to feel like what I do actually matters, without having to change who I am or how I do things for all that.” An understanding seemed to pass between the two of them. “Well, goodnight I guess,” Logan spoke as he took out his keys to unlock the door, “See you tomorrow.”

Roman nodded, "Have a nice evening, Logan." He smiled, waving to him as he headed back to his car.

……………

Over the next couple of weeks, Roman found himself becoming more and more fond of Logan's presence and appreciated his sense of logic in certain situations where his enthusiasm did admittedly become a little too much. It was nice to have a friend who understood and got him the way Logan did. He tried to push away the more troubling thoughts of when he seemed to stare at Logan when he wasn't looking or some of their eye contact that lingered a little bit too long. He didn't want or need to think about that.

Never before had Logan looked forward to going to work each morning. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the other jobs he’d had before, but he finally felt like he’d found his place within the team. He also had to admit that he really truly enjoyed working with Roman, they made a great team and that was something he’d never really experienced before.

Roman found that every day he was talking to Logan that much more and wasn't even slightly objecting to it, it was great. He felt himself smiling more, being generally happier and found his days a little brighter. The usually long days didn't feel as tedious and he found himself wanting to stay at work with Logan because home for him had a lonely feel to it that he didn't want to think about for fear that he already knew its origin. The loneliness ate away at him, attacking him during the nights. By morning, he was able to brush it off and he had the motivation to take care of himself a little better, it was a very welcome change of pace.

Logan had begun to notice a gradual change in his overall mood. He didn’t feel nearly so anxious all the time when at work and with the others, especially with Roman. Where before he would have happily rushed home the moment his day was done, he found himself hanging back to chat with Roman at the end of work. While not entirely becoming all that much more sociable, he didn’t mind the interactions nearly so much as he used to. He felt more relaxed, more upbeat, Roman’s optimistic energy was contagious and strangely attractive to him. There were even times where he found himself alone at home almost missing that feeling.

…..............

Roman walked into the office. It was a normal Friday morning for anyone else, but Roman couldn't say the same. He wore a barely noticeable frown on his face. The night before, he'd spoken to an old friend and they'd asked him about some sensitive topics. He hadn't realised at the moment, but talking about it as if everything was okay had dug up some things he'd long since buried. It didn't help that when he'd said he'd rather not talk about it, they got offended and asked if Roman still trusted them which made Roman feel bad so he'd given in and told him. As a result, he'd gotten a few hours of sleep, broken up in small intervals of the night because of the nightmares and general uneasiness that loomed over him. He was exhausted.

Logan was already busy on something when Roman arrived that day. As he heard him arrive he instinctively felt his head lift to look up at him. “Hey,” he started cheerily, Roman giving him a smile and a nod. Logan immediately felt that something was off. He’d unwittingly learned Roman’s usual mannerisms and this wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t anything huge, but still, enough that it left him with an odd suspicious feeling, he tried to brush it off. They got to work and the feeling stayed with Logan throughout the morning. Once it got around to early afternoon he just couldn’t take it anymore. He looked over at Roman to see that he seemed lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the wall. “Hey, Roman… I hope I’m not overstepping here but… are you okay?” His words seemed to startle Roman out of his stupor.

"Hmm?" he hummed, looking up at Logan. "Oh, right, uh... I'm okay, I guess, just tired. I had a rather sleepless night." He frowned, his unfocused gaze shifting from his work to look at Logan completely. "I had to have a...difficult conversation with an old friend that I didn't really want to be a part of. I suppose I didn't think it would affect me this way," he shrugged, running a hand across his face and sighing in defeat.

“Oh..” Logan wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He wasn’t exactly very good at being the comforting type. “I’m sorry to hear that. I get it though,” he mused thoughtfully. Tough conversations were a thing he’d, unfortunately, had a lot of experience with. He knew that often they were necessary, but they also left him feeling rather out of it. “I’m guessing the outcome of the conversation wasn’t exactly what you hoped for?”

"I guess you could say that," Roman hummed, taking a sip of water and skimming through his paperwork. It was a summary of the most recent crime scene they'd been to and he was struggling so much more than he usually would be. As Logan made quick work of several piles of papers, he was still stuck on the first few pages and it was almost painful.

Logan could see that Roman’s mind was just not in it today. “Do you want some help with that?” he offered, genuinely concerned at this point.

"Actually, yeah, I'd appreciate that," he smiled gratefully, letting out a yawn as Logan made his way over to his desk and stood behind him.

Logan began looking over the neglected and poor quality work, or at least poor compared to Roman's usual standard of work. Roman knew Logan didn't think lowly of his work because of his mistakes like he did, but Roman always found difficulty in actually giving himself credit when it was due.

While not being terrible, Logan could definitely tell this wasn’t Roman’s best work. “Your ideas are a little all over the place,” he spoke as he cocked his head, trying to see how the elements could be organised. “Do you mind if I take a go at rearranging a few things?”

“Yeah, of course, go for it,” Roman said, letting out a tired sigh and shifting so Logan could stand over his work. Logan then inspected the sheet in front of him, his eyes scanned over the notes. He picked up a pen and grabbed a loose sheet of paper, writing down some numbers, drawing arrows and several small notes for organizing his ideas.

Roman hadn’t quite realised, but in his tired frame of mind, he’d lost focus and was staring at Logan rather than the papers, watching the way his lips moved as he spoke, but not quite computing what he was saying. Noticing the way he held the pen, elegantly moving his hand to jot down a general summary of what he was explaining, but not quite picking up on the words that he actually wrote, being unable to focus on them.

“So yeah it’s up to you in the end, but this might help you give a better sense of direction to your notes,” Logan finished saying as he raised his head. It was at that moment that he noticed Roman staring at him. He couldn’t tell whether he was just spaced out or if he had been intently staring at him. “Hello, earth to Roman,” he spoke, hoping to break his trance. “You okay there?” At these words, Roman seemed to realize what he was doing and his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink.

Roman shook his head, trying to pull himself out of the daze he’d somehow fallen into. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Logan, I’m really not able to concentrate at all today.” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I really appreciate the help. I’m usually better with my notes, but the reorganisation will really help me to find what I'm looking for faster.”

“Alright then, always happy to help.” Logan strode back to his chair to continue his work. Before doing so he glanced back up towards Roman one last time. “You know, if ever you need some more help, don’t hesitate to ask okay.” He offered him a warm smile then turned back to the papers on his desk.

Roman smiled over at him. “Okay, I won't, thank you, Logan,” he said, looking back at his work. A gentle smile stuck on his face every time he looked over at Logan or thought about his notes or the way he smiled at him. It was nice to know that there was someone like Logan that he could truly rely on.

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

Logan’s first few months at the precinct had flown by without him noticing. Before he knew it autumn was rolling around. It was mid-October when he walked into the office one day to a package on his desk. He strode over to his chair, utterly confused as to what it was doing there. Roman was at his desk already working. “Uh Roman, what’s this on my desk for?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Roman smiled, standing up and walking over to Logan’s desk, a certain spring in his step which was easily recognizable. “It’s your birthday, Lo,” he beamed. “I looked into the files because I remembered seeing your birthday was at some point in October and I wanted to get you something,” he explained, leaning against Logan’s desk.

For a moment Logan was dumbstruck, somehow he’d managed to forget his own birthday. In his defense, he never really did anything for his birthday so it generally didn’t feel different from any other day. He never told anyone about it because he didn’t care for that kind of attention and was never really close to any of his coworkers for it to actually matter. “Oh um, thank you…” Logan could feel himself blushing, he was oddly touched by this attention of Roman’s.

Roman grinned, “You’re very welcome, Logan.” It was obvious now that Roman was waiting for Logan to open his present as he made his way back over to his own desk.

Roman hovered just behind him excitedly, as he slowly took back the wrapping paper which was a simple navy blue. Behind that, neatly placed wrapping paper was a book with drawings, photographs, illustrations and theories about space. Quotes from different astronomers and astrophysicists lined almost every page and it was just a very beautiful gift. He was looking for one online but couldn’t find anything he knew Logan would like. He wanted to be accurate with something Logan would actually appreciate so he’d put one together himself. He’d gotten the idea because his coworker seemed to be obsessed with space, so this gift idea was too perfect to pass up.

Logan was stunned by the present, for something that was clearly handmade it was remarkably well done. He was taken aback at how thoughtful the gift was, he was flattered but wasn’t entirely sure what to think of it. “Wow Roman, I-... thank you.” Logan looked up at him and smiled, “This must have taken you quite some time and it’s pretty good too.” He flipped through the pages, carefully running his fingers over the different images and quotes. The attention to detail was pretty spot on and he could appreciate that. “How did you know that I was such a space nerd?” Logan was slightly confused as to how Roman had known this in the first place.

Roman fought the urge to be slightly disappointed at Logan's reaction. By now, Roman was aware that his partner just expressed feelings differently than he did and Logan did say he liked it...in his own way, which was a plus. He just didn't react the way Roman imagined or was used to when he made something for one of his friends. "Oh, um, there are a few things on your desk that are space-related and you've mentioned something along those lines a few times. Since you seem like the type of person to talk about things you find interesting very rarely I figured it must be important to you."

“Oh, right, yes.” Logan looked towards his desk and had to acknowledge that he did indeed have incriminating evidence of his special interest in space. “I guess I don’t usually notice that kind of stuff.” He had a small moment of guilt at realizing that he wouldn’t have really been able to say what Roman was interested in, despite their being coworkers for a while now. He put the book down and turned to his work.

Roman nodded, with the type of person that Logan was he didn’t expect that kind of thing to be extremely noticeable to him. Roman himself, had always been the type of person to pick up on small things about a person, even very soon after meeting them. However, he could understand that not everyone did that and it was more difficult for some, which he assumed was the case with Logan. As he sat in his chair, finishing the rest of his work, he tried not to feel disappointed at the lack of reaction and instead focused on the fact that he’d still done it. It had actually been fun to learn and teach himself about the topic to get accurate facts.

As they continued on their work for the day, Logan would now and again glance at his bag where he’d placed the book Roman had gifted him. As much as he wasn’t surprised that this was the sort of thing Roman did for people, he hadn’t thought they were close enough to warrant such a personalised gift. The day went on and when the end of the day rolled around Logan gathered his things to go home. “So see you tomorrow Roman.”

Roman smiled, he'd been thinking and throughout the day he decided that a birthday dinner might be more Logan's speed. They could talk and get to know each other a little better, which was something Roman wanted to do since Logan was such an interesting and mysterious person to him. "Uh wait up, Logan," he called, picking up his bag and slinging it onto his shoulder, a slight spring in his step as he hurried to catch up to him. "Would you like to go out for dinner, maybe? You know, because it's your birthday and all?" he beamed, doing up the clasp on the side of his bag and looking back up at Logan, a goofy smile on his face.

Logan stopped abruptly, a blank look on his face. This was a first and he wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. “Um, yeah I, uh, sure ok,” he stuttered out, feeling rather flustered by the prospect. He’d never gone out for dinner with a colleague, much less for his birthday. His mind was in social panic mode but he tried his best not to seem rude, he really did appreciate Roman after all.

At this, Roman's smile softened, his hand going to the cuff of his sleeve to arrange it as he turned to Logan. "Hey, don't worry. There's a small low-tone café nearby, it's nice and I just thought you might like to go out for your birthday rather than staying in. Not that I'm assuming you don't already have plans. You don't have to though, it's just an offer," he smiled warmly. "You're my friend, or at least I like to think we're relatively close, and I'd hate for you to have to spend your birthday alone." he finished, pulling his phone out and checking through it, noticing a text from Patton and a few emails.

Logan would have wanted to be able to protest, but the truth was that he indeed had no plans. He still wasn’t entirely sure why Roman was being so chummy, he really wasn’t the most interesting person to be around. In the end, he really didn’t have anything better to do, so he might as well go along. It would give him something to tell his therapist to get him off his back for not being social enough. “Well thank you, I don’t usually do stuff like this, but I guess it could be fun.”

"It's no pressure, honestly, everyone needs to have fun once in a while," Roman grinned, reaching up and pushing the hair from his own face before continuing to speak. "It isn't like this is a date, Logan," he smiled, lifting his head from his phone and looking over at him.

An immediate flush came across Logan’s cheeks at this remark, he looked away from Roman nervously. Why did he have to say that? Logan had struggled with his sexuality for a long time and he still was rather uncomfortable talking about it. At this point, it was pretty clear where Roman stood on the matter, but he had yet to say anything in that respect. “Um.. yeah.. sure ok,” Logan attempted to chuckle but it was rather half-hearted. Nonetheless, he followed Roman to his car.

**This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, (https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: short comments, long comments, questions/theories, constructive criticism, reader-reader interaction.

*** Tag list (let us know if you would like to be added or removed): @crossiantgay

[zaph1337]

Monster Hunter Rating 17: Gendrome, the Alpha Raptor

Hey, everyone! Sorry I’ve been absent for a couple of days. Without going into detail, the last two days have SUCKED for me. I wasn’t in the mood to write any of these, especially since I’m probably gonna end up disappointed with this monster. Though, to be honest, I should probably lower my expectations. But enough of that! Let’s talk about the Gendrome!

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 1)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 4)

Appearance: As expected, the Gendrome looks like a bigger Genprey, but unlike the Cephadrome, the Gendrome doesn’t look exactly like its smaller kin; its crests have grown and become pointier, and its fangs got the viperfish treatment and are now absurdly long. I can’t imagine those make eating easy, but considering that this thing has venom like Genprey do (not really spoiling anything by saying that), they might be worth it. As for how I feel about the Gendrome’s appearance, it’s not exactly that much more interesting than Genprey are, but it at least looks distinctive. 5/10.

Behavior: Like I said when talking about Genprey, a Gendrome’s job is to plan attacks on prey monsters like Apceros and Aptonoth. It accomplishes this by using high-pitched calls, much like Velociprey and Velocidromes do. Unfortunately, this doesn’t stop Gendromes from being preyed upon by monsters such as Cephadromes, but if they’ve got their Genprey pack with them, they can even take on some Flying Wyverns. Keyword being “if”; Gendromes are known for not always having a pack, and lone specimens are likely constantly searching for a pack to take charge of. If they find a pack that already has a Gendrome, they’ll often challenge the leader to a battle for leadership rights. The wiki doesn’t say whether the loser is chased off or killed, but I could believe the latter being the case because it explains how a Gendrome could be without a pack (y’know, other than “Everyone else died”). The idea of a pack leader having to go find another pack sounds familiar to me, but I don’t know what real-life animal does that. I should also mention that the point of the larger crests is that they can attract mates. Nothing unusual there. Unfortunately, this still doesn’t sound any more interesting than standard pack leader behavior, with the possible exception of the “fighting strangers for their pack” thing. It’s not terribly boring, but it sure as heck doesn’t stand out. 5/10.

Abilities: They literally have the same abilities as Genprey, but it seems like their venom is more potent, as it can paralyze monsters ten times bigger than a Gendrome in mere seconds. The Genprey’s ecology page says the exact same thing, though, which may mean that someone just copied and pasted it without checking whether or not Gendromes have stronger venom, which tells you just how similar to Genprey they are. I’m giving this the same score as I did the Genprey, but if Gendromes weren’t meant to just be big Genprey, I guarantee you I’d dock them points. 7/10.

Equipment: Gendrome equipment has the same aesthetic as Genprey equipment, which means that the other raptor-dromes have equipment which is just recolored from the Gendrome’s...well, sort of. Someone told me that Velociprey were actually the first raptors you’d find in Monster Hunter despite the order they’re in on the wiki’s list, so really, Genprey and Ioprey equipment is based on them, which means that my original ratings for the raptor equipment are all wrong. The thing is, though, correcting all of those would take more time and energy than I’m willing to commit to that, but I will judge the raptor-drome equipment by the Velocidrome from here on (though you won’t get to see Velocidrome equipment until I get to that monster). With that in mind, let’s look at the Gendrome Greatsword called the Saffron Fangblade (not to be confused for the ones from Ninjago):

Honestly, I like the Great Sword from Monster Hunter Online more, but I’ve been using weapons from that game way too often. It’s not my fault that their renders are so high-quality compared to the renders from other games, but considering that several MH fans don’t consider Online a true MH game, I think I could stand to vary my images a little. As for this Great Sword, I prefer how the Velocidrome one looks more, since it’s, y’know, blue, but I’ll give this one credit for actually looking like it’s made from a real snake or other reptile, ‘cause as much as I prefer blue, I don’t think there’s such a thing as a sky-blue snake (if there is, though, link me a picture and give me a name to look up). I’ll be showing the other raptor Great Swords when we get to them, but I’ll also show off a weapon with a design unique to that monster (or at least I think they’re unique). Here’s the Gendrome one, a Gunlance from Monster Hunter Generations Ultimate called the Genenam Lance:

This looks fine. I like the scaled shield and the gold accents. Not much else I can say about it, though. As for the armor, I had to use the render from MHO because the rest of the armor on the equipment page was Genprey themed. Here’s something interesting, though: several Monster Hunter games have two types of armor sets, those being Blademaster and Gunner. I’ve only been showing Blademaster armor because it looks closest to what the MH armor I’m used to looks like and because most of the Gunner armor has some weird looking covering or extension on the left arm, and I think it looks bad. I’m showing the Gendrome Gunner armor here, though, because it actually looks okay and I wanted to mix things up a bit:

The only change I saw between this and the Velocidrome version is that the scales are different colors, and while I could appreciate the realistic-snake aesthetic on the Fangblade, here it doesn’t seem as special. Basically what I’m saying here is that it’s not blue so it’s inferior. The equipment as a whole gets a 4/10.

Final Thoughts and Tally: Eh. I didn’t really expect the Gendrome to be all that interesting anyways. It’s the dullest raptor-drome appearance-wise, behavior-wise, and equipment-wise, so it lives up to its legacy perfectly. I’ve got gripes with its siblings, too, but we’ve got a couple monsters to go before we get to the next raptor-drome, so stay tuned. 5/10.