#also what can I say I have a soft spot for those cookies

[hitlikehammers]

astral cartography✨💫

“And I did always say, right, that tattoos are a map of what you love.” Steve kisses Eddie firm, not least in appreciation for shutting Dustin’s harebrained bullshit down. But that doesn’t solve his original mystery.  “These aren’t a map, though,” Steve taps one of the new spots, smaller but still at the neck. No rhyme or reason to it.  “They’re the start of one.”💖

rating: t ♥️ cw: post-S4, extensive tattoo/birthmark/scar appreciation, established relationship, romantic gestures, a soupçon of angst surrounding some necessary work on self talk/body positivity re: extensive canonical scarring (it’s hurt/comfort in full service of fluff, so), little ✨sprinkling (lol) of humor, softness ♥️ tags: boys being tactile as shit, steve harrington being the canonical reason anyone ever called them ‘beauty marks’, eddie munson’s philosophy of tattooing, falling deeper in love

for @steddielovemonth day three: "if there is love, smallpox scars are as pretty as dimples. I'll love your face no matter what it looks like. because it's yours.” —Stephen King, 11/22/63

For all the attention he has wilfully, consciously, and very intentionally given certain elements of his appearance, Steve’s never though anything really about the fact that he’s got enough moles to dress up for Halloween as a fucking chocolate chip cookie.

Like, they don’t bother him at all or anything, but he’s never really understood how a handful of people he’s been with have just…zeroed in on them. Got a little crazy about them. Tracing them. Licking them. Nipping at them so they look more red than brown for a day or two. Whatever, Steve’s always figured. Everyone’s got their thing, and this one costs steve absolutely nothing to indulge, and if there’s one thing Steve prides himself on that doesn’t rhyme with ‘hair’? It’s making sure his partners leave satisfied.

But then there was Eddie.

And Eddie has a…well, a umm…

If you looked up the word ‘fixation’ in the dictionary, Eddie definitely has that.

Probably looking up the word ‘fetish’ might not be too far off, either.

What it means that Steve gets a little hot under the collar of his polo when he so much as thinks about either of those facts is a word he doesn’t know and isn’t going to bother looking up because why the hell would he, when he can just turn to Eddie, and…

Eddie’s fetish-fixations aren’t idle things, guy’s a man of action. Steve’s not gonna pick a book over what he gets out of the bargain like…for anything.

Plus, better stated—now there is Eddie. And Eddie…isn’t going anywhere, ever, if Steve has anything to say about it.

And it doesn’t cost Steve anything to lie there under his boyfriend’s unwavering, devoted attention. Kind of actually the sort of thing Steve never had before this, before him, and got addicted to quick—and that shone hasn’t worn off one bit. Isn’t actually showing any indication of everwearing off.

And when attention grows more heated, grows more more, well, then…fuck.

Ha, ha, that’s: fuck. Literally.

Point is, Steve doesn’t even really notice all the little dots on his skin, but hell if he’s not reaping the benefits.

——

It’s also not really fair to even consider judging Eddie for his fixation with Steve’s collection of birthmarks. Because Steve’s got his own not-quite-but-close-enough-the-distinction-doesn’t-matter obsession with Eddie’s skin.

Notably, but not exclusively, with his tattoos.

And more than that? With his scars.

Which is something that kinda comes about…tumultuously. Steve can acknowledge that.

“It’s too fucking hot, dude,” he’d frowned, rolling over and plucking at Eddie’s soaked-through shirt; “and you’re sweating buckets here.”

Seriously. The mattress was gonna get ruined at this rate.

“Jeez,” Eddie had snapped, straight off the bat; “sosorry we don’t all have central goddamn air.”

Which: the government hadn’t sprung for that, no. But:

“Don’t try and pull that shit on me,” Steve bit back, plain and simple, and it cowed Eddie the way it sure as hell should: he knew better. He knew Stevebetter, by now. They’d been fucking for months, since Eddie got the medical okay. They rarely spent more than a work-shift’s length out of each other’s sight. They were both—for the first time Steve’s ever got to feel it, both of them, together—clear-eyed on the way to bonafide bone-deep love; saying it out loud for keeps, and soon. They slept together every goddamn night.

So yeah. Eddie knew better.

He curled farther from Steve, into himself, but Steve just followed, even if doing so kinda exacerbated his complaint about the heat as a matter of course. He molded himself around Eddie and pulled him into his chest so he could murmur into the wet curls plastered at his ear:

“I get if you don’t want anyone else to see,” because wearing a shirt in this fucking heatwave really only made sense for one reason; “I get if you’re not ready yet, or if you’re never ready,” and Steve meant that: if Eddie was never ready to show off the worst of his scars? Steve would stand by him every day for the rest of his days.

That was basically the rule for…most things, now. With Eddie.

“But I already saw all of it, babe,” Steve tried to reason, because it wasn’t even that Steve was uncomfortable, mostly-nude in the bed himself; it was that Eddie’s misery hurt in his chest and he just…maybe it was selfish, to want to cast it out, but he just didn’t want Eddie to suffer. Ever.

“I cleaned them at their worst, y’know? I changed the bandages, I saw—”

“How much they look like Frankenstein’s fucking monster?” Eddie’d halfway snarled it, and Jesus fuck, no.

No.

“How much they almost make me fucking start crying,” Steve was willing to admit it, out loud, for this specific purpose alone, which said a whole fuck of a lot—

“Because they’re goddamn hideous—” Eddie tried to derail him but that wasn’t happening. Steve was on a mission, here. And Steve didn’t commit if he wasn’t gonna see something through past the finish line, and in first.

“Because they’re so alive,” Steve pulled Eddie in tighter, pressed his lips into Eddie’s neck.

“You have them, and you’re warm here next to me, I get to hold you in my arms like this and your fucking heart’s still beating, when I was so goddamn scared it would stop because of how torn up all this was,” and Steve laid just his palm blind to the deepest cratering of flesh that’s concave to the bone a little, knew where it was by muscle memory alone and he could feel Eddie’s pulse hammering for the fear and the shame and what had sounded too much like self-loathing, that Steve hadn’t realized was still so strong: but now he knew it. Now he knew, and he’ll wasn’t going anywhere, so he was gonna be right there, watching and helping and coaxing a way through it however he could.

“But it’s fucking beautiful, and it’s not red and torn open and bleeding out to take you from me anymore,” and Steve didn’t even think to feel ashamed of it when his voice cracked around how he didn’t realize that sore spot was still so close to the surface in himself.

“But now it’s pink and healthy and it stretches when you breathe in, because you’re here and you’re alive,” and there came the crack again in Steve’s voice but he expected it that time, and smashed his lips to Eddie’s neck again as he moaned a little:

“With me.”

And he breathed there as long as it took for Eddie’s breathing under his hand at the scars in his side to even out, and he just…appreciated them. Because they’d done the unthinkable; doctors and surgeons and modern medicine, sure, yeah, them too, but Eddie’s own body—the very skin under Steve’s hands—had decided to say fuck the reaper and knitted itself together the best it could, and the best it could had led them both here, had led Steve in Eddie’s bed, and Eddie in Steve’s heart, so.

Steve thought every single one of those scars was goddamn magnificent. He’d praise each of them in gratitude, separately and painstakingly every goddamn day, if he thought it’d convey how thankful he was for the textured artwork of Eddie’s left ribs, the way his whole side stood like a permanent installation in celebration of what it meant to demand to survive.

“They’re so,” Eddie eventually whispered, and it sounded already like he was gonna say something kinda like the opposite of everything Steve saw, so—they’d deal with those mean thoughts later.

For the moment though:

“You know how you said you’d never seen the ocean?” Steve had said, knowing it would sound like it came out of nowhere, but it wasn’t. “And I promised I’d take you?”

Eddie’d just turned, stared at him like he was losing it which…was fair. But Steve had a point to it, promise.

“I’ve seen it though,” Steve had closed his eyes and the memories are hazy because they’re so old but the feeling of it: s’not something you ever forget all the way. “Couple times, just because my parents had to be somewhere and I was too young to leave alone when the babysitter cancelled last minute,” and he’d reached out slow, opened his eyes to watch Eddie every millimeter his hand moved closer to the collage of divots and skin grafting and stitched-together planes that pulled too far to lie even when the staples came out. Eddie tensed, held his breath—it wasn’t that Steve hadn’t touched him here, far from it, but so intentionally, so eyes-open—but he didn’t flinch. And he didn’t stop Steve’s hand from pressing down.

His breath did catch, but so did Steve’s, just for clearly different reasons as Steve delicately traced the scalloped edgings and whispered, didn’t even try to hide how it made him feel kinda-sorta awed:

“It reminds me of the tides.”

“The sand goes smooth under the waves,” Eddie shot back, but without heat, more just…defeated as he muttered on; “even I’ve seen fuckin’ movies.”

“But the foam, like, of the waves coming up,” Steve pushed back; “it’s so pretty, that’s the part I want your to see most because it was so long ago, and that’s what I still remember,” and he’d sighed a little, going back to that place in his head:

“It’s like layers, and all the motion of it lapping up the coastline feels like like you could just lose yourself in the rhythm forever and never climb out,” and he’d let his eyes open slow, and he’d caught Eddie’s own and let himself do the same inside that gaze until Eddie got the fucking hint:

He was just ad beautiful, as impossible, as incredible as those tides.

“One wave after the next, in turns, crashing so strong but it’s not, like, violent,” Steve had let his thumb trace the raised lines under his touch back and forth; “it’s magic.”

Like Eddie. Who tucked a little further into himself before he turned, jostled Steve’s hand then burrowed into Steve instead:

“It’s not even smooth,” he protested all muffled; “you can’t even—”

“My nan loved photos.”

Again, Steve was pretty sure he sounded insane. But again, he was building to a point.

“Not even ones she took, most came from magazines. She couldn’t travel like she wanted to, my Gramp was building businesses but my Nan wanted like, adventures and the sights. So she made scrapbooks of wishes, she called them,” Steve had smiled at the memory, until the next one washed it away:

“My dad thought she was a silly old woman. We didn’t see her too much, in the end.”

Steve missed her.

“But the most beautiful thing she showed me once was this one tiny island somewhere way far in the north, where the beaches were made of stones.”

Eddie’s turned a little, frowned. It gave Steve access to his side again, though, and that’s all he needed, but his hand right back on that tangled-perfect marvel of scar tissue and indomitable life.

“Not pebbles, but big stones,” and Steve had outlined the larger waves in the flesh like examples with his hands as he spoke. “No rhyme or reason. It was special, the place itself, like it had some historic significance or whatever, but,” and Steve had let himself work around one knot of tissue he knew caused pulling sometimes, just in case it could use a little loosening, a little extra love, and he’d fought a full grin when Eddie’d grunted and caved under the attention, eager for the relief.

“The picture she had was of the waves crashing over the ricks and,” Steve had worked more at the knot as he searched for the right words;

“It was like the could have been at odds, like fighting each other, but instead they were this marvel that people came from across the world to just,” and he didn’t still his hands at all, but he did lean in to kiss behind Eddie’s ear; “just to have the privilege to see.”

And Eddie had shuddered, and his breath had caught hard, and Steve had turned him in his arms and slipped his hands under that sweat-soaked shirt and held held, held him, held him.

“Nothing smooth about it, really,” Steve had mouthed against Eddie’s jawbone then; “think that was most of the point.”

And Eddie’d slept without a shirt the rest of the unbearable second summer, chest-to-chest so Steve could feel the scars straight to his own skin, and from there on, it was understood.

Maybe not for everyone, but definitely for Steve: they were maybe not quite welcome—yet—but definitely allowed to be worshipped for the proof of life, the gift of love that they fucking were.

——

The tattoos aren’t quite the same. Steve thinks that’s because they were something Eddie chose; the scars interfered, deformed—weren’t the marks in themselves.

But after getting the memo about how complicated the scars are, and knowing these marks are no longer unentangled with those ones?

Steve may be oblivious sometimes, but. Once he learns a thing—especially when it’s tied up with loving—he tends to remember.

“Do you mind, when I,” Steve pulls his head up to meet Eddie’s eyes from where he’d already been basically sucking the ghoul head thingy above Eddie’s pec into a purple shade for like fifteen whole minutes, like a free color-job. Steve does like to think Eddie could have stopped him—and definitely wouldn’t be so hard between where they’re pressed together—if he had had a problem, but.

Steve…likes to be careful. When there’s loving.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” Eddie fucking purrs, and Steve grins cheshire-sharp for it, pleased with himself. Hr actually kinda loves this particular tattoo especially; the scars that cut into it make it look like Mr. Zombie-face got into a nasty fight with Wolverine from X-Men—which yes, thank you Henderson, he already knew about before starting to screw your DM—but anyway.

“I just,” Steve traces one long scar of the three as he talks, tries not to grin too much when Eddie shivers, when his nipple proves it’s not too scarred-up to pebble under the attention fucking beautifully; “since you don’t want to get any more, and—”

“No, I don’t,” Eddie says simply, if a little breathy as he arches into how Steve does the same up what looks like the second claw mark, just a fingertip alone the line; “least not right now. But they’re still a map of the things with love, yeah? Present tense, past tense, it’s all a story.”

And that is…Eddie. That answer is so fucking Eddie.

And he’s worked so hard—both of them have—to say that kind of thing from a place where they could believe it, and damn if it doesn’t come out now like its said like a man who’s made his peace, and feels solid standing in it.

“And, like, maybe these are just ink from a really shitty apprentice artist,” Eddie taps at the weave of scars lower, the worst of them: his rocky beach on the waves, and fuck, if he’s willing to try even a kinda shitty joke about it all, in the privacy of their bed where there’s no need to fake it, or force it to make nice?

They really have made progress.

“Hmm,” Steve doesn’t take his hand from that second pseudo-claw mark but he does crawl down a little to get a better look at Eddie’s biggest set of scarring—not that he needs to, but if he’s gonna play alone he’s not gonna half-ass it, so he tuts a little and shakes his head regretfully:

“Honestly, I just don’t think the Upside Down has a real established scene to expect high standards,” Steve laments, shaking his head; “they can’t even keep the lights on down there, man, plus teeth for needles? Can’t be the best practice,” he sighs wearily. “Health code violations fucking everywhere, Robin would pass the fuck out—“

And maybe Eddie’s tackling him them, shaking with cackles as he takes the lead to pin Steve to the bed, sucks between the moles on his neck—perfect vampire bites, baby, marked just for me—and Steve maybe giggles for it, the impatience, the enthusiasm, the joy in the tussle. It’s basically perfect.

So yeah. Eddie’s as marked up as he’s probably gonna get, at least any time soon. Steve won’t let another round of violence touch him ever again, over his dead fucking body, and tats…maybe they’re gonna just stick with the story they’ve got on Eddie’s skin, close that chapter where it naturally turned a page.

To start this new thing, together. Where Steve leave the marks, and proudly, and touches them up as often as need be. With pleasure.

And if Eddie’s as happy about that as he currently looks, flushed and panting and far beyond ready to get on with more than sucking at skin?

Maybe that actually works out perfectly.

——

So, the point is, the love each others marks, the things that trace their skin to make them them, but blemishes but serial numbers: just more undeniable proof to celebrate the person they like most in the whole world.

Love most, as is becoming abundantly clear.

Which means they notice right away when so much as a bruise pops up from knocking into the kitchen table—but Steve’s not looking at a bruise.

He squints—this isn’t really a task he’d lean on his classes for but…so weird and also, odd fucking place underneath Eddie’s chin—

“Did your sharpie break?”

Because that would make sense. Eddie purrs on basically anything that can pass for a writing implement, if he gnawed to much, maybe he was lucky and the ink dribbled rather than sprayed.

“No,” but honestly, Steve is not convinced. It’s not a convincing denial, first off, but then on top of that, there’s more incriminating evidence:

“You’ve got marks, like, all over,” dark little speckles, like an egg at Easter before you dunk it in the bright vinegar water. It’s not sunny enough for his freckles to be coming out yet, is it?

“I do,” Eddie agrees, but kinda distant, like his head’s elsewhere. Steve looks up from where he’d become sprawled out over Eddie’s chest on the couch: he’s working on campaign notes and: oh look. Not a sharpie.

One of those Mr. Sketch monstrosities that smell like ‘fruit’ and everyone’s gotten high off of at some point, which 100% belonged to the school at some point, and 100% now has Steve’s boyfriend’s dental imprints on the end.

Steve just rolls his eyes and, which the colour still isn’t exactly—the speckles on Eddie’s skin really are a more chocolate brown—he’s gonna let this one go.

Maybe get up and make dinner or something, so he’s no stuck with that suffocating alcohol-licorice smell the black marker gives off.

——

“Are you sure you were using sharpie last week?”

Steve also means today. Or yesterday. Or right now. There are more…speckles.

He knows there are more of them.

“I didn’t use any sharpies last week,” Eddie shrugs, not looking up from his book but gesturing broad with his forkful of mac and cheese. “All mine are dried out and I keep forgetting to pick up new ones.”

Okay, well. That does track. He leans in closer, runs a finger over the first spot he noticed: same color, maybe a little less bold; the other ones look a little red around the edges, like when Steve’s moles get sucked at and—

“Look familiar?”

Steve turns, looks at Eddie who appears to have very quickly given up pretending not to care about the conversation. Steve blinks, looks a little closer, and…

That’s ink, alright. But it’s under the skin.

“I didn’t think you were gonna get any more,” Steve says, doesn’t expect his voice to be so soft. He doesn’t understand what they are, what they’re building up to be a part of but it looks like a big sort of project, and definitely in clearly visible places, so it feels worth some respect for the weight of the decision, what it means for Eddie who smiles small and nods; agrees simply:

“Me neither.”

“But, y’see, Henderson—”

“Ugh,” Steve groans because Dustin is, in fact, currently on his shit list. See previous ‘you only know that because you’re fucking my DM’ transgressions. Kid’s on thin fucking ice.

“No, no, it’s to a point,” Eddie soothes him, and it works, cause Eddie is always in his corner before anyone else’s, he killed Dustin’s character weeks ago and Steve still isn’t sure if Dustin’s stilll just watching when they get together, waiting to somehow find a narrative launch-point back into the action: “but he wants ink, which I told him, too fucking young,” and Eddie looks up to soak in the approval he knows is waiting for him in Steve’s eyes—he’s not wrong at all, and preens a little for it, too.

“But he was eyeing my bats, and he tried to say, well, what does it matter, they only meant something after,” and he gestures toward the bigger wound, the more unforgiving mark of bats opposite the still-fairly clean cookie-cutter type fliers on his arm.

“And that was just the dumbest attempt at an argument in his favor, because it not at all fucking true.”

For Steve’s part, it’s the one piece he’s never asked after. Too close to home. But he just figure…cool. Metal. Maybe about Ozzy.

“My mom used to read me nursery rhymes,” Eddie’s face goes so soft as his voice gets all fond, like it always does whenever Elizabeth Munson comes up. “Like, the old ones. And she did it way longer than probably most people, like, I was way too old for it but,” Eddie chews his lip and looks up at Steve like he’s confessing a secret:

“I just really loved it.”

Steve pushes and pulls Eddie a little until there’s the barest sliver of space at the back of the sofa for Steve to lie down in, wholly boxed in by Eddie’s weight, specially when Eddie rolls the priest bit into him to pin him close.

“My favorite one was about bats,” he whispers. “About hiding them from people who didn’t understand how nice they were, and how all they wanted as to do their thing, even if it wasn’t what everyone else liked, and be good for everybody by helping eat bad bugs or whatever,” he hums what Steve imagines is the rhyme; “so you put them under your hat, and give them bacon, and if they’re as good and as poorly treated for no good reason as you suspect is the case, you’ll bake them a cake. Because they deserve it.”

He doesn’t really have to say more for the connection to kinda stick out like a sore goddamn thumb.

“Couldn’t put it under my hat, but,” he ruffles his curls ruefully. “And I did always say, right, that tattoos are a map of what you love.”

Steve kisses Eddie firm, not least in appreciation for shutting Dustin’s harebrained bullshit down. But that doesn’t solve his original mystery.

“These aren’t a map, though,” Steve taps one of the new spots, smaller but still at the neck. No rhyme or reason to it.

“They’re the start of one.”

Steve frowns, so fucking confused, pulling back a little to try and see if he can read any answers from Eddie’s face.

But Eddie’s just smiling at him softer than he’d even been smiling before, thinking of nursery rhymes and the few good memories that came from the days before living with Wayne. He’s looking at Steve right now mostly like he hanged the moon itself.

“I’m gonna ask again,” Eddie breathes low, and grabs Steve’s cheek:

“Look familiar?”

And Steve, when it falls into place, doesn’t actually thing he should face any blame for not seeing it at first, or second, or even tenth glance. Because he’s never paid attention. Other people did.

But Eddie finally turns his neck and: vampire bites.

Marked just for me.

And then Steve starts touching each dot, and trying to find the sublest hint of a raise in the skin in the same place on himself. Every time, he finds it, some quicker with other slower, some needing him to look at the glass of the china cabinet behind the couch that’s never made sense there, but is reflective enough for the task and…they’re all there.

The marks aren’t…sharpie tips. They’re Steve’s, they, they’re all of Steve’s—-

“I love you something fucking fierce Steve Harrington,” Eddie bites out with what Steve gets the feeling is only a sampling of the very ferocity he’s speaking of; “and tolerating another second where I didn’t have you etched into my skin, the most important, most adored,” and Steve’s heart flips to hear it said so earnest, so felt full from Eddie’s heart:

“You not being on here was just fucking unacceptable.”

And goddamnit, Steve’s eyes are stinging. He, he’s…Eddie is…

“It’s like a star map,” Eddie murmurs, tracing the originals the way he often does, like connect-the-dots but reverent, always; “like how sailors navigated,” then he looks away, doesn’t move his hand but makes sure Steve meets his eyes:

“You’re my way home, because you are home.”

And yeah. No one could ever have expected him to hear those words and not let the waiting tears fall, okay? That’d be fucking insane.

His chest is so tight with so much right now, holy shit.

“All of it’s constellations made of you,” and he says that, too, has made up whole legends for the stars on Steve’s back; “so when I look at them, my heart’s always just that extra bit reminded where it’s meant to be, the direction it’s always gonna be headed, for forever.”

Steve’s breath catches loud and gaspy around a sob, and he’s not even speaking. What the fuck.

“Fuckin’ sap,” he says like it’s the highest honor he could give, and maybe here and now it is; “fuck, but love you,” and he draws Eddie in for a salty kiss that’s sloppy and heady and more heartfelt than Steve might just know how to stand.

When they finally part just for breath, Steve’s thumb is on one of the spots—on of the stars of the map.

“How,” he starts, because why, did he take a photo?

But Eddie just scoffs:

“Think I don’t know every inch of you by heart?”

And yes, of course that earns him Steve trying to suck his tongue from his mouth for the explicit purpose of his soul coming out easier for the way he kisses him deep as he knows how. And they do that, for a long fucking time because…

Steve’s kind of reeling. Steve’s never loved more in his life but then, but then—

No one has ever loved Steve even a fraction of this. Steve’s never had this, never known this. Steve…

Steve thought loving that big was his fucked up burden to bear, but now—

He’s not alone in how deep it rubs. How far he’ll go, and gladly.

What. The. Fuck.

Is this what a cheat is supposed to feel like, is this how normal people who love normal amount so that they get loved back the same got to feel all along?

Steve…almost doesn’t think so. Steve thinks this is what it feels like to love extravagantly and with more than your full self as a rule to the point of insanity for anyone on the outside looking it, and to fucking finally find your match for it.

And to know, then, that it was never crazy. It was only ever exactly right.

“Two more sessions, just for time,” Eddie nips at Steve’s lower lip, slick for spit and tears in equal measure.

“You’re unbelievable,” Steve gales, grinning wide enough it hurts.

“Hey now,” Eddie nips a little harder, narrowing his brow playfully; “I got the little one under your balls and the sprinkle set on your taint this last time,” and Steve can’t help himself.

He bursts out laughing so hard his sides ache.

“Even I needed a breather, sitting on that to drive home!” Eddie protests as Steve straddles him fully, properly, and…

Gets ready to read some fucking maps.

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[ataraxiaspainting]

The Floor is Breathing.

Yan Overhaul x F Reader. 

Synopsis: You feel like both the witness and the victim in an uncommitted crime.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, stalking/non-consensual recording, mentions of binge eating, and some infantilization.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

You can swear that these white walls blink.

Something, somewhere here, has eyes that look you up and down – you feel its breath on the back of your neck when you fall asleep facing a wall, the only decorated wall you have ever seen in this facility, actually. 

You’re not crazy. You have to remind yourself day in and day out of that fact, but you’re not crazy; you know another living being is in here with you, watching attentively.

Overhaul – no, “Kai” is what he forces you to call him now, says that there are no cameras in your room, but your gut screams otherwise.

You asked if he was sure, once, two days or four days, or six days ago – it should still be recent as you did not feel as isolated as you do now – and he responded by saying if he really wanted to keep a closer eye on you, he would just become your new roommate.

You’re unsure as to if that was a threat. He seemed happy when those words came out of his masked mouth, so perhaps it was just some unfunny gest. He made those sometimes, especially when he tries to coax you into taking vitamins every mealtime. Those jokes were as dull as the light brown and white pills piled up in a little cup meant for dipping sauces. Perhaps it was repurposed or Kai had ordered some from somewhere or he has some restaurant under his control somewhere.

Somewhere so dirty and filled with sugar and oils and artificial coloring. You’d die for just a sniff of pizza being served at an all-you-can-eat buffet or deep-fried cakes being served at a pop-up carnival. If health inspectors didn’t approve of such spots, or at the very most give them a C rating, then Kai wouldn’t go within two blocks of them. Much less let you. You’d stuff yourself to the brim like it is your last meal and compared to the boiled chicken and rice and broccoli you were given daily, chips and cookies may as well be.

A call of your name makes reality come back faster than a slap to the face – and hurts just as much.

“I asked you something, sweetheart. What do you want to do today?” Kai asks.

He didn’t seem angry or irritated as he repeated himself. His voice was still soft and the way he taps his foot against the pastel pink heart carpet reflects that. Times like these almost make you wish you were deaf. The words feel rehearsed but also feel as though they are straight from the heart like the actor was passionate enough in reciting their lines or was grossly in love with the story of the show. 

“I don’t know,” Unlike Kai, you forget your script quite often – aside from that one saying.

“You don’t know?” He’s still smiling. You know it.

“No.” You murmur. He puts an elbow on the small white table, stabilizing his head with his gloved hand. “I don’t.”

“I have some ideas,” The feeling of dread makes your stomach drop. Or was it your heart? Lungs, perhaps? You don’t know how to breathe right now, after all.

“I… don’t know, Kai.”

“You said that already.”

For your sanity, you choose to look at your freshly remade bed instead of his eyes. The rabbit plush you were given on your third or so day here lays alone on top of your singular pillow. The bars surrounding the sides reminded you of a crib. You’re only allowed to put your legs over the railing when Kai comes to your room in the morning and you’re not allowed to get out by yourself; he grabs your hand to assist you.

“Do you want to know what my ideas are?”

You’re not allowed to say no to anything Kai suggests. It’s an unspoken rule, unlike the ones for your room. “Um… okay…”

“Well,” Kai begins, his other arm being laid out on the table. His palm is facing upwards and you know what that means.

Your hand moves towards his – you try your best not to flinch this time in response to his slight grip, but you fail.

Kai chooses not to notice it for now. Just a small treat for this morning’s hug.

“I was thinking we could go to my office. Just for a change of scenery.” His thumb moves back and forth across your knuckles. “We could bring your colored pencils or your book if you’d like. It’s still noon, so we have some time before your daily check-in.”

“Okay…”

*~*~*~*

You had opted for your book in the end, although you regret your choice now because two of the four walls in Kai’s office have windows, and just outside of them were uncrowded streets that lead up to small hills on either side. The hue of the grass was off – a dull brown – but considering it was about time for autumn to roll around, you didn’t judge. Not that you could, anyway.

Could you ask to go back and get your colored pencils? You attempt to dismiss the thought by imagining future possibilities. Kai seems to be working on his computer right now though, and the guards outside wouldn’t let you leave by yourself anyway.

To hell with it, you think. It’s fine. He won’t get mad. 

At least… you hope so.

You walk over slowly until you are nearly touching his left shoulder. “Can I please get my colored-”

It’s you, from different angles and at different times of day – even some videos of you before you were kidnapped. They are of you sleeping, of you eating, of you looking under your bed. They are of you putting on socks, of you microwaving dinner after a long workday, of you talking on the phone with friends for hours. They are long and short – you can see some of them even repeat. Oh fuck. Is there a camera in this room too, or-

Before you can continue analyzing, Kai slams his laptop shut.

“Go back to reading, sweetheart.” It’s an order – you know it from the way he does not blink and the way his arms cross. He didn’t want you to see his screen; that fact is as clear as a cloudless sky. “You can color another day, okay?”

[schlattslambo]

Not sure if you’re doing only smut, or a mix of fluff and smut, but maybe a fic where schlatt and reader have soft and sweet sex? Like maybe the reader is stressed about everything happening in their life and schlatt offers some comfort, which leads into soft sex. K thanks 🙏

a/n: ok i may have gone a bit overboard with this one oopsie, but i really hope you like it!!

—————————-

The house is quiet. For the most part. Your boyfriend isn’t yelling at his computer - mainly because he’s out of the house running some errands, the TV is off, and the cats aren’t chasing each other around the house and breaking things. The only sounds are a record player playing classical music in the sitting room and your breathing. It’s a beautiful fall afternoon, and you had just finished baking some cookies. It should be a relaxing day, but it isn’t. Despite the semi-quiet house, you can’t stop your racing thoughts.

You have so much that you could be doing, but you aren’t even sure where to start. You have projects that you need to finish, a few work emails to send, and you’re in charge of planning a trip abroad with some friends. All of this plus juggling your secret relationship. Schlatt is a very caring person, despite the persona that he displays online. He notices every slight change in your mood and can pick up on things that you don’t even pick up on yourself. And you don’t really care that your relationship is secret; it’s for the best.

But that does little to stop those thoughts. Things that you can be doing better, things that aren’t finished but need to be reworked. All of these things that need your attention. So, you decide to grab your laptop from upstairs and do some work in the sitting room. You curl up on the chair with a mug of your favorite tea and get to work. Your fingers are like a blur as you type on the keyboard, so engrossed in your work that you don’t even hear the door open.

“Honey, I’m home!” Schlatt calls, just as he always does when he comes home to you.

When you don’t answer right away, he figures that you’re in the bathroom or something. He calls your name, but still no answer. Okay, he thinks, no big deal, you probably have your headphones in. Then he spots the freshly baked cookies that are cooling on the counter. Shoving one in his mouth, he continues his search for you.

When he finds you, you’re hunched over your computer, eyes darting across the screen. Your work emails have been sent and the projects are at a point where they can be put on hold for the evening. Now, you’re stressing about hotel deals in the Netherlands. You’d already sent along a quote to your friends for the hotel in Dublin, so you just had to find three other hotels after the one in the Netherlands. You scribble down some information before a large hand is on your shoulder. You jump, but relax when you notice Schlatt standing there.

“What’re you doing, toots?” He asks, chewing on another cookie. “Great cookies by the way.”

“I’m trying to figure out what hotel to stay at when me and the girls go to Europe.” You grumble, tapping away at the keyboard. “I still have to find three more hotels after I get a quote from this one.”

Schlatt looks down at you with a smile. You’re always working so hard, and he loves that about you. One of his favorite things is your work ethic. You always manage to continue working no matter what happens. It also happens to be one of your biggest faults.

“Baby, you really need to listen to your own advice.” Schlatt says, running a hand through your hair. “What do you always say to me?”

“That you’re an idiot?” You ask, looking up with a smile.

Schlatt acts offended, placing a hand over his heart. “No,” He gasps. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make! You always tell me to pace myself when I work. And it doesn’t look like you’re doing much of that.”

“I don’t have time to pace myself.” You counter. “We leave in six months. I have to get these hotels booked or else we’re going to spend a fortune.”

You turn back to your computer and Schlatt sighs softly. Looks like he’s going to have to do this the hard way.

“C’mon, (y/n),” He says, putting his hands on his hips. “Save your progress.”

He rarely uses your first name, but when he does, you know he’s serious about something. You quickly bookmark the page and close the laptop, peering up at him. Without a word, he scoops you up princess style.

“Hey!” You yelp. “Where are you taking me?”

Schlatt says nothing but walks you to his room. He softly kicks the door closed behind him and plops you on the bed. You look at him and cross your arms on your chest.

“Jay, I really-” Your cut off by his soft lips pressing against yours.

“Honeybun,” He says, using one of your favorite nicknames. “Let me help you relax, m’kay?”

His kisses trail down the side of your neck and all of your thoughts melt into a puddle that now pools in your belly and starts to warm. You nod against him but he pulls back.

“Words, baby.” He says sweetly.

“Yes, please.” You whisper.

“Such good manners.” Schlatt replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone while toying with the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get this off, hm?”

The two of you slip your shirt off together and Schlatt continues kissing you, pressing his lips further down to your chest. He pushes your bra down, then takes a nipple into his mouth. You shudder at the contact, goosebumps blossoming on your skin.

“Lay down, my love.” He whispers against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Without a word, you comply. You slip your bra off yourself as Schlatt kisses down your torso and to your waist.

“May I?” He asks, hooking his thumbs into your belt loops.

At your nod, your pants slowly come down, warm kisses pressed to your hips and thighs. His touch is so gentle and sweet that you think you may cry. When your pants come off, Schlatt looks up at you with a smile.

“God,” He breathes. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the entire world. How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

Schlatt expresses his gratitude for you ‘choosing to love him’ all the time, but somehow, this feels different. More intimate. His lips press against your inner thigh, making you let out a soft gasp. He slowly slips off your panties, licking his lips. Once they’re off, he gently spreads your legs, his thick fingers exploring your folds.

“My pretty girl’s all wet,” He smiles, sliding a finger inside of you.

You mewl, arching your back. His thumb finds your clit and rubs slowly, and he watches you with a lovesick smile on his face. His cock grows harder at the sounds your making and how your pussy clenches on his finger every time he presses just a bit more on your clit.

“Can I fuck you, baby?” Schlatt’s voice comes out strained as you look at him.

You nod and his cock twitches in his pants. No matter how many times he gets to fuck you, his cock always twitches at the idea. You’ve been dating for around a year and a half, and he gets giddy inside whenever he gets to be this close to you.

“How do you want me?” You ask.

“Missionary.” Schlatt says with a smile. “I want to watch your beautiful face.”

You adjust on the bed as Schlatt finds a condom, resting your head on the many pillows that litter his bed. Just like Jambo has his little feather collection under the couch, Schlatt has a pillow collection on his bed.

He climbs up, smiling at you with such love that your heart does a little flutter. Kisses are pressed up against your ankle, all the way up to your face. Schlatt presses his cock against your entrance, pausing to intertwine your fingers together as his forehead rests against yours.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, slowly entering you. “My beautiful, beautiful baby.”

“I love you too.” You gasp.

His movements are vastly different from when you two usually have sex. He’s usually sporadic and quick with sloppy thrusts and a grip that bruises. This time, he’s holding you so gently that he’s scared he might break you. His thrusts are slow, but have just enough force to them to make your eyes roll back. As Schlatt’s lips attach to your neck again, you let out a moan.

“That’s it,” He praises against you. “Let it out for me. You’re taking me so well, babydoll.”

Schlatt pulls back to look at you, and your eyes meet his. The way you look up at him makes him nearly burst. He continues to go slow, but his orgasm is approaching rapidly. He never cums first, so he needs to stop.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby.” He breathes with a smile. “You’re gonna make me finish too quick. This is about you tonight.”

You smile and sink your teeth into your bottom lip. Schlatt lets go of your hands and reaches down to rub your clit. This allows you to pull him closer and kiss him. The kiss is passionate, slow and intimate. It’s intensified by the shocks of pleasure coming from your clit. Schlatt adds more pressure, making you break the kiss.

“F-Fuck,” You whimper. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” Schlatt asks with a smile. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod and moan, looking up at him with those pretty eyes. He rubs your clit in circles and uses the other hand to gently caress your chest. The small action sends you over the edge. You grip Schlatt by the back of the neck and pull him down, your moans muffled by another kiss. He thrusts as you cum, chasing his own orgasm. Only a few thrusts later, he’s cumming as well, groaning into your mouth.

As Schlatt comes down from his high, you look at him with half-lidded eyes and a soft smile. He quickly disposes of the condom and cleans himself up, coming back to bed and scooping you into his arms.

“You’ve been working so hard lately.” He says as he runs a hand through your hair. “I’m so, so proud of you. You make me and the boys so happy. I love you so much.”

You smile and lean into his touch. “Thank you,” You whisper. “I really needed this.

Schlatt presses a kiss to your forehead and snuggles you until the two of you drift off to sleep. You don’t mean to take a nap in the middle of the day, but you also didn’t expect to make love at 3pm either. But as you drift off to sleep in Schlatt’s arms, those racing thoughts are gone. The only thoughts that remain are how lucky you feel to have someone so thoughtful in your life.

[harrywavycurly]

Worth The Fight: Good Hands

Masterlist: Here

CW: language, pregnancy things, jealousy, angsty bits and some light arguing.

A/N: This one is heavy-ish but has some light hearted moments so be prepared for some angsty bits but I’d say this is a very big step in a direction for them, is it the right direction? Only time will tell👀✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes

Summary: You decide to do some shopping for the twins while Harry decides he needs to apologize to you even if you’re not ready to hear it✨

You smile at the woman working by the door as you enter the small boutique that’s just down the street from the library you work at, you look around and suddenly feel extremely overwhelmed by the amount of baby things surrounding you. Being nearly thirteen weeks you finally decide that it’s okay to just take a look at things, seeing as you still don’t know if you’re carrying two boys, two girls or one of each you find yourself not exactly sure where to start. You look over and smile when you see a small section of onesies with animals all over them, you adjust your bag on your shoulder as you head over towards the table they are folded and laid out on.

“Oh the peaches will love those.” Ethan’s voice comes from behind you making you laugh as you feel a hand on your shoulder. “How’s my favorite produce dealer doing today? Have you eaten all the cookies my mom sent yet because I need the tin back.” You roll your eyes at the playful nickname he came up with for you ever since you started sharing the size of the twins with him as they grow each week, getting a kick out of the way all your apps are always referring to their sizes as vegetables or fruits.

“They aren’t quite peaches yet they have about four days till then so they are still lemons.” You explain as you rest a hand on your bump while looking at the little outfits on the table in front of you. “But I’m good just feeling tired today and uh no not yet there’s like fifty cookies in that tin Ethan and I may be pregnant but sweets don’t sit well with me right now.” You answer as the hand on your shoulder grabs the strap to your bag and without hesitation you let him take your purse and sling it over his shoulder making you let out a small sigh of relief once the weight of your bag is gone.

“She said they were what she liked when she was pregnant with me but that was also during Christmas time so that’s why they are pretty much all holiday themed.”

“That explains all the gingerbread men.”

“Exactly. So the peaches-”

“Lemons.”

“I mean come on they are pretty much a crossover between lemons and peaches right now so like leaches? Or is that-”

“Do not call my babies leaches Ethan.”

“Right sorry that was rude let’s just go back to looking at the cute and soft onesies okay?” He says in a slight panic not wanting to make you upset in the middle of a baby boutique having already made you accidentally cry in line at the bakery down the street from your apartment when he mentioned how good the blueberry muffins looked, forgetting all about your current aversion to the fruit ever since you tried a blueberry jam that didn’t sit well with you.

“You think the animals are cute? Or they have these.” You lift up a set of onesies that are white with gray and yellow polka dots on them so he can take a look from his spot behind you. “Is the gray and yellow too overdone?” You question as Ethan places a hand on each of your shoulders and gives them a nice rub making you relax as you look at the onesies in your hand.

“Yellow and gray is a classic color combination you can’t go wrong with it.” You let out a hum of agreement as he releases his grip on one of your shoulders so he can reach around you ever so slightly and grab the set with the animals on it. “But these are cute as shit.” He says with a smile as he looks down and sees you still holding the polka doted set.

“I could get both? Right?” Ethan just nods as you look at him with a quirked brow almost as if you’re seeking his approval.

“Excellent idea.” Is all he says before he takes the polka dotted set from your hands and holds it in the same one of his that has the animal set it. You smile as you feel him lean down and place a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m going to go look at all the weird baby gadgets.” He gives your shoulder one last squeeze before he turns and heads off towards the back of the store with the two sets of onesies in his hand and your purse slung over his shoulder.

Harry is chewing on his bottom lip as he walks down the street towards the library you work at, wondering if he’s doing the right thing coming to see you at work again when you haven’t reached out to him since the lunch at his mother’s house. He doesn’t want to make it a habit to just show up at your work when you refuse to speak to him or he can’t get ahold of you but right now he feels like this is the only way he can guarantee he will be able to talk to you. It’s been over two weeks and he just wants to get some things off his chest and maybe see if the two of you can start over and try to get to know each other a bit so the arguing can come to a stop or at the very least can be toned down. It’s not like he’s expecting the two of you to be bestfriends or anything, he just wants to be able to have normal conversations with you that don’t end with you in tears or annoyed with him.

He runs a hand through his hair and he feels as if the wind gets knocked out of him when he turns to his left and looks in the window of a store, he has to push his sunglasses into his hair so he can make sure he’s seeing things clearly and that the dark lenses weren’t causing him to mistake the person for someone else but the moment his eyes see the smile on the woman’s face he knows exactly who it is. You’re standing in front of a table of baby clothes but before he can even register that you’re looking at clothes for the twins, he quickly notices you’re not alone and all Harry can do is stand there and watch the scene unfold in front of him. He watches your neighbor stand behind you and place both of his hands on your shoulders and Harry feels his brows furrow as his eyes narrow into a glare at the way you seem to relax at his touch.

It’s then that Harry takes in the bag that’s slung over the man’s shoulder, it’s the godawful thing you call a purse and he doesn’t understand why he’s the one with it over his shoulder instead of you. Of all the times he’s been around you that bag is always over your shoulder and you’re either fighting with it to find something or trying to keep it in place making him assume you have a thing about keeping your bag with you. He feels his mouth drop into a frown as it dawns on him that maybe it’s not so much you like to keep it on you at all times, it’s just that Harry hasn’t ever tried or offered to take it from you minus when he snatched it from you in your hallway when you told him you didn’t want him to come inside.

Harry feels the all too familiar simmering of jealousy begin to bubble deep inside him as he realizes that to anyone passing by the two of you would seem like a normal couple shopping for baby things in this cute little boutique that just so happens to be a few minutes away from your work. They would have no clue that the babies the two of you are looking at onesies for are actually his, that the man currently making you smile is nothing more than just your neighbor you’re friends with or at least that’s all Harry thinks he is to you, a friend. That changes the moment he watches the man place a kiss to the top of your head, a very soft display of affection that has Harry’s hands clenching into fists at his sides because why is another man that he doesn’t even know the name of not only baby clothes shopping with you but also touching and now kissing on you in public while he can’t even manage to get you to want talk to him.

Harry decides he’s seen enough as he turns and heads back in the direction of his car that’s parked in some over priced daily parking garage because he was in too much of a rush to call for his driver and also because a part of him wanted to prove to you that he can in fact drive himself places when he needs or wants to. He slides his sunglasses back down so they cover his eyes, allowing his emotions to be somewhat hidden from the strangers passing him on the sidewalk while he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. His first instinct is to call his mom and talk through this with her, why seeing you out with someone else buying things for the twins is making him feel this way but he shakes his head as he scrolls past her contact because he has a feeling he knows what she’s going to say and he doesn’t exactly want to have that conversation right now. So he scrolls down to the name that he knows won’t ask questions and hopefully in a few hours Harry will forget all about what he saw in the window of that little shop and he’ll be able to try again tomorrow on telling you sorry.

“Hey H you finally have time for a round?” Harry laughs at how excited Niall sounds on the other end of the phone as he enters the main level of the parking garage his car is in.

“I do but uh not the kinda round you’re thinking of.” Harry says with a sigh and in true Niall fashion he just laughs and tells Harry to pick the pub and he’ll see him soon before hanging up.

“Oh fuck this hallway is so long-wait what floor is this?” Harry squints as he exits the elevator and when he sees the number five on the plaque on the wall he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god.” He mumbles as he turns and heads down the hallway, half tempted to put his sunglasses back on due to the obnoxiously bright lights coming from the ceiling that while doing a good job at helping him see where he’s going and which apartment he’s walking by, are also intensifying the throbbing in the back of his head.

When he reaches the doors he’s looking for he closes his eyes just for a brief moment because keeping them closed for too long makes him a little dizzy. As soon as he opens them he raises a hand to knock, not caring about the fact it’s near three in the morning because to Harry it’s a new day and he has things he needs to tell you. He stands there and rests a hand on your doorframe as he waits for you to answer, when he doesn’t even hear the sound of you moving around on the other side of the door he knocks two more times because unlike the last time he was here knocking on your door he knows you’re home having seen your sad little car in the parking lot when his driver pulled into the complex.

“I know you’re home you’ve-you’ve got to be home.” He mumbles with a sigh as he turns so his back is resting against your door, before he can even stop himself he feels his body sliding down it until his bottom is hitting the floor and his legs are stretched out in front of him.

“I’m-I’m sorry I’m so sorry.” His voice is strained as he tries to get comfortable resting against your door, finally deciding to put his sunglasses back on in an effort to help slow down the throbbing that’s making its way from the back of his head towards his temples. He rests his head against your door with a groan as he tries to gather his thoughts so he can try to explain to you why he’s been acting the way he has ever since you told him you were pregnant.

You have to close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to get your emotions under control as you stand on the other side of the door that you now know is being used at a backrest for a slightly drunk Harry. You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know it was him, you knew by the first set of knocks and the mumbled voice that you could hear from your bedroom that it was Harry because he’s the only person that would ever bother you at this hour unless it was an emergency but even then normally people just call or text you, not show up at your door. You place a hand on your bump that’s covered by your nightshirt and give it a soothing rub as you stand there, deciding that even though you’re not ready to see him you’ll let him sit there and get whatever it is he needs to say off his chest so he can go home.

“I shouldn’t have left you that day-uhm during the exam.” He says as he looks up towards the ceiling. You swallow the lump that’s already forming in your throat, as being woken up abruptly and now hearing him apologize start to make a mess of your emotions that have already been kind of all over the place recently.

“I’m sorry I keep saying the wrong things and-and hurting you s’not what I want ya know? To hurt you.” Harry sniffles and lets out a sarcastic sounding scoff at his own words as you look down at your ankles and smile at Paris who has taken an almost protective stance, standing between you and the door. “S’hard to believe I know but fuck-you’re just so relaxed all the time n’it freaked or-really it freaks me out a bit.” He admits making you roll your eyes while he runs both hands through his hair.

“But my uhm therapist says s’a control thing an that’s why I lash out at you.” You quirk an eyebrow at the mention of his therapist, feeling a bit shocked he’s spoken to anyone besides Anne about the two of you.

“Because you-you have all the control here and have since day one like you-even when you told me you were pregnant you just I don’t know? You had it all figured out already? You were having a baby with or without me while I was fumbling around and panicking and deep down I uh know that you-you don’t need me and that’s sort of uhm my thing? I need to be needed I’m a bit of a narcissist and-and you just don’t need me like- at all and I mean that’s-that’s fine or I’m learning to uhm be fine with it.” You feel your heart drop at how sincere he sounds as he speaks between little sniffles, you know his emotions are getting the best of him when it’s quiet for a moment minus a watery sigh and then you have to close your eyes and fight back the tears that want to spill over as you hear his voice sound so desperate as it comes through your door.

“But I need you Cranky I need-I need you because I need them so just-just tell me what to do and I’ll do it okay?” Harry lets a few tears roll down his face as he practically begs you to just tell him what to do to make this situation right.

“Please.” He whispers in a last ditch effort to get you to talk to him. You let out a deep breath before you reach out and unlock your door and turn the knob so you can open it. Harry feels his heart begin to beat quicker and before he can even register that you’re really opening the door and willing to see him and possibly talk to him he finds himself laying flat on his back looking up at you from the floor, the shots he took with Niall a few hours ago making his reflexes slower than normal not giving him time to move from his sitting position with his back resting on your door before you swung it open.

“Hi Harry.” You say with a small smile as you look down at him, Harry just smiles as he reaches for the sunglasses still covering his eyes quickly pulling them off so he can get a better look at you.

“Cranky you’ve-wow.” You raise an eyebrow at him suddenly feeling a little self concious as his eyes go a bit wide as he takes in how much bigger your bump looks, especially from the angle he’s currently getting from his spot on the floor. “Lemons still right? Peaches in four-no wait now three days?” He asks and you just nod as you place both hands on your bump while he takes his time getting up, feeling a bit dizzy due to looking up from his back for too long.

“Do you mind uhm staying in-”

“Yeah yeah that’s fine I uh-I’m sorry for waking you up.” He says when you motion towards the hallway once he’s up and standing, already knowing what you’re asking of him, and he will happily stand in the hallway while the two of you talk because he’s just happy you actually opened the door. You open your mouth to say something but then you hear the jingling of a bell and both you and Harry look down and find Paris rubbing his head on Harry’s shin and you have to hold back a laugh as Harry’s eyes widen in fear.

“Oh god Paris please don’t-oh fuck god damnit that hurts.” Paris just purrs and rubs the same ankle he just took a bite of before he turns and heads back into your apartment, strutting off towards the kitchen as if he’s proud of himself for what he’s just done. “I deserved that.” Harry mumbles making you just shrug as he runs a hand over his face.

“So Mr. Popular is a narcissist huh? I never would’ve guessed.” Harry feels his cheeks get hot at your teasing words. He sniffles a bit and rubs the tip of his nose with the knuckle of his index finger while giving you a small shrug because he’s not sure what to say. “I appreciate you coming here to apologize Harry but uhm I also know you’re a little-”

“I’m not that drunk-m’tipsy at best and I swear I’d say the same things sober.”

“I believe you but it’s just everything can sort of seem a bit more emotional and heavy when said at three in the morning outside an apartment door after too many whiskey sours.”

“Who talks like that? Honestly you-you spend too much time surrounded by books.”

“Harry-”

“I’m sorry that was rude.” He lets out a sigh as he looks down at his feet. “I don’t know why I do this? Why I can’t help myself sometimes I just-you’re so easy to argue with?” You rub your lips together to hold off the smile that wants to form because he looks so distraught standing there with a hand in his hair and another on his hip as he tries to make sense of his need to just bicker with you as if it’s all his fault and you don’t also enjoy how easy it is to rile him up.

“You’re fairly easy to set off and I seem to know exactly how to do it.” Harry lifts his head to look at you as you start to speak. “We both enjoy a bit of back and forth but sometimes Harry you just say things that are very hurtful and very hard to take back.” You explain as you look down at your hands that are on your bump, trying not to think about some of the things he’s said to you in the past that have made you upset.

“I know and I’m-I’m working on that.”

“With your therapist?” You ask as you look up at him and he just nods making you feel that there might actually be a some hope that the two of you will be able to figure this whole communication thing out. “So are you really ready to be apart of this then?” Harry takes a very small step towards you just so he can reach a hand out, you look at it questioningly for a moment before you give in and place one of your hands in his.

“I don’t want to be outside the window.” He says as he gives your hand a squeeze, you look at him with a slightly confused expression because you’re not entirely sure what he means by that but you don’t want to ruin the moment so you just let him continue. “I want to be the one inside with you looking at baby stuff and holding your god awful fucking bag and-”

“Well well well if it isn’t Mr. Asshole himself.” Ethan’s voice coming from down the hall makes Harry’s eyes go wide as he drops your hand while you turn and look at your neighbor who you know is just getting home from work. “I see you’re really living up to that nickname since you have her up out of bed at this ungodly hour.” You roll your eyes at him as Harry turns so he’s facing Ethan who is now only a few steps away from the two of you.

“It’s Mr. Popular not-”

“Aren’t assholes usually popular? So it’s basically the same thing.”

“It’s nowhere near the same and-who even are you? Besides the guy who feeds her cat on Fridays?”

“I’m Ethan her neighbor but also the friend who picked her up from your mom’s house crying a week and a half ago.” Harry’s face goes pale as he realizes your neighbor is the one who came and got you from lunch, you watch Ethan take a step so he’s standing in front of his door facing Harry as he swings his key ring around his index finger a few times.

“Oh and I’m the guy who she calls when she needs something because unlike you Mr. Gucci sunglasses even though it’s dark outside-” Ethan takes his time eyeballing Harry’s attire before he continues. “I’m a source of comfort for her and those little peaches. I’m also right across the hall so I’m always available.” You feel the tension in the air as Ethan glares at Harry who is glaring right back but with a clenched jaw and a hand balled into a fist at his side.

“Those little peaches? You mean lemons?”

“Really? That’s-that’s what you got out of that?”

“I mean I think it shows that you might be the comforting neighbor.” You begin to chew on your bottom lip as Ethan crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at the slightly tipsy man in front of him. “But clearly I’m their dad because I actually know how big they are.” You can’t help but chuckle at how proud Harry looks when he says the word dad while Ethan just rolls his eyes making you move to the side a bit from your spot behind Harry so Ethan can see you allowing you to give him a warning type glare.

“Oh so now you’re ready to be a dad huh? Well good. I’m glad because honestly picking out baby shit isn’t really a good look for me.”

“Either is holding her purse-that thing looks hideous on you.”

“I mean it’s a hideous bag-wait what? When have you ever seen me with her purse?”

“Today or uh technically yesterday? In that shop near her uhm work.” Harry admits shyly and that’s when it all clicks, his mentioning of the window and looking at baby things, it’s because he saw you and Ethan at the boutique. You close your eyes and run a hand over your face as a long sigh escapes you making both men turn their heads to look at you.

“Is that why you got drunk and came knocking at my door?” Harry swallows hard as he all of a sudden feels a wave of nervousness wash over him because he doesn’t want his answer to ruin the slight progress that’s been made while standing outside your door this morning.

“Uh well-yes that’s sort of the reason why I met Niall-”

“Niall? Niall Horan? Is he here?” Harry turns to look at Ethan with a quirked brow as your neighbor looks up and down the hallway for any signs of the Irish popstar.

“Uh no he’s at home.” He answers making Ethan let out a huff while Harry turns his attention back to you. “But the whole reason I even saw you two was because uhm well because I was on my way to the library to see you. I just needed to talk to you and tell you how sorry-”

“You can’t just show up at my work whenever you want because you need to talk to me Harry especially when you know how it went the last time we even saw each other that’s just-that’s not okay.” Harry just nods because he already knew that, before he even got in his car to drive to your work to see you he knew it probably wasn’t a good idea but he had to do something and that was the only thing that he could think of.

“I know I won’t do it again.”

“Wait you saw us at that boutique and that’s why you went and got drunk on a Wednesday?” Ethan’s voice takes Harry’s attention away from you and you watch Ethan place his keys in his back pocket before putting his hands on his hips.

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“What I’m implying? Dude I’m not implying shit. Just admit it you got jealous-”

“Jealous? Jealous of what? Of you? Yeah right State Farm.” You take a step around Harry so you can be ready to stop the two of them from getting any closer to each other when you see Harry take a step towards Ethan.

“State Farm? That’s cute and honestly it’s true because I am a good neighbor but do you see these?” Harry’s brows furrow as Ethan wiggles his fingers a few inches away from Harry’s face. “I am clearly Allstate because she is very much in good hands.” You roll your eyes at the two of them as you cross your arms over your chest not believing the conversation they are having in front of you.

“What does he mean by that? You’re in good hands? Have you-you been in his hands?” Ethan has to bring a hand up to cover his mouth to hide his laugh as Harry quickly turns to look at you with frantic eyes while he runs a hand through his hair. You let out a sigh and glare at Ethan who is quick to turn around and face his door so he can unlock it.

“What? No we aren’t-”

“I’m sorry it’s not uhm it’s not uh-not my business I’m sorry.” Harry fumbles over his words as he begins to turn taking a few steps backwards towards the elevators as his mouth drops to a frown and you feel the corners of your own mouth fall a bit at how hurt he looks. “It’s fine really I uhm I gotta go.” You want to tell him to stop and just let you explain your friendship with Ethan but Harry doesn’t give you a chance because before you can even open your mouth he’s turning around so his back is facing you and he’s three steps away from you. But you know you can’t let him leave like this so you let out a huff and take a step towards him and call his name.

He pauses and looks over his shoulder as his name falls from your mouth. “Tell Nick I said hello?” He gives you a small smile and nods as you mention his driver who is waiting for him in the parking lot down stairs.

“Yeah I’ll uh I’ll do that.” You smile and before he turns to head towards the elevators you see a very familiar glint appear in his eyes as the corners of his mouth curl up in a smirk. “Goodnight Cranky.”

“You mean good morning Mr. Popular.” You correct making him laugh and shake his head as he turns and continues down the hallway because of course you just have to correct him because of course you just have to be right.

“Oh he totally thinks we are fucking.” Ethan says with a laugh as he stretches his neck a bit just in time to see Harry step into the elevator. As soon as he’s out of sight you turn and give Ethan a smack to the chest making him let out a pitiful sounding groan. “So violent in front of the children.”

“Don’t be so crude. He at least thinks something is happening here and we both know it’s not.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“Uh yeah Ethan it actually might? He came here after getting drunk all because he saw us shopping together.”

“Yeah well I say let him suffer a bit and think we are doing something scandalous and then when he’s maybe stopped being an absolute douchebag for more than a day you can tell him the truth.”

“God you just love drama don’t you?”

“I’m a young bisexual man my whole life is drama.” He teases as you stand in your doorway with a hand on your bump and the other resting on your doorframe. “But honesty him showing up here is like-”

“A big deal. I know.” You finish for him, the two of you stare at each other for a moment before Ethan takes the few steps between his door and yours and places a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Everything is gonna be fine.” He reassures you before he opens his apartment door. You give him a smile when he looks at you over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams Cranky.” He jokes making you roll your eyes as he closes his door.

You can’t help but make a sour face at the sound of your nickname coming from someone else’s mouth besides Harry’s. Not liking how it sounds without his accent and deep tone of voice and how slowly it slips out of his mouth making it sound all the more condescending which is oddly something you enjoy about the way he says it. You turn and walk through your open door and let out a long sigh after you close it, you head back towards your bedroom and smile when you see Paris curled into a ball at the foot of the bed.

“Oh Paris.” You mumble as you climb back into bed making the cat instantly lift his head up and stretch his front paws out at the disturbance. “What just happened?” You ask as you stare at the ceiling trying to make sense of the events that just took place in your hallway, but as the minutes tick by and you find yourself falling asleep you decide you can try to decipher and dig deeper into all of that later because right now all you want to do is go back to sleep and momentarily forget that the man you’re having kids with knocked on your door a three in the morning just to leave in a frantic hurry forty five minutes later.

Harry feels as if he’s a mixed bag of emotions as he steps into the elevator, the first one being confusion because he’s not even sure why he cares if you and your overly friendly neighbor are more than friends because it’s not as if Harry has any sort of claim on you minus the fact he’s the father of the two lemon sized babies you’re carrying. He’s even gone as far as telling you he doesn’t like you enough to care about anyone you find remotely attractive but that brings him to the next emotion, jealousy. Harry has always been the jealous type, that’s just part of his personality but this is something different because he feels as if he could punch a wall at just the memory of seeing Ethan kiss the top of your head and holding your shoulders in such a way that would have people assume he’s your partner of some sort. The most powerful emotion swirling around in Harry’s body though is regret, he regrets walking away and not letting you explain things but he just couldn’t risk having to listen to you tell him you’re in love with Ethan or that you two have only gotten so close because Harry has made you turn to him for comfort and reassurance due to how horrible he’s treated you. He doesn’t think he would be able to stand knowing that it’s his own fault that you ended up in the arms of someone else, not that he wants you in his own arms either because he doesn’t, or at least that’s what he’s telling himself.

“I could go back? Let her tell me-no no that would be dumb.” He argues with himself as he presses the button for the lobby. “Why do I even care? Do I even care? No. No I don’t.” He lets out a frustrated groan as he paces the length of the small elevator while debating with himself. “Exactly. I don’t care. She can be with whoever she wants. That’s fine.”

“I don’t care.” He mumbles as the door opens to the lobby of your apartment complex. He runs a hand over his face as he steps out and heads for the parking lot. He looks around and sees Nick is parked towards the back of the lot, he mentally pats himself on the back for picking a time of day that not a lot of people are out and about so Harry doesn’t have to worry too much about being seen as he walks towards the black suv.

“How’d it go?” Nick asks once Harry is in the backseat of the car. He raises an eyebrow as he looks over his shoulder when hears Harry lets out a long sad sigh.

“Next time I ask you to drive me here past midnight tell me no.” Harry instructs as he slides his sunglasses on and turns to look out the window. Nick just nods before he turns and faces the front so he can start the car and take Harry home.

[redroomreflections]

Not Easily Broken Chapter Eight

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce

Masterlist | General Masterlist

8/10

w/c:6.4k

Note: I hope y'all like this

It’s funny how you can be in the middle of something, and a completely random memory will strike. You’re at a red stop light, bobbing your head along to the low sounds of music, as you look into your rearview. Ryan is doing pretty much the same thing as he taps his fingers along the car door. He looks so much like Natasha when he smiles. She may not have carried him, but their similarities always amaze you. You think back to the time he was a tiny toddler, tapping his fingers along the car door much like he does now.

A small smile tugs at your lips as the memory warms your heart. Those early days were a whirlwind of sleepless nights and endless diaper changes, but they were also filled with moments like this—simple, yet profoundly beautiful. Ryan, with his curly hair and bright eyes, had always been a curious child, absorbing everything around him with an intensity that mirrored Natasha’s.

The light turns green, and you gently press the accelerator, your mind still lingering on the past. The familiar route to Emma’s dance school is lined with trees, their leaves swaying in the breeze. Ryan’s soft voice from the backseat pulls you back to the present. He’s telling you about his day at school yesterday, excitedly recounting a game he played with his friends. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself genuinely engaged in his story. 

“And I think another tooth is going to fall out if he’s not careful,” Ryan continues as he describes his time with Miles on the playground yesterday. 

“Oh yeah,” You say, reaching over to turn the radio down. “How’d he lose the other one?” 

Ryan grins, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “He was trying to show off on the monkey bars and slipped. It was pretty funny, but he’s okay.”

You whistle, shaking your head. “Boys will be boys, I guess. Just make sure you’re being careful too, okay?”

“I will, Mommy,” Ryan replies, giving you a reassuring smile.

"We still have a bit before Emma’s class is over," You say, checking the clock on the dashboard. There’s quite a bit of time left. "We could go to the bakery and grab some sweets. What do you say?"

"I like that idea," Ryan nods. "You always have good ideas."

"I don’t know about always," You shrug, "but I’m glad you think so highly of me." You quickly find a parking spot close to the shopping area. Emma’s dance school is only a few blocks away, just in case things let out early.

As you step out of the car, the warm aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries wafts through the air, making your mouth water. The bakery’s quaint storefront, with its colorful awning and display of delicious treats, invites you in. You help Ryan out of the car and he rushes to the door. 

"Let’s see what they have today," Ryan says, opening the door for you. 

“I’m raising such a gentleman,” You chuckle as he struggles to continue holding it open for you. 

Inside, the bakery is filled with customers, but it’s a cozy kind of busy. The display cases are filled with an assortment of cookies, cakes, and pastries. A friendly cashier greets you with a smile. 

"What looks good to you?" You ask Ryan, scanning the options.

"I’m thinking maybe a couple of those chocolate croissants," he says, pointing to the flaky, golden pastries. 

"Good choice," You agree. "And I think I’ll get a lemon tart. Emma loves those, so we can surprise her with one. What do you think Mama would like?” 

“Dark chocolate truffles,” Ryan insists, tapping at the display case. 

“Got it,” You nod. You place your order and wait while the cashier carefully boxes up your treats. As you leave the bakery, you notice a small park nearby with benches and flowering trees.

"Want to sit for a bit and enjoy these?" He suggests and he seems to be hopeful that you’ll say yes. You see his attempt at spending more time together for what it is. You won’t deny it. 

"Sure, sounds perfect," You reply. 

You find a shady spot under a tree and sit down, savoring the moment. Ryan sits next to you, practically curling into your body as you eat the treats. It had been a long time since you’d spent this much one-on-one time with him, and the realization tugged at your heart. Ryan’s small hand rested on your lap, his love for you evident in his need for physical touch. You figured now was as good a time as any to talk. 

“How have you been feeling, Ry,” You dust your hands-free of crumbs. “About me and Mama getting back together?” 

Ryan looks down at his lap, fidgeting with a stray thread on his shirt. 

“Hey, baby, you can tell me anything,” You assure him. You take his hand in yours. “Even if you think it will make me sad or upset. You never have to hide your feelings from me.” 

“I’m nervous,” He admits quietly, avoiding your gaze. “I want us all to be happy, but I just don’t want you to change your mind and break Mama’s heart again.”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to reassure him. “I understand, buddy. It’s a big change, and it’s okay to feel nervous. I promise you, I’m doing everything I can to make sure things work out this time.”

He looks up at you, his eyes wide and searching for reassurance. “But what if it doesn’t? What if something happens again?”

You gently squeeze his hand. “We’re all working hard to make things better. Your Mama and I are talking more, listening to each other, and trying to fix the things that went wrong before. It’s not going to be perfect overnight, but we’re committed to making it work.”

Ryan nods slowly, his grip on your hand tightening. “Okay. I just want us to be a family.”

“And we are a family, Ry, no matter what,” You say, pulling him into a comforting hug. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Ryan rests his head against your shoulder, his worries eased for the moment. 

“Can we talk more about why you’ve been so angry?” You ask, wanting to continue the conversation and give him the space he needs to express himself. “I know we’ve talked before about you hitting Mama. From my understanding that hasn’t happened again right?” 

“No, I promise,” Ryan shifts slightly, still leaning against you but with a furrowed brow. “I guess I just feel scared,” he says after a moment. “When you and Mama were fighting a lot, it was really hard. And when you left, it felt like everything was falling apart. Like my heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces every day. I was sad and I didn’t know what to do.”

You nod, listening intently. “That must have been tough for you, Ry. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I left you in the dark about a lot. I shouldn’t have been that way with you and your sister.”

“It’s just… I thought maybe things would never get better,” he continues, his voice small. “And I was so mad because I didn’t understand why you and Mama had to get a divorce. I didn’t know if you were coming back, or if Mama was okay. It was like I couldn’t do anything to help.”

Your heart aches to hear his pain. “I can see why you’d feel that way. It’s okay to be angry and scared, especially when things feel out of control. But I want you to know that none of what happened was your fault, and you don’t have to fix it all by yourself.”

Ryan looks up at you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and lingering worry. “I just want to believe that it’s going to be okay. That you and Mama won’t hurt each other anymore.”

You wrap your arm around him, holding him close. “We’re doing our best to make sure that doesn’t happen again. We’ve learned from our mistakes, and we’re working on being better for each other and for you and Emma. It’s going to take time, but we’re committed to making it work.”

Ryan takes a deep breath, seeming to absorb your words. “Okay,” he says softly. “I believe you. I just needed to hear it.”

“I’m glad we talked about this,” You say, kissing the top of his head. “You can always tell me how you’re feeling, no matter what. We’re in this together.”

Ryan nods, a small smile forming on his lips. “Thanks, I love you.”

“I love you too, Ry,” You reply, feeling a sense of calm wash over you both. “Now, how about we finish these treats and then head to pick up Emma?”

Ryan nods enthusiastically, the heaviness of the conversation lifting as he reaches for another chocolate croissant. 

**************

Seeing the smile on Emma’s face when she spots you standing near the entrance of her dance class is priceless. She looks so sophisticated and grown up as she prances over to you in her tutu. You catch her in your arms, offering her a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Mommy, are we going home?” Emma asks, and you nod.

“Of course, baby. I’m going to spend some time with you, Ryan, and Mama before we go back to my apartment tonight,” You inform her.

“Does it have to be just you and Mama?” Emma pouts as you carry her over to her dance bag. You set her gently on her feet, gathering her stuff, as she doesn’t offer to help.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain. “Emma, Mama and I are trying to fix things between us. We love you and Ryan so much, and we want to make sure we’re doing the best we can for our family. Sometimes that means we need to talk and spend time together, just the two of us, to figure things out.”

Emma’s pout deepens, and she looks down at her feet. “But I don’t want you to go back to your apartment. I want us all to be together and have a sleepover.”

Your heart aches at her words, understanding her desire for you to be home. “I know, sweetie,” you say softly, kneeling to her level. “I want that too, more than anything. But for now, Mama and I have to take things slowly to make sure we’re doing everything right.”

Emma’s eyes fill with unshed tears as she looks up at you. “But why can’t we just be together?”

You gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. “It’s because Mama and I need to talk and work on some things. We love you and Ryan so much, and we want to make sure we’re the best parents we can be. Sometimes that means spending some time apart to figure things out.”

Emma sniffles, her lip trembling. “I just miss you, Mommy.”

You pull her into a comforting hug. “I miss you too, baby. And I promise, we’re doing everything we can to be together as a family again. How about this: we’ll have a special sleepover at Mama’s house this weekend, all of us together. Would you like that?”

Emma pulls back slightly, her eyes brightening a bit. “Really? A special sleepover?”

“Really,” You affirm, smiling. “We can watch movies, eat popcorn, and even have a bonfire or something. What do you think?”

She nods eagerly, a small smile breaking through. “Okay, that sounds fun.”

“Great,” You say, standing up and taking her hand. You stand to see another parent eyeing you from a few feet away. You connect eyes with her and offer her an awkward smile. 

“Hi, you’re Emma’s other mom, right?” She asks.

“Yes, that’s right,” You respond, trying to maintain a friendly demeanor. “I’m Emma’s Mommy. Nice to meet you.”

The woman smiles, her curiosity evident. “I’ve seen Emma with her other mom a few times. I’m Claire, by the way. My daughter, Lily, is in the same class.”

“Nice to meet you, Claire,” You say, shaking her hand. “I think I’ve heard Emma talk about Lily a few times. They seem to be great friends.” 

Claire nods, glancing at Emma, who’s now talking with Lily nearby. “They are. It’s nice to see them so happy. It’s great to see you around here.”

“Thank you, it’s great to be back,” You say before bidding her a good day. You know she had more questions than other parents usually did, and you didn’t mind answering just not right now. With the divorce, you had unfortunately distanced yourself from the children's activities. You hadn’t been present in their everyday lives, and the impact was evident. You almost wonder why Natasha didn’t push for full custody—she likely would have had a strong case.

Natasha, understandably, took on more responsibilities and became the primary caregiver during that time. She was actively involved in their school events, extracurricular activities, and day-to-day upbringing. 

Reflecting on it now, you realize that your absence might have painted a picture of disengagement.  It wasn’t intentional neglect; rather, the overwhelming emotions and challenges of the divorce had pulled your focus away from what mattered most—being there for Emma and Ryan.

“Alright kiddos, let’s go,” You lead them out of the studio with much to think about. 

*********************

“Mama, we got you dark chocolate truffles!” Emma exclaimed, offering the box to the redhead as she stepped through the front door of the house. Natasha gently put down her laundry bag, ready to catch Emma, who seemed very fond of running into her parents' arms.

“Did you now?” Natasha responded with a smile, scooping Emma up into a warm hug. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“Yeah, she ate a few on the way here,” You mutter with a headshake, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Natasha laughs softly, glancing at you. “Well, I can’t blame her. These are my favorite. How did you know?” she asked Emma, giving her another squeeze.

“Mommy said they were,” Emma replied, beaming with pride.

Natasha’s gaze softened as she looked at you. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “It means a lot.”

You nod, feeling a bit more at ease. “We thought it would be a nice surprise. Plus, it was all really Ryan’s idea.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. “Oh, was it now? Ryan’s got good taste.”

“Yeah, he’s quite the planner,” You say with a chuckle, glancing over at Ryan, who is now watching Emma with a pleased expression.

Ryan, overhearing the conversation, walks over and stands next to you, looking a bit bashful but proud. “I just wanted to make Mama happy,” he says softly.

Natasha kneels down to Ryan’s level, pulling him into a gentle hug. “You always make me happy, Ry. Thank you for thinking of me.”

Ryan beams, his earlier nervousness fading away. “You’re welcome, Mama. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Natasha replies, kissing him on the forehead before standing back up. “I have lunch ready for us today. I always know Printsessa is extremely hungry after dance.”

“I am,” Emma says, rubbing her tummy. “But first, can I show Mommy my room?”

“I’ve seen your room before, Emma,” You join in the conversation with a raised eyebrow. “Is there something new in there?”

Emma nods eagerly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Yes! Mama and I decorated it differently, and I got some new stuffies. Come see!”

You glance at Natasha, who nods encouragingly. “Go ahead. I’ll finish setting up lunch.”

“I can help you,” Ryan volunteers. 

“Alright, lead the way,” You say to Emma, who grabs your hand and starts pulling you toward her room.

As you walk up the stairs to her bedroom, Emma chatters excitedly about the changes. “We got new fairy lights and a big rainbow pillow! And Mama put up a shelf for all my books.”

Entering Emma’s room, you immediately notice the transformation. The fairy lights cast a soft glow, and a colorful rainbow pillow sits proudly on her bed. The new shelf is neatly organized with her favorite books and toys.

“What do you think, Mommy?” Emma asks, looking up at you with anticipation.

“It’s beautiful, Emma,” You say, genuinely impressed. “You and Mama did a great job. It looks so cozy and fun.”

Emma beams with pride. “Thanks! I love it so much. And look, here are my new stuffies!” She runs over to her bed, picking up a few plush animals to show you. “This is Eloise, and Gertrude, and Penelope.”

“Whoa, where did you get these names?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in amusement. They truly sound like elderly-sounding names. Not that you would tell her that. 

Emma giggles, holding up Eloise, a fluffy bunny. “Mama helped me pick them. We wanted names that sounded fancy.”

“They’re fancy,” You say with a smile, taking one of the stuffed animals from her. “And they’re all very cute.”

Emma nods enthusiastically. “I like to pretend they’re having tea parties and going on adventures together. They’re my best friends.”

 “That sounds like a lot of fun. Maybe we can have a tea party with them sometime.”

“Yes, please!” Emma says, clapping her hands together. “You can be the guest of honor, Mommy.”

“It’s a date,” You agree, hugging her. “But for now, we should head to the kitchen before lunch gets cold.”

“Okay!” Emma replies, bounding toward the door with one of her new stuffies in hand.

You follow her back to the kitchen, feeling a warm glow from the simple yet meaningful moments you’re sharing. Natasha has set the table with grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. One of Emma’s favorites. 

“This looks good, babe,” You compliment without really thinking. You take a seat closer to her chair.

Natasha's eyes flicker with a hint of surprise, followed by a soft smile. “Thanks,” she says, a touch of warmth in her voice. “I’m glad you’re here to enjoy it with us.”

Emma, oblivious to the brief exchange, eagerly reaches for a sandwich. “Mama makes the best lunches!” she declares proudly.

Ryan nods in agreement, already munching on a piece of fruit. “Yeah, this is great, Mama.”

You settle into your seat, feeling a mix of nostalgia and hope. “It really does look amazing. Thanks for making lunch, Natasha.”

Natasha smiles, her eyes meeting yours. “You’re welcome. It’s nice to have everyone together.”

As you start eating, the conversation flows easily. Emma and Ryan share stories from their day, and you and Natasha listen attentively, adding your comments and questions. 

“So, Emma showed me her room,” You say, glancing at Natasha. “You both did a fantastic job decorating it.”

Natasha’s face lights up with pride. “Thanks. We had a lot of fun doing it together, didn’t we, Emma?”

Emma nods vigorously. “Yeah! And Mommy said we can have a tea party with my stuffies sometime.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Natasha agrees, giving Emma a fond look. “We should plan it soon.”

After lunch, as you help clear the table, Natasha catches your eye. “Thanks for the compliment earlier,” she says quietly, a genuine smile on her face.

“Of course,” you reply, returning the smile. “I meant it. It’s really good to be here with you all.”

Natasha nods, and for a moment, there’s an understanding between you—a shared acknowledgment of the effort you’re both putting in to rebuild your family. 

“I was thinking we could head over to your apartment at five?” Natasha mentions. “I have a babysitter coming over. Yelena is still kind of on the fritz so I didn’t dare ask her.”

“Sounds good,” you nod in agreement. “Is she still ignoring your calls? I didn’t know us getting back together would cause so much grief with your sister.”

Natasha sighs, a hint of frustration crossing her face. “Yeah, she’s still not picking up. Yelena’s protective. She saw what the divorce did to all of us, especially the kids, and she’s worried about me getting hurt again.”

You nod thoughtfully. “I get that. I didn’t realize she was taking it so hard. I thought she’d be happy we’re trying to work things out.”

“She’s just cautious,” Natasha explains. “She wants to make sure we’re not rushing into anything and that the kids don’t get caught in the middle again.”

“I understand,” You say, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’ll reach out to her too. Maybe if she hears from both of us, it’ll help.”

Natasha gives you a small smile. “That might be a good idea. She just needs some time.”

As the conversation shifts, you both start preparing for the evening. Natasha ensures the house is ready for the babysitter, while you spend time with Emma and Ryan, making sure they feel comfortable with the plans for the night.

At five, the babysitter arrives—a friendly woman named Sarah, who immediately puts the kids at ease with her warm smile and easygoing demeanor. She doesn’t need an introduction to the kids' routines as Natasha’s used her services before. 

“We’ll be back soon,” Natasha tells the kids, giving each of them a hug. “Be good for Sarah, okay?”

“We will,” Emma and Ryan promise in unison.

As you and Natasha step out of the house and head to your car, you can’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The evening ahead holds the promise of important conversations and the possibility of taking more steps toward healing and rebuilding your relationship.

*****************

The drive to your apartment is filled with a comfortable silence, both of you lost in thought. Once you arrive, you take a deep breath and turn to Natasha. “Ready?”

She nods, giving you a reassuring smile. “Ready. What are you so nervous about?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly prepare for you to come,” You shrug. “I mean, it’s not like it’s dirty or anything. It’s just really bare bones and bachelor-y.”

Natasha chuckles softly. “I’m sure it’s fine. You always were a minimalist.”

You lead her inside, feeling a bit self-conscious about the simplicity of your apartment compared to the cozy warmth of your old home. This place has never felt like you belonged in it. It feels too much like how you’ve felt inside. Lonely. As you step into the living room, Natasha glances around with interest. It is an open living area with polished hardwood floors and large windows offering city views and tons of natural light. There’s a plush sectional sofa and a sleek coffee table in the center of the room. 

The dining area nearby features a stylish table set under a minimalist chandelier, adding a touch of elegance. The kitchen, equipped with high-end appliances and marble countertops, exudes functionality but lacks personal touches.

The bedrooms are spacious and well-furnished, with the master bedroom featuring a king-sized bed and simple, crisp sheets. The overall vibe is one of luxury and comfort, although the space feels more curated than lived-in, with minimal personal decor.

“It’s nice,” she comments, walking over to look out the window living room window. “Very you.”

You chuckle nervously, hoping she doesn’t find the lack of decorations or homey touches too off-putting. “I know it’s not as homey as your place.”

Natasha turns to face you, her expression gentle. “It doesn’t have to be. This is your space.”

You relax a little, grateful for her understanding. “Thanks. Let me just get us something to drink.”

While you busy yourself in the kitchen, Natasha wanders around the living room, examining a few books on the shelf and the simple decor. When you return with drinks, she’s sitting comfortably on the couch, looking at a framed photo of you and the kids.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” she says softly, setting down her glass.

“Me too,” you admit, sitting beside her. “I’ve missed having you here.”

Natasha meets your gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. “I’ve missed being here.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. Despite the nerves and the uncertainties, being together like this feels right. It’s a small step, but an important one, towards reconnecting and rebuilding what was lost.

“What’s this?” Natasha spots the photograph on the table tucked under a bunch of notebooks and your laptop. It’s an intimate photo of the two of you on your honeymoon. You’re holding Natasha in your arms, her back turned away from the camera, kissing your cheek. Both of you look incredibly happy. 

“I’ve been looking for this photo. You’ve had it all this time,” Natasha says, her voice filled with surprise and a hint of nostalgia.

You smile softly, picking up the photo and holding it between your fingers. “Yeah, I kept a lot of our photos.”

Natasha studies the image, a mixture of emotions crossing her face. “I remember this day,” she says quietly. “We were so young.”

“Seems like a lifetime ago,” You reply, memories flooding back as you gaze at the picture together.

Natasha nods, setting the photo down gently. “Thank you for keeping these.”

“They’re memories I couldn’t bear to part with,” You admit, your voice softening with emotion. “Even during the tough times, they reminded me of the good.”

Natasha reaches out, placing her hand over yours. “I’m glad you kept them,” she says sincerely.

“Come here,” You say softly, pulling her closer to you on the couch. The evening had started feeling more like a cordial business meeting than a date with your ex-wife.

Natasha moves closer, resting her head against your shoulder. The feel of the room shifts as you both sit quietly, the weight of unspoken words and shared memories hanging in the air. Despite the initial nerves and uncertainty, being close like this feels natural, comforting even.

“You know,” Natasha starts, her voice gentle, “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed us.”

Natasha nods, her fingers intertwining with yours. “So, what do you do in here all day? Read books? I can guarantee you haven’t opened any of those on that shelf.”

“I have read some,” you cringe, feeling a pang of guilt.

You hesitate, not wanting to admit that you've mostly been occupied with work and the gym. The truth is, you often didn't spend much time in this apartment to avoid feeling lonely.

Natasha squeezes your hand gently, sensing your discomfort. “It’s okay, you know,” she says softly. “You were doing what you needed to do.”

You sigh, grateful for her understanding. “I just didn’t want to be alone here.”

“I understand,” Natasha replies, her voice warm with empathy. “But you’re not alone anymore.”

“You know, I keep telling myself that I…” you begin, your voice trailing off. “I kind of isolated myself from everything and everyone. No one told me divorce would be so hard. I mean, I knew, but…”

Natasha listens, her eyes soft with understanding. “But living through it is something else entirely,” she finishes for you.

“Exactly,” You sigh, feeling the weight of the past few months settle heavily. “I threw myself into work and the gym, anything to keep from being alone in this place. It was too quiet, too empty.”

Natasha squeezes your hand gently. “I get it. It’s hard to face that kind of loneliness.”

“I didn’t want to admit it,” You continue. “But being without you and the kids… it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Natasha nods, her eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and regret. “I felt it too. It’s why I pushed so hard for us to try again. I believe we can do this.”

“I believe it too,” you say softly, kissing her head. “What do you say we try out this cooking thing? I had all of the groceries delivered this morning. You had a pretty extensive list.”

Natasha laughs lightly, the sound bringing warmth to the room. “I do tend to go all out with my lists. What’s on the menu?”

You stand up, offering her a hand. “Let’s find out. I didn’t peek too much, so it’ll be a surprise for both of us.”

Natasha takes your hand, and you both head to the kitchen. You open the fridge to take out all of the ingredients you have. 

“Okay,” she says, rolling up her sleeves. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

You start unpacking the bags together, revealing fresh vegetables, herbs, various spices, and a selection of meats. It’s a well-thought-out collection. 

“Looks like we’re making a feast,” you comment, holding up a bunch of fresh basil. “What should we start with?”

Natasha glances over the ingredients, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “How about a nice stroganoff dish? We can make a salad to go with it.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agree, feeling a sense of anticipation. Cooking together feels like a new step in rekindling your relationship, it’s one of the things you used to delight in doing together. 

As you chop vegetables and prepare the meal, the kitchen fills with the delicious smell of fresh ingredients and simmering sauce. The act of cooking together, sharing tasks, and the laughter, brings a sense of normalcy and joy.

It feels intimate and cozy as you navigate the kitchen together. Natasha’s subtle touches against your skin make you feel even more worthy of her being here. Each brush of her hand, every shared glance, adds to the warmth of the evening.

“Hand me the mushrooms?” Natasha asks, her fingers lightly grazing yours as she takes the bowl.

“Sure thing,” You reply, enjoying the simple task of cooking side by side. The smell of the beef stroganoff simmering on the stove and the roasted beets wafting from the oven fills the room. 

As you roll out the pie crust for an apple pie, Natasha leans over your shoulder, her breath warm against your ear. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“Thanks,” You say, smiling. “It’s nice to have someone to cook for.”

When everything is ready, you set the table together, this is the first time in weeks you’ve actually sat at this dining table. 

“This is amazing,” Natasha says, savoring a forkful of the beef. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Only because I had the best partner,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you.

“We do make a great team,” Natasha agrees, sipping from her wine glass. The comfortable silence that follows is filled with the soft clinking of silverware and the faint noises of the city outside. 

You take a moment to appreciate the moment before deciding to dive deeper into conversation. “So, what have you been up to at work lately?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Natasha sets her glass down, her expression is thoughtful. “Work’s been busy, as always. We’ve had a few high-profile cases come in. It’s been challenging, but I enjoy it. Keeps me on my toes.”

“That sounds intense,” You say, nodding. “But you’ve always thrived in that environment. I’m on sabbatical, as you know, so it’s a bit different for me.”

“How are you handling that?” Natasha asks. 

“It’s been an adjustment,” You admit. “I’m not used to having so much free time. I’ve been trying to stay busy, hitting the gym a lot. Visiting my parents. Tony’s been surprisingly understanding about it, though. He knows I needed the break.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Natasha takes another bite of her meal. Her smile fades slightly as she looks down at her plate. She hesitates before speaking again. “Can I ask you something that’s been on my mind?”

“Of course,” You say, your heart rate quickening slightly at her serious tone.

“Have you… seen anyone else during our time apart?” She asks, her voice soft but steady.

You take a deep breath, appreciating her honesty. “No, I haven’t,” you say, meeting her gaze. “I couldn’t even think about it. I’ve been too focused on everything else, and honestly, I wasn’t ready.”

Natasha looks relieved, her shoulders relaxing. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve been worried about it.”

“I understand,” You say, squeezing her hand gently. “It’s natural to wonder. What about you?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I couldn’t either. I just… needed time to process everything.”

You both fall silent for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling in. But there’s a sense of relief too, knowing that despite the time apart, neither of you sought comfort elsewhere.

“Thank you for being honest,” you say, breaking the silence. “It means a lot to me.”

“Thank you too,” Natasha replies, her eyes softening. “I’m really glad we’re talking about this.”

“I know we’ve talked a little bit here and there but,” You wipe your mouth with a napkin. “I never stopped loving you. I just..I was confused. We were hurting each other. I needed it to stop. It had gone on for so long and-

Natasha reaches out, her hand covering yours. “I understand,” she says softly. “It was hard for both of us. We were caught in a cycle of pain and neither of us knew how to break free.”

You nod, feeling a lump in your throat. “Exactly. I thought maybe some distance would help, give us both a chance to breathe and figure things out. But it didn’t change how I felt about you. It never could.”

Natasha’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “I never stopped loving you either. Even when things were at their worst, a part of me always held on to the hope that we could find our way back to each other.”

You squeeze her hand, drawing strength from her words. “I’m glad we’re trying again. I want to make things right, to be better for you, for our family.”

She nods, her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “We’ll take it one day at a time. We’ve both changed, and that’s okay. We just need to be patient with each other and ourselves.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “Agreed. And for what it’s worth, I think we’re off to a good start.”

Natasha smiles a genuine, warm smile that reaches her eyes. “I think so too.”

As you clear the dishes together, the comfortable silence between you feels reassuring. There’s no rush, no pressure, just the quiet understanding that you’re both committed to making this work. It’s a start, and for now, that’s enough.

“I don’t want you to go home just yet…” you mention as you both sit against the couch, much in the same position as earlier.

Natasha looks at you, her expression softening. “I don’t want to go home yet either,” she admits. “It feels good to be here with you.”

"Stay a little longer.” 

Natasha smiles, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I’d like that.”

 The only thing is, with you and Natasha, things never remain simple or quiet for that matter. You turn your head slightly, meeting her eyes, and in that moment, the unspoken words between you become clear.

Before you can overthink it, you lean in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Natasha responds immediately, her hand moving to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. It’s a kiss filled with longing, love, and a promise of a renewed connection.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless. Natasha rests her forehead against yours, her eyes closed. “I want you,” she whispers.

“I want you too,” You reply, your voice equally soft. Your lips meet in another kiss that has Natasha moaning into your mouth. The heat between you is tangible as if it could be felt despite the slight chill in the room. Natasha’s hands trail down your body, tracing the skin under your shirt, as you nibble her bottom lip. You lean back against the pillows of the couch. 

Your fingers brush against the soft skin of her neck, causing her to shiver with pleasure. She makes a move to lift your shirt over your head and you waste no time throwing it on the opposite side of the room. She uses her nimble fingers to release your breasts from their confines revealing your bare chest. You look into her darkened eyes, finding lust and desire coursing through them. 

You lift your head further, your hands finding her waist, as she leans into your touch. You kiss her again, her lips parting slightly as your tongue slips into her mouth. Your bodies fit together perfectly as if they were made for each other. 

“Bedroom?” Natasha suggests as your kisses lead further down her neck. You offer a gentle bite against her clavicle, delighting in the hiss you receive from her. “Y/n?” She presses gently against your shoulder when she doesn’t receive an answer. 

“Yes, right,” You place one last kiss against her neck before she stands. 

Natasha takes your hand, leading you towards the bedroom. The room is dimly lit, with just enough light from outside to create a warm, intimate atmosphere. Your bed is scattered with pillows and blankets, inviting you both to fall into it and lose yourselves in each other's arms.

As you step inside the room, Natasha turns to face you. Her green eyes are shining with excitement, and she bites her lower lip lightly.

“Where do you want me?” She asks. 

“On the bed,” You gesture.

“Here?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. She sits patiently, her legs slightly spread, as you unbutton and push your jeans down your body. You step between her legs, your hips swinging provocatively as you come closer. 

Natasha reaches up, her fingers brushing against your cheek as she leans in to kiss you. The kiss is slow and sensual, igniting a fire in your core. As she deepens the kiss, her hands wander down your body.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” You murmur. “Wanted you.”  

“You have me,” Natasha responds. You gently press against her chest, pushing her down against the bed. She rests against her elbows, watching as you unbutton her pants, and slide them down her legs. The smell of her arousal hits you and you close your eyes as you rest your nose against her pelvis. 

“You smell so good, baby,” You land several kisses against her mound before kissing a trail up to her lips. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Natasha says bluntly. “We can do slow and gentle later. Right now I need you to fuck me.” She practically begs as her chest heaves. 

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 52!

can you believe that this is the last rec list of 2024? because wow i can't. time flies... anyway, have a fairly holiday-heavy rec list to end the year with <3

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

benefits | rororowyourboat/@rosieposiepuddingnpie | 4.9k | E

When Eddie is crashing at Buck's place during the COVID shutdown, they start hooking up and... just keep going, even though they both insist to themselves and others that it doesn't mean anything. Unless... it does? literally nothing will ever hit as hard as buddie being friends with benefits but then being so dumb about it for being in love reasons <3 this captures that perfectly!

caffeine high | JessicaMDawn/@jessicamdawn | 13.9k | T

Before Buck was Buck, he was Stefan Everhart, member of a boyband called Caffeine High. His career as a celebrity lasted for only five years, and Buck has done his best to put it behind him, but those experiences still bleed into his daily life. It just so happens that there are some Caffeine High fans among the 118. i love the little peeks into buck's boyband days and how he grew up and turned into the buck we know and love in this au!!

cherry chocolate goodness on a gray day | the_milky_way | 1.3k | GA

Eddie has not a so nice day and all he wants is to snuggle up on his couch with a big tub of ice cream. Buck simply joins him. With his own tub of course. this fic makes me wish i liked cherries. so soft so buddie <3

dreams like a podcast (downloading truth in my ears) | iphigenias/@oatflatwhite | 1.3k | GA

Eddie chucks the tea towel over his shoulder and turns so his hip’s pressed against the counter and he’s facing Buck, who is wrist-deep in lukewarm dishwater and no doubt as bright red as he feels. “I think you’re cool, and smart, and hot, and I love you.” “Okay,” Buck says, stupidly. His fingers are starting to prune. “You know I—me too.” they're so cute <3 one of my favourite domestic fics!!

grief stays outside your house (until you let it in) | justhockey | 2.3k | not rated

Eddie is falling, falling, falling. His legs buckle underneath the weight of all this grief, and when he collapses to the floor the impact causes him to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. He grips the bat tighter still, even though the guilt of it is burning his palms now - even though the only thing in this room either of them need to be frightened of is him. i'm not a massive angst reader, but every now and then i browse for something in the angst and feels tag because i'm just in the mood for it, and this hit the spot perfectly the other day. so beautifully written <3

if we could be serious we wouldn't be us | BekkaChaos/@bekkachaos | 1.2k | GA

Buck gives Eddie baking lessons. Flour fight leads to laughter and kissing in Eddie’s kitchen. they get a little silly and soft and it's just so good!!

i'll be home for christmas | lecornergirl/@clusterbuck | 1.5k | GA

Christopher had messaged, two weeks ago, and said he didn’t want to spend Christmas in Texas. He’d said his grandmother doesn’t decorate the house right, that she won’t let him put popcorn garlands on the tree, that she’s trying to tell him snickerdoodles aren’t Christmas cookies. He’d said he wants to come home. Or— What he’d said was, can i come and spend christmas with you? the family feels are real <3 i love the hopefulness in this one!!

into it (you've got me tied up) | Snacks_4life | 7k | E

Eddie finds BDSM gear in Buck’s closet, leading to them discussing rope bondage. When Buck suggests they try it out together, Eddie can’t do anything other than agree, even if it’s supposed to be platonic. In the end though, it seems it’s not only Eddie who can’t keep his dirty thoughts to himself. buddie + bondage + getting together = one excellent excellent fic <3

like a dog with a bird at your door | fleetinghearts/@shitouttabuck | 51.2k | E

evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home. this is so beautifully written!! fantastic characterisation, gorgeous prose... truly all a girl (me) could want. i love the sequel as well!

my true love gave to me | scarmaddiewrites | 10.6k | T

Eddie’s plan to woo Buck at Christmas time. eddie spoiling buck around christmas time is just <3<3 so fluffy so good

rearview blues | clytemnestra/@clytemnestraaa | 16.5k | E

Eddie Diaz is not having a great time in El Paso. eddie might not be having a great time but i sure am <3 the torment nexus is real and i love it so much. beautiful fic!!

see the lights, and hang the stockings | wafflesofdoom/@capseycartwright | 2.6k | GA

Eddie finds out that Buck has never ever had a Christmas stocking of his own. He's very determined to change that and share a few Diaz family traditions. eddie going all in to make sure buck has a good christmas and feels included and loved and only good things my most beloved <3 exactly what i needed this holiday season!!

welcome back to the basement | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 18.4k | E

Buddie as The Basement Yard boys. the pet names!! i love their dynamic here, the dialogue feels so very them. it's just so so good!

[lohotine]

Hello, it's me again (so soon, hehe). Sorry if it feels like I'm asking for things so much.

I have a fun request: Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader as Romeo and Juliet. I desire the juiciest star-crossed lovers angst you can make!

AN: I have only read a quick summary of Romeo and Juliet along with bits and pieces of the balcony scene so forgive me if this is inaccurate-

Um but yeah, I took some creative liberties

Shadow Milk x Reader

Oneshot

Warnings: Angst

-Frayed String-

The rough surface of the stone beneath your fingertips is the only thing keeping your mind stable and down to Earth, if the state you're in can even be considered stable.

You are being held together by only a single thread, and every moment you aren't with your lover you can feel a slice of your sanity being discarded.

You curl your fingers into a fist, the coarseness of the stone wall leaving indents in your digits.

You gaze softly to the shimering stars above. The light coming off of them are the only things making your eyes seem alive.

You cannot say that it hurts, because compared to how your heart has been ripped open, this is nothing.

Even if they were to start bleeding, would it even feel like anything compared to aching in your heart?

As you sit there silently, you wonder if Shadow Milk can see the same stars. You wonder if he is thinking of you now as you are thinking of him.

It was such a shame that your parents hated him. If they didn't then you would have married him on the spot.

That day, you practically ripped open your chest to give him your heart. To show him how it beat for him. How you lived for him.

Yet, your parents wanted you to be wed to someone else.

But that someone else wasn't Shadow Milk, and so there was no way your heart could continue to beat after that.

Fate really has played such a cruel joke on the two of you.

Since your family hated him so, to marry him would be like murdering him. Though, to not marry him would be like murdering yourself.

What decision should be made when putting your life on the line against the person giving you life.

Either way, someone would surely die in the end.

"If only you could change your name," you say to yourself. It was just one of those mindless rambles that you often did. You didn't at all expect someone to respond.

"If you call me your lover then I'd gladly change my name," a voice responded.

No more words needed to be spoken for you to recognize exactly who it was.

"Shadow Milk, what are you doing here?!" You'd ask in a hushed yell.

"My dove, I just missed you!" He faded into shadows before reappearing right besides you.

He took your hand in his while also cupping your face. "Your beauty makes even the moon look dull, my dear," He'd say.

Oh how his words made your heart flutter. If it weren't so dark, you're sure he'd see the blush spreading across your face.

"You really shouldn't be here," you told him. Though you could not deny how much you relished in his presence. Every little touch he gave you made you feel as if the world around you was spinning.

"I couldn't help it." He left a soft kiss on your lips, letting it linger for just a while before pulling away.

And so for a moment, the two of you were quiet. Just staring into each other's eyes, exchanging a thousand words that couldn't have been spoken aloud.

Then one of the servants called from outside of your room, and you were quick to speak your farewells.

"Ah, sorry Milk- You have to leave now," you said in a quiet voice.

He only gazed into your eyes while twirling a peice of your hair.

"I'm being serious-" the knock on your door would continue. "Just a minute!" You called out to the servant.

"I love you oh so much.." he said to you before disappearing to someplace else.

All that remained was that leftover warmth of his body and the lingering feeling of longing in your heart.

And now, it seemed as if the world fell silent.

How pitiful it was that the two of you were connected via a frayed string. A connection so frail that it would be worn down by even the air around you.

Oh how his words tormented you. How were you meant to be alright with letting him go when every moment you spent together made you fall so much more in love.

You just wanted to scream out your love for him on the balcony, but that would put both him and you in great danger.

But, what exactly were you supposed to do?

Were you to make him the most happy man in the world by marrying him then letting your family kill him?

Or were you to marry someone else and murder yourself by depriving your heart of the one thing it yearns for?

[philokaliist]

'Fire'

Clarisse La Rue with a girlfriend who's similar to her hc's! 💋

A/N:MADE FOR MY FRIEND BC SHE'S LITERALLY LIKE AN ANGRY CHIHUAHUA BUT I STILL LOVE HERRR

So Clarisse would totally be into someone with an even worse temper than hers,like they'd have epic shouting matches that end in intense make-out sessions most of the time.

I feel like she would constantly challenge you to sparring matches, pushing each other to the limits just to prove who's the ultimate warrior. Like, "Come on,pretty thing, let's see what you've got!"

But picture this: she LOVES it when you share battle strategies with her, even if you disagree. It's like, "Yeah, yeah, your plan's trash,but I like the fire in your eyes."

I feel like she would steal your fries at the campfire and then pretend like nothing happened. And if you confront her, she'd just smirk and say, "Survival of the fittest,babe."

Clarisse is totally the type to challenge you to a duel over the smallest things, like who gets the last chocolate chip cookie. It's all in good fun, though – a way to keep the relationship spicy.

She deff has a secret stash of soft, romantic poetry hidden somewhere, and she'll deny it vehemently if you ever find out. But deep down, she loves that you appreciate her softer side.

Imagine her dragging you into impromptu late-night training sessions, demanding you prove your strength at the most inconvenient times. "A true warrior never rests,mamas."

She LOVES it when you compliment her battle scars, seeing them as badges of honor. It's like her version of sweet talk, and she'll proudly recount the stories behind each scar.

I feel like she would secretly enjoy cuddling after a tough day, pretending she's just doing it to help you relax. But truthfully, she craves those quiet moments of intimacy.

HEAR ME OUT,so she would totally write you cheesy love letters but hide them under the guise of strategic notes. It's like, "This battle plan is foolproof, just like my love for you."

Imagine her getting jealous when other demigods stare at you, but she'd never admit it. Instead, she'd just wrap her arm around you possessively and shoot them a death glare.

She deff has a soft spot for your cooking, even if she insists on calling it "acceptable" or "not terrible." But deep down, she appreciates the effort you put into making meals for her.

I feel like she would have a secret collection of cute, heartwarming animal videos that she watches when no one's around. It's her guilty pleasure, and she'd deny it vehemently if caught.

Imagine her surprising you with impromptu adventures outside of camp, like a spontaneous road trip or a daring quest. She'd act all tough, but it's her way of showing she values shared experiences.

So she would absolutely love it when you challenge her authority, whether it's in battle or decision-making. It's like a constant power struggle that keeps things exciting.

I also feel like she would lowkey enjoy participating in camp pranks with you, reveling in the chaos and mischief. It's her way of letting loose and embracing the lighter side of life.

She LOVES it when you challenge her to a friendly competition, whether it's archery or a climbing race. It's like, "Winner gets bragging rights for a week!"

She deff calls you out on your anger issues, but in that tough-love way that only Clarisse can pull off. It's like, "Princess,chill before you burn the whole camp down!"

Honestly,she would low-key love the fact that you can match her in the anger department.Like, "Finally, someone who gets it!" They're like the most chaotic duo of Camp Half-Blood.

A/N:Another quick drabble for this morning before I mentally kms from doing hw (p.s:I won't even open the book.)

[captain-n-crunchies]

My Perfect

L x Chubby Reader

A.N: ( See even though im like late I STILL POSTED! im on like grind yall but, this man so fine I'm like i must write my deepest soul wrenching words about him)

I'm not perfect.

That's it. I tried every day as a kid to be perfect; pretty hair, small frame, soft voice everything to look desirable to others I tried to be. In high school I needed to be bold, thicker but not too thick, tall but too tall; never speak overly passionate it was a turn off, don't wear too much makeup it's like I'm a slut, and never can venture out and find a comfortable look for me. I never let the girl inside eat.

I wasn't berated though? Yes, I got stares when I wore something sitting and people saw my stomach, like yes mothafucka I got a stomach y'all thought it was a huge ass pot in my shirt? Yes, I did get the ' I'm sO cOnFideNt!' talk when I ate something like fruit, who doesn't like pineapple? When shopping I had looks of could I fit this or that and nobody ever comforted me when I would cry about not fitting jeans.

I was never perfect. But he never cared.

*Back to when Light didn't find the Death Note yet*

Log In: June 23, 2017

" What are you having for lunch?" was asked by my closest coworker, Maria she and I was friends since our college days when cramming information about law, statistics, and for some reason Shakespeare; we were forever. I turned to her in this damn rolling chair that was obviously not made for a girl with that thang back there, I mean why is half my leg practically on the floor? I thought about it for a second.

" I could go for quick burger, what about you?

" That's fine! Also did you finish your report? I didn't even get to..." I just stared at her though my head in space, Maria turned to see what I'm looking at and she saw a strange man walking inside the room.

" Um...I don't think he works here?"

" Is this when we got to fight for our lives? I don't have no weapon."

The man tall, dark unruly hair not curly though it looks like a one of those emo people from the 2000's like my chemical romance vibes, he has a homeless man look on him...its kind of sexy thought but, he doesn't work here?

We watch him while towards us and goes to the head manager cubicle that two rows ahead of us. We look at each other and look down acting like we're working but, we really being nosy. We hear only indicant chatter and the strange man's voice, his name is Riuzaki? Or Rukai? I don't know and our manager asked again, and he ignored the question and started talking about something different. Kind of rude but, with the way our manager is I'd do the same; Maria looks at me and looks at the time and tells me it our lunch break so, we both get up and I make sure to push down my jacket a habit I did as a teen to look slimmer, we walk out and down the little pathway to the front of the office when we get close to the strange man I turn my head down, his eyes immediately traced to me and he stared at me and he turned, kind of weird his eye contact was intense!

We walked over to the company lunch places inside it's a tiny burger spot filled with American dishes; we haven't really eaten there so we decided to try it out since it was also raining. Maria order first, a chicken salad with extra chicken and cheese with a large drink and dessert then it's me, a cheeseburger with fries and a large drink with a cookie; we wait a bit and sat down at a two-seat table and we talk about the sight we just saw.

" I wonder if he's trying to get a job here? "

" For what though? we ain't got nothing available yet."

" What if they fired somebody!? I heard but I didn't hear from department C that somebody was overusing company resources and they got let go."

" Omg, who?" Maria was going to say but we hear a buzz, and our food was ready we grabbed a tray and the person who gave us our orders gives me a look, ya'know the look of ' Breaking that diet huh?' Its common but still is annoying so I mean mug him back and he backs off. Sitting down we talk about our topics of choice like vacations, fashion trends, the latest news when the man from earlier comes down; didn't even see him till he pulled up a chair beside me and stared. Like what?

" Oh, Hello!" I introduced myself and Maria does the same, but how says nothing and stared at me.

" Are you going to eat that?" He points at a strawberry cookie I got, I look and shake my head "no' even though I was saving it I give it to him and smiled. He takes it and thanks me and then turned to Maria and asked how she feels about the company. Now, Maria is a sweet girl but, if she can't say her opinion without lying so she tries to say it's wonderful but, he caught on.

" Don't lie. I'm not going to do anything."

" Oh! but I'm not! really it's a won-"

" Your eyes turned up, when some people lie, they eyes turn up to think of somethings. Your hands turned over into a clasped position saying you're more of nervous than calm when I asked."

She's shocked and so am I, he takes a bite of the cookie and then looks at me to which I look away and he stares at me; deep black eyes pierced into, and I just look away because if I looked back what if he jumps me and I gotta kick and scream like that would be so embarrassing!

" Are you nervous?

" No, never"

" Hm...You look uncomfortable" He continued eating and I looked at Maria with a head tilt.

" So, what's making me uncomfortable."

" Your clothes, your shoes are hurting your feet by the way you walked quickly, and you have the heels of them off" He responded quickly, and I was shocked I mean he didn't lie. I just look and Maria excused her and mouthed ' Whoop his ass' and went to the bathroom, so now it's just us. We look at each other and I just shook my head and began eating again. He just looks at me and then turns his body towards me completely.

" What?"

" Do you like your position here?"

If I had the choice between working here and $20, I would pick $20 and a bag of skittles, it has it benefits from time to time but it not worth the headaches and long hours and I tell him just that. He hums and says nobody ever been that honest and I could care less, I listen and eat when he asked another question.

" If you're really don't like how you look why don't you change it"

It wasn't even a question it was like a statement like he knew, he knew from when he stared at me, he watched me. I look at him shocked and I just chuckled and threw the rest of my food away and left, texting Maria that I got sick. Walking away I see him get up and follow me, so ignored him; he just walked beside me and just looks either at me or around him hunched over like he finna throw up. Like what compells somebody to say that? Did he think I'm the one to try to play around with thing you'll get a good joke ooutta me? I should've shoved that damn drink up his stuck up ugy big headed-

" Your mumbling"

"...ok"

" If what I said made you mad just say it"

" If I did I'll go to jail for man slaughter."

He just chuckled, even though I'm pissed he sounded a little smexyyy but, I'll still beat his ass. I keep walking towards the parking lot, and he grabbed my arm asking can he be honest.

" I mean if back there wasn't honest I don't know what is"

He just stared (he got a staring problem) and began talking about how he meant that he saw me adjusting my jacket a habit he saw a lot of girls do when they want to look slimmer, then he saw the look his manger gave us me when I walked past, he said it was in utter disgust. As he went on all the insecurities from the past came again the girl inside of me just began to show, I looked at him blank, my hands started to sweat, my thoughts ran through me like a train, and I couldn't hold it anymore as a sob slipped through like butter from my mouth. I wiped my face and took a deep breath.

" Being a girl in Japan is hard, being black in Japan is harder, being a fat girl and black in Japan is like a war zone every day in my mind. From stares, to the so called ' complements', to everything inside growing out of me is like a constant war zone. Having men look at me like a 3rd class citizen is the problem, having girls treat me like I'm beneath them was the problem and no one had a problem with it."

" But who could care? It's not like I can change what they say with the attitude they expect from a black girl. I'm not perfect but, they wanted me to be and how am I going to achieve that? Huh?"

I stopped for one second and he just said nothing, all the bottled-up feelings I've had just overwhelmed me and I overshared.

" I think your perfect"

" Lying is a sin ya'know"

" Then good I'm an atheist. Your look is perfect."

How can somebody look perfect? With a body like this, my skin to people in this country are like a permanent plague, and my hair is just a warning to them on its own. I am not perfect, but he thinks I am. He's trying to help me feel better and it's not going to work.

" If this is perfect then-'

" You're not going to believe something if you denie it so much."

This man says that beautiful is different to everyone, like what people grew up with which is skinny, fair skin, and cute people they think it's a standard and everyone that's not all three of those traits are ugly. He said the way I feel is how he felt as a child he was never built manly, he was always so small and skinny people thought he was sick. It never bothered him; he seemed wiser as a kid then the whole world at its years; I couldn't even disagree with any statements I always found how people views change when they see unique things or common things and associate them with ugliness or beauty.

" For a homeless man your very smart"

"...I'm not homeless."

" Oh...then why you dress like you've seen a clothing store in life."

" I have seen a clothing store. I just don't see the appeal of dressing up."

He's an emo hippie. But nevertheless, I just listen and make my own few points. We continued walking and he stops me again.

" What's your name?"

" Reader Last Name, and your?

" Call me L"

' Hello L"

" Hello Reader"

Now we walk in comfortable silence, by the time I'm by the garage L asked for my number, his contact now ' Emo Hippie' and mines?

'My Perfect'

A.N: ( i finshed! I love this one because i feel this irl about my body type but, i got over it and it's kind of hard to write L's dialogue without making him sound rude because he's only nonchalant. But, let me know if you like it!

[plussizefantasia]

Hello ❤️❤️

Me Again, i loved the drabble so much so i decided to ask for another one (if it is possible 🥺🙏❤️)

I will ask for nr. 17 with Bucky Barnes 🙏🙏❤️

Also i want to ask if its possible to write smth witt Moon Knight? From the pro t list ofc. Thank you love ❤️❤️

Cat Dad

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend is being held captive and you're the only one who can save him.

Word Count: 700

A/N: I would like to try something for Moon Knight! Let me know what you'd like to see. (No promises it won't be garbage though.)

If you ever told the rest of the Avengers that Bucky Barnes was a complete cat dad, they would scoff and laugh in your face. But they didn’t get to see him like you did. The times he would spend at least half an hour in the toy aisle every time the two of you went to buy Alpine more food always saying “C’mon we have to get this for her, she’d love it!”. When he refused to move anytime she curled up on his lap, or the time he insisted she needed a soft bed in each room of the apartment, lest she wanted to curl up near you guys but couldn’t find a comfy spot.

You wouldn’t be the one to tell him that she never used the beds he had purchased and would more often than not find herself curled up and purring in your reading chair that was conveniently located underneath the window so the light hit it just right.

He always said he would do anything for you two, “his girls” he had called you. Except for that tonight Alpine seemed to be pushing every single one of his buttons. Bucky is a patient man, he’s always in his head so it’s sometimes hard to see what he’s feeling. But you had gotten really good at reading him and you could read the tension in his shoulders and the slow and pronounced breaths he was taking that something had him on edge.

You slipped out of the kitchen and towards the living space, Bucky was on the couch, his back leaning against the arm of the sectional and his legs stretched out in front of him, holding up the laptop that he was using to finish up his mission reports for Sam. The boys weren’t officially working for the government but had some affiliations which meant that a paper trail needed to be kept. You could immediately see what was getting Buck worked up, Alpine had taken it upon herself to position herself in her dad’s lap in such a way that she was covering half of the keyboard. The sight was hilarious, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle. Bucky was so sweet, and despite the fact that this report needed to be finished today, your sweet boyfriend was not going to move the cat off of his lap, even if it would make his life so much easier.

When the sound of your soft laugh reached his ears, Bucky’s eyes shot up at you. They screamed for help. You wouldn’t be able to stop the smile that spread across your cheeks if you tried. 

“What’s going on in here?” You innocently asked.

“Doll, thank God. Can you please take her?” You could hear the desperation in his voice, he really didn’t want to push her down but he couldn’t get his work done while she sprawled across him.

“I don’t know Buck she seems pretty comfy, I would hate to disturb her.” he shot you a look that screamed betrayal. “Don’t look at me like that she’s your child.”

“You’re doing this to mess with me. You normally don’t have any problem moving her especially when she’s in your chair,” he called you out.

“But she’s not in my chair so I don’t need to move her” You cheekily threw back at him.

“Honey, Princess, Love of my life would you pretty, pretty please take our girl off my lap so I can finish my work?” He pleaded with you.

“Hmmm, what will you give me if I do?”

“Anything you want Doll, I’d give you the world if I could you know that.” He was trying to sweet-talk you into helping it out, and it almost worked.

“That’s sweet but I think I’m gonna let you suffer a little longer, you should think of this before you eat the rest of my cookies next time. The Girl Scouts only sell those things once a year.��� You turned and started to walk away.

“When she gets up you’re gonna get it.” He called out after you.

“Looking forward to it Baby,” You called back.

[chipsbarista]

It's Who We Are in the Dark

Ship: Thorin Oakenshield/Bilbo Baggins

Words: 1033

Tags: Chance Meeting, Angst.

Tw:. Depersonalization

Thorin sat there. Just sat there. Looking at the scenery. It was sad really, the leaves were all gone, and it was dreadfully cold, making the grass of the park a murky sort of yellow color. His thoughts were, naturally, racing.

“Mind if I sit here?” Came a soft, melodious voice.

Thorin turned to face the music. Blue eyes landing squarely on green eyes. That’s the first thing he noticed. The all encompassing, ever changing hues of those eyes. The second was the blonde bed of curls on this stranger's hair. Inviting. Like Thorin could just reach out and touch. He didn’t of course, he was not rude. This was, after all, a stranger.

“Go right ahead.” His voice came out gruff from lack of use. Had anyone talked to him today? Other than the barista this morning, who had to talk to him. He didn’t think so. He wished this wasn’t normal.

“Beautiful night, no? Cold to be sure, but beautiful nonetheless.” Said the creature next to him.

What time was it? He looked down at his watch. The watch Dís had got him. Before… Before… Before the incident. “I suppose.”

“I am Bilbo, by the way.” The creature, Bilbo, smiled. “Do you go here? Valeria, I mean.”

He was, of course, referring to the university. Valeria Nostradamus. It made sense, the question. He was sitting (alone) on the it spot of the campus. It was also two in the morning so this guy was also a lunatic. What did it matter though?

“I do.” He could feel his throat closing.

“So do I, I’m a journalism major. What about you?” Thorin wasn’t looking at Bilbo now. He looked squarely at the ground and the murky sort of yellow of the grass.

“Marine Biology,” He replied after a second.

“Oh! I heard the program is really good.” Then he giggled. “What's your name?”

“Thorin.”

“Thorin. Oh! That rolls right off the tongue does it not?” Thorin is looking at him again. He looks so carefree.

A pause.

“Tell me, why are you here?” Bilbo asks. And he means it innocently, Thorin thinks.

“Why are you here?” Thorin asks. Not so innocently.

“Needed to get out of the dorm.” And that’s when Bilbo’s smile fades. “That shoe box drives me into insanity. It feels like all my thoughts escape my mind only to bounce on the ceiling and right back at me.”

Thorin hums. “What sort of things were you thinking about?”

“Who I am in the middle of the night.” Bilbo admits. “It's like I act completely different when no one can see me, right? I dress differently, I talk differently, I think differently. It’s almost as if I am a completely different person. My friends, they don’t know this, but it feels like whenever I’m with them I have to fit this sort of mold.”

And then there is a pause again.

“Who are you in the middle of the night?” Bilbo whispers. And if it weren’t two in the morning, with no one else around, Thorin would’ve missed it. Soft as it was.

“I don’t even know who I am in the daylight, let alone in the middle of the night.” Thorin lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Grief, it has shaken me to my very core. And everything I thought I knew is gone. I have no dreams, no aspirations.”

“I’m so sorry, Thorin.” Bilbo’s hand lands on his. And it is strangely warm, for someone who’s not wearing gloves.

“Who are you in the middle of the night?” Thorin relishes in the warmth of Bilbo’s hand. That’s what he chooses to focus on. Anything to keep him from thinking about her. From reminding him that a year was all it took to forget her voice.

“I am emotion. I am adventure. I am the force of a thousand black holes.” He is grinning now. “Which is to say, I am of the goth persuasion. My friends don’t have a clue though. We grew up all in the same parts, where different is bad. So I grew up in a cookie cutter place.”

“But is that who you are?” Thorin asks, eyebrows scrunched together. He can’t imagine having someone’s entire existence summarized by… clothes alone.

“No,” Bilbo says, “I suppose not. I am, however, my thoughts. And they are imperfect, dark, and twisted.”

“I don’t think you’re imperfect, dark, nor twisted.” Thorin lets it slip past his lips.

“You’ve known me for a collective of…” Bilbo looks down at his watch. “Twenty minutes. I don’t think you’d have a good grasp of who I am. Not to mention you don’t know my thoughts.”

“Share them with me.” A plea.

“Looking through my thoughts is like looking through a roll of film. A film that has been burnt one too many times, and at times, spliced over.” Bilbo says, and it’s rehearsed, as if he has thought this, over and over and over again. Like a film. “Art has many interpretations and I am definitely art. If a hideous thing. And, like art, I am wholly sensorial.

“I often wonder if I haven’t been born as the wrong thing. It feels as though I was meant to be born a star. A literal star. I feel it, that energy surging through my veins. I feel it calling to me, space. Empty and vast. A soul like mine.” Bilbo grabs his hand then, moving it to his chest.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

“Do you feel it? Can you feel what I was meant to be?” Bilbo’s mouth is agape.

“I do.” And Thorin does. He feels that warmth, the warmth of the sun, sees the radiance in Bilbo’s eyes and curls alike. “A star. You are a star.”

Bilbo hums. “Most people would’ve called me disturbed by now.”

“I don’t think you are.” Thorin circles his thumb on Bilbo’s chest. “And I don’t think your thoughts are incorrect either.”

“Not dark and twisted? Not imperfect?” Bilbo’s eyes gleam at him.

“Would you call a star imperfect?” Thorin urges.

“I would call it the highest perfection there is.” Bilbo smiles.

“Then there you go.” And Bilbo smiles further. A star.

[bagopucks]

J. Hughes - Sally Forth [Peter McPoland]

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Fem!dancer!reader

Requested✨

Word count: 3.7k

Warning(s): None

I didn’t state ‘Dance Moms’ specifically, but I also didn’t specify any studio or tv show for that matter. So it’s up for interpretation! The title is also the song I had in mind for the reader’s performance, but that is also up for each person’s creative interpretation.

—————————————

“Be ready ladies! I’m serious!” The shrill voice of our dance instructor had myself and the other girls tensing in our seats. This had to be perfect. I had to be perfect.

What the internet says is no lie, reality tv is not for children. I know that, but I have never once regretted experiencing all seven seasons of this show, and now finishing eight. The tv aspect is not what worries me. It’s Nationals. I got the soloist spot in my studio. Some girls cheered me on, others did not. I learned who were my real friends and who weren’t over the years. It was the same with the moms. I’ve always had trouble with them. Any adult in your life can be someone you look to for guidance. In this case, I did not enjoy the company or guidance of any mother on the show. The moms were always building someone up and tearing someone down. Often one was done to accomplish the other. Nobody could ever be equal.

Our director, competition, the end of a season. These were all relative constants in my life from a young age. They caused distress and pride. Self esteem issues, and self discovery.

I was never soft. In this industry I learned that a person simply won’t survive if they are too sensitive. But I had a superpower. Mama Hughes always reminded me of that. I was raised across the street from three rambunctious boys. They gave me hell every day of my life. I had a rough exterior and interior because I grew up getting pushed around, hit in the eyes with foam hockey balls, and shoving any brother out of the way when I heard Ellen shout that lunch was ready. Underneath the chaos, it had always been more than that. I would spend hours working on puzzles with Quinn, and watching movies we weren’t supposed to with Jack. A lot of the bonding I did with Luke was more so teasing and ganging up on him with his brothers, but I did offer school advice when he came to me for it. I slept over with those boys for many years, all wrapped up in comforters sprawled out across the floor. I spent many holidays with them as well. Even Hanukkah.

It was not only my grit and rough exterior that kept me afloat, but my good heart and soul that helped me not get lost in the fame and fortune. Ellen often told me that. But when her words didn’t work, I went to Jack.

He was the only person right now I could consistently think of. My mother and Ellen were here. The dads were in charge of the boys. I didn’t know why. How many adults did it take to control the Hughes boys? I could do it grabbing one by the ear, pinching another’s side, and promising the third a cookie.

I’d have a large support group, but Jack was the one I was worried about messing up in front of. People used to make jokes about us being so close, saying that one day we might get married. We used to gag at each other and shoot off empty insults about the opposite sex until we thought we made our points loud and clear.

Jack stopped that childish antic before me.

I stopped it shortly after.

then we ended up together.

“Alright, your costume’s in the bathroom, let me see your makeup.” I turned in my chair to look up at Ellen. My mother had never been particularly great at cosmetics, but Ellen promised she’d be there to make me pop. “You look beautiful.”

I did some of it on my own, but our instructor was tense about young teens doing their own makeup, so Ellen helped with the eyeliner and maskera.

“Go get into your costume while I clean up.” My mom piped up, and I smiled at her before practically sprinting to the bathroom down the hall. My costume was my favorite one by far. A dark green corset top, where one of the straps was covered in pale pastel colored flowers. Connected to it was a cream colored chiffon skirt, the same pastel floral arrangement sewn in strategically to make the buds look like they grew in a curved diagonal up the side. The skirt flowed nicely with my movements when I practiced in it, and the flowers accentuated every twist and turn. I gave myself a once over in the bathroom mirror before the nerves finally dawned on me. The tingly feeling followed me all the way back into the dressing room, my nails digging into my palms. Jack used to hold my hands in school under the desks when I did that. Now I didn’t have Jack with me.

“Oh baby!” My mom gasped, heads of other girls turning in the process. “You look so perfect.” My mom reached her arms out, and I did my best to attempt a side hug.

“Please don’t crush the flowers mom,” I spoke, alarming her and causing her to pull back.

“You look absolutely beautiful, sweetheart.” One of the mothers chimed in with what I might dare to call a genuine smile. “Now you just have to dance as perfect as you look.” There it was.

I quickly turned back to Ellen and my mother, my brows furrowed in a silent type of fear I didn’t know how to articulate. After so many years of dance, I still couldn’t voice my nerves properly when I needed to. No doubt because the other girls got torn down for it in the studio.

“You’re going to be so good baby. Come here,” my mom sat down in the chair I previously used in front of my vanity. I walked over and placed my hands in her own.

“You’re gonna do so good. What matters is that you were good enough to make it this far. This right here, is already impressive enough for everybody in this family. Your father and I will never stop bragging about you to everybody we know. Win or lose.” She smiled, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. My own mother made me want to cry on my performance day. “Ellen-“ she sniffed. “Pep talk- I’m gonna cry.”

I turned back to the woman I’d known since the age of seven. She smiled at me, I saw her boys in her. Most of all, I saw so much of Jack in her.

“Motivational pep talk. Ready?” I nodded. “You’re gonna get out there, and show those kids who’s boss. Because in the Hughes house, what do we believe in?”

“Checks, goals, and five holes?” I saw Ellen’s face contort into confusion. She’d have to ask which brother taught me that later.

“No… but close. Hard work takes you far. And dedication. And kid, as cheesy as it is, as long as you have fun, that’s all it takes to be happy with your results.” Ellen’s words made me nod. I drew in a slow breath. “But if you have to check a girl off stage, I won’t hold it against you.” I broke out into a quiet fit of laughter before our moment was interrupted by our instructor informing everybody to step out into the hall. We all did, some girls huddled together while I stood between Ellen and my mom. Ever since I got this solo, I’ve felt alienated. Quinn said they were just jealous. But as a teenager, all you want is to be accepted in a place you feel you belong.

“Ellen!” Jim rounded the corner in a beige suit, looking breathless. “Ellen, you’ve gotta come help me. There’s twenty of them, and they won’t sit in their seats. Luke keeps eating all the skittles- Jack won’t keep his tie on.. and Quinn-“ he looked exasperated, as if Quinn had been the worst of all. Then he paused. “Quinn’s actually fine.. but they’re impossible to handle.” Ellen laughed at her husband’s hardship before turning to give me a quick shoulder squeeze.

“We all believe in you.” She gave me a nod, and I returned it before she walked to her husband.

“Break someone’s leg, eh?” Jimmy’s words earned concerned looks from some of the mothers before the Hughes parents left. Leaving me to wait with my mother.

As the competition started, group by group, one by one, girls went on the stage, and came off. Some beamed with pride, others cried, others looked completely relieved.

“Mom I need to text Jack.” I turned to look at her, distressed. My throat was dry, and I felt like I could barely stand on my own two legs.

“Your phone’s in the dressing room, hun.”

“Please,” I begged. She pursed her lips before retrieving her own phone from her pocket, texting Ellen and telling the blonde woman her middle child was needed.

——————

Out in the auditorium, Ellen’s phone was being passed from boy to boy, until it reached the Hughes brothers on the opposite end of the isle.

Ellie H… Sup?

Jack. I’m really nervous.

Ellie H… No reason. You’ll be fine. You did this in the living room for me like 80 times.

Yeah. But did you point out every little thing that was wrong?

Ellie H… Don’t question yourself. Just go out there, do your dance, celly a little, and lay back for the rest of the night.

Celly a little? I can’t do that on stage.. they’ll take off points.

Ellie H… I don’t know how this thing works. Mom says you look beautiful. I can’t wait to see you :)

Don’t make my nerves worse. But.. yeah I’m excited to see you too. Your dad said you wouldn’t keep your tie on?

Ellie H… Oh it’s on. Mom yelled at me.

Can’t say I’m surprised. I bet you look handsome.

Ellie H… I do. And you’re gonna be fire. 💃

Ellie H… mom says I have to put this away. It’s disrespectful or something. I’ll

———Point of View Switch———

“Jack Rowden!” I could hear my mom trying to shout through whispers, turning my head to look at her as she leaned forward to see me through a row full of guys my age. My team. They were all trying their best not to snicker while the next age group was introduced. I looked back down at the phone to finish my text before Quinn snatched the phone from my hand, bumping the send button in the process.

“Dude!”

“Mom said stop.”

“She needed me.”

“She needed me!” My head whipped to Luke, seated on my other side.

“Shut up Luke. You can’t even get a girlfriend.” Quinn backhanded my stomach- but our fight ceased at the sound of our best friend’s name. My girlfriend’s name.

I couldn’t see her in the dim lights, but I knew her figure when she walked out on stage. I saw the way her skirt flowed behind her as well. She always walked so fast. Like a woman on a mission. When she was little, I used to watch her from across the yard with a box of chalk. She’d step right out the front door and march over to her driveway like she planned on making the most elaborate chalk art known to man. One day I got the courage to actually cross the street to see her. She didn’t like sharing her chalk at first… but that was probably because I used to press so hard I’d break it. She had to show me how to use it right. Always so gentle and elegant with everything.

“She’s set. That’s what they call it in dance when a performer-“

“Quinn, shut up.” I scolded my brother, leaning forward in my seat as my hands gripped my knees.

There was a solid moment where I swear nobody breathed, but it was just me holding the air in my lungs. My girlfriend stopped moving. She was set. She liked to tell me it was a dancer’s face off.

The lights came up in bright pale colors, and the song began. I gripped my knees tighter than ever. Was this what she felt like when she watched my hockey games?

“Oh my god,” Quinn would describe my tone as enamored. I didn’t even know what that word meant. As she moved around the stage, she was breathtaking. I held my breath and gasped with every jump, turn, leap, and roll. She was good. Better than I was at hockey. And even though I’d seen this routine a million times before, it felt like the first time when she was on stage.

“Quinn! Quinny, give me the phone.” I took it from him turning on the camera and holding it up before Luke reached out. “Stop!” I hissed.

“Let me do it so you can watch her,” my younger brother offered, and that’s when I handed the phone over.

I always thought my girlfriend was brilliant every day. Every time I held her, cuddled up on the couch with her. Every time we played board games or watched movies, or studied together. I always thought she was incredible, but I never got to see her really dance. Hockey always got in the way of recitals, and my mom was always worried that me coming around too much might get me roped up into a camera shot. She supported my lovely girl on stage, but I could understand why she didn’t want me or my brothers on tv. Different lives called for different people.

My eyes were trained on her the whole time she floated across the stage. She had grace and emotion in her movements. I could feel the love for what she did, and I swear I could see it in her body language.

“Dude,” Quinn broke the silence. Silence that shouldn’t have been broken, but we didn’t have a clue. Nor did we think it too disrespectful.

“I know.” I answered, my words drawl out as I slowly leaned back, a smile forming on my lips.

“You have to marry her.” Quinn’s eyes flickered from myself back to the stage, resting his hands on the armrests of his chair.

“Can’t if she marries dance first.”

“This is the one time I would ever encourage an affair.”

The woman in front of us turned around to glare, Quinn and I fell silent. Luke was busy giggling at the fact that the audio of whatever video he got, it was going to be good.

———Point Of View Switch———

When the music came to a close, I found myself smiling as bright as the sun. I gave a graceful bow before lifting my head to see an entire isle full of people springing upright. My eyes travelled the expanse of boys to find three brothers near the end in matching navy blue suits. My smile widened. I wanted to scream.

When I was allowed to leave the stage, I did. The second I was concealed by curtains, I went sprinting to hug my mother. Now we had to play the waiting game.

I sat in the dressing room and broke off small pieces of a chocolate bar while the other girls mingled and gossiped about the acts and who they thought was placing where. I tried not to dwell on it, but I did nonetheless. My leg bounced uncontrollably, eyes set on the floor while my mom sat beside me.

“What does this emoji mean?” I turned to look at her phone. She caught sight of the end of mine and Jack’s conversation.

“I don’t know mom.. it’s just a dancer.”

When they began to announce awards, all of the dancers were called to a roped off section of the auditorium to sit. I passed the side where Jim and Ellen sat, and received a fist bump from Jimmy on the way by. I tried not to give Jack any attention, knowing if I did, I’d be even more anxious to go home empty handed in front of him.

As the groups were gone through, and recognitions handed out as well as prizes, I began to tense up.

I was gripping the edge of my seat. Only one person could be in first place of my group.

They announced the third. My heart panicked, but it made me hopeful to be second or first.

They announced the second, and my chest began to tighten while my doubts sank in. My chances narrowed. Slim to none.

The woman on stage announced the first, and all of a sudden, everything wasn’t real any more. I heard my mother screaming her lungs out. I heard Jack’s voice in the back of my head, ‘celly a little.’ What did that even look like for me?

When my emotions caught up with my body, it looked like running in place, bouncing from foot to foot, and shouting at the top of my lungs. Then I bounded out of my isle and up onto the stage. I was presented with a sash and a trophy. Then a pretty silver crown. The woman on stage congratulated me, allowed for a few rounds of applause, and I was sent to sit again. Somebody came by to take my trophy to the back for me. I insisted to keep the crown and the sash.

When the competition was brought to a close, and everyone was thanked for coming, I leapt out of my seat, running to find my parents and the rest of my ‘fans.’ I smoothed down my skirt before reaching my mom, giving her the tightest hug I could before my dad playfully pushed her aside. I heard a voice smack talking my father from behind.

“Come on man, let me see her!” The voice finally pleaded, and my dad let me go, stepping aside to let me at Jack. I bounced into his arms, and he practically swung me from side to side as I shouted in pure joy.

“God you were mesmerizing! I love you so much.” We were only fifteen, but we swore we were in love with one another.

“Thank you for coming Jack,” I breathed a sigh of relief into his shoulder before I felt a force shove his weight into mine, pushing him forward and myself back.

“Let her go, loser. We want some too.” Quinn’s words made Jack reluctantly let me go, and the eldest brother quickly slipped past to wrap his arms around me. The crown on my head slipped, but Quinn was quick to snatch it before it fell.

“I’ll hold onto this, yeah?” The eldest brother offered, making me smile and nod.

“You were awesome. Luke got a video.” Quinn informed me, slowly pulling away.

“Luke got a video?” Ellen was reaching to grab her phone from her youngest.

Instead of hugs, Luke and I exchanged a quick handshake we made up long ago before he smiled at me. “It was pretty okay,” the blonde teased. I ruffled his somewhat styled hair.

I went through with the rest of the group, greeting each of the players with smiles and high fives or fist bumps. By the time I got to the end, I realized Jack had gone around to meet me there, I giggled softly at his eagerness. He had a twinkle in his eyes that made me want to hug him forever in that moment.

We shared another quick embrace, my eyes caught on a camera behind Jack. Ellen’s boys couldn’t escape the screen this time. When Jack pulled away, I gestured for him to take his suit jacket off. For the rest of the time we stood around talking, Jack held his jacket up, concealing us from whatever cameras we spotted.

The end was the sloppy part. Everybody was getting packed up and beginning to leave. The competition had been far from home, but the hotel we were booked to stay in was nice. The hockey team had to be somewhere else, as did the Hughes boys, but Ellen told Jack she could stay with him in her room where I was only one door down that night.

By the time we left the competition building, it was pitch black outside.

“Mom, can I go with Jack?” I asked softly, and she was quick to nod a yes. My dad offered to travel with the hockey team on the bus, so Jim could spend some time with his family after being apart. Quinn and Luke took the middle seats while Jack and I crammed ourselves into the back together. Despite the jovial moods everyone was in, exhaustion was also evident. A few things were said before silence filled the car on the ride to the hotel.

“You did so good.. I was so nervous every time you jumped. You’ve never done that before in the living room.” Jack and I whispered back and forth as we sat, practically sharing the middle seat in the back. We had unbuckled to be closer. Not the safest move, I’ll admit.

“You really did look handsome tonight.” I whispered in return, reaching up to rest my hands on his shoulders.

“I loved your dance outfit.. but I think these sweatpants look better on you.” Jack teased softly as he rested his head atop the seat he leaned half of his body against. Our knees were touching, legs folded up onto the seats to make facing one another as comfortable as possible.

I dropped my head to rest against the top of the seat as well, our eyes never wandering unless to look at the other’s lips. We’ve never kissed before. In the dark, in the back of the car, it felt like our own little world. Jack must have been thinking the same thing I was.

Our heads slowly drew nearer before our lips touched. Nobody reached out to touch the other, still too hesitant to do much else, but the kiss was electric.

After we pulled away, silence followed. Jack smiled at me, and I smiled back. Within minutes, I scooted closer and rested a hand on his knee, sighing to myself and slowly dozing off as Jack began pulling the pins out of my hair and taking the bun out. I was out like a light before the ends of my hair ever met my shoulders.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[kaunis-sielu]

Dangerous Places: 8

You don’t see Steve for almost a week. You meet several of the women, they seem nice enough and happy, but you’d seemed happy too.

Wanda had taken your grocery list and bought everything you’d needed, no hesitation. She was a soft woman, and the one you felt most comfortable around. You knew that Nat was reporting back to Steve on you. Those piercing green eyes of hers seemed to notice everything and it’s unnerving.

Your feet have healed well, the Doctor, a soft spoken man they call Hulk, had come by and checked in on you. He’d also offered to get you a system that would test your blood so you didn’t have to do your finger all the time, something that sounded more than a little appealing.

You’re a little surprised to see Steve enter after he knocks on the main door. You’ve got some music playing from an old radio you’d found and are reading a book. One that Carol had lent you.

“Hi Bunny.” He says putting a box on the counter. “Got you some sugar free cookies from a bakery I like.”

“Thank you.” You’re surprisingly touched by this.

“I hope they’re good.” He says dropping down into the arm chair with a heavy sigh. “How’s your week been?” When you level him with a look that pretty much screams really? “Right, sorry. Things have been interesting, hectic but I’m getting closer to destroying Hydra.”

“Good.”

“Good?” He seems surprised, “there’s no one there you were friends with?”

“No. Friends don’t help a monster keep you prisoner.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

“No.” You tell him with a racing heart. Last time you’d said no to Brock he’d beaten you so badly you couldn’t sit comfortably for days.

“Okay, will you at least think about it?” He asks and you nod, you’ll think about it. “Thanks Bunny.”

“You can use my real name if you want.” You offer, not looking up from your book.

“I know.” You glance over at him and see a little smile on his face, “what are you reading?”

“Something from Carol.”

“Ah, sexy book then.” He says and your eyes nearly pop out of your head.

“Wh-what?”

“Sexy book. Carol makes us all read them, is that the one about the baker and the doctor?”

“Um, yes.” You know he can see the embarrassment on your face.

“Nice. Some things in that one I’ve wanted to try for a while. Let me know if you’re interested.” He flirts but you can’t even look at him. He turns on the tv and you continue to read for a while, you’re reading a more, spicy, part when he hums and you look up at him.

“You’re at the part in the kitchen aren’t you?”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“The look on your face, and how far along you are in the book. I just read that one.” You snap the book shut, keeping one finger in between the pages so you don’t lose your spot. “Aw, come on Bunny. Keep readin’ for me.”

“No more comments.” You tell him attempting to make it sound like a question while it’s really a request.

“Alright, but I’m watchin’ still.” You sigh heavily but don’t argue, you open the book again and start reading.

The scene is hot. There’s no arguing that, and annoyingly now you can’t get the vision of Steve as the male character out of your head.

He lets you read in peace for a half an hour before he says, “what should we do for dinner?”

“I was going to do leftovers.”

“Ah, what if I cook for you?” You bite your lower lip and look down into your lap,

“I have so many leftovers, I don’t want anything to go bad.” You close your eyes waiting for the anger.

“Good girl Bunny.” He practically purrs and butterflies dance in your stomach. “I love when you set boundaries with me. Do you mind if I just find something?”

“That’s fine.”

“Thanks. Hulk said he was going to get you set up with some other stuff for your diabetes. Has he done that yet?” He asks as he makes his way to the fridge.

“No, I think he ordered it.”

“Good, anything else you want to do?”

“Leave.”

“Bunny.” He warns lowly and you glare at your book.

“The brand.” You say after a few more minutes of silence.

“Hmm?” He hums from where he’s looking into the fridge,

“I’d like my brand removed.”

“Did you talk to Bruce about it?”

“Who?”

“Oh, right Hulk.”

“Um, no. I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

“We can ask him, I can’t imagine it’s going to be pleasant.”

“I think that’s why he does it. Brock’s a monster. He likes inflicting pain on other people then,” you take a deep shaky breath, “he blames you for your pain.” You whisper and you hear Steve moving quickly.

“I’ll be right back Bunny.” He says through clenched teeth. The door slams shut and after a few seconds you hear the sound of something shattering. When he comes back into the house, his body is tight like he’s angry. He stalks over to you but freezes when he sees how you curl in on yourself.

“I’m coming over there Bunny. I’m not mad at you, you need to know that okay?” You nod and he comes over and crouches in front of you on the floor. “I need to know the things he did to you. I need to know so I can punish him when I destroy Hydra and I need to know so I can help you heal.” He says softly, “I am furious with how you were treated. It’s unacceptable.”

“It’s hard to talk about.” You whisper as tears fill your eyes.

“Maybe I could bring in a therapist for you?”

“You’d do that?”

“Yea Bunny. You’re mine to protect and that means from everything, past trauma included.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why me?”

“I don’t know. When I figure it out I’ll let you know.”

Tag list:

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[livingdreams97]

Kendall Jenner- "Yes". (Part 2)

Kendall Jenner x fem reader/oc

Summary: A funny Never Have I Ever turns out to be a prediction for the future of the two year relationship between Kendall and her girlfriend.

Words: 3190

PREVIOUS

Masterlist

Kendall's POV

Today the family was going to Paris for a short vacation and for the first time in a long time I can go from the first day and Y/n can come too. Best of all, our anniversary will be tomorrow and I've always wanted to be with my special someone in Paris. What better place to spend your second anniversary than in Paris, the most romantic place in the world and I couldn't be more excited.

Right now I am at the front door of our house; since she moved into my house shortly after the video with Hailey and I was more than delighted. But now I'm waiting for her to come down from the room, so we can leave and get to the airport on time.

Kendall: Let's go love or we'll be late for the airport.- I shout from the front door of our house.

Y/n: I'm going! - she shouts from the floor above and in less than five minutes I see her coming down the stairs with her suitcase and black leather backpack.

I look at her clothes and I can't help but smile and bite my lip, she's wearing black Adidas leggings that accentuate her perfect butt, a red sweatshirt that I usually steal from her and white Nike air force. In addition to the fact that she has her perfect blonde hair straight and loose; which is how I like it the most.

Kendall: Move that beautiful ass, I don't want to hear my mother complain about being late and scolding us.- I tell her, watching her roll her eyes. -Not like that, miss.- I tell her, pointing at her with my index finger.

Y/n: You look like an old woman talking to me like that.- she laughs, stopping in front of me . -And you're only a year older than me.- she claimed, leaving a soft kiss on my lips.

Kendall: I don't sound like an old woman.- I defend myself by hitting her arm. -Now move your ass, we'll be late.- I tell her, giving her a spanking on the ass.

Y/n: Whatever you say old woman.- she laughs leaving the house and dragging her suitcase towards the car that has come to pick us up.

Kendall: I'm going to end up hitting you.- I tell her walking behind her with my suitcase, turning on the alarm and closing the door with the keys.

Y/n: You really want to fight a woman from Ohio, who is the youngest of four children; all boys and fighting over cookies or the bathroom?- she asks me crossing her arms and defiantly.

Kendall: Get in now.- I tell her pointing to the car without answering her question.

Y/n: That's what I thought.- she says in an amusing way, while the driver puts our suitcases in the trunk and gets into the car; letting me better appreciate her butt.

Kendall: I love how those leggings look on you.- I whispered in her ear after settling next to her, after biting her ear and sighing on the spot.

Y/n: Kendall.- she murmurs in the form of a warning and I bite her ear again, placing my hand on her thigh leaving a squeeze.

Kendall: What?- I ask innocently, sighing in her ear again, knowing that it always turns her on. -I'm not doing anything.- I say again hiding my face in her neck.

Y/n: Keep going like this and you'll be left without sex for a month.- she tells me seriously and I stop trying to excite her.

Kendall: You're very pretty.- I tell her with an innocent smile.

Y/n: You also look very pretty, love.- he responds giving me a soft kiss on the lips. -And that's my sweatshirt.- she murmurs against my lips.

Kendall: Oops.- I murmured, kissing her again so that she would forget that I stole her sweatshirt.

Y/n: I don't forget that you stole my sweatshirt.- she comments, separating herself from the kiss a few millimeters. -But I admit that it suits you better than me.- she flatters me with a small smile.

The truth is that I am dressed very simply for the trip, I am wearing a green sweatshirt without her hood, along with simple black leggings, original Adidas shoes and my hair tied up in a bun.

........................

The trip to Paris had been long, we had to go on the plane with my mother, Corey , Kim and their children; who cannot sit quietly for more than half an hour. At least I had my perfect girlfriend, with whom I could snuggle in the armchairs and who is in charge of entertaining the children for a while.

Once at the hotel we took a quick shower and got dressed, ready to go around Paris with the rest of the family. The plan was to take a walk around the site to see everything, have dinner somewhere together, and then return to the hotel. Because tomorrow is my anniversary, in the morning the family wants to go to the Champs Elysees and after eating they will let us go.

Y/n says that she already has everything planned for our afternoon alone, she doesn't want to tell me anything; besides that she wants me to dress casually. After a quick shower; I dress in a white strappy top, paired with red jean shorts with a matching jean jacket and low top black Martins.

I make up in a simple way since with the mask it is not very noticeable and it stains. While I talk to my sisters by messages to ask them how long it will take, since I was already ready and I knew that Y/n was going to be ready in less than 5 minutes.

You POV

I look at myself in the bathroom mirror making sure my hair is straight and my clothes match. I had decided to wear a long-sleeved black top; that leaves the shoulders visible, along with khaki cargo pants and tall black platform boots.

I take a Chanel bag with gold straps and a black leather jacket in case it's cold to finish my look.

Y/n: I'm ready, shall we go?- I ask coming out of the bathroom and seeing my girlfriend sitting on the bed with the phone.

Kendall: My sisters aren't ready yet.- She answers me with a very tender pout.

Y/n: And if we go down to the hotel bar and have a drink while we wait?- I ask with an excited smile.

Kendall: You know me well.- she says jumping out of bed and grabbing the bag along with me. -I think that's why we're such a good couple.- she comments, leaving the room with me.

Y/n: Because we think alike?- I ask confused walking with our hands intertwined.

Kendall: Because you like to drink as much as I do.- she answers with a happy smile and I can only laugh at his comment.

Y/n: We are alcoholics, you know that , right?- I ask amused, leaving a kiss on the top of her head since I am a few centimeters taller than her.

Kendall: At least we are together.- she says amused, snuggling into my side inside the elevator.

........................

Right now we walk through the illuminated park in front of the Eiffel tower, we walk towards the restaurant that is in the middle of the tower and I have a reservation.

I had decided to wear a white blazer, along with a nude strappy shirt, with white skintight pants and black heels along with a black bag.

Kendall had decided to wear a white top revealing her abs, white elephant leg pants, with a beige jacket and black ankle boots.

Y/n: By the way, you look amazing.- I say pulling our joined hands, to bring her closer to my body.

Kendall: I'm not wearing anything special.- she says resting her head on my shoulder. -Although you don't stay behind.- she whispers passing her hand to my butt leaving a small squeeze.

Y/n: Calm the hormones love.- I say removing her hand from my butt and grabbing it to avoid more groping.

Kendall: You won't let me touch you.- she says with a pout, looking at me badly and crossing her arms. -Why don't you let me touch that perfect butt of yours?- she asks standing in front of me and hugging my neck.

Y/n: Because we are in public and we have a reservation for dinner.- I tell her amused, hugging her around the waist without stopping walking.

Kendall: If you don't give me affection at night, you sleep in the bathtub.- she warns me with half-closed eyes.

Y/n: You're unbelievable.- I say amused, shaking my head.

Kendall: And that's how you love me.- she says confidently with a huge smile on her face and bright eyes full of emotion.

Y/n: Yes, I do.- I answer with a lovesick smile seeing her perfect face full of happiness and kissing her. -Now let's go to dinner because I'm starving.- I tell her, wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground.

During dinner, Kendall kept making risky comments, while I laughed at them and we also shared anecdotes about the things we've done. After almost two hours of eating, drinking and having a good time; I get a text from Khloe letting me know they're downstairs ready to go up.

Y/n: Let's see the views.- I say leaving a few hundred on the table and getting up from my chair.

Kendall: Can I take the cup?- she asks me getting up from her seat with the glass of wine in her hand and I look at her strangely.

Y/n: Of course not.- I answer amused. -If you want we'll go to a bar to drink later.- I tell her laughing at how she drinks everything that's left in her glass.

It takes us 5 minutes to get to the top, as soon as we get there I text Klo to come up, but to be quiet and we walk to the edge with views towards the Field of Mars. I take a deep breath trying to relax and reorganize my thoughts.

Y/n: Did you like dinner?- I ask next to her looking at her profile while she looks towards the field.

Kendall: The truth is that everything was delicious.- she answers turning towards me . -I don't know how did you come up with the idea of the restaurant, but I admit that it has been one of our best and most romantic dates that we have ever had.- she explains with a smile, hugging me around the neck and I quickly hug her around the waist.

Y/n: I'm glad you liked the date so much.- I tell her with a smile, glad that she's liking the date. -A-And believe me, you'll like it more now.- I say, kissing her softly.

Kendall: And why is that?- she asks me completely curious.

Y/n: I want to start by saying that every day when I wake up you are the first thing I want to see next to me in bed, just like I want you to be the last person I see every night when I go to bed.- I start feeling the palms of my hands sweat against her jacket. -The happiest moment of my day is when I am with you, because that is the moment in which all problems disappear and everything becomes peace. Being in your arms gives me that security that I need to face adversity and stay upright in the fight to make all my dreams possible.- I say seeing how her eyes begin to get wet. - For a long time I asked myself what love is, and after this time by your side I have finally found the answer: love is what I feel every time I look at you, that I feel you and that I think of you.- I continue with the speech taking a deep breath and catching the scent of her perfume; instantly relaxing. -They say that something like what we have only feels once in a lifetime. They say that when true love arrives, it is known. And in this time I have confirmed my suspicions: I adore you inevitably and I am going to fight for it.- I continued saying, seeing the first tear fall . -You are my ninja, my favorite supermodel, the best horse rider I know, the car lover who collects beautiful cars and the cutest person in the entire world.- I commented, wiping away the tear that slipped down her cheek and pulling away with her the bag box. - You are the best thing that has happened to me in life, you are the one with whom I want to start a family and have an absurd happy ending like the one in the movies. The truth is that I cannot and I do not want to imagine life without you by my side. So, Kendall Nicole Jenner, will you marry me? - I ask, getting down on one knee and opening the box with the ring inside.

Kendall: Oh my god YES!- she screams crying excited jumping on me and throwing me to the ground.

Kylie: That's my sister bitches! - yells from a few meters with the phone focused on us.

Kris: There's a wedding to plan! - she screams crying too and clapping excitedly.

Kendall: You don't know how much I love you.- she whispers with her eyes full of tears and staring into my eyes and then kissing me deeply.

Khloe: Hey separate you two and let's go drink.-she screams excited.

Y/n: I'm in for that.- I say once my now fiancée stops kissing me.

Kim: Party!! - she yells, jumping against Klo and climbing on her back.

Kendall: I'm getting married!- she gets up from me and jumps on his sisters while Scott helps me get up from the ground.

Y/n: Love, do you want the ring or should I give it to someone else?- I ask my fiancée amused, seeing how she opens her eyes in surprise and takes the ring, quickly putting it on her finger.

Kendall: It's precious love.- she says looking at the ring on his finger.

Y/n: You can't cry saying that no one has proposed to you anymore.- I comment amused, making everyone present laugh and she kills me with her eyes.

Kendall: Just because I adore you with everything I have, I'm going to pass it on to you.- she says pointing his finger at me. -Now to drink because I'm going to get married! - she screams excitedly again and then kisses me passionately.

........................

I turn in bed annoyed by the annoying and repetitive noise somewhere in the room. I growl in annoyance because the noise makes my hangover worse and my head hurt more. Blindly I move my hand in search of the noise, when I touch the mobile discovering that it is where the noise comes from, I bring it closer to my ear answering.

Call ???

- Yes? - I ask without even knowing who is calling me.

- How dare you !! - yells making me growl and separate the phone from my ear looking at the name.

- What do you want, Palvin? - I ask with a hoarse voice, closing my eyes again because of the headache.

- How dare you ask Kenny to marry you and not tell me, your best friend and on top of that I find out on insta!- she yells angrily and I just sigh.

- I'm sorry Barbi, I didn't mean for you to find out on insta.- I say moving around in bed trying to find my girlfriend's naked body. -You were going to be the first one I was going to call, but now I have a hangover and you just woke me up.- I comment growling when I can't find my fiancée's body.

- How could you? I helped you with the idea and the ring.- she says with a sad voice. -You had to tell me as soon as she gave you an answer.- she complained with the voice of a little girl.

- And now you will help me prepare the honeymoon, because you are my best friend and you adore me. - I say hiding my face in the pillow.

- Just because I'll be your bridesmaid, I'll help you. – she tells me seriously. -I'll let you continue sleeping so you can get over your hangover, but I hope that as soon as you come back and look at your idiot fiancee's Instagram.- she says before hanging up.

end call

Frowning in confusion , I open my eyes trying to get used to the daylight and the screen. I enter to insta founding my fiancee last post.

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kendalljenner 🌐

❤️ 💬 ↗️ 3.786.879 Me gusta kendalljenner i said YES💖👰🏻💍 see the 23,014 comments

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

I laugh in denial when I see some of the comments, both from the family and from the fans and the crazy things they write.

Kendall: What are you doing up?- she asks and I turn my head in search of the source of her voice.

Y/n: It turns out that someone has uploaded a photo to Instagram, so my best friend has called me screaming and that's not good for a hangover.- I answer narrowing my eyes.

Kendall: Oops.- she says with an innocent smile and that's when I notice that she's only wearing a robe and her hair is messy.

Y/n: Why don't you go back to bed.- I say with a smile biting my lip.

Kendall: I like the idea.- she says and jumps on me and we both laugh amused. -I think I'm still drunk.- she whispers, getting into bed with me.

Y/n: I'm dead.- I say leaving a loving kiss on her forehead. -Now this out.- I say untying the belt of her robe to take it off and earning a laugh from her.

Kendall: I like where this is going.- she says biting his lip and helping me take off her robe.

Y/n: Shall we repeat tonight?- I ask hoarsely in a whisper against her lips.

Kendall: More like the whole early morning thing.- she growls against my lips and then kisses me hungrily and I quickly place myself on top of her.

Y/n: I love you.- I whisper in the kiss caressing her side and her thigh.

Kendall: I love you too.- she answers, pulling the hairs on the back of my neck. -But now I want you to prove it to me.- she says playfully, moaning when I suck on her neck.

THE END

[missamyrisa2]

Tickles with fluffy fox fur mittens? ❤️

One of my tickle timeloops is this time during a power outage in winter, where me and some friends were hanging out as school was also cancelled. And randomly, when I stretched and grasped the doorway (kind of discovering how my tallness meant it was easy to tease with my belly), a girl wearing fuzzy gloves was immediately there to grasp my sides and rub with her thumbs and oooh mmmyyy gooooossshhh the combination of my chilled perked up skin, that sparkle zone to begin, and the flufffyyyyy material was sooo baddddd I'm squirming just thinking about ittt againnnn ~

Which is to sayyyy I will get the softestttt most elegant luxurious (faux) fur mittens and have you tied like that, all standing and gently stretched ~ with enough clearance so I can circle around you, hmm hmm hmming at what I have here, and loookie lookie loookieee at this cute ticklish thing alllll caught in my webbby web ~ mmmhmm you're ticklish aren't youuuu? Aren't youuuu? Ticklish little angel caught the ticklyyyyy demon uhhhuhh ~ yeahhh naughty little angel needing their punishment ohhh yesss, showing off that naughty tummyyyyyy ~ good thing I have theeese babiesss ~ Ooh, do you see my soft gloves? Would you like to see them closer? Maybeeee brushing on your cheeeek? On your neeeeeckk? Oooh, what about those ribs? Those ribs? Ribbbyy ribbyy ribsss all sensitive to this material? Don't you laughhhh don't you laugh darling, this is your punishment ~ your punishment for being so cute and naughty and a tease all streteched like this ~ ahh ahh ahhh what did I say now? What did I say? I saiiiid don't laugh and now what are you doing? Oh yes baby, whimper and whine, you seeee these gloves going on my fingers and my fingers are itchingggg to make your acquintance ooh yessss we're gonna acquaint, you and I were gonna beeee sooooo closeeee and mmhmm those are my thumbs rubbing on your cute bellyyyy your belllyyyyy and your bellybutttoonn ~ sooo softtt ~ so ticklyyyy huh? Awww does it just tickle? Does it just tickle tickle tickle? Are you gonna coochie coooo for meeee? Yeahhh? Tell me all about itttt we're gonna dig deeeep on your ticklishnesss while I trace your waisttttt with my fingersss with this lovelyyyy fox furrr mmhmmm ~ lovely waist you have hereee it would be a shame if someone ~didn't~ tickle ittttt! Awww widda widda woooooo~ do you have more tickle spotsss? Yeahh? More spots we can fur up? What about these thighs huhhh? Maybe your thighssss? Maybe I'll massage your thighsss for youuu with soft slooooww rubbiesssss and ahh yesss my long arms darling, I can rub your thigh and teeeeaseee your royal chest button at the same time ohh yes I can and ooh yes I willl yess I willll~ you're sooo cute and darling like thissss and I'm afraid I just can't stoppp no I can'tttt we're gonna easeeee out alll your giggles with my cute glovesss yessss ~ and what's whattt? You have moooore tickle spotsss? I knowww I know sweetheart we're gonna tickle tickle behind those kneeeees we're gonna tickle tickle your hiiiipssss ~ and oohh yesss lets get those piiiiittiessss ~ no no no ticklemama not gonna forget about those pittiesss ~ sooo perfect for my lovely gloves they are soooo wanttting my tickles aren't theyyy? Yesss, oh my gosh for me, I love thattttt say it againnn ~ try to endureee ~ try to take itttt tough cookie, my soft fur covered fingers wigglinggg and stroking and dancing in those underarmssss ~ you can't stop meeeeee ~ I'm gonna tickle tickle tickle until you're just mushhhh and then I'm gonna let you downnnn and we're gonna make you giggle and wiggle and scream it out until you can't see straight and you can't speak oh yessss ~ and mmhmm your feet aren't safe either nooooo ~ I'm taking this foot yes I am you can stand there and hang and I'll hold this ankle like sooooo and let's just seee how you do with softttt soft supple fur under them toes, shall we? Let it all out nowwww ~ this is for the science ~ I mean, absolutely not and I'm just torturing you babydoll, but let's pretend shall we?

[janaverse]

‘indulge me’

duo had scheduled his driving test for the week after his lessons ended. he had not specified which day, but heero was sure that duo would let him know as it drew closer.

heero could tell that he was impatient about it, and he had expressed his frustration that a second week of lessons were necessary while understanding they were mandatory. he had tried to coerce heero into taking a ride with him but heero had declined, citing there would be plenty of opportunity for them to do that once everything was in order. duo had grumbled about heero being a stickler for the rules and heero had refrained from commenting because duo was not wrong. heero thought it probable that duo had been in trouble with the law before and was not sure why he was willing to take the risk for a simple ride. heero’s own record was not untarnished and he was not looking to add to it any further.

when heero suggests that duo make a list of local destinations to visit once he gets his license, duo agrees and moves quickly to the chair where the laptop is. as duo begins working on his list, heero gets up to get a book from the shelves behind him and sits back down at the table across from duo. the soft sounds of duo’s typing fill the kitchen for about ten minutes before he pauses.

‘this was a great idea! you have any places you wanna add?’

heero thinks for a minute. despite living here for six years, he really doesn’t know much about the surrounding area. he also can’t recall having said anything to duo about them going together but finds he doesn’t mind.

‘there is a bookstore… in eastland.’

duo smiles. ‘already got it!’

duo’s enthusiasm is evident and while heero understands it, he can’t relate. he is more or less content here; settled. it is safe in moonwood mill. he is safe in moonwood mill.

he asks duo what else is on the list.

duo rattles off a few places: a bakery in morton that makes the most amazing italian cookies, a fishing spot on lake lenore – ‘they have great camping there too!’ duo adds.

heero gets up and moves to stand behind duo, looking over his shoulder to read the list he has compiled. it is long and duo scrolls randomly so that heero has the opportunity to read it all. aside from the bookstore, nothing looks familiar - not even the town names. he reaches forward, pointing to one particular item on the screen. ‘you can do that one by yourself.’

duo pouts but adds a question mark next to it.

‘some of these are actually pretty far,’ duo notes, biting his lip as he continues looking over the list, ‘more like overnight deals or just really, really long days.’

‘we should try some local runs first,’ heero says, ‘see how it goes.’

duo looks at him and smiles. ‘i thought for sure you were gonna fight me on this.’

heero doesn’t know what to say to that. he was sure that he had not responded negatively when duo told him that he had ordered a helmet for him, and he had definitely let duo know he liked them. perhaps he could have been more energetic.

‘if i was not okay with it, i would have said something when you showed me the helmets.’

‘should i go ahead and order the saddlebags?’

heero did not know what those were. ‘saddlebags?’

‘yeah. so we have a place to pack our stuff for overnight trips.’ duo explains.

‘let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

duo nods but heero gets the impression – and not for the first time – that duo knows he will likely acquiesce, and heero wonders if he will ever be able to read duo as easily as duo seems to be able to read him.

/end