#and his sometimes stupid and sometimes heartbreaking stories

[ronavorona]

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | i.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Birdsong fills your ears as you meticulously unearth the last few weeds in the soil. Careful to not damage the stems, you pull gently while barely disturbing the dirt. The last step is pruning. With ginger motions, you cut each crooked branch pointing in the wrong direction. Beads of sweat drip down from your forehead into the soil.

The heat from the sun is unforgiving today.

But you welcome the labor, even with the sweltering weather. Time flies when you spend it in the garden.

It’s a welcome distraction, the kind you’ve sorely craved as of late. Idleness does you no good. It often ends with you curled beneath your blankets, drowning in a puddle of your own tears.

Each day you wake up hoping none of it was real.

The harsh reality swiftly claims its right however.

It’s everywhere. All the painful little reminders. 

The empty chair at the dinner table. All the spots he loved in the house, now desolate without him. His untouched room, lacking the messiness he usually favored.

And there’s all the times you turn, words tingling on your tongue, hoping he’ll be there to listen to you as always.

Then you remember.

Your brother can never listen to you again. And neither will you listen to him.

You’ll never hear his stupid laugh again or his crazy stories.

And your whole life you’ll turn, hoping to see him standing right there, beside you, but he will not be here.

Your grip on the shears loosen. They hit the vibrant green grass with a quiet thud.

You lift your eyes to admire your handiwork.

The garden looks nice; the flowers are thriving. The roses in particular.

They have bloomed wonderfully this year, having blushed to a gorgeous scarlet.

Your heart sinks. 

If only Sejanus were here to see it. Your brother spent most of his life helping you tend to this garden. Whenever he wasn’t busy at the Academy or with the various tasks Strabo had for him, your brother was here, with you.

You both worked in silence, basking in the warmth of the sun and the pleasure of each other’s company.

The garden turns into a watercolor rainbow before you as your eyes well up with tears.

“We have company, sweetie.”

You swivel towards the familiar airy tone your mother often uses. She often emphasizes the importance of poise and decorum in every situation. Even in the current situation, your mother’s held her head high. Still, you don’t miss the subtle red rims around her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks. 

Like you, she’s suffering. While you may not share blood with your family, having been adopted when you were three, your bond with your mother has always been as strong as if she gave birth to you.

Confusion has your brows collide into each other.

“Company? We weren’t expecting anyone.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, gripping your shoulders. Heartbreak flashes in her eyes, the same soulful ones as her departed son. “I’m hurting too, but you can’t hide forever.”

She cups your face and advises, “Go put on a nice dress, and wash up some. You have dirt on your face.” Disapproval pinches your mother’s features as she gauges your disheveled appearance. She sighs. "You know you don’t have to do that. This is what we have staff for."

Help. You suppose your mother refers to the Avoxes who tend to the yard sometimes. The sight of them fills you with rage and disgust.

Just one of the Capitol’s many crimes against its own people. Who would even clip someone’s tongue as punishment, then have them serve their tormentors?

It’s beyond vile and sadistic. But what else to expect from a place that openly sponsors child murder?

At times, you feel as if you’re living amongst beasts masquerading as human beings.

Still, you feign nonchalance. Some opinions cannot be voiced aloud, even to your parents. Especially to your parents.

"It calms me down," you explain, shedding your gloves and removing your wide-brimmed hat.

“Sweetie…”

She gives you yet another lecture on proper ladylike behavior. As usual, you only listen with half an ear, checking out about five minutes into her querulous spiel.

You’ve heard it at least a million times before. Still, you indulge her like the dutiful daughter you are.

She then reminds you to get dressed. You don’t have to be told twice.

You head to the back door connecting the garden to your room. 

While you do as you’ve been instructed, inquiries crowd your mind. Your parents haven’t been too fond of visitors lately. Besides, what kind of company requires you to dress up?

As you head to your massive closet, you wonder who’d visit your family at such a time. 

Your mother’s refrained from entertaining altogether and your father’s poured all his energy in his business, turning down most social calls. 

You randomly pick a dress, a pale blue one with a sweetheart neckline, before making your way downstairs.

Faint chatter echoes from the sunroom near your father’s office. You follow the hushed voices.

Astonishment rushes through you when you realize who’s having tea with your father.

You haven’t seen him since reaping day.

“Coriolanus?” you gasp.

He stands to his full height at the sound of you calling his name. Your surprise multiplies. 

He seems so…different, yet you can’t pinpoint what exactly about him elicits that impression within you. After all, he's still the same tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, dashing young man you knew before. 

But something has changed. You can feel it.

Even the air around him moves in a different way, it seems.

He makes his way to you, surprising you further by grabbing your hand and brushing his lips over the back of it.

“You look lovely,” he mumbles, cobalt eyes finding yours.

Warmth rushes to your cheeks. You don’t remember Coriolanus ever being so…chivalrous. 

“T-Thank you,” you stammer.

“I’ll let you two kids catch up,” your father states, nodding at the blond before taking his leave. 

“How are you holding up?” the young man asks, escorting you to a nearby bench. 

It occurs to you that he’s still holding your hand, his long slender fingers curled around yours. Cheeks aflame once again, you draw it back and tuck it in your lap.

Coriolanus’ brow twitches at your tiny gesture.

“I…Dad said you were the one who brought the box with his things. That was so thoughtful of you.”

A subtle smile spreads on his lips.

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it means a lot,” you insist, shaking your head. “Any part of him it’s…it’s important to keep it.”

You fidget as he studies you, his crystalline gaze unreadable.

“But you have the most important part with you all the time. In the end it’s all we have, right? Our memories.”

Your heart swells with warmth.  He’s right, you surmise. After all, every memory of your brother is yours. Forever. They will never be taken away.

You’re a little taken aback though. Who knew Coriolanus Snow to be so sentimental? 

“Thanks, Coryo.”

His mouth tenses at the nickname but his tight-lipped smile expands. You used to call him that when you were little, having witnessed Tigris do it. It stuck and he never corrected you.

“I missed you. I think the last time you came to our house you were like seven or eight, right?” A soft giggle leaves your lips. “Janus had to drag you there. He kept asking and you always said no.”

He shrugs.

“All the other kids were picking on him. I didn’t want to make it worse for him.”

Your voice softens. “But you never did. Pick on him I mean.” They may not have been the closest but you remembered how much it meant to Sejanus at the time, that at least one kid in his class wasn’t harassing him for being from a district. While some thought he was merely upholding the grace befitting his name and status, you believed otherwise. You’ve always been convinced that beneath the sturdy layer of indifference he drapes over himself, Coriolanus is kinder than he seems. He was kind to you after all.

He spoke to you many times, even playing with you when many other children wouldn’t. Over the years, you grew a bit apart but he’s always been sweet whenever you ran into each other. 

“So, what have you been up to?” he asks, changing the subject.

You sigh. “Not much,” you admit. “Gardening, reading, going to class. The preparations for the wedding take up most of my time anyway.”

His jaw ticks as a slight crease appears on his forehead.

“A wedding? Are you helping someone plan their wedding?”

“No…It’s for my wedding actually.”

Your engagement ring glimmers, catching the sunlight as you show it to him.

Coriolanus’ frown deepens.

“You’re engaged? I didn’t realize.”

Enthusiastic, you nod. “Yeah, he’s amazing. We met at Uni. Dad doesn’t like him too much though.”

This seems to catch his interest, his head leaning sideways.

“Is that so?”

“His family’s from the districts…and Dad said his breeding will drag down to our name.”

Just saying it boils your blood. How hypocritical of your father when the Plinth house had its roots in District 2. Sometimes, it stuns you how far your father’s strayed from the plight of his own people, going as far as sponsoring and financing the barbaric practice the Hunger Games are. 

Sejanus never stood for it, rightfully so. 

It’s one of the many reasons you miss him. He never embraced the horrors of Panem, fighting against your father’s plans for him at every turn. In the end, it even got him killed. 

“He just wants what’s best for you." He pauses, plucking your hand from your lap. His long fingers twine with yours. His tone dips, oozing concern. "I do too. You deserve the best. I hope you know that.”

A wave of emotions engulfs you. You don’t notice you’ve begun shedding tears until he reaches up to your face, using his thumbs to collect them. 

You give a watery smile.

“Thank you. For everything. For the box. For coming.”

He traces your tear-stained cheek with his finger. 

“I should have reached out more," he says, glistening blue eyes locking with yours.

Your hands cover his. You never expected in a million to hear such words leaving Coriolanus’ mouth. He’s always been so…aloof.

This is the kind of change you can only welcome. You often hoped Coriolanus would open himself more to others.

“It’s okay. We can catch up now. Make up for lost time," you chime.

His lips twist upward. "Right. We have all the time in the world."

Struck with the abrupt realization of your closeness, the way he cups your face being easy to misconstrue for an onlooker, you scoot backwards and clear your throat. 

Flames tickle your cheeks.

You’d be lying if you said you never harbored a little crush on the handsome heir of House Snow growing up. He on the other end, never seemed to notice you, his attention always on girls like Clemmie or Arachne. It makes sense, you suppose. They are, after all, cut from the same cloth. Bonded by generations upon generations of hoarded wealth and an elusive code of rules and conduct you never fully grasped.

The mere way you hold a cup of tea gives you away. 

But it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re older now and about to get married. You can’t wander the wistful lands of childhood fantasies anymore. 

So while keeping a careful distance, you offer solemnly, “I… Dad is attending this fundraiser tonight…to funnel the promotion funds for the next Hunger Games." Your brow furrows as disdain coats your tone. You can’t believe plans to repeat this ghastly tradition are being set in motion. "I didn’t want to go but he wants the family to present a strong front." 

You pointedly omit to speak of your father’s blackmail and all he threatened to take from you if you didn’t show up, starting with the roof over your head.

See how well you fare as district trash, how long it takes you to crawl back home and beg for scraps.

You discard Strabo’s harsh warning to the deepest recesses of your mind. While you know he loves you, he also doesn’t tolerate any misstep from you. They took you in after all, saved you from a life of misery. Otherwise you’d have grown up an orphan. Instead, you get to live a lavish, easy existence in the lap of luxury, now the heir apparent to the Plinth fortune since Janus has passed.

You’re grateful, of course, for all they gave you. You just hate having to forsake your origins and partake passively in the slaughter of innocent children. Once you’re at the helm of the company, you’ll do everything in your power to stir up change. Every tidal wave begins with a small ripple. Perhaps one day all those tiny ripples will come together and form a tsunami, one that’ll wash away the sins of the Capitol and too many years of injustice.

"You should come. I could introduce you to my fiancé,” you offer.

Hopefully seeing both of them in one place will cement which one of them is your past and which one is your present. You don’t like the way a single touch from him flustered you so easily.

While you’re thrilled to resume your friendship with him, you and Coriolanus can never be more than that. 

Besides the obvious matter of your impending nuptials, the two of you are so different. There has to be someone out there for him, some lucky girl that’ll make him so happy. And you bet he’ll make her happy too. 

One thing's for sure however. That girl isn’t you. 

Coriolanus sizes you up before giving a slow reply.

“I look forward to it,” he says.

[wheneverfeasible]

Confession

wc: 3k || rating: T+ || AO3 || cw: referenced homophobia, homophobic language || summary: Eddie comes out to Wayne

Eddie Munson was bi.

Bisexual, meaning liking boys and girls and anything in-between.

What. The. Fuck.

It was all stupid Harrington’s fault. Steve. God, why did it have to be a preppy jock? There were plenty of other guys that could have snapped that realization on him, but no, he had to watch Steve Harrington spit out demobat blood (if it could be called that) after ripping its fucking spine out that made Eddie realize ‘huh, I think I like guys.’

It wasn’t like Steve was the only guy he was attracted to, he was shocked to realize. No, now that he knew that it was a possibility, his obsession with some of the musicians of bands whose music he wasn’t even that fond of started making a lot more sense, as well as how he’d reacted to some of the guys he’d gone to school with, or who had bought from him, and Jesus H. Christ, that guy at The Hideout had been hitting on him, hadn’t he?

So yeah, Eddie was dealing with a little bit of shock at his attraction to his friend, as well as the fact that that attraction was also apparently becoming a legitimate crush. Because that was healthy and safe to do. Especially when last he knew, Steve was still hung up on Nancy. And in a weird codependent relationship with Robin. Seriously, if he had to listen to Dustin complaining about why Steve wouldn’t just date Robin one more time, he was going to pull his hair out.

But so Eddie was bisexual. That was fine. Once he’d had his little crisis—and he’d been given plenty of time to think about it while recovering from being the main course at the all-you-can-eat Eddie Munson buffet—he’d done a little bit of research into the topic. Which was how he’d discovered that he had unintentionally been telling every gay man (if he came across any) that he apparently liked to top and was into inflicting pain with his sexual partners (suddenly the guy at The Hideout made more sense).

And…okay, maybe Eddie left the bandana there. He didn’t know, but the idea of it wasn’t too bad. Maybe. Maybe he should look into getting other bandana colors too, just in case.

It didn’t matter. He was still inexperienced, had only been with chicks before, and even then there had only been three of them. Two of them had only slept with him for the story, and the third one…well, everyone needed a little heartbreak in their life he supposed. Maybe he and Steve could compare notes.

The idea of sleeping with a guy, however, was not…unpleasant. It took him by surprise, sure, but he thought he could be down to trying some things out.

That wasn’t the issue on hand, however. It wasn’t what was eating him up inside, making him nauseous as he gnawed at his cuticles, pacing back and forth in the new double wide trailer the government had bought for them after Forest Hills was repaired. (R.I.P. to his uncle’s mug and hat collection.)

And there it was. The issue. His uncle.

Eddie could keep it a secret, sure. Could stay firmly inside the closet he hadn’t even known he’d been in, sitting safe and secret. But…that went against Eddie stood for. Sure, he knew he couldn’t shout it from the rooftop that he maybe sometimes thought about what it would feel like to have one of his best friends’ dicks in his mouth, but this was his uncle, man. This was Wayne.

Christ, he wished he had Ronnie, his former best friend, here to talk with her about all this. (He had also discovered another identity he hadn’t known about, asexuality, which he thought was right up Ronnie’s alley and wished he could tell her, but that was impossible now. She’d left Hawkins behind for a fresh start and he couldn’t blame her.)

But that meant that he was all alone. He loved the new friends he had, loved his band, but…well, this was something a little more complicated. And he wanted to tell his uncle. But…

Eddie gulped, every crunch of gravel outside the trailer sending an electric current through him as his anxiety spiked. His uncle should be home from work soon. Eddie paced a small circuit, knowing he needed a cigarette but also not wanting to go outside. His uncle had declared the new trailer a smoke-free zone. He doubted it would remain that way after this conversation.

He’d like to think his uncle would be supportive. After all, this was Wayne. His uncle loved him, had been there for him even when his own father hadn’t, and had stood by his side even when the whole town thought he was some psycho satanic serial killer. Hell, Wayne had walked in to Chrissy’s mangled corpse in his trailer and hadn’t once suspected Eddie of being guilty.

But having a queer for a nephew?

His uncle was progressive, but that didn’t mean he’d feel as complacent about his nephew being…what he was. His uncle had taken him in after he’d already grown and never expected him to help with the rent money, though Eddie did anyways with the money he got from dealing. But so Eddie was an adult, had a GED to his name, and didn’t need his uncle’s charity anymore.

Gravel crunched outside, the familiar sound of a truck engine rumbling along, and Eddie knew his uncle was home. Fuck. He hoped he didn’t leave this encounter with a black eye. Or worse. Hell, there were some people in this town that if he told this secret to, he wouldn’t leave the encounter at all. Not alive at least.

He knows his uncle isn’t like they though. He knows. Still, the fear persists. He’d always known he’d be too much for his uncle eventually. Would this be the final straw?

Wayne’s footsteps sounded on the porch.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Eddie had, in case he had to leave quickly, already packed a duffel. He wanted to trust his uncle, and he did, really, but…but there was that sickness going around, and Reagan, and Hawkins was such a conservative town, and Eddie just couldn’t know, not for certain. Not with something like this.

“Heya kid,” Wayne said with a gruffness to his voice that spoke of long hours at the plant, though there was the small relieved smile that curled his lips when he got home and saw Eddie there. Like Eddie’s presence was a reassurance now. Eddie hated that he was about to ruin that all.

Because sure, there was a possibility that Wayne would accept him, or at least not kick him out, but Eddie had seen too much shit to think that things would ever be easy for him. It was the Munson Curse.

“Hey Uncle Wayne,” Eddie said, and maybe it was the title, maybe it was the way his words warbled in his throat, but Wayne immediately stopped from where he was moving to pour the morning’s coffee into a generic mug and turned to face Eddie with a furrowed expression.

“Everything all right, Eds?” he asked quietly, hesitantly, and took a large stride over to where Eddie was hovering by the coffee table. He froze, however, eyes widening, when Eddie flinched. Wayne swallowed, his gaze darting over Eddie as though looking for an injury. “Eddie?”

He could do this. His uncle deserved to know he had a fucking fairy living under his roof. Maybe he wouldn’t care, or maybe he’d be fine with it as long as Eddie never acted on it, or maybe…maybe…

Eddie thickly swallowed against the rising burn of bile in the back of his throat. He wanted his uncle to know because this was a part of who he was and it was important to be honest with himself and with his only family member still alive that genuinely loved him, just…he hoped he didn’t lose that love with his confession. But he wanted Wayne to know. Even if it hurt.

“U-Uncle…” Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around himself, his tone almost pleading. He blinked back the burn behind his eyes next, willing the words to come out of his mouth. As soon as he’d fully realized the truth, fully known what it meant, he knew that he’d tell Wayne. No matter what, he wanted his uncle to know this about him.

Wayne’s face grew slightly panicked at Eddie’s response, the way he held himself, the tone of his voice, and Eddie could tell the older man wanted to reach out for him but was taken aback by Eddie’s earlier flinch. Christ, would Wayne still want to hug him after this? Touch him? Be in the same room as him? Breathe the same air?

Would he tell Eddie that Alan Munson had been right all these years when he’d continually abandoned Eddie because he’d somehow known his own son wasn’t worth sticking around for?

Wayne took another step closer and Eddie panicked.

“I’m bi!” he exclaimed suddenly, wincing as he withdrew into himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he subconsciously braced for some sort of physical attack. “I’m bisexual,” he whispered, his words shaking.

There was silence, stillness.

Eddie drew in a shaky breath and risked opening his eyes to look at Wayne, expecting disgust, revulsion, perhaps even anger. Instead, all he got was…confusion?

“What?” Wayne asked, his expression full of his lack of understanding what Eddie had just said.

Eddie swallowed again. “I…I’m bi? I like…both girls and boys,” he clarified carefully, though there was a touch of confusion in his own words, his brows furrowing as they only seemed to stump Wayne further. Eddie frowned, figuring he was as clear as could be.

“Did…” Wayne began frowning a little himself, still looking confused. “Okay? But you’re lookin’ like you wanted t’ tell me somethin’.”

Eddie blinked.

“I’m bi,” he repeated pointedly, his arms dropping to his side.

Wayne rolled his eyes to look at the ceiling for a moment in mild exasperation before looking at Eddie again. “Son, did someone say somethin’ ‘bout it?” His lips twisted into a small scowl. “Did that Harrington boy say anything?”

“What? Jesus, no!” Eddie exclaimed, because why the hell was his uncle bringing up Steve when he’d just come out to him? His insides still warmed at being called ‘son,’ however. “Wayne I’m…I…” The panic started up again despite everything and he swallowed nervously. “I like boys, Wayne. I’m a queer.”

Wayne just blinked at him, his scowl turning once more into a confused frown. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it’s the truth!” Eddie exploded, not having expected his uncle to think he was making it up or lying. Jesus, and what a thing to lie about.

“Obviously,” Wayne snorted in answer, crossing his arms over his chest as he let his gaze roam over Eddie as if looking for an answer. “But I need to know what this prelude is for.”

Eddie felt lost. He stared at his uncle in confusion, his earlier fear and anxiety slowly draining away as he tried to make sense of what was happening. His uncle sounded…sounded like he already…

“You knew?” he asked, voice soft and fragile.

Wayne’s brows lowered, and Eddie felt a little offended that Wayne was looking at him like he was an idiot. “Eddie…I’ve known since you were twelve years old and told me you thought Big Bill Broonzy was pretty after lookin’ through your mom’s old records with the biggest blush on your face.”

Eddie gaped. He vaguely recalled something like that, but that wasn’t…he hadn’t…Jesus fucking H. Christ.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Eddie huffed in sudden annoyance.

“I thought you knew!” Wayne protested, throwing his hands up and looking like he was losing what this conversation was even about. “Wait, you mean to tell me that you’ve been makin’ moonin’ eyes at the Harrington boy and you didn’t even know you liked him?”

Eddie’s blush now could rival any he made when he was twelve. He stuttered, gaped, and dragged a whole handful of hair to cover his face in his embarrassment. “I know that,” he whined. “God, have I have been that obvious?”

Wayne snorted, rolling his eyes as he moved to finish pouring himself that cup of coffee. “Had me worried he finally said somethin’,” he muttered to himself. He turned to point the plain white mug at Eddie. “If he or any of the others do, you let me know, Edster, you got that?”

Eddie softly groaned, burying his face in his hands next as he stumbled back to drop onto the sofa. No wonder Robin had started giving him those looks. He gulped. And…and Steve. Steve had been smiling at him more often, was…was lightly touching him with lingering fingers, had even used that voice on him that he’d use on the pretty girls that stopped by Family Video…

Steve hadn’t been using that voice on any pretty girls that stopped by Family Video recently.

Gulping, realizing that that was not something he had the ability to think about right now, he focused on the truly important thing. He lifted his head to stare at his uncle with wide, shining eyes, his heart fluttering so madly in his ribcage he’d almost thought he’d trapped a bird in there. He licked his lips, eyeing his uncle with wary hope.

“You…you don’t mind?” he asked, needing to clarify, needing to know. “You don’t mind I like boys too?”

Wayne snorted, reaching for another mug and pouring it half full, leaving enough space for him to pour a godawful amount of sugar and a splash of milk in it, just like his nephew liked it, before taking it over to Eddie. He sat down on the sofa next to him, hanging it over. Eddie was grateful for it, even if it was room temperature now.

“Son, I know you ain’t lived here with me long, and I know your father…well, Al’s always had his faults. But we’re family, kid. I’ve loved you since the moment Elizabeth told me she was pregnant with you. Nothing is ever gonna change that, you hear?” He sniffed, taking a sip of his coffee. “‘Sides, ain’t nothin’ wrong with love. You just got lucky, and your chances for love have doubled now.”

Eddie glanced over at his uncle with a shy smile, relief and affection for the older man coursing through him. He cradled his own mug between his hands, drawing in a shaky breath. Wayne knew. Wayne knew and he still loved him. A small, tearful chuckle escaped him and he hastily wiped away one of the tears that fell down his cheek.

“Eddie…” Wayne sighed, sounding regretful as he set his mug on the coffee table and turned to properly face his nephew. “I am deeply sorry if I have ever made you feel like I wouldn’t accept you, like my love for you was conditional.”

Eddie hastily shook his head, setting his own mug down to mirror Wayne’s position, curling one knee halfway on the couch. “You didn’t,” he reassured. “You didn’t, I just…I…” He felt bad now for doubting Wayne. For packing a bag like he was going to get tossed out at any moment. For thinking even just for a second that his uncle would ever hit him.

Wayne studied Eddie’s face before letting out a soft sigh and a small nod. “I understand. It’s not safe out there right now, especially not with everything.” And Wayne didn’t even know everything. He couldn’t, not with all the papers Eddie’d been forced to sign while being patched up after everything. But he knew that he didn’t know, so there was at least that.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Eddie murmured. “I trust you, Wayne. That’s why I wanted you to know. As soon as I was sure, I wanted you to know.” He huffed. “Meanwhile, you knew before even I did.”

Wayne grinned then, reaching out to clap Eddie on the shoulder, making the younger man grin back. “Here I thought it was just some unspoken understanding between us. Guess I know why you always seemed confused when I bought more mugs with rainbows on them.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie moaned, slapping a hand to his face. “I am such an idiot.”

Throwing his head back with a laugh, Wayne relaxed against the sofa, making Eddie chuckle and do the same. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, boy. Just know that you’re safe here, and so is whoever you bring around.” He huffed. “Even if it is the Harrington boy.”

Eddie quickly shook his head again, his hair fanning around him at the force of it, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Oh no, Wayne. Absolutely not. Steve is as straight as they come.” He smiled a little ruefully at that, and though Steve had been smiling at him like that, it was just because they were friends. Expecting anything else would just lead to more heartbreak.

Wayne gave him a disbelieving quirk of his brows. “Whatever you say, kid.”

Eddie rolled his eyes in response. “You thought he had said something homophobic earlier.”

Reaching for his mug, Wayne gave a one shouldered shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone projected anger at themselves outwards.” He eyed Eddie. “They good to you though? Your friends. You feel…safe with them?”

Eddie thought about that. He trusted them, with his life actually, and not just in the figurative way. They’d proven that they’d save him, time and again. He even had his very own brand new walkie-talkie and call sign to show for it. He was part of something bigger now, something real, which was just what he had always wanted. Even if it was all over, their little group was a forever sort of thing.

Smiling, Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” He glanced over at Wayne with a soft look. “But no matter what, I know have you to back me up so…yeah, I feel safe because I know at the end of the day, I won’t be alone.” He had needed to tell Wayne first, but maybe…maybe he could tell the others too. Eventually.

Wayne gave a short nod. He seemed content with that answer. “Just remember to use protection when you bring your boy over.”

“Wayne!” Eddie screeched scandalized, but his uncle only laughed.

Of course, it still took several months to get there, but when Wayne came home early one day to find Eddie and Steve shirtless and making out on the sofa, all Eddie could do was give his uncle a sheepish smile.

When the next day Wayne came home and chucked a new pack of condoms at his head, Eddie just gave another scandalized screech while Steve, once again next to him, flushed a bright cherry tomato red.

They’d use them, of course, but it was the principle of the matter.

[blvdheart]

one of his many journal entries about you

arthur morgan x fem!reader and male!reader <33

i won’t lie…i have 45 hours on the game and i’m not even past chapter 2 (っ- ‸ – ς) why progress when i can save myself the pending heartbreak and instead admire this pretty man and his journal sketches?

anyways…love all you arthur morgan kissers ♡

“my body doesn’t feel right as of late. my hands are too rough, my face is all wrinkled up, and my voice isn’t all that pleasant. if only i could sound as smooth as i write.

never been the most confident of men, but well, this body’s what i’m stuck with. used to go months on end without shaving until i realized my beard looked like bills. how embarrassing. miss grimshaw, the strong-headed woman she is, knocked some sense into me too. well…more like slapped me.

shaving makes me look more approachable, and that’s not really a good thing with my reputation. but, i did it anyway and spent a pretty penny on the barber up in valentine’s…had to pay a bit extra because of the drunken ruckus lenny and i caused there last time.

if my heart hadn’t been captured, maybe these worries of mine wouldn’t even exist.

oh, the ridiculous things love does to a man…”

꒰ fem!reader ꒱

“about as beautiful as the stars above; a woman so otherworldly that sometimes I have to look away. she shines too brightly for these tired eyes of mine. i suppose that’s for the best, ain’t it? a man like me, the walking embodiment of sin, isn’t worthy of such a loving lady.

but that doesn’t keep her away. she often asks me to recount some of my adventures, and i hesitantly do so, fearful she’ll think me a bad man. craziest thing is, she looks more worried than anything else whenever i do as told. telling me to be more careful with that honey-like voice of hers. could listen to it all day. it’s like a balm to the soul.

can’t keep myself away from her either. doesn’t matter what she’s doing, i always find myself wandering over to her. i don’t usually have trouble sleeping, i’m like some rock when it comes to it. but she’s occupied my mind too much lately, falling asleep is difficult. like right now. should be sleeping, but i’m not. just up wondering about the ifs and hows.

i’ve been saving up some money so i can go get her something real nice, maybe a pretty dangly necklace. could just steal one, but i want to prove myself to her. she deserves the best, not something that belonged to some other stranger.

god knows i’d do whatever i can to keep her safe and sound. i’d die for her. funny thing is, i considered myself to be a selfish man before breathing the same air as her.

i can say with absolute certainty that i would give up everything for a future with her.

if she’d have me.

…

now, this fool’s about to try and sketch her.

not sure if i can encapsulate her beauty onto a page, though.”

꒰ male!reader ꒱

“i fear I’m going mad. i never thought i’d feel this way about a man before. then again, pursuit of romance has never been a priority in my life. he’s one of a kind, something about him makes my palms feel all clammy.

he never leaves my head, every inch of this brain of mine is consumed with thoughts of him. his grin, the way his hat perches on his head, the stories he shares ‘round the campfire.

i’ve come across many men on all my journeys, but his handsomeness is unmatched. and he’s different. doesn’t nag me like dutch or get on my nerves like micah, but he isn’t just a brother like some of the other folks here.

i’ve been a bit too scared to drink these days. you know me, i spill my guts out and say stupid things like a damn fool when i get like that. wouldn’t know what to do if i were to sputter out how fine of a fella i think he is, or how grateful i am for him. is this only a special friendship? no, i don’t know how to describe this.

well, yes i do, actually.

love.

my fingers trembled while writing that.

some may call this spark a sin, but going down an altar with him would be a taste of heaven itself. that wish is too far-fetched though.

all i ask for is a sign. just one. maybe i’m misreading the glimmer in his eye, or the way the bastard slings his arm over my shoulder and sings after he downs some moonshine.

weird how life works, isn’t it?”

[compressingsins]

|| At My Worse

Bakugo x chubby f!reader

Warnings : Established relationship, past bullying, body worship, loving Bakugo (a bit OOC but it’s just to fit the story), reader and Bakugo are virgins, future au both are adults, nsfw, creampie, car sex; Minors do not interact, please.

Hiiii! So I’ve been seeing way too many TikTok’s of Bakugo’s death and even though he’s not dead! I’m getting tired of seeing them, so I decided to write just a cute little story for our angry baby. Hope you guys enjoy! 🫶🏾

Please do not copy or rewrite my works without my permission. 🫥

"You're such a pig! Stop picking up food off the ground and stuffing it in your mouth, that's nasty!"

You sat in the sandbox with your head down, your eyes trained on the ground as you tried to zone out the mean comments. But it wasn't easy, being only five years old and getting bullied by other kids brung tears to your eyes. It wasn't fully processed in your mind as to why you're always getting bullied. Daily, you get picked on about your weight and your parents never happen to see it. And as a kid, you don't understand why your small body was much bigger than other kids. Though, it never became an real issue to you until you started coming to the public playground and park to just play.

Three kids, like you, stood around your tear stained frame and locked you in to pick on you. They kicked sand at your back, and sometimes they took your toys. But what made your tears stream more was when they all decided to knock down your sandcastle that you've been working on for so long.

"This isn't even a sandcastle! It's more like a pin full of pigs, where you belong!"

"Yeah, I bet you're the queen of all pigs!"

You couldn't understand why kids were so mean and they're just as young as you. It's always bright and sunny but they've always made it dark and gloomy, somehow. There's things other kids tell you that a child shouldn't know and when you tell your parents, they just automatically think that you're overreacting. You're a child, there's no way you can make up some of the things you tell them. But they just always shut you down with some stupid excuse that you're sick of hearing. You just wish that you had at least one friend who cared because before all the bullying, you didn't really even care for having friends.

Now, you just need someone to help you and have your back. Because not even your parents have that, they believe what they want while you sit there and get bullied. You can't really understand anything, as only a mere child, and with other kids telling you that you belong in an orphanage or that you were adopted, it's painful. Funny thing is, you actually know what all that heartbreaking stuff means. Even as a child. But your sobbing was only to their amusement.

"Gosh, you're such a crybaby! Do you want some food to calm yourself?!"

Your child mind didn't know how else to react, only to cry at the utterly mean comments of these other kids. You know personally that you don't deserve any of this, not as an innocent child who just wants to see the world and enjoy it as much as she can. That's just something you couldn't do. Because apparently, there are other people in this world who'd rather see your misery than your happiness.

"Hey!"

A loud voice shouted in the distance in front of you three, your eyes slowly looking up along with the other kids. There was another kid who was running towards you, with spiky ashy blonde hair and fuming red eyes. You weren't afraid but you were thinking that he was just coming to pick on you too, which brought a nervous throb to your heart. He didn't seem nice. Not even in the slightest...

"What do you want?" One of the kids questioned while holding your toy in her hand.

"Leave her alone, idiots! She didn't do anything to you!"

What? This kid was... defending you? Your gaze averted back to his face and softened from how defensive he became. It's like he was trying to protect you and you felt a sense of relief and happiness flow through you.

"What's it to you? She doesn't even have any friends defending her, so why do you care?"

"Because I'm gonna be just like All-Might, someday! Which means..." He stated before reaching out and grabbing your arm to pull you out of the middle of the kids, "...it's my duty to protect everyone who's helpless agaisnt a villain! Do you wanna fight, come on!" The blonde haired kid was the first person to ever defend you, and it made you feel so... respected now that you had that. This kid doesn't even know you and that warmed everything. You no longer felt like you were alone with him grasping onto your arm and protecting you.

Even with his slightly light voice, the kids didn't seem like they wanted anything to do with you anymore. "Whatever, she doesn't have any friends anyway so screw you losers!" One little girl said as her friends followed behind her, with you and the blonde haired kid watching them. His hold on your arm had ceased to be released as you grasped at his hand but he wasn't paying attention, "Well, she has a friend now and that's me!" And his words stopped your actions on trying to release the tight hold he had on your arm, no one had ever referred to you as their friend.

He growled as they got more and more into the distance, but turned to you once they were completely gone. He still had a hold on your arm, keeping you close to him so you couldn't go anywhere but his hold was a little too tight.

"You're holding my arm too tight!"

He frantically let your arm go before apologizing, "Oh, my bad!"

You rubbed the spot on your arm that he was holding before looking back at his face, that was smiling at you which made you softly smile.

"Those kids didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No. Just took my toys and... destroyed my sandcastle."

His eyes were sealed on your face as he gasped from hearing your story. Your eyes landed on the ground in front of you, a glimpse of his feet in your sight.

"Your sandcastle, that's so cool! We can share my toys and build another sandcastle, if you want to. But I only have hero toys, oh, maybe we can make a hero sandcastle!" You didn't know what to say or do but you wanted to. You really wanted to build a new sandcastle with him, even if you just met him. A nod and a smile was sent from you to him before you replied.

"Well, yeah! I'd love to build a new sandcastle with you!" You both ran away to another clear spot where no one was as you both sat on your bottoms in front of each other to build the sandcastle, "I'm ____. What's your name?"

The little boy looked at you before smiling and replying with closed eyes, "I'm Katsuki Bakugo! And someday, I'll become the hero that'll always keep you safe!" A twinkle was in your eyes, staring at the boy's face that you never want to forget.

Katsuki Bakugo... your hero.

…

…

…

"Why don't you smile during your interviews on tv, Bakugo?" You questioned your bestfriend as you walked down a dirt road with him as the sun was setting, "You need to stop being so stubborn and actually try to look like a hero. It doesn't hurt to smile, you know." You sighed and continued talking. Bakugo usually took days off just to hang with you and relax, or so he calls it. You've never complained about him always wanting to hang with you and take the day off, just because you enjoy his company. The both of you have been friends ever since you were five and now you're in your twenties.

You have other friends, but they're not as special as the grumpy Bakugo. And you've never really understood why he became so grumpy because as a child, he was so sweet and always smiling. But now if you want him to smile, it's basically like you have a better chance at winning the lottery than doing that. But none of that mattered, he's still special to you in each and every way. "I'll smile, when I get the reason to." His response was short like always, so you didn't really mind it at all.

"Geez, Bakugo! How come you just became so damn grumpy, once we hit middle school? What happened?" He didn't answer you as you both continued walking down this trail. The only sound was the birds chirping and the wind blowing through the leaves in the trees, but the silence was expected to you. Everytime you asked this question, he always got silent for a while, for some reason. You don't know why.

Even if he's your bestfriend, there's things that he doesn't tell you. But you don't mind it because obviously, as a person, there's things that'll be kept private. You know there's private things that you keep secret and don't tell anyone, not even Bakugo. It was just some things you were uncomfortable with. But your trail journeying this dirt road was nearly over, considering you were on your way to your apartment that was on this road. It's a country apartment complex and you decided to live in it because you didn't want to be in the big dangerous city. Not that there aren't heroes there, you just enjoy the country.

Your apartment building was right there which you pointed out, "I'm home... finally!" You quietly cheered, since you both have been walking a long time. The male alongside you grumbled as he continued trailing beside you with his hands in his pockets, his eyes sealed on your building with slight distaste. He didn't like you living all the way out here because he confessed that he couldn't protect you. It was a real shock but you tease him about that all the time.

But you appreciated the fact that he always walked you home, no matter how far it is from where he lives. Though, you always let the male know that you were okay and could protect yourself out here, if something was to happen. Even if it did, you live in an apartment with others so you had back up.

"Thanks again, Bakugo. You're always welcome to stay and rest up, so you can head out tomorrow, you know."

"Duh, I know that. I don't wanna freeload off of you, for a day."

"A half of day, idiot. Practically a quarter and you won't be freeloading, especially since I want your company! Come on, Bakugo, you never wanna spend the night at my apartment."

"I have legs, I can fucking walk all the way back home..." He grumbled which made your eyes roll in slight irritation and annoyance, "...besides, I'm a hero and usually use my walk home as a time to make sure everyone's safe."

That actually wasn't a stupid idea and you know he can keep anyone safe. When you were younger, you didn't know Bakugo would become this strong and a real Pro Hero. The only problem that you personally have is that he does things more differently than normal heroes. Like, cursing out a civilian to move to a safe area. You guess it works but it's still unacceptable, when it comes to saving someone's life. He is the great Katsuki Bakugo everyone knew from UA High school, so you knew there are some people who knows how he acts. Maybe it was okay when civilians rather investigate situations than run, so that's one reason he could do that.

But still, he can just use a stronger and more disciplined tone to get them to move, not make them be afraid of him since he is a hero. But you said nothing else as you were now walking up the staircase to your apartment, which always nerved you when you're with Bakugo because for some reason, he always walked extremely close behind you. You've never brought it up just because you figure it's just another sense of security, from the male.

He waited patiently for you to pull out your keys and unlock the door, along with you walking in your apartment like a guard dog. You were so thankful of how protective he is over you, even if he is always so damn grumpy. You've accepted that grumpy side of him so long ago, just because he accepted you for you back then. Your hand slipped into the jacket pocket you were wearing, jingling it first to make sure your keys were in it which they were. You pulled them out and found the right key before inserting it into the door of your apartment, turning it in silence as you could only hear the soft breathing from Bakugo. He always waited until you locked the door.

You pulled your key out before stepping inside and turning to face Bakugo who was still standing there with his usual angered expression. He never ask for them, but you felt it was appropriate to give him a goodbye hug that he always slowly accepted. Sometimes, he'd hug you longer than what felt necessary but you never mind it.

"Thanks again, Bakugo. Make sure you—"

"I know that. You better make sure your damn door is locked and—“

"My alarm is on, if someone tries to break in. Gosh, I know! Stop worrying so much about me, it really doesn't suit your character."

He only clicked his tongue before letting you go and you did the same, before taking a step back to reenter your apartment. His hands were back in his pockets as he stared you down from the other side of your door. You honestly hate when he has to leave, just because he's the main important person you've had in your life. But you knew he didn't want you to waste time, as he says, and hold your door open so people wouldn't know you're home. He's so protective over you that somebody would possibly mistake him for your dad, just by his security around you. You adorn his security and welcome it because you don't have a quirk to defend yourself.

He even accepted that you're quirkless, and that's another thing you loved so much about him. No one really said anything about you being quirkless, it just made you feel alone along sometimes. However, the friends you've gained at UA high was more than you could handle. None of them judged you for anything, you even had two perverts complimenting you. It was just class 1-B that always said something to you. But their mean words were shut down, when Bakugo decided to nearly commit murder. But not just him, if he wasn't around, your entire class did their absolute best to protect you and did a damn good job at it. Yeah, you got bullied in school but you miss the experience you got to share with your friends.

"By the way, Bakugo, I've been meaning to ask you are you free Saturday night? There's a new cafe I wanted to try out!"

His eyes just stared into yours, a glare being sent from him that was making you think he didn't want to. You frantically waved your hands in your face, trying to just brush off what you just asked.

"Uh... you don't have to, Bakugo! I just wanted-"

"I'll be there, dumbass. You're not taking no one else but me but if you're not there by five, then I won't be there."

He turned his back before you could reply but you heard him loud and clear, "I'll be there!" You shouted, watching him walk away until he turned a corner to proceed down the stairs. It didn't take him long to leave your view, which you decided to close the door behind you.

...

...

...

Bakugo just felt as if you just asked him on a date. You've asked him to places before but he felt as if asking him to a cafe was a date. If he was being honest with himself, he has been wanting to go on an official date with you before. But his attitude and pride was getting in the way of that confession. He felt as if he'd be seen as soft for confessing something like that. The thought alone brought a bright tint of pink to his cheeks, his hand covering the embarrassment.

Now all that was in his head was you, and what he wanted with you. He couldn't stand how he was, when it came to you. He's a hero but he wants to be the only hero for you, in each and every way. But he has never confessed to a girl before, so if he was to be rejected by you he didn't know what he'd do. That thought was bringing a headache to him, which was irritating in a way. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaping him to pacify that irritation.

"Ngh-! Fucking stupid..."

...

...

...

"Where is he? He told me to be here before five and he's not even here!" You whisper shouted to yourself and swirled your spoon in the cup of coffee a servant gave you. You poured sugar in the cup and watched the substance dance around in the liquid, grazing the sides of the cup and sticking to it occasionally. It was ten minutes after five, which meant he was late even if you knew you could wait. But still, he wanted you to be on time when he's not even here on time.

The cafe was nice, though, quiet and not with many people. It was just the kind of place you could relax and not worry about anything. Besides that fact, all the servants that came over to you were nice. None of them said a thing, only delivering a smile to you that made you comfortable. But your concentration broke once a voice sounded out and entered your ears. "I'm right here, dumbass..." The voice said, obviously being your bestfriend who still looked angry once you turned to him, "...so you can stop stirring that damn coffee like an idiot."

You never cared about how disrespectful he was, just jumping up to hug him as he shamelessly returned the hold. But he didn't want to hold it longer than thirty seconds, though you didn't complain. He took his seat and you did the same and sat across from him, staring blankly at him. He wasn't annoyed, more like irritated already with being around others. Bakugo knew how people were, even if you were never expecting it, he was expecting everything that assholes had to say. His eyes were already scanning the room, trying to see if anyone looked like the asshole type.

Quite frankly, everyone was attending their own thing and staring at whoever was across from them and talking. He felt a sense of relief wash over him. He didn't have to murder someone today. He never wanted to admit it most of the time, but he always loved hanging with you and only you.

"Why the hell did you want to come to this place? Doesn't seem like anything special to me."

"Stop being so grumpy, can't I hang with my bestfriend?"

He groaned in annoyance but you were right, he didn't mind hanging with you. However, clapping came from behind you and Bakugo along with hysterical laughing. The laughing sounded like it was getting closer to the both of you, which made you both turn around to the source. You couldn't help but think how familiar that laugh sounded. Like all life from your body just escaped, as you turned your head to be met with the main person who picked on you in high school. Monoma, who instantly made you turn away, even though he clearly saw you.

"Ah, your bestfriend? Who would wanna be bestfriends with this loser? I'm guessing you're still a loser too, ____, so you're perfect for each other!"

"What the hell do you want, you damn extra?"

You could hear Bakugo growling practically, eyeing Monoma down as if he wanted to murder him. He, however, knows how much he hates beating up people in front of you. But, you knew Monoma only came over for trouble and to pick on you, as if you're not full grown adults, now.

"I can't come over and greet the two losers I've known from high school!?"

"You're fucking with us because..?"

"Because of you, ____!" Monoma called you out with a point which made you turn to him with wide eyes, "I missed the days when I could roast your ass, without your stupid boyfriend coming to your rescue!"

You knew he was referring to Bakugo, but you could see how Bakugo was holding himself back from killing this asshole. This isn't how you wanted your hangout session with Bakugo to go, not knowing that Monoma was coming. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn't even know that he was in town. You knew he was a hero as well, but you didn't know if he was a pro since you've only seen him a few times on tv. Not like you're friends or anything, so you didn't really care about his appearances on tv. But you didn't want to deal with this, so you grabbed Bakugo by his wrist.

"Uh, this isn't necessary can we leave now, Bakugo? We can just continue this at my—"

"Still the same ole ____, huh?" Monoma interrupted, which made Bakugo tear his wrist out of your grasp.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about! The same weak ass ____ that always hid behind everyone in her class! Your quirkless ass shouldn't have even attended UA high!"

Hearing those words only replayed your bad experiences in high school, overpowering the good experiences that you only wanted to remember. You know you're quirkless and that's why you hated hearing someone just speak it like it wasn't obvious to you, already. "And why the fuck is that a reason for her not to have attended UA high? You don't need a damn quirk to be a hero. Your weak ass shouldn't even be a pro."

The blonde haired male only laughed, basically brushing off Bakugo's insult that should hurt any hero. You just took a hold of Bakugo's wrist again and tugged on it, trying to get him to just come with you and leave. This wasn't worth your time and you didn't want to deal with Monoma, anymore. "At least I have a quirk that can save someone! And what the hell can she do, hm?! Run away and cry what a loser!" He had a point but you know that you weren't really interested in being a hero, when you found out you wouldn't develop a quirk or ever have one. It was a bummer for a while but with Monoma constantly bringing up, it's bringing up all those terrible feelings you've had knowing you wouldn't get a quirk.

"You better shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you..." You knew he would defend you but seeing the death glare he sent to Monoma warmed your heart. However, you didn't want this to go farther than it has to.

"Oh yeah, what're you gonna do?! Attacking another hero will get your ass suspended from being a pro yourself, so you can't do anything! This is hilarious, you're such a klutz!"

He was such an asshole it hurt. You didn't understand why he was so damn unnecessarily rude, especially when you've done absolutley nothing to him.

"Bakugo, can we please just leave! This isn't worth it, please stop getting mad—!"

"You've always had a knack for running away, ____! Hm, I always wondered where you'd go. Maybe someplace where a buffet is being served!"

"Shut your damn mouth, you fucking extra! I don't mind getting suspended from being a damn hero, if that means assholes like you won't bother anyone again! Just because you have a quirk doesn't make your scrawny ass a hero! If you can't shut your damn mouth and protect the weak, then you're just as bad as the villains!"

"Bakugo..."

He was practically fuming, but the fact that he was standing up for you brought such warmth to your heart. He has stood up for you before but this for some reason took the cake. Your hands tugged on his wrist as you pulled him away from the laughing male, that only continued to talk while Bakugo growled at him but followed behind you.

"Yeah, you should probably leave, you know! In case you don't wanna worsen your already bad reputation as a person. You know—where you're such an asshole to everyone!"

That would've been the last straw for Bakugo, if you didn't stop him and wrapped your arms around his strong arm.

"Come on, Bakugo, he's not worth you losing your position as a hero! Don't let him anger you, okay?! Please, for me!"

That stopped all his yelling, his body physically losing all tension as he let you drag him away from the male and outside the cafe. However, once you were outside and away from the cafe, Bakugo snatched his arm out of your grasp. You should've saw that coming but you followed after him. He was so upset and storming down the sidewalk, looking like he wasn't going anywhere in particular. His taller form caused him to take bigger and longer strides away from you, making you have to jog and run after him and shout his name before he just ran off somewhere without trace.

"Bakugo, wait—please!" You called out, which made him stop and turn to you with a glare, his body still as tense as it was when you two were in the cafe arguing with Monoma.

"Aren't you tired of shitheads pushing you around?!"

"Yeah... but I can't do anything about it."

He continued to approach you until you eventually hit your back agaisnt something, making the blonde male pin you agaisnt the object with his body extremely close to yours. Like really close, his body flushed agaisnt yours and his eyes beaming holes into your skull. "You can. You just let those fuckers take away your confidence to make you think you have to bow down to their asses. Geez, you need to know you have friends." You knew that, but it just didn't seem like it anymore, since everyone was doing their own thing as pro hero's. You couldn't really rely on anyone like that, only Bakugo who always tried to be there for you. But being a hero, you know that he doesn't really have time to always relax and kickback with you.

"Yeah, but nobody's there for me at my worse..."

"You really are a dumbass aren't you? I haven't stuck around and kicked your bullies asses for nothing, ____!" It sounded like... he was pouring his heart out to you, but you couldn't tell since he's always angry. So maybe he was just making it clear that he wouldn't allow anyone to mess with you.

"Wha—what are you saying..?"

He couldn't help the pink that dusted his cheeks as he looked down at your face that looked concerned. But he knew he couldn't hold back anymore, it's been so long and he has been holding this in for years. "I'm fucking in love with you, dumbass! Why can't you just see that, damnit?!" He pushed himself off your body as his shocking words reached your ears, your eyes widening from the unexpected confession. Bakugo... is in love with you? You wouldn't have never expected him to be in love with you, him of all people. Just because you didn't think you were his type and that he preferred being only your friend.

"Wha—why didn't you ever tell me, Bakugo?"

"How the hell could I?" He questioned you with his back turned, "I mean... in middle school, you were with some idiot that didn't deserve you. I got so damn mad at you, just because it felt like you fucking neglected me. Like you were stringing me along. I hated you for some time damnit!"

"Is... that why you stopped smiling?"

"That and some other stuff. The only reason I stuck around after you got a boyfriend was because I've never been in love before. But I valued your happiness more than my wants and just stayed your fucking friend." It was silent after he said that because honestly, you didn't know how to feel. You were in love... but not with the guy you dated in middle school. You were a child but you still felt things. Though, you only dated him for one reason.

"Bakugo, please look at me..." You could hear the growl emitting from him before he turned to you, "...I only dated him to fill the empty void that someone else didn't seem interested in filling. I've been in love with you too Katsuki Bakugo, ever since you helped me on that playground when we were kids. But I've never told you because I didn't think you were into me!" His head jerked back at your confession as a gasp escaped his lips, but his shock only made you continue pouring out everything you felt about him.

"Yeah, you became an asshole but still... I'm fucking in love with you, Katsuki! I've never been in love with anyone as much as I am with you. You're practically the only one that cares about my existence, and that's why I'm in love with you! You see past my looks and forget about societies standards! Not once have you commented negatively about my weight, and I love you so much for that! I don't wanna see you with anyone else... I need you. So damn much, it hurts..."

Your voice quieted as you neared the end of your words, but he heard you and couldn't stop his actions of crashing his lips agaisnt yours. Your eyes were wide, taking in the soft texture of his lips that instantly brought a warmth to your entire body. You didn't think you could be even more in love with Bakugo than you already are...

...

It came as a surprise as you found yourself in the backseat of your car, your back agaisnt the seat with Bakugo pressed firmly between your thighs. His lips were attacking any part of your flesh he could see, the sensation sending toe shaking chills throughout your body. Your nails dug into his jacket on his shoulders, slightly pushing it down which made the male help you rip it off his body. He was left in a orange loose t-shirt that you took a hold of, once he exposed the vibrant color to your eyes. But he wasn't hesitant in finishing his meal, sinking his teeth back into your collarbone he showcased for his teeth to nibble on. His tongue grazed some of your skin before pulling it in between his top lip and tongue, before letting his teeth take over and deeply mark that spot.

Your body has never experienced this feeling before, a tickling sensation that sparked a flame in your body that your brain couldn't compensate. The only form of communication that you transferred was your nails digging into his shoulders, driving into his shirt that only encouraged his actions. The man above you wanted to devour you whole in which he was. You needed to stop though, because it was overbearing at the moment. Your hands tapped his shoulders, since your mouth couldn't produce the words to get him to stop. He made sure to suckle hard on the spot of your throat that he was attacking, before coming to a stop and pulling off your throat with a pop. He sat up and looked in your eyes with slight irritation.

"What's the problem?"

"Bakugo, are we really about to do this?"

"Why not? We feel the same way about each other, don't we?" He questioned with a sign of annoyance laced in his voice.

"Yeah, but I haven't... you know."

He knew what you were getting at, but that didn't phase him at all. He's in your exact same boat, that's why he wasn't really feeling anything after you said that to him.

"I haven't done it before, neither, so what's the damn problem?"

"You... haven't?"

"No! How could I when my heart has been stuck on you all my damn life! I honestly don't even find anyone else that attractive..." He turned away from your face as he said that, kind of like he was embarrassed which you found cute and leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek. He jolted out of surprise, his eyes wide as he stared down at your giggling form with the apples of his cheeks tinting red.

"You're so cute, Bakugo, I can't really handle it."

"I'm not tryna be cute!" He shouted which only made him even cuter, "And stop calling me Bakugo, damnit! Call me by my first name!" You only continued laughing at the male above you, which made him soften again and stare at your beautiful form underneath him. He couldn't deny how much he was waiting for this, his face even softening and losing the usual angered expression it held.

"Well, Katsuki, thank you for being real with me. I love you..." You couldn't believe how bold you were being but you couldn't help it, you've loved him for years. And personally, his heart couldn't handle how you showcased your affection for him. No one has ever showed him this kind of affection before, and it's practically magical as he's seeing it from you. He never wanted to be with anyone else but you, so that's why his soft side that is extremely rare is coming out.

"..."

His words were mumbled so softly that you didn't even register what he said. Your hands grasped his face to make him lock eyes with you, but he did everything to to avoid your gaze.

"What did you say?"

"I said I love you, ____!" He yelled but it was still heartwarming to hear from him. "Stop tryna make me be a whimp, you know I fucking love you. Now let me love you and show you that I'm not shitting you."

You could already see how serious he was, but you wanted him to make love to you too. Even if you haven't done this before, knowing he hasn't done it neither made this all the more special. No matter that it's happening in the backseat of your car. You were nervous but you were ready, no matter if you're not experienced, he's not neither and that's all the more reason for you to be ready. You've both loved each other for years, so just getting him to finally return that love made some nervousness fly away.

"Then, let's not waste anymore time, Katsuki~."

He was surprised by your words, but his shit eating smirk returned as he didn't even bother taking off his shirt, and pulled it apart from his body. Your eyes widen from slight surprise, seeing how forceful and ready he was. As his toned body came into your view, his muscles flexed and tensed from the cold air that ghosted his skin. Bakugo was even more fit than you thought, his arms containing thick veins that made his body even more attractive. It just made him look stronger than he is. You didn't even know the sight of his veins would be a weakness for you.

"I didn't realize you'd be this needy for me, but I don't hate that."

His words were followed by him sitting on the other end of your carseat, his back against part of the door and seat while he sat back. You were confused as you sat your body up and looked at him, confusion spreading across your face from his actions. It's like he could read your mind and answered your question.

"I wanted to take my time with you but you seem like you really want me to fuck you. So, come on and take what you want~."

That embarrassed you and halted your body also of wanting him so badly. You did want him but when he put it like that, you couldn't stop how embarrassed you were.

"It's embarrassing when you put it like that, Katsuki!"

He chuckled and eyed you from his corner, his gaze only heightening your embarrassment. "Just strip, ____." He could see how you visibly tensed up from that, and he already knew what that was about. He smacked his teeth before continuing to talk, "Stop letting your past thoughts get in the way. There's nothing wrong with your body, I fucking love it. Don't even ask how I've already seen you naked, before.” You really wanted to know the answer to that. But it wasn't as important as this moment. You were just slowly pulling off your clothes, Bakugo watching you as he undid his belt. He pulled it from around his hips and dropped it upon the floor, his eyes boaring holes into you as you stripped.

"Okay, it was an accident. You invited me over to your place and I was looking for you. Shit, you know how quiet your shower is and when I went into your bathroom, you were stepping out of your shower and I saw everything. So before you ask, no I'm not a fucking creep." You chuckled, he looked so embarrassed that that had happened but you didn't mind. He was so cute. He saw how you stopped at just your shirt and underwear, but he didn't mind that. He knows how you feel about your body and wants you to be comfortable, so he had absolutely no problem with what you were doing. He snatched your body up and guided you to his lap, your body straddling him that embarrassed you.

"Look at me..." He spoke and you did as told and as you did, your heart melted from the soft smile that was plastered across his face, "...all of this..." He gestured to your stomach before placing a soft kiss agaisnt your belly, "...belongs to me. Don't be embarrassed, we're doing this together, not with anyone else." You didn't know Bakugo could go completely out of character because of you. He stared into your eyes the entire time he unbuttoned his pants, his arm wrapping around your body so he could lift you up as he lifted his hips to lower his pants enough to display his underwear that had a bulging tent in the front of them.

He... was so damn attractive to you, that you couldn't help how your body squirmed on top of him. His hands went to his crotch, letting your body lean against the carseat behind you while he fished himself from his boxers. You gulped from hearing it slap agaisnt his abdomen, but you couldn't bring yourself to look. "Come on, ____, look down. Unless you want it to be a surprise?" You didn't respond to that which enlightened a chuckle from him. He leaned forward to your ear and whispered into it, "I'm taking that as a yes~."

You could feel his hard length poke into your stomach from the position, poking into it and smearing the liquid of pre-cum against your abdomen that made you quiver. You were nervous as he lifted you up and pulled you agaisnt his chest, securely holding you with one arm as he gripped the base of his cock with the other and angled it to your anticipating hole. His hold on you tightened, once he began lowering you onto his throbbing cock, the tension in the air thickening as the thick tip seeked entrance on your virgin tight hole.

Bakugo wrapped his free arm around you while lowering you more, onto him, his breath catching from the feeling of your walls trying to swallow only his tip that could barely enter you correctly. You were so unready, that your walls didn't quite brace themselves for the thick tip protruding into your entrance, only to stop as a thick barrier kept the blonde haired male out of your body. The lump in your throat was harshly swallowed, once the male forcibly began prying open your insides that necessarily needed that force, if you both wanted this to genuinely happen.

But pain shot to your brain as he hit a thin barrier, the tightness worsening it which made you clamp your arms around the males neck, only for Bakugo to pull you against his chest and hold you to help you pacify the pain. "It hurts, huh..?" He questioned, knowing that he wanted to just plunge his entire throbbing length inside you, "Just try to calm down, ____. We're both taking part in this, so just relax and focus on me and not the pain." His voice always soothed you and took all the pain away, so it wasn't really hard to focus on only him even if you could still feel the pain that merely felt like a sting from a needle or a bee.

Even so, you still weren't naturally opening up to him which caused the male to softly start rutting his cock into one of your barriers, your teeth clamping down on his shoulder the more he moved. He was nearly losing his mind already, the squishy and gummy texture of your warm walls sucking a thick load of pre-cum from his trembling tip that made Bakugo practically moan out your name. He was so blinded by your gummy walls that he didn't realize your teeth punctured his skin, though, he couldn't control himself as he grasped your hips and began fucking himself up into you.

The pain wasn't as bad as before, slowly fading the more he drove himself into your sopping heat. You still couldn't speak, your grip on his shoulder only tightening the more he hammered into you. "Fuuuck, ____~!" His voice called out, which only made you clamp down tighter on the thick organ that was leaving and reentering your body for a desirable feeling that your body drooled over. He could literally feel your insides shaping to remember his thick cock, only his and that he will make sure of. You only belong to him and no one else and he wanted you, most importantly to know that.

His hands pushed your body against the front seat behind you, one of his hands going to hold your stomach down while his other traveled to your throat to apply pressure that caused an electrical nerve to shock every part of your body. Your eyes were closed shut, the dominance of him fucking desperately into you getting to your mind that nearly took over it. His eyes stared at your fucked out face with twin patches of pink painting his cheeks, your eyes sealed shut as your lips were parted.

You looked so erratic, riding his hard cock only for him to dominate you in the process. His face held the same expression as yours, pleasured and nearly taken out, only though his eyes were opened and focused on your body. The image of the woman he fell in love with caused his cock to already twitch, his veins pulsing along the skin of his cock which you could feel that transmitted a vibration through your walls and signaled for your cervix to clamp down on his cock. That partly stopped his movements, the males eyes closing as he sucked in a breathe before letting his hips move, once again. You've never felt anything as amazing as this, to be connected with the man of your dreams in such an intimate way.

"Katsuki..! I feel like- ngh~! I'm gonna explode!" You confessed, only getting a harsh snap of his hips in the process.

The blonde's hold on your throat tightened, only for him to pull your face closer to his where he licked the side of your cheek, "Then I'm gonna make you explode like dynamite!" His hand forced your head back into the seat, the pounding of his throbbing length increasing only for that pleasure to be added with an even greater sensation of his thick fingers rubbing harshly at your drooling pearl. He could feel how you tightened which made him squeeze harder on your throat, your hands going to his wrist as you felt your core throbbing and quickly trembling around his thick cock.

Your juices sloshed out, making Bakugo's eyes trail to your heat that swelled with every harsh thrust of his hips. The sensation was nearly too much, only pressuring your walls to release and your cervix nearly choke on his cock. "Damnit, I'm gonna fucking cum!" He sounded so angry about it, like he didn't want the experience to end which you could understand and agree with. You loved this feeling you were feeling with him, even though your body could hardly handle it.

"Katsuki, please~! I'm cumming!" You screamed, making the male wrap his arms securely around your body and practically fuse your bodies from how tight his hold was. Your cervix burst harshly agaisnt his cock, making Bakugo's eyes shut tightly and plant his face in your shoulder while you did the same from his harshly fucking cock.

"Damnit, ____!" The male shouted as his cock twitched inside you before shooting thick jets of cum into your womb, the sensation causing his and your toes to curl. "Fuck, I'm so fucking in love with you!"

His words were almost muffled but you heard him, "I... I love you too, Katsuki." You breathlessly moaned agaisnt his hard chest. And he wasn't lying, he was going to stay true to his word that he'd be the only hero to only protect and love you for however long you live. His hold on you loosened as he let your back fall agaisnt the front seat, again. Your bodies were drenched in sweat, his hold staying on your hips as he stayed buried inside of you. His eyes opened to meet your face, taking in your still fucked out expression.

"Wanna do this again, at your place?" Your eyes snapped open to look at his smirking... no, smiling face that stared into your eyes. "This time, we can go as many times as we want. And I fucking wanna go until morning."

Well, you were fucked quite literally . It would be an understatement to say that he was very good sexually, so you knew that in bed it would be a different story...

...

...

…

This work was originally written by @compressingsins , if you see anything similar, please report it to me. 🫶🏾

[netherfeildren]

Cannibals : 1. House of Fools

An At the Restaurant story; Part 2;

Pairing: Din Djarin x OFC

Summary: It's two days til Christmas, and the two of you sit side by side, thighs pressed warmly together, giggling at one another for absolutely no reason other than it’s been such a good day. All the best things the two of you do, wrapped into a perfect set of twelve hours.

It's two day's til Christmas, and one of the more bizarre aspects of life is how everything can fall apart from one moment to the next.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship to real love AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Alternate Universe; Modern AU Din Djarin; Holiday Season AU; Fluff and Angst; Angst with a Happy Ending; Unhealthy Relationships; Emotionally Unavailable Idiots; But Also, Idiots in Love; Complicated Characterizations of Imperfect People; If that's not your thing, click away dear reader; Grief; Unprotected Sex; So Down Bad it Makes You Look Stupid; Commitment Issues; Found Family; Self Esteem Issues; Insecurity; It's Called Fuckboy Conversion Therapy Look It Up; Toxic Relationship

A/N: Happy New Year, beautiful people.

Word Count: 7.5K

Read on AO3

House of Fools

Glass shattered on the white cloth  Everybody moved on Help, I’m still at the restaurant

The tree is set with multi-colored lights and tinsel and care. It’s a good tree, the one the two of you put up together as his little brother cheers you on. Too tall, fluffy and charmingly droopy, shoved into the corner of the two bedroom bungalow you’d helped them move into months ago. 

Three years is a long time to know a person. It is an even longer time to love someone. 

And yet, sometimes, it remains a half-full sort of love. 

You watch as he lifts his brother’s small frame above his shoulders to set the star atop, final touch sparkle, and you’re still looking in through the window of this honest and heartbreaking home of two, even from your seat within their warm living room. 

Finally, Din turns, and gives you that pink-glow smile, the one you love. Right corner of his mouth, pulling upwards—a dimple, tan skin and the flush of his appled cheek, and he’s really beautiful, sometimes yours, dedicated to many things before he is dedicated to you. But you’re here. And you’re grateful. The spaces for the shiny red ornaments you’d been assigned, carefully chosen and hung on the tree. Your imprint is there, in this small decision. Your mark on their home, on their Christmas tree. Your handwriting, looping and careful on the tags on the gifts you’d helped him wrap beneath the branches. Grogu, not Greg, thank you, written out with all the care and consideration you feel for the small boy who you’ve come to love as much as you love his brother. 

The two of you had come to some sort of staid agreement in the past year. Together. That’s what you are. Afraid of each other, too. Perhaps. Afraid of what you feel, of what could become of it. But aware enough now that you can both understand you can not be without one another, so that any sort of lingering fear or trepidation was forced to become secondary. There were eggshells still, to be treaded on. A carefulness about the way the two of you approach one another day in and day out. An awareness on your part, that there is so much past loss and even more future responsibility awaiting him so that he’ll always live his life afraid and with bated breath for the worst still yet to come. On his part, the awareness of an easily broken heart and a willingness to give more of yourself than is right. And a promise to be careful with those things. Or at least to try. 

But you’re together and it’s not easy, per se, but it’s necessary, and you don’t ask for more even though you want it. Even though there’s still that small bit missing. And every time you look at him, every time he’s sweet and considerate and so aware of you it’s almost overwhelming, and when he touches you in that way that is so delicious it should be illegal, you’ll say: I like you so much, Din because you’re afraid to say the stronger word out loud. 

You prepare for the holidays with frenzy. In between classes and your thesis and a reading list so long you’re afraid your eyesight will never recover this finals season, you still find the time to do your gift shopping and help him with his. The three of you go out one evening in early December to buy their tree. Taller than Din, is Grogu’s stipulation and the decree that leads to the slightly hunched behemoth with the lopsided star held on by the sheer force of a zip tie’s will. 

The two boys meander slowly amongst the evergreens while you trail behind, watching them. The way Din towers over the young boy, occasionally bopping him over the chunky green hat with the droopy knit ears, listening intently at Grogu’s excited chatter. The sweater Din has on had been carefully chosen between you and your mother for his birthday, navy blue half-zip knit that makes him look so sexy and is so, so exciting to unzip, bearing the sharp edges of his collar bones, keeping him warm so that when you slip your hand beneath the hem and up against his hard stomach his skin almost burns. 

Or maybe it’s just you, the burning. Maybe it’s what you make together. 

Grogu had vetoed seven trees thus far—not fat enough, not tall enough, too wimpy, doesn’t have the right “vibe”. The kid said it needed to be wide enough so that all the naked little angel babies he loved to collect, and for which he’d been soundly sent home from school two weeks ago for—and this is a direct quote from the principal Mrs. Armorer as per Din—‘enabling a covert trading ring as if these artifacts were the most insidious of contraband being distributed amongst the most derelict of city streets’. An exaggeration surely, but Din’s own hatred for the little angels only reinforced the gravity of the boy’s crime. And as he’d so eloquently put it, “When I looked up in the shower the other day to find twenty of them watching me wash my dick, I knew we had a problem.”

If only he also knew you were the one constantly buying them for the kid. 

When you blink your daze away, resurfacing from your thoughts, the boys have disappeared. You can hear the sound of Grogu’s voice in the distance, high pitched and laughing, and when you look up at the dark night sky, the first flurries of snow are starting their spiral fall. The warmth of the cocoa the three of you had bought at the entrance of the Christmas tree farm has long since left you, and you burrow further into the damp warmth of the scarf wrapped around your neck, suddenly unable to catch any sound but the rhythm of your own breaths. 

You take a few more steps forward, peering through the trees and seeing no one—there had been so many people just minutes ago—when a strong tug at the back of your puffer pulls you between the branches of two of the larger evergreens. 

His breath is warm on your face, you can smell the sweetness of the chocolate and marshmallows, but his lips are cold when they press against the corner of your eye, pulling you in close against him, pushing you deeper into the pines.

“Kiss me. I’m cold,” he pouts, another flutter of lips to the apple of your cheek, the point of your chin, and then he’s licking against your mouth and his tongue is hot as sin, sweeter than the chocolate. You open for him, pulling him against yourself as tightly as he pulls you, pressing up on your tippy toes to get even closer.

“I couldn't find you. Din—” you gasp, kissing him again, again. 

“Can’t get lost in the snow, baby.” The puff of his laugh is warm against your face, the tip of his cold reddened nose nudging against your own. You cling to him more tightly, feeling unfocused, almost drunk—the tip of his tongue against the arch of your cupid's bow. There are snowflakes catching in his eyelashes. The deep green of the trees, the sky, dark and falling above you, the cold everywhere except for where he touches you, presses against you. 

“Need this kid to pick out a tree so we can go the fuck home and get in bed,” he says, shivering and grouchy. “Still gotta strap it to the car, lug it inside…” He buries his face in the warm space between your throat and scarf and whines. 

His hair is long enough right now it sticks out the back of his beanie, curling against the edge, and you tangle your fingers in the soft locks, holding him there pressed against you. You can hear Grogu sing-songing your names, coming up behind where you’re embracing with loud stomping gallops, bulldozing into your back hard enough he’d knock you over if you didn’t have his brother there to hold you up. The boy wraps his arms around your waist, shaking the two of you out of your daze, demanding you stop making out and get moving. 

“Don’t whine, I’m going to help you.” You say it laughing, fond and grateful. Grateful that you get the chance to be here with the two of them. 

-

“You use laundry softener?”

 Wham! plays softly through the overhead speaker of the empty grocery store. It’s early on a Friday, and both of you had found yourselves with the rare treat of being off work and out of classes at the same time. It would be a busy weekend for him, the last home stretch before Christmas. The 23rd and he’d be swamped at the bar the next two nights, facing the revelers returning home for the holiday, eager to get drunk on booze and merry joy. 

“Yeah. Don’t you?” He turns to press his mouth against your temple where you cling to his arm, slumped over the shopping cart he's been slowly pushing through each aisle. He has a list he’s not looked at once, throwing things into the basket thoughtlessly. When you get home, you know he’ll complain he got too much he didn’t need, but you keep quiet, happy to see him have his indulgence. 

“I do. Yeah.” You don’t know why the sight of the lavender scented softener makes you pause—the same one your mother buys for your parent’s home. Maybe because in some moments, the reminder that Din is also someone’s mother is more sobering and obvious than others. 

“Smells good,” he says as he reaches for a box of Scooby Doo fruit snacks. Two boxes of granola bars go in next, peanut butter protein for himself and double-chocolate puff for Grogu. 

Pressing your face into the hard muscle of his shoulder, you inhale deeply. Silently agreeing with a nod of your head, pressing your fingers into the swell of his bicep beneath the thick fabric of his dark hoodie. 

Tipping his chin, he gives you a sly, knowing look. “What?” He asks—half-crooked smirk. But you can’t even say, and anyways he knows. You drag your fingernails against his muscle, tummy going tight, hiding your face in the warm cotton, shaking your head. 

His laugh is soft and gently teasing. 

The post office is a mess after the grocery store, and the two of you stand in line for forty-five minutes, waiting to buy stamps and post the last minute Christmas cards to your friends you’d entirely forgotten about in the mania of turning in the final draft of your thesis to your advisor. Another thing that was in the home stretch—your fight to get your masters had been a long journey of indecision and self doubt, but you were so close to being done you could taste the freedom. Your edits were going smoothly, and your advisor, Luke, had been a great help this past year. Disheveled beard and mind in a million places at once, a little bit of a hippie, but always patient and kind and in tune with your wants and ideas when you were really desperate for him to be so. Din had been so supportive, as well. Staying up late with you when you needed to study or write, perfecting the art of a BLT and keeping you fed, because as he put it, there was much more to the construction of it than just bacon, lettuce and tomato. Even though they always ended up being nothing more than just that, it was the action that counted. 

You’d be presenting at the end of January, and you were looking forward to being done with school once and for all and being able to work. You’d been offered a position at the public library as the junior librarian over heading the non-fiction department, and you were more eager than words could express. It wasn’t only the idea of leaving behind your little job at the bookstore and being able to come home with something more than a meager paycheck, it was also the notion that you’d finally done something. You’d made a decision for your life, and you’d seen it through, and come January 19th with no extraneous tragedies, you’ll have succeeded. It wasn’t something you were used to, making a sure decision and seeing it to completion. Throughout the course of your program there had been so many times when you’d felt as if it was all a play-act, a game you were taking part in through each step and that eventually, the rouse would be up and you’d realize you weren’t actually passing your classes or enjoying the field you’d chosen for yourself or doing well at this thing you’d so agonized over the decision of. 

But here you are now. You’d committed to something and you’d seen it through and not only had you not coasted by, but you’d excelled to a degree that had gotten you a job you were extremely happy with. 

And amidst all this, there was also something about doing this and having the people in your life see you do this—having Din see you do this. Having Din see you commit to something and stick to it with your whole heart. You wanted him to know you were capable of such a thing. 

After the post office, he obliges you with a wander through the frantically busy Old Port streets. Picking up some last minute wrapping paper you’d been eyeing for the little box of earrings you’d gotten your mother, delicately hand-painted trees and golf leaf holly, some cigars for your father’s stocking. You purchase a box of assorted salt water taffy when his back is turned, large enough it should last him at least half the year, hopefully, considering the way he goes through it. And you stop to get a little cup of gelato to share between the two of you despite the twenty degree day. You walk slowly, your arm looped through his and your hands twined together, your fingerless gloves folded warmly into his fleece covered palms, protected. And this is how you best love being with him—sharing bites of sweet cream gelato from the tiny spoon held in his long fingered hands, he feeds you every other step—when he feels so yours. When he’s most like your boyfriend, and the whole world can see that the two of you are together so that it’s real, so that there’s proof and witnesses you can revel in. 

Perhaps it’s insecurity, this feeling. Low self esteem that demands constant reassurance. Perhaps it’s pride. Candid and unashamed elation you feel when people see the two of you on the streets together and know you belong to each other. 

He drives you over the bridge and into the Cape after lunch to pick up a package from your parent’s house that had been mistakenly delivered there. The place is quiet, neither of them home yet, but you can see the Christmas tree lit up and sparkling warmly through the large bay windows in the family room, your mother’s heirloom hand-blown ornaments backlit and glowing.

The kid is at a sleepover tonight, the last Christmas celebration for him and his friends before the 25th, smores and ghost stories and a game of white elephant. Making the most of your freedom, the two of you pick up large coffees before heading to the North Viewpoint to sit together for a few hours before Din has to head in for his shift at the bar. The sun begins to set at about four this time of year, and you’re able to catch the last fiery burst of it slipping beneath the water’s edge before you’re left in the murky darkness of the oceanfront. The horizon turns to a purple grey frisson you feel imitated in the over-eager beat of your heart. All there is to hear is the sound of your synchronized breaths and the furious salt spray crashing against the rock cliffs. It’s like you’re the only two people left in the whole world. 

It’s been a perfect day so far. 

Twin splashes of the Baileys you’d nicked from your parents house while Din hunted for your package, go into your coffees, and the two of you settle into a contented silence. The heater is on full blast, warming your frigid fingers and toes, while your Irish coffee melts you from the inside out. Makes you go all soft. The sweet of the drink makes you tipsy fast, and you eagerly go for a second helping from the thermos he’d prepared while he paces himself for his shift later. 

Frank Sinatra’s I’ll Be Home for Christmas comes on the radio, and Din drops your fingers he’d been playing with to turn up the volume. 

“This is my favorite one,” he says softly, reaching for your hand again and bringing it up to his mouth to press a kiss against the quickly warming skin. Your fingertips buzz and tingle, suppressing a heart-set-to-burst sigh, and you want to say that it’s your favorite too, all of it. The two of you here together, the overwhelm of the water, so dark if you were to fall in you’d surely disappear off the face of the earth never to be found again. The suspended stillness of you sitting here before it. 

This is the neighborhood you grew up in, the exact spot you’d had your first kiss at thirteen and then clumsily gone to second base a couple years later with your highschool boyfriend. Din had found that small piece of your history endlessly fascinating, knowing he was sitting in the place of your ‘historic first fingering’. You’d tried to throttle him when he’d said that, flushing with embarrassment from head to toe, and then a flush of a different sort when he’d made you come on his own hand afterwards. And in record time, lest he be outdone by the competition of your teenage past. 

But it was true, this was a place significant to your history, and now, it had become a place the two of you found yourselves at often, together. The playground of your upbringing you’d been able to share with him as much as he’d allowed. All the times he’d driven you over the bridge to your parent’s house to spend the night—never coming in, but always kissing you soundly and waiting to drive off until you’d made it safely inside. It didn’t hurt your feelings, you wouldn’t let it, his not coming in. And anyways, you’d never formally asked him except for that time your father had thrown your mother’s fifty-fifth birthday party. A large and extravagant thing because he claimed double fives were lucky. Din had played dumb until the last minute, and then politely refused, sending flowers in his stead. You hadn’t been upset because you’d expected the refusal. He’d claimed he couldn’t find a babysitter, lied, but you knew it was a hard limit for him. The metaphorical line that could not be crossed. Whether that was because it would inevitably be a hallmark simply too serious and devoted to come back from. Or, and more devastating an option to consider, because it was too hard for him to see the happiness that still lived through your family, the care and love you and your parents had for each other. The closeness. You knew. You know. You could see it in the look in his eyes when he dropped you off once a week for family dinner and a sleepover, wine nights and board games and things he couldn’t understand. Saw the way he’d look up at you the moment before you’d open the front door, eyes full of yearning and hurt for parents who would never again be. A look that said he didn’t think he could ever belong to something like that. 

His twelve minute drive to drop you off was enough. It meant more to you than perhaps it meant to him, his bringing you to the doorstep of your home full of love and parents who were still alive. So you didn’t, wouldn’t, let it hurt your feelings, his refusal to join you. 

And anyways, your mother knew all there was to know about him. Your father, aware of his existence but unwilling to extend the benefit of his doubt or any sort of grace because he held it against Din that he’d never shown his face in their home. He couldn’t understand, thought that getting the chance to be with you should’ve been enough to cure whatever past trauma kept Din from committing himself fully to his little girl. Your mother was keener, though, more understanding. Especially after you'd run into him once at the grocery store together. He’d had to run in unexpectedly for last minute cookie supplies Grogu had conveniently forgotten to mention he needed for school the next day. And the way Din had blushed and stammered, shaken her hand no less than three entire times, babbling about how he was so glad he’d gotten the chance to meet her, the glaze in his eyes when he’d looked at you, like he was begging you to see how pleased he was, how ashamed, how confused and hurt and shy and out of his depth. How desperate he was to be approved of but how unwilling he was to let himself be. 

Your mother had held your hand afterwards, in the car on the way home, while you’d been unable to hold back a few helpless tears for the heartbroken boy you couldn’t help but love. And still, you promised yourself your feelings weren’t hurt. You promised yourself it was enough and that you could understand. 

He takes a long pull of his warm drink, and you watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, pressing your thighs together to assuage the tight heat in your belly. His cheeks are flushed with bright red splotches from the bite of the cold outside and the blasting heat of the car’s vents, the spike of whiskey, and you can see his eyes swing from one end of the dark ocean to the other. Wondrous, almost. You’d tell him you feel the same if you didn’t want to keep him. 

“What’re you looking at?” He says without turning, half smile and the flash of a dimple. 

“I think I’m buzzed already,” you mumble, cheek smooshed against the seatback. 

He laughs softly, corners of his eyes creasing so endearingly that your heart gives a stupid, pitiful throb. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Finally, he turns to look at you. You cross your legs tightly, can’t help it, and his gaze flashes briefly, knowingly, to your legs. “My little light weight. Can’t handle shit.” He chucks you under the chin, voice full of fondness, pinching the soft skin to pull you towards himself. 

“You know whiskey makes me drunk fast,” lashes fluttering as he presses a bitter sugared kiss to your mouth. 

“That’s your excuse for everything we drink.” You pout against him, breathing a don’t tease against his mouth when he kisses you again, changing the angle, deepening it, giving you his tongue. “It’s alright, I like you just the way you are.”

The sound of his favorite song throbs in your ears before it floats away, and then it’s just the sound of your heavy breathing again as you tug him closer by the collar of his sweater, wanting to pull him over the console and on top of you. His mouth slides a wet path over your cheek to suck on the sensitive spot beneath your ear he loves best, humming deep in his chest at the taste of you. 

Nothing has ever felt better than touching him. 

The hand at the back of your neck moves to your front, slowly pulling the zip of your jacket down; the sound loud and shocking amidst the heave of your panting. Despite the heater, you’re wracked with shivers as he pushes your jacket open and over your shoulder, cupping your breast as he sucks on your neck. 

“You gonna get in the backseat and fuck me?” He murmurs between wet kisses and a soft bite. 

He pulls you across his lap after your mad scramble between the seats into the back of his little 2008 hunk-of-junk Corolla, silver and shitty but reliable, according to Din. The space is too small for his tall frame, and the burst of biting cold that’s let in during his thirty second spin to join you in the back has you shivering against his broad chest. Long legs bent against your back and spread wide but allowing you ample space to sit on strong thighs. Now it’s your turn to taste him, scraping your teeth against the hard edge of his jaw while your cold fingers sneak their way under his hoodie, dragging your nails over the hard planes of his abdomen, pulling a gruff whimper from his throat. You spread your thighs wide, grinding down against the hard bulge in his jeans, finding the perfect angle to press your clit against the seam of denim. 

“Fuck, baby. Fuck me—” he moans your name and it’s the greatest sound in the world. Worth everything. 

Your kisses turn sloppy, desperate, fingers twisting tightly into his hair, pulling his mouth against yours until it hurts. And there’s something about the fact that no matter how many times the two of you do this together—whether it’s hard and fast in the back of a shitty car in the freezing cold or slow and deep and helpless, when he wakes you in the middle of the night, warm and naked in his bed, sliding over you and between your thighs, tasting your cunt before he’s pressing inside, needing inside of you—it’s always, always bursting with a sort of frenzy. A desperation, even in the slow, that helps make up for other things that might be missing—that proves a point. A promise in the way he touches you, like he’ll never get enough, like he’ll always want more, even if it’s just of this. 

When you pull him from his jeans, hot and heavy in your palm, his breathing goes ragged and the flush in his cheeks meets the hot splotchiness of lust crawling up his neck and over his jaw. His moan is broken, needy, head falling back against the seat and eyes rolling backwards, the soft curls around his ears damp with sweat. You lick your palm, gripping him tight and slick, twisting at the thick head as he tries to fuck himself into your fist, hips jerking helplessly. He’s yours like this. Gorgeous and vulnerable in the palm of your hand, moaning that you make him feel so good, that you’re doing it just right, that you’re his good girl. He wants you so much like this, gripping your hip with one wide palm, the other clutching at your ass to pull you in closer. You wrap your fingers halfway around the wide base, squeezing, other hand concentrated at the tip, working him round and round. You’d make him come like this, quick and sloppy in seconds if he’d let you, show him how good you are and how quickly you can make him feel better than anyone else ever has. 

But soon he’s demanding, “Inside. Want inside your cunt,” and shoving you sideways to rip your boot and one side of your leggings off, yanking the center of your thong aside to slick his tip against your swollen wet before he’s pressing against your entrance. All “Let me in. Let me in. You’re fucking perfect—” Chest heaving. 

He works himself inside slowly, in stuttered thrusts of his hips, moaning while he goes. Clutching at your hips and rocking you forward while he forces his way in from below. The sticky wet sound of your grinding against him, your clit rocking against his pelvis until you’ve taken him so deep the pressure is just this shy of painful so that you know you’re going to come quick and hard and wet. 

His hand snakes it’s way beneath your sweater, and you can feel the tremor in his fingers as he makes his way up your back, gripping tightly at the nape of your neck, squeezing, his other palm flat against the base of your spine to hold you imobile. Allowed nothing but the helpless jerk of your hips, chasing your pleasure, desperate for your orgasm while you feel him throb against the deepest part of you. 

“Please, Din.”

“Wait. Wait. Not yet. You feel so fucking good.” 

The sex is messy. He tells you he wants more. The wet sound of his thighs slapping against your ass as he starts to thrust again, gripping the swell of your bottom to bounce you on his cock, meeting each other on the up and down. In tune with one another’s bodies in a way you've never been with anyone else. Your cunt clenches tight, it almost hurts, and he laughs, bends his head to bite at your breast over the thick knit of your sweater. Please, baby, I want more. Hold on just a little longer. Your face and throat flush hot, burning, you can feel the sweat collect at your temples and along your spine as he tugs gently at your nipple with his teeth, fucks into you with snapping hips, the rock forward of your clit sliding against his hard stomach. 

It’s dizzying. You can’t help it. You come with a cry of his name, clutching him to your breast, wrapping your arms around his head as his bite turns reprimanding, “Fucking lightweight, I told you.” Another laugh that turns into a strangled moan when the heat of his come fills you as your muscles clench tightly around him. The gruff sound he makes: masculine, vulnerable again—the way you wish he’d always be—a mix of your name and a whine. Now that, that makes all the rest of it worth it. 

-

You’re supposed to meet Bo and her girlfriend for drinks at a new wine bar at half past eight. A cosy little place tucked into the cobbled streets of downtown you’ve all been desperate to try. She’d mentioned the plan every day for two weeks, giving away her nerves at the prospect of the three of you getting together. Likely afraid of your reaction at what you’re sure will be the announcement that she and Fennec are planning to move in together, news you've been expecting for a while and which you’ll take more than happily. They’re in love and your friend, who had always been known to be light and wandering as a butterfly in love, was ready to settle down and commit herself to someone she truly wanted to be with in a real way. There was never the possibility of your being anything but happy and excited for the two women. After all, you and Bo had been waiting for this for a long time, steadiness, commitment, a forsaking of that fear of forever you’d always found camaraderie in. 

And it only added to that keen sense the past few months had brought along, that the two of you were growing up in a real and immeasurable way. Your lives were changing, moving on, who you were as people was evolving. Leaving behind the last vestiges of your frivolous youth full of too much partying and more fun than anyone should probably rightfully have for something steadier, more reliable. Grown up. As much as you’d miss your friend, your housemate of the past five years, this move spoke well of what was to come for the both of you. 

Din makes the two of you a quick dinner before you have to part ways for the night—a creamy mushroom risotto and a crisp glass of white wine for you. The man likes to get you drunk and slutty. Watching him move around the kitchen, lithe and capable, makes you squirm for more of what he’d given you earlier, the sound of his moans in your ear and the wash of his hot breath against your throat while he throbs inside of you. 

The house is cozy, the warmth of the tree, the toys strewn across the living room floor, the precariously leaning tower of Din’s cookbooks at the edge of the kitchen counter, the overflowing pile of laundry on the sofa waiting to be folded and Grogu’s art pinned by spaceship magnets to the refrigerator door. Something you’d always admired in the way Din had taken on parenting his brother, the way he'd nurtured and preserved Grogu’s childhood, giving him the space and safety to be a little boy for as long as he needed without the pressure of feeling like he had to grow up too fast. Not the way Din had. 

He brings your dinner to you on the sofa, presenting it to you with a flourish of steam and his beautifully proud grin, like, look what I’ve made for you, aren’t I a nice boy? And the two of you sit side by side, thighs pressed warmly together, silverware clinking as you watch each other eat, giggling softly at one another for absolutely no reason other than that it’s been such a good day. All the best things the two of you do together, wrapped into a perfect set of twelve hours. 

Then, one of the more bizarre aspects of life: how everything can fall apart from one moment to the next. 

“You and Greg should come to dinner at my parents tomorrow night.” You don’t know why you say it, or where it comes from. “My mom would really love to have you, and she makes a great Christmas Eve roast.” Probably because it’s simply the truth. You want him there, quite desperately. Both of them. And your mother had asked. Your dad too, why he wasn’t joining you all, why he didn’t want to. 

You suppose you also want to hear why he doesn’t want to. What excuse he'll give. 

He goes silent, fork halfway to his open mouth, and a stupidly shocked expression on his face you could slap off of him. 

Suddenly, you’re angry enough you could cry. 

“My dad got some really nice wine too, something about a two thousand ten harvest—he said it’s something real special,” you press. “Do you want to come? My mom can make up a room for you guys so you don’t have to drive back, and then on Christmas morning we can—”

“No,” he says abruptly. “We can’t. What are you doing?” He sets his plate down loudly on the coffee table, the rattle of his fork making you jerk. 

Your throat convulses around a swallow, your own plate held shakily in your lap. You should stop, but you feel ruinous. Half-full and ready to self implode. 

It had been such a perfect day, resplendent with that knick of time possibility. That maybe forever tease. But in the end, what is this casual intimacy, and why does it always feel like a wait in line for the execution block? He should want to spend tomorrow with you, let it be another perfect day. 

“Why not? Why can’t you?” 

“We have plans already.”

“What plans? You’re just going to be here. My father wants to meet you.”

“Well I don’t want to meet him. What is it that you’re trying to do here?”

You close your eyes, shaking your head quickly in a nod. Okay. Okay. Open your eyes again. “Okay. Then tell me what your parents were like.”

He jerks back in a flinch. “What?”

“Tell me. You’ve never told me about them before. Not really. I want to know what they were like. All I have to go by is a fucking photograph I had to rifle through your drawers for. Do you have traditions for Christmas they left you with? What were they like? Tell me, Din.” Your tone is perfunctory, cold and biting, too fast and not the tender sort a conversation like this requires. 

And he gives you a sort of look—one that asks, are we really doing this? But you’ve already decided you won’t let him get away with it this time. You’ll ruin it all if you have to. And you know he won’t ever tell anyone else, so he might as well tell you. Right? You, who knows and cares and asks. 

Who else will ask you these sorts of things? You want to say. Who else will help you remember? Who’s going to love you like I do?

Your gaze is persistent, and he nods once, swallowing acceptance, finally understanding what it is you’re doing—ruining it all. 

“What is any parent that’s gone like? Perfect in your memory. I don’t know… They were real and busy and kind and thoughtless. All the things all parents are. But they’re absent now. That’s all I'm left with, which I hate. They’re dead, and that’s all they’ll ever be and I resent them for it. What else do you want me to say? What would I do at your parent’s house? I don’t know what I…I wouldn’t belong—We wouldn’t—” His jaw is set in anger as he says it, choking on his stumbled words. 

Your chest aches with a repressed sob, and you refuse to blink and miss a single second of this. 

“What were you like as a child?” He looks at you like he can’t understand why you’re doing this to him. 

“Solitary, but not lonely.” I’m equipped for this in reverse, you think. “And then Greg was born, and I was a kid for only a very short time longer. Why are you asking me this? I don’t have anything for you but sorry answers. Is this really the shit you want to talk about?”

You clutch your plate more tightly. “I want to kn-know you. I—”

“You do!” His voice goes from measured to a yell very quickly. “You know me better than anyone else! What more do you fucking want from me? Jesus Christ—” he spits, shoving himself off the couch to pace away from you, running his fingers through his hair, agitated, angry. You’re never satisfied, he says at the wall. 

It’s true. You’re not. 

It’s helpless. You feel big and greedy. You’re never going to be able to stop wanting more. And you’d always told yourself, tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow, it will—he will—be different. Something will change because it has to, because everything always changes. 

But you realize in this moment that maybe the only change here has ever needed to come from you. 

You realize that you’ve been eating your own illusions for too long, selling yourself snake oil. 

“I don’t want to be alone in this anymore,” you tell him. “I want more.”

“But what? What more is there? You’re not alone, and I don’t—” he makes some choked noise of frustration, “This is all I have to give. Can’t you see that? I don’t know—” The look he gives you, palms out and pleading, like some infinitely lost boy—half abandoned child, half apology. 

“I don’t know either,” you cut him off, setting your plate down next to his with a surprisingly steady hand. 

It’s a lost battle, no more starry eyed sleight of hand, all the cards are on the table. 

When you look back at him you can see the emotion choked behind his eyes. That you’ve pushed him beyond the line of his own reasoning and into hurt. But his comfort had to become secondary to yours eventually. You couldn’t tend to it forever with as much care as you’d always done without hurting yourself. 

And everything has a breaking point. 

“Maybe I wanted you to think of someone other than yourself for once.” You see the blow land. The snapping bone, wrong-thing-said reaction. It’s a lie, after all, you know it. A terrible lie, a terrible thing to say to someone who has so obviously given up everything and their whole life, their youth, for the sake of another, and done so gladly. 

Perhaps a wiser person would take this as reasoning enough for Din’s behavior. For his lack of ability to give more of himself to a relationship. Perhaps for someone more mature or with more experience, with a greater sense of self, it would be obvious, the fact that a person who’d lost so much of themselves so young found it hard to love, to give themselves over to partnership and the sort of commitment needed for a fully functioning adult relationship. But you can’t, or choose not to see it anymore. Perhaps you’re tired of fighting, of working so hard for it. Perhaps you’re tired of waiting. 

His face turns away like you’ve struck him, and for a long moment he doesn't turn back, but when he does there’s anger almost like hate, and his eyes are wet with tears. You wish you could be cruel, laugh in his face, but your own drip from your chin as well. And anyways, it’s so shocking there isn’t any room for cruelty. 

You go gasping fish silent, until he says, “I do. It’s just not you.” The salt lie drips from his long lashes and he moves, turning away from you towards the Christmas tree you’d picked out and decorated together, the gifts for his brother you’d chosen and wrapped with him. 

“What did you want here? From this?” Maybe he means the fight now, but what does it matter compared to the whole mess and lie of this entire fraught ordeal. 

“Well…” you stand, moving for your purse on the kitchen table. There is, in everyone, a limit to the amount of pain you’ll put up with for love. You can’t ever know the limit beforehand, but once you’re there, you know, and then it’s impossible to move the line. “I figured you’d love me.”

The word out loud is shocking, never before been said. 

You hear his stuttered breath, the way your words might make him angry. Throwing this lacking of his in his face—his inability to love the person who loves him. You think you should tell him that you’ll hate him now, but you’ve never been a talented liar. You think you should ask him if it’s such a bad thing, to want his love. But you know he won’t have an answer. You know he doesn’t believe he has it in himself. 

You move towards the door, pausing at the mouth of the hall to their bedrooms. The lopsided ‘Greg’ sign tacked to the kid’s door. The ‘E’ had been haphazardly turned into an ‘O’, a ‘U’ scribbled on at the end, the slip of the shaky marker bleeding out messily onto the wood of the door at the tail end of the letter. Like the child had been hasty in his vandalism and slipped, afraid he’d be caught by his older brother. 

It makes you smile dimly. 

And below that, in a green meld of water colors and marker and crayon, depicted in a manner so lovely it could only come from the imagination of a child, a drawing of the three of you together, stick-figured and holding hands. 

Like a family. 

“We’re eating each other alive,” you whisper at the imagination family. He moves forward, his socked footsteps towards your turned back.

You’re truly crying now, unable to hold back the sob of grief, of too much time wasted and a loss of yourself you’ve yet to fathom the depth of. He’s looking at your face again, finally, and you think, let this be the last time. Let this be the end of it now so that I’ll never have to feel like this again. 

He’s crying too, and you want to be angry at him, at the lie you have to take it for. He cannot cry and not love you back. It’s not possible. 

“Is that it?” All you can manage is a half nod that dislodges the cold tears clinging to your chin. “We had a good run,” he says like an almost question, and looks at you very sadly—tiny flame of struggling hope about to die. A held breath: should I go with grace? sort of look-back. But the gleam in his eyes, like he really might care, like this hurts, like he might feel anything—there are no notions of valor left. 

No benevolence to be found in this moment. You’re very tired. “Did we?” Head cocked to the side gracelessly. If ever you could hurt him the way you’ve been hurt here, now would be the time. The last chance. 

“Maybe not.”

We were so close. We almost had it. You’re so, so tired. You could sleep for an age. 

You take your hurt and go after that, not entirely understanding what it is that’s happened here between the two of you, why you’ve wrought it so suddenly. Also, relieved. That finally, everything’s been ruined for good. That there might be rest now. 

Christmas comes, neither one of you calls, there’s nothing else left to say. 

2. LOVE.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[crsssie]

Thinking of childhood friend!Leon after wolfie's fic

childhood friend!Leon who grew up making dirt cakes in your backyard, muddied face matching yours when his aunt gasps in horror, wiping the mud on your faces with a frown as you both giggle

childhood friend!Leon who sticks around you in elementary school, punching a bully in the face in middle school, and sticking mostly to himself in high school outside of your immediate circle

childhood friend!Leon who has a copy of your housekey from your parents, coming over unannounced sometimes

childhood friend!Leon who does college apps with you, applying to all the colleges that you do to try and go with you — your mom says it's better for you to have someone you know in uni

childhood friend!Leon who almost marries one of his heartbreaks, well aware of all that's coming, abandoned engagement ring and letter unsurprising. Not to him. Not to you.

childhood friend!Leon who calls you, twenty-one and single, groaning into his phone about how he had fucked up. Too young for this, he cries. should've been honest with you. He mumbles.

childhood friend!Leon who shows up at your window drunk at 3am, deciding he should be honest for once.

"Hey."

"Hey." You open the window, raising a brow at Leon in the tree. "What are you doing here? You still have the housekey."

"Your parents would kill me if I broke in this late in the night." He mumbles.

"What brings you here?" You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, squishing your cheeks upwards as Leon mumbles.

"I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?"

"I." He pauses. "It's fine. I just. I missed you. Couldn't wait until tomorrow."

"Is that all?"

"Let's go out." He dangles his car keys in front of you, tempting you as you raise a brow.

"In my sleepwear?"

"I have a jacket in the car." He whispers. "Please?"

"And where would we go?"

"The park." He mumbles.

"My parents will hear your car."

"You're a legal adult."

"Their rules under their roof."

"Then we can walk."

"Not scared of getting mugged?"

"In the suburbs? With my gun?"

"Forgot about that."

"So?"

"Sure."

Leon helps you down the tree, catching you and handing his jacket to you, the two of you racing down the street in a fit of giggles as the nostalgia fills him. It's incredible, he finds. The two of you are seven again in summer, summer breeze pinching your cheeks as you both make it to the park. Leon's home with you again. Leon's home again.

You land in the grass, wet from the cold, and Leon stands over you, crouching as you raise a brow.

"What's wrong?"

"I missed this."

"I did too." You smile. "What did you want to say?"

"I'm not allowed to just call you out at 3am?"

"No. I know you knocked for a reason."

"And you answered."

"If not to you, then to who?"

Leon looks down at you, rolling into the grass next to you, sighing with his whole chest as he stares up at the stars.

"I really just missed you."

"It's about the break up, isn't it?"

Leon stares up at the sky, closing his eyes as he wonders how he should say it. He's already the asshole in two stories, he can't really do anything worse.

"You're not going to like hearing it."

You sit up, glancing down at him.

"I think I know what it is."

"I like you."

"I know."

"I was stupid."

"I know."

"I..." Leon goes quiet, closing his eyes as he groans. "I don't know why I did this." He's met with silence, opening his eyes to stare at you, heart breaking in his chest. "I'm so awful."

"You are." You offer him a pitiful smile. "You were awful for putting her through that."

He closes his eyes again. "She's not mad, though."

"The anger has long simmered down." You stare at the streetlight. "She knew. I knew. We all did."

"And no one said anything."

"What could you say?" You close your eyes. "You like me. We all knew that. What were we supposed to tell you?"

"I'm awful."

"And drunk." You finally notice the alcohol coming from him. "You have your shift at Raccoon tomorrow, no?"

"Just let me." He pauses, exhaling. "I need to start clean. You'll always be the love of my life, but I... I know you won't want me after all of that."

"I know." Your feelings don't matter. Leon needs to let go.

And in the morning, Leon leaves your place without another word, house key left on your desk, window open and car missing. You don't miss him anymore, occasionally meeting back with him when he visits his aunt, catching up over coffee, but history long in the past.

And somewhere in the past, had he been just a little quicker, you would have told him you liked him too.

[luveline]

Would you write a fic with either Eddie or spencer about reader being ghosted by someone they genuinely thought was into them (not speaking from personal recent experience or anything😅🥲) but they’re in love with reader and comforts them?

“I thought we had a nice connection,” you mumble dejectedly. 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “A connection? With him? He was five foot three.” 

“Eddie, that’s not nice. I don’t care how tall he was.” Your voice disappears into the cushion you’ve decided to lay face down on, your back a shuddering slope he wants to reach out and touch. “I don’t care about that. Much. What’s important was that he–” You lift your flushed head, eyes rimmed with teary wetness. “He was so nice to me, and he didn’t pressure me into anything, and he brought me flowers without me having to ask. He was nice.” 

“Your standards are so, so low,” Eddie says. 

You grumble and force your face back into the pillow. Eddie should be nicer. He wants you to feel better, and he hates seeing you upset, but if you’re sure that guy was your soulmate Eddie’s selfish enough to wish he’d stay gone. “Hey,” he says, finally putting his hand on your back, though the touch is for you rather than him. He loves you as your friend just as much as he wants to be more than that, and he doesn’t have any intent now but to get you smiling as he bends down to talk near your ear. “It’s okay. You didn’t need that guy, just like you don’t need any guy. You have me. I love you to pieces.” 

“I know, Eddie,” you say softly. “Just sometimes I want more, you know? I love you too, but I want a partner, I want a lot of things… I really liked him.” 

Eddie can picture the heartbreak quite clearly. “You want the picket fence, right?” 

“What?” 

You again raise your head. Eddie meets your eyes with a hesitant smile. “You want the white picket fence. The little two story house with a wrap around porch, or a backyard big enough for the kids to play in, the kids to play in it.” He licks his lips. “Or not. You don’t have to have kids, right? Anything would be enough if it was just you and…” 

You frown unhappily, and Eddie thinks shit, I’m making it worse, but you say, “I always thought you’d wanna live in an RV, travelling the country. You want a picket fence?”

Eddie shrugs self consciously. “Sure. I also want a games room and a five thousand dollar loan.” 

You look at him long and hard. “You've always said that stuff is dumb.” 

“It is dumb. Seeing you all torn up over some jagoff who probably can’t tell his hand from his dick is stupid.” You laugh and turn your head to lay back down again, cheek pressed to soft velvet. “That’s stupid, babe. Let’s give up on stupid things and– and stop crying over boys who don’t deserve you.” He can’t stop himself, says it too hotly, “He didn’t deserve you.” 

You're hard to read, still as a statue with your hands pressed under your heart, but at least you aren’t crying anymore. You nod against the pillow. “Okay,” you say hoarsely. 

He flushes white hot. “Okay. Good… That was exhausting.” 

You roll your eyes at his complaining and he pats himself on the back, sure he’s gotten away with it again. He completely misses the strange looks you give him from the corner of your eye, too focused on giving you the world's best, totally not too friendliest back rub. 

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Over Mountains Cold

Kili Durin x Reader

Words: 4931

Summary: On a quest for your family, you and your traveling companion get caught in a winter storm in the Grey Mountains. Your true feelings for your best friend come to light when you struggle to make it through the chilling night. 

Notes: The heater in my room is broken and the image of cuddling with Kili to get warm is just really nice to me, okay? I will use Aidan Turner to dissociate before I contact ever maintenance. (also, why can’t I just write fluff? Why does there have to be the angsty backstory of losing siblings? The world may never know)

Warnings: Kind of a chaotic plot. An ungodly amount of sexual tension. I don’t make the rules. 

-

Fili gave a final wave as he disappeared over the ridge, taking the ponies with him. His brother tried to calm the pit in his stomach. Not only was Fili off to retrieve more supplies alone, but the cold was setting in. If he didn’t make it to the next village by the time the snow started, he would get stuck out here. 

Just like you were. 

“We should go,” You sighed. “We’ll want to set up camp before it gets dark and I want to search the foothills to the east before the sun goes down.”

Kili looked up at the sky. “It’s going to be a cold night.” Already, his breath came out in puffs from his lips. “Maybe we should stay here until morning. It’s lower, so it’ll be warmer and the snow hasn’t reached us yet.” 

You stiffened and turned determined eyes towards him. “I won’t waste any time. If there’s a chance of finding my sisters out here, I’m taking it.” 

You waited for him to argue or tell you how foolish you were. Winter was on the horizon and these mountains would be impassable in the coming weeks. But your friend merely gave you a small smile and put a hand on your shoulder. 

“Then lead the way.” 

You wanted to kiss him. Well, you often wanted to kiss him, but in that moment, with his eyes full of trust and belief in you, no words could express your gratitude. But, coward that you were, you settled for a pat on the arm and an awkward nod. 

“Right. Follow me.” You hurried away from him before you could do something stupid. 

You’d known the dwarven princes for most of your life. Having grown up near the Blue Mountains, you spent a lot of time with Durin’s folk, listening to their stories, celebrating their festivals, and causing a little chaos with your two closest friends. You couldn’t count the times Kili and Fili had gotten you into some kind of trouble, but surely they would say the same thing about you. 

The younger prince walked beside you, telling you legends of ridiculous creatures living in these hills, trying to make you smile. It worked, of course. Between his grin and a bit of theatricality, he never failed to lighten your moods. 

Kili was your best friend. He was there for every prank, every adventure, and every heartbreak. When your village was attacked by raiders three years ago, he spent weeks tending to your injuries and trying to hunt down the people who’d hurt you. 

That’s when they were taken. Your two older sisters, Maryina and Baeriel. Sometime during the battle, those foul men came to your home and stole them away. You were nearly killed trying to defend them. Everyone told you they were dead. Even your parents didn’t have the heart to keep looking after so long, but you wouldn’t give up. You knew they were alive. Kili was the only one who believed you.

“Do you remember what you told me?” You asked suddenly. 

Kili turned his head, hazel-brown eyes bright in the afternoon sun. His brows furrowed with curiosity. 

You elaborated. “When I said I was going to find them. I said I’d search the whole of Middle Earth if I had to. What did you say?” 

Kili beamed. “I said ‘Well, you’re not doing it without me,’” he remembered. “‘You’d get lost.’” 

“Exactly,” you laughed. “And, I do believe that you lead us down more a stray path than I, dear friend.” 

“But we always found our way in the end, didn’t we?” Kili grinned. 

“That we did.” 

The two of you fell back into a comfortable silence with something heavier hanging between you. 

Grass swayed with dying breaths, green turned to dry white. Ahead, towering peaks capped with snow loomed like a massive, foreboding gate. You watched them with growing unrest. Kili’s shoulder brushed against yours as you walked as if just to remind you he was there. 

The afternoon stretched and yawned. The sun began to hover. With every passing hour, the more the light sank, so did your hopes. Your search in the foothills yielded nothing. Not even the remnants of a possible settlement. 

“They aren’t here,” you said. You ran a hand down your tired face, eyes scanning the vast landscape, the mountains at your back. You turned to Kili. “What if…”

You’d come here on a rumor that the raiders who took your sisters had a base in the Grey Mountains. But that’s all you had to go off of- rumors. 

“It’s the first day.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “We’ll keep looking.” Kili scanned the dense woods at the base of the mountains, hoping for some signal of smoke or any other sign of life. There was nothing. But he wasn’t going to give up hope and he certainly wasn’t going to let you. “Come, let’s set up somewhere to sleep. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “But if you’re saying you need to rest, then I suppose we can pitch the tent.” 

He rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Last one to the trees gathers firewood,” he challenged. The mischievous dwarf took off before you had the chance to process what he said. 

“Hey!” You called after him and ran as fast as your legs could carry. 

-

Usually, the three of you always camped out under the stars, but knowing how cold it would be, you brought a tent to provide a little shelter. But laying there, so close to him, the fabric barrier between you and the night sky seemed suffocating. 

It wasn’t the closest you’d ever been, of course. There had even been some nights where you found yourself asleep on his shoulder after a long day or he would doze off with his head in your lap. There was just something about this- something about the two of you enclosed together, alone- that felt different. 

You laid completely still, screwing your eyes shut, but your mind refused to rest. The form beside you shifted back and forth, twisting and turning. Kili grunted in frustration and turned onto his back. 

“Y/N?” He whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Unfortunately.” 

He blew out a breath. “We should sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. We’ll have to find some food in case Fili gets holed up somewhere.” 

You hummed and nodded. 

Both of you stared up at the slanted ceiling of the tent, not moving and not speaking. The tension alone chilled you to the bone, making you shudder. 

“Are you cold?” Kili asked. 

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, because I have an extra fur-”

“Kili, go to sleep.” You huffed, shifting to your side away from him so he couldn’t see the painful want in your eyes. 

Kili was more than just your best friend to you. He was your first love, the only person you’d ever loved, really. You’d had suitors in the past ask for your hand, but you declined them all. Your heart was no longer yours to give away. But you could never bring yourself to tell him. He was a prince, after all, and what were you? A nobody. 

You blinked away tears and curled up as close to the tent’s wall as possible. 

So close together and yet you couldn't feel more distant. 

-

The next day yielded even less results. The further you got into the mountains, the less hope you had that you were going in the right direction. The Eastern Pass took you higher in elevation and further away from Fili with the supplies. 

“Wait.” Kili stopped suddenly, putting a hand out in front of you. “Listen.”

You halted, the frostbitten ground shifting beneath your boots. At first, the slight breeze was all you could detect, but as the forest stilled, the subtle yet clear sound of hooves carried on the wind. 

And they were getting closer. 

“Get down.” You grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled. The two of you tumbled into a bush, losing your balance in your haste. Kili hit the ground. You fell onto his chest, knocking the breath out of both of you. 

Kili grimaced. 

“Sorry,” you whispered. Your faces turned a similar shade of pink, both trying to hide it from the other.

The familiar thudding against the forest floor increased in speed and volume. From your position, you could just see through the foliage that kept you hidden.  Kili craned his neck, blindly trying to get a glance. 

“Can you see them?” He asked. 

“Shh.” 

You kept your head low as you stared out. Watching. Waiting. As the horses neared, you decided there couldn’t be more than three. 

“We could take them,” you whispered, looking down. But the sight of Kili lying beneath you, hazel-brown eyes staring up into yours with his hair a mess below him was too much. It sent a burning, twisting feeling through your stomach. You looked back up at the road. “There aren’t many. We could fight and force them to tell us where they took my sisters.”

“Are you mad?” Kili hissed, shifting underneath you. His hips rocked up into yours by accident. He sucked in a breath. “It could be innocent travelers going through the mountains. Or worse, there could be a dozen fighters and we’d be dead in seconds.”

“Since when are you the cautious one?” You scoffed, ignoring his movements and prepping yourself to pounce. 

Kili locked his arms around your middle and rolled. He had you on your back before you could stop him, pinning you to the forest floor with his hands on either side of your head. 

“Since I’m trying to keep you from getting yourself killed,” he growled. 

Relieved that your hips were no longer pressed against his, Kili had put himself in another predicament hovering over your body, his lips mere inches from yours. 

It shamed him to think of how many times he’d imagined you like this.

He waited until the riders were past, counting three, just as you said, but they seemed only to be a father and his two children, both under the age of 16. Kili doubted that these were the raiders who had destroyed your home. One of them mentioned something about getting over the pass before the storm, which made him uneasy. 

Despite the heat of your bodies, the air was indeed growing colder. Clouds were gathering and a crisp, cool scent hung in the air. 

Kili stood and held out a hand to help you up. 

You didn’t take it. 

“We need to keep moving.” 

He swallowed. “We should head back to lower grounds. If we get caught in the pass, who knows how we’ll get out.” 

You didn’t look at him. Instead, you continued up the path. “I wasn’t asking.”

-

Kili walked behind you, neither saying a word. He saw the tension in your back shifting like you were already in battle. He only wished he could relieve at least some of the weight that bore down on your shoulders. Witnessing you in such pain hurt him more than he knew how to express. That, unfortunately, wasn’t the only thing he struggled to put into words. 

It had taken Kili long enough to finally admit his feelings for you to himself, but it was taking even longer for him to admit them to you. Fear wasn’t something that usually stopped him- he’d faced trolls and orc packs a dozen times over- but the idea of jeopardizing his friendship with you frightened him to no end. 

Still, lying there, pressed against you, had drummed all of those feelings up to the front of his mind. They distracted him from the real issue at hand and he tried to remind himself that you need him focused. You needed a warrior, not a love-sick errand boy. 

“If we keep at this pace, we can make it through the pass by morning,” you said grimly. 

Kili exhaled, his voice deep with concern. “Y/N, you need to rest.” 

“I need to find my sisters.” 

You kept walking. 

Kili kept his arguments to himself. Starting a fight now would only make you angrier and he didn’t want to risk you going off alone. 

He let out a low sigh. Being the responsible one was exhausting. 

Kili watched the sun with a concerned eye and discomfort growing in his stomach. His breath appeared in a cloud from his lips. But worse, flecks of white sent panic up his spine. The snow speckled the branches of the pines around them and added to the already thick blanket of frost that coated the ground. The further up, the deeper the snow banks. 

“These flurries won’t be flurries for long,” he warned. 

“We’ll make it.” 

You refused to turn back to look at him. If you did, you knew that one look at his face would make you forget your persistence. You would turn around and head back down the mountain and have to start all over again in the morning. So you kept your eyes ahead, despite the growing shiver down your spine. 

Besides, it was only a little snow. You and the brothers had faced worse on numerous occasions. 

Kili quickened his pace to take his place beside you again. 

“This way,” he said. “I’ve heard a shortcut through this pass.”

You raised a brow. “You’ve heard of one?”

“We’re here based on a rumor, aren’t we?” He retorted. 

You shrugged as if to say ‘fair enough.’ 

Kili took the lead as the air thickened with white flakes. The shortcut, while it existed as far as he knew, was not the true purpose of his change in direction. He’d read journals telling tales of adventures through these mountains and he remembered a checkpoint for many. A cave where they could take shelter from winter storms. He only hoped it was real. 

You began to regret your stubbornness as the cold seeped through your coat, the snow falling thicker and thicker, decreasing your visibility until you could see but a mere few feet in front of you. 

In a blink, the blizzard set in. 

You trudged on. Eyes blinded by white, you walk straight into the mass in front of you. Your companion’s warmth drew you in and you couldn’t help but press yourself against his back. His arm wrapped around, searching for yours. 

“Take my hand!” Kili called back to you. 

You did so without hesitation, wincing at the chilled state of his skin. 

“We’re nearly there!” He shouted over the wind. 

“That’s impossible! We haven’t even made it through the pass!”

“You’ll see.” 

Trust was the only thing you had left, your senses overtaken by the storm. And then suddenly, it stopped. Kili pulled you forward and the choking white curtained the opening of the cave behind you. Wind howled, but no longer deafened. 

“You knew this was here?” You gasped through chattering teeth. 

Kili gulped. “I hoped.” 

“You hoped?” 

“You kept going!” He held out his hands, fingers stretched and shaking with his words. “I didn’t know what else to do!” 

“Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.” You ran a hand down your face, wincing at the freezing surface of your own skin, as well as the exhaustion overtaking your features. You paced back toward the blinding white outside. “We’ll stay here until the storm blows over and then we’ll keep going.” 

Standing at the opening of the cave, the wind still chilled you to the bone. Still, you watched, as if your sisters would magically appear and welcome you into their warm arms. 

As the image passed through your mind, you were gently pulled away from the wind by a hand as cold as yours, and yet it sparked the warmth that you needed. Kili placed a hand on your cheek, turning your face to his. 

“You’re exhausted,” he said. “We cannot afford to be careless. Not out here. We’ll go out again in the morning. You need to rest.” Before you could argue, he added, “We both do.” 

With the fog of determination outweighed by fatigue and frost, you sighed in defeat, hanging your head. 

“Alright,” you conceded. 

Kili put a finger under your chin and lifted your eyes. He gave you a small smile to which you couldn’t help but reciprocate. 

“Come on. We should set up the tent. It might not be much, but it can’t hurt.” 

Your chattering teeth gave no argument. There was no wood for a fire, the smoke would fill the small space anyway, so the thin cloth was your only added defense against the cold. 

Once inside, you both felt the same pull towards each other, your bodies craving the heat of another. But you stayed on the far side, as far as you could get, mind clouded by icy, frozen fear. Kili didn’t say anything, trying to ignore the ache in his chest as he tried to sleep. 

Your eyes couldn’t have been shut for more than a moment when you heard them. 

“Y/N!” 

“Y/N! Where are you?” 

You blinked to clear the tiredness from your eyes and listened. 

“It can’t be,” you whispered. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” 

Maryina and Baeriel. 

You listened again. 

“We’re here! Help us!”

Your sisters. They were out there. They were trapped in the storm. They needed you. 

You sat up, tossing aside the coat you’d been using for a blanket and ignored the bitter air seeping through your tunic. You didn’t feel it. You didn’t see your companion sleeping across from you. You didn’t hear the wind as you stepped out of the tent. You only heard your sisters’ cries…

And stepped out into the blizzard. 

-

Kili twisted and turned. As hard as he tried, sleep never stayed. He dozed off only to drift back, trying not to shiver. 

“I can’t sleep again,” he sighed. Kili flipped onto his other side. Rubbing his tired eyes, he opened them. The bundle of furs beside him took an odd shape. 

Empty. 

“Y/N?” 

He sat up and reached across the tent, feeling nothing but frigid air. Kili lifted his head, panic banishing any exhaustion left in his limbs. 

The untied opening of the tent flapped in the wind. 

“Y/N!” He called out. 

The storm screamed in response. 

He scrambled out of his bedroll and sprinted into the night. Fat, white flakes stuck to his face and eyelashes no matter how much he blinked them away. 

“Y/N!” He shouted again. 

Kili walked, trying to keep the cave in sight. The blizzard raged around him, concealing even the silhouette of the trees. He cried out your name again and again. With every passing second of silence, his chest grew tighter. 

Why would you have gone off alone? 

What if something had taken you?

There was no way for Fili to reach the cave until the storm settled, which meant he was completely and utterly alone. 

“Y/N!” 

It felt like hours before the wind let up and even then, snow continued to fall and the air turned even colder, creeping down Kili’s neck like a thousand icy-legged spiders. 

There, in the distance, he could just make out a shape, wandering and covered in a thick, frozen blanket. 

Kili ran as fast as his aching legs would allow, his boots sliding on the ice-coated ground. No matter how loud he shouted, it was as if you couldn’t hear him. You trudged on, the snow almost reaching your knees. You didn’t even have your coat. If he didn’t get you out of this cold, you would surely be lost to the white nothingness that surrounded you. 

“Y/N, what are you-” Kili moved to grab your arm and found that your eyes were closed. Ice stuck to your face where tears had fallen and your blue lips muttered the same two things over and over again.

“Maryina…. Baeriel….” 

Kili’s heart shattered like an icicle falling to the earth. 

“Y/N, love, wake up,” he pleaded, gently taking hold of your shoulders. He had to stop himself from recoiling. Even through your tunic, you were like a statue, freezing to the touch. “We need to get back to the cave. I need to get you to a fire. I need to get you warm.” 

Already, you looked like a walking corpse. 

But your eyes were starting to open.

“K-Kili?” You muttered through chattering teeth. “What’s going on? I’m so…” You stepped forward, falling against him. “I’m so cold.” 

Kili didn’t hesitate. He scooped you up into his arms, holding you tight against his chest. He followed his own footprints as they were slowly being covered again by the falling snow. By some miracle, he made it back to the cave. He hurried into the tent, wishing he had the material for a fire. For now, all he had was hope. 

“I heard them,” you said, still dazed. “I heard their voices calling to me in the storm.” 

“And you followed it?” He gasped, quickly undoing the fastens of his coat. “Are you mad? Even if they were out there, you’re no good to them frozen to death.” 

Kili shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“No, Kili.” You tried to push him away, but he was stronger, fueled by panic and determination. “Kili, you’ll freeze.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said harriedly. He tied the entrance of the tent to keep out the frigid wind and laid down, gently pulling you along with him. Kili rubbed his hands up and down your arms, careful to keep the heap of furs wrapped tightly around you. He held you against his chest, his tunic slightly undone so you could feel the heat of his skin against your cheek. 

As his warmth broke through the icy surface that suffocated your entire body, your mind started to clear. It started to wake up.

And when it did all you could see was his wide, golden-brown eyes searching yours with a fire you’d seen a few times before. Once when you’d been separated from him and his brother for a week on a particularly stressful journey and the other when your village was attacked and your sisters were taken. Each time, he looked as though he was looking at the sun for the first time. 

At the time, you didn’t understand, or perhaps you didn’t let yourself understand. You understood now what that fire meant. 

He was, and would always be, your shelter. 

Like magnets, you somehow were drawn together still, despite already being impossibly close. The air between you was hot with your breathing. Everything seemed to stand still, from the raging winds outside to the racing heart inside your chest. 

Neither of you said a word, an entire conversation held simply in the lock of your gazes. 

Kili’s hand cradled the back of your head, laying it against his chest. You felt the soft, sweet warmth of his lips on your forehead. 

Despite the hauntings of your mind, your heart gave you leave to rest in the strength and comfort of Kili’s embrace, allowing both of you to slip back into the persistent reach of slumber. 

-

The storm blocked the pass by morning and, without any equipment, there was no way to get over. It had all been for nothing. 

Fili found you halfway back down the mountain, the pony’s back covered with more supplies. 

“What happened to you two?” He asked.

“We couldn’t find them,” you snapped, hurrying ahead of both of them. 

Fili turned to his brother. 

Kili shook his head. 

Your party of three traveled until you found the nearest tavern and the boys made you stop for the night, watching exhaustion seep into your every step. 

Dinner was had in silence with an air hanging so thick that Fili felt he would choke on it. He could never imagine the two of you fighting- he knew that his brother would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you. But he also knew Kili’s true feelings towards his best friend and Fili couldn’t help but wonder if something had been revealed while he was gone. 

“We’ll start up toward the northern villages in a few days,” Kili said. “It’ll give us some time to rest, regroup, and plan.” 

You stared at your plate. “What’s the point?” 

Both turned to you. 

Kili’s eyes softened. “Y/N, you don’t mean that.”

“They’re gone, Kili.” You blinked back tears. “We could search until the end of time and we still wouldn’t find them.”

“Then to the end of time we will look because I am not giving up,” he insisted. His dark eyes took on that glimmer from last night, igniting something within you. 

Your nightmare wasn’t the only thing that frightened you. 

“I’m going to my room,” you said, pushing away from the table. Your form disappeared up the stairs with the gaze of both princes trailing after you. 

Kili sighed, running his fingers through his long, dark hair. 

“You just going to let her go?” Fili scoffed. 

“What would you have me do?” 

Fili shook his head and took a drink of his ale. 

Kili narrowed his eyes. “What?”

His brother raised a brow. “Y/N is the most stubborn, persistent, devoted woman I’ve ever met. She isn’t giving up on looking for her sisters. She’s worried about continuing the search with us.” 

“What?” Kili exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

“Kili, brother,” Fili sighed. “I’m saying maybe my absence was exactly the two of you needed and you’re both still avoiding what I’ve seen for as long as we’ve known Y/N.” He finished off his ale and snatched Kili’s away before he could protest. “Now go talk to her.” 

Kili swallowed, staring at the steps. It took one final shove from his brother to actually get him to stand up and move. 

As he ascended the stairs, Kili thought about everything Fili had said. What did he mean, his absence was what you two needed? What did he know that Kili didn’t? 

Of course, the younger prince knew exactly what his brother meant. He’d always known, even when he didn’t know how to admit it. But waking up in that tent, the panicked thoughts of you out in the storm, alone, the terror of losing you to the ice and snow, and holding you in his arms to keep you warm all revealed exactly what had been in his heart all these years. 

He loved you. 

Perhaps Fili was right. 

Maybe it was time to finally tell you. 

Kili found your room and stood before it for a good long while. He tried raising his hand to knock, but he was just… frozen in place. 

What if this was a mistake? 

What if decades of friendship fell apart in this moment?

What if-

The door opened and his heart stopped. 

You startled back at the sight of his big brown eyes. The eyes you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. The ones you wanted to get lost in and never be found. And he was there, waiting for you. 

You both opened your mouths to speak and stopped, waiting for the other person, leaving you both in a tense silence. The same tension from the tent. The one that drew you together, closer and closer. 

“Kili, I-”

His lips caught yours, silencing the words you still weren’t sure how to say. You let your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, closer still if that was even possible. Every moment, every breath from the last few days had been leading to this. And all either of you could think was one word. 

Finally. 

And as Fili watched you pull Kili into your room, kicking the door closed behind him, he was thinking the same thing. 

“Finally,” he muttered, shaking his head as he went to his room, glad to have it to himself for a change. 

-

Kili’s lips brushed against your forehead, the rest of your body completely tangled with his. Your arms wrapped around his bare chest, your legs wound between his, and your head was tucked under his chin. Your naked skin burned against each other but you never wanted it to stop. 

And between every sigh, every pleasured cry or whispered word came one phrase. I love you. 

He said it again, now. “I love you.” 

You turned to look up at him. Into those eyes. The gaze that captured you more and more every time. 

“And I you,” you said, kissing his collarbone, then his jaw, then finally his lips. “I have loved you ever since you taught me to shoot an arrow through the apples on our tree.” 

Kili grinned, deepening the kiss and moving so his face hovered over yours. 

“I’m still not giving up, you know,” he whispered. “We will find your sisters. And we will do it together.”

You wrapped a brown curl around your finger and nodded. 

“I know. Before, I was just… scared.” You turned your head away. “That storm took me to a place I don’t want to go again.”

Kili laid a hand on your cheek, bringing your eyes back to his. “I’ll keep you safe.” He kissed your forehead again. “I promise.” 

After letting the seriousness of your words settle for a moment, you grinned mischievously and rolled so that you straddled him. 

“We should have tried this sooner,” you smirked. 

Kili laughed and rolled again, putting him back above you. “It’s certainly a good way to stay warm.”

[slytherinstories]

Resisting You PT.2

Description: Mattheo Riddle a known player and flirt has his sights on you. You two couldn't be more opposite: him only wanting casual flings and you wanting a relationship. Its a disaster when you start developing feelings and he finds out about them. You try everything in you to resist giving in to him knowing he can't be what you want, but how long until your desire consumes you?

Make sure to read part one first! This is going to be a couple part series so be patient for the smut this is a bit of a slow burner. Follow for more stories and I am open for requests.

>>> PT.3

18+, angst, smut, manipulative mattheo

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Since your encounter in the library you have done everything to avoid Mattheo which is proving to be impossible since he is everywhere. The last few weeks have been absolute hell as despite your insistence you don't want a fling with him he hasn't left you alone. Since he found out you did in fact like him he has been nothing but smug and even though you didn't think it was possible his teasing has gotten worse. Unlike in the past when you wore your mask of indifference he sees straight through it now and you hate how he knows the effect he has on you. You can't even get through a class without him whispering something in your ear or touching you in subtle ways which leaves you thinking about him for days.

He knows it as well, that he has wormed his way into your mind, your gaze is drawn to him in every room and you swear he can read your thoughts sometimes. You don't know how he has turned you into this flustered mess every time he is around but you hate him for it. You hate how he plagues every waking moment with a desire you cant satiate. You used to wish to feel like this, how all your friends did with their boyfriends but now you would do anything to not need the one boy that could ruin your heart. You have never even craved someone sexually before so this is whole new territory a plunge into lust completely unfamiliar to you. You feel like you are drowning in his intoxicating energy. Masturbating only intensifies the feeling making you feel even more lonely and your thoughts stray back to his comment 'if you knew how I could make you feel you wouldn't be able to stay away from me.' Have you made the wrong decision?

If you didn't have feelings this would all be so much easier, you could sleep with him and be done with it, satisfying your body but you know it will never be as simple as that. Why can't it be though? Your body tries to find a loophole, any reason to let yourself have him. Everyone else has flings so why can't you? Then there is the flicker of hope even though you know its stupid that perhaps if you sleep with him he may eventually want more but as your past has taught you that is a recipe for heartbreak.

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Mattheo has always been determined but even Y/N is testing his strength. It has been 3 weeks now since the library. 3 fucking weeks and she still hasn't gave in. 3 weeks he has touched himself every day imagining her underneath him. Around her he has his usual cocky demeanor but little does she know how he can't get her out of his head. Not even just sexually either he has always desired her but since she has started avoiding him he misses her presence, the friendship they had. He doesn't get to see any more of those warm smiles directed at him or her inquisitive questions. He sees how much space she took up in his life and without her, he searches for anything to fill it.

She is clearly running from her feelings, putting as much distance between the two to try and forget him. He originally thought cornering her at every chance, whispering those dirty words into her ear would make her snap so she would come to him but it only seems to be driving her away more. He probably would have gave up by now, finding another girl to chase but there is something about her that he can't let go of.

His confidence starts to falter and his mind for the first time entertains the thought of what if she actually doesn't want me? What if I can't have her? Her one requirement was a relationship he thinks about pretending he will try so he can sleep with her and be done with these incessant thoughts but he couldn't do that to her. Maybe another girl but not Y/N. Would dating her be so bad? He shakes his head at the thought inwardly squirming at the thought of someone depending on him.

Clearly he is getting no closer to his goal so maybe its time to switch things up. Give her a taste of her own medicine and see if she really doesn't want him.

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You settle into DADA already dreading the moment Mattheo arrives, having to sit in your assigned seat next to him. You wonder how he is going to taunt you today and you pray he goes easy on you as you are nearing your breaking point, not sure how much longer you can push down these feelings. They have swarmed your mind, taking away any logic to the point you are even considering just fucking him once to get him out your system. For fucks sake when did you start thinking like a boy.

You hear the door open and you turn around watching him walk in laughing with Theo and despite yourself you stare, as always captivated by his smile. He walks over and takes his seat not even glancing at you. Your brows furrow but you turn your attention back to your book. Waiting for snape in silence with him was torture, you clearly not used to this version of him as by now he would already be incessantly flirting. Your knee bounces under the table and you can't stop the words spilling out 'hey.'

He glances over to you 'Hi' he says bluntly. What is up with him. 'You okay?'

'Mhm' he looks back at his book doodling.

'You don't seem like yourself are you mad at me or something?'

'Why would I be mad at you?'

'I don't know your just...'

He looks over a dead look in his eye and raises his eyebrows 'I am what? Not flirting you wanted me to leave you alone didn't you?' There is no longer that playful gleam he has and it sends a pang right through your heart. Your mouth opens and closes not knowing what to say. He turns his attention back to his notebook and you turn facing the front of the class as snape walks in. The whole class he doesn't even look at you once and despite your prayers he would stop you are suddenly filled with an emptiness.

After the lesson finishes he goes over to some blonde girl in your year whispering in her ear causing her to giggle. They walk out flirting and you just stand there with your jaw dropped as Pansy walks over to you. 'What the hell was that about.'

'I... I dont know he didn't speak to me all lesson.' She sees the hurt in your eyes and links your arm taking you out of the class. You know you have no right to be annoyed you have been avoiding him and telling him to leave you alone for weeks. You don't know what is worse his undivided attention or lack of it. It feels wrong seeing it directed onto another girl especially after months of you being his sole focus but you guess he has finally gotten bored of the chase. A part of you screams mine, mine, mine, even when you know the soul crushing reality you are in where he will never be anybody's.

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For the rest of the week he is the exact same towards you, cutting you out of his life like you were nothing. The heartbreak threatens to keep you in bed but Pansy being the best friend refuses to see you like that. So you go through the motions every day with two states at war within you. There is still the festering desire, the pull to him and a need to experience just how 'good' he can make you feel, but there is also the part of you grieving, the realization you can never have him. Too many times you have entertained the thoughts of settling for sex its better to have any piece of him then this nothingness, not even friendship. At least you would still have his attention but you would fear the day he decides to drop you for a new conquest. You were so close to giving in but now it seems he doesn't even want you anymore and your pride will not have you begging. You refuse to chase another boy, the walls you have built up to avoid vulnerability thankfully stop you from acting on your destructive choices.

Avoiding your friend group at the off chance of seeing Mattheo with some girl on his lap you venture to other parts of the castle like the astronomy tower. You sit looking at the view of course thinking about him and are startled when you hear someone walk up. You turn around and breathe a sigh of relief seeing Theo.

'Hey you long time no see.'

I smile softly 'Hey Theo sorry just been busy.'

He walks over taking a seat next to me on the ledge 'Nah I don't buy that.'

'Huh?'

'You are avoiding us or someone actually' he raises his eyebrows knowingly. For someone so ditzy he has always been far too observational for my liking. Mattheo is his best friend though I guess. 'What the fuck happened between you two' He says pulling out a joint to smoke.

'Who' you ask weakly looking drained.

'Come on don't give me that I know there was something going on between you two I have only got half the story from him.'

You sigh 'Y/N you can barely be in the same room as him for two seconds.'

'I don't know Theo it's all just so fucked' he offers you the joint and you shake your head.

'You like him yeah?'

You nod 'so what's the problem then?'

'I like him but he doesn't like me back he just want's a fling or something casual and I know I will just end up with my heart broke so I am not even going there.'

He nods 'yeah he told me as much, you were fine for weeks though why aren't you talking?'

'That's what I don't get out of nowhere he just ignores me and is all over that fucking blonde girl' you scrunch your nose in disgust 'guess he got bored of me.'

He snorts 'Ah it makes sense now' he exhales the smoke and you wait for him to carry on 'he isn't bored of you love trust me, he likes you more then he is letting on.'

'It doesn't seem like it he hasn't even looked at me.'

He stares at me for awhile contemplating something 'Promise you won't tell him I told you this he will kill me' you nod your head in confirmation 'he said something about giving you a taste of your own medicine he is probably just trying to get your attention another way trust me I have tried it plenty of times.'

'Wait what?'

'Trust me he isn't done with you yet I have never seen him this obsessed and he wouldn't just let go of you that easily.'

'That bastard' you say causing Theo to chuckle. 'Right I will leave you to it' he says seeing you deep in thought 'promise you wont let him push you away though I have missed you' he nudges your shoulder.

'I know I wont, thanks Theo.'

'You coming the party tonight? You best be.'

'Mhm Pansy is forcing me either way' you laugh. 'I will see you there.'

'Bye Doll' he says going back, leaving you to your thoughts. You would have never seen through his little act, when he wants to act cold he is fucking good at it. You can't help the thrill that goes through you at the thought he isn't done with you completely but at the same time it doesn't change anything. One thing it has brought you clarity on is that you love him chasing you, despite your protests you looked forward to his flirting and attention. It was intense and disorientating half of you craving him the other half doing what you thought was right. You have so many self imposed rules you would have never dared to break but what if instead of fighting the waves you let yourself be submerged in them. What if you indulged in all you have been uselessly holding yourself back from. You have always been too self disciplined, too restrained. Fun is a foreign words to you and perhaps he could be the awakening to life beyond rules.

You have always been competitive, now its time to beat him at his own game. Two can play at that Matty.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

You sit at the party with a new found energy and confidence in you. You sit with the group not caring about whatever girl he decides to drag over tonight. Unlike the last week when the hurt was evident all over your face you have an unbothered aura, not even giving him the attention of a glance. He must have sensed the difference because you feel his gaze all over you. You are drinking a bit more then usual which you attribute to your new mindset and mostly the nerves. You look around at the table in front of you and frown as all the bottles are empty. You ask the boys if they have any alcohol left and they shake their head. 'Shit that was all we had how have we drank it all' Theo complains.

'Probably Y/N' Mattheo adds in angrily 'She has drank near enough a whole bottle to herself.'

'Excuse me I am sharing with Pansy' you cross your arms glaring at him.

'Yeah and you shouldn't be drinking that much as it is' you just roll your eyes at him.

Draco looks around the room seeing the Gryffindor's with plenty bottles to spare 'fuck sake of course they have some like they will give us any.'

Of course being the only single girl in the group everyone's head turns to you 'What?' you ask. 'But they might give it to you Y/N' Draco implies. I choke out a laugh 'You want me to go steal their drinks?'

'Come on you know Cormac has always had a thing for you I am sure he will be more then willing to share' Theo chuckles.

'Only if you are comfortable Y/N' Blaise ever the gentleman adds.

'No fucking way she isn't flirting with that creep so you can have some drinks' Mattheo says angrily.

Annoyance runs through you not wanting to listen to Mattheo, and you realize this could perfectly work for your plan. 'No I want to I don't mind him and I am not sitting here sober all night'

'Atta girl' Theo says as Mattheo goes to protest 'Y/N!' But you walk off ignoring him.

You walk over to were the Gryffindors are sat and they all look over Cormac beaming brightly 'Y/N hey!'

'Hey Cormac how are you?' You sit next to him smiling. You aren't the best at flirting but you hope the fact he likes you will be enough.

'I am very good even better now, so what brings you over here?'

'Well we have run out of drinks and I happened to see you have a few bottles over here you wouldn't mind sharing a few would you?' you give him your best doe eyed look.

'Let me guess for your Slytherin friends, I would be happy to give you some but they don't deserve any' he glares over at them. You touch his arm gently 'I know they can be dickheads but just think of doing it for me' you pull out your sweetest smile 'please Cormac I would owe you one.'

He smiles at you and you know you have won him over 'Fine but you owe me yeah? How about you repay me with a date?'

Cormac isn't that bad he gets a bit of a bad credit but he has never been pushy with you so you just pretend in your head like you are going out with a friend. You obviously aren't interested but you know how disappointed they will be if you go back with nothing. 'I don't know about a date but how about we go for coffee to start with?' He looks a bit disappointed but still smiles 'Okay sure, take as much as you need' he points to the table. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him in for a hug 'you are the best thank you.' You take two bottles of firewhisky 'I will catch up with you later bye' you say running off.

You wave the bottles as you walk over to the group and Theo picks you up in a hug 'that's our girl' you giggle and pour yourself a drink. You notice Mattheo raging and a thrill goes through you at the look in his eyes. 'So what did you have to promise him' Pansy asks knowing him well 'Erm nothing he just gave me them' you say lying but she knows straight away. 'You liar tell me.'

You roll your eyes 'just coffee but I would have went anyway.' She laughs 'well thanks we owe you one now.'

You sit talking and laughing almost forgetting about Mattheo. You announce you are going the toilet and you make your way to them before someone grabs your wrist pulling you to face them. Of course it is him.

'What are you doing?' You say a bit startled.

'What the fuck was that what do you think your doing with Cormac?'

You try pulling your wrist back but he pushes you against the wall so you can't move. 'Mind your fucking business, what have you decided to talk to me today?'

He clenches his jaw 'Do you like him?'

'Seriously?'

'Do. You. Like. Him.' He says dangerously slow. You look away but he pulls your chin to face him and you grit out 'No I don't.'

'So you fucking promised him a date?'

'It isn't a date its coffee and what does it have to do with you?'

'You are not going I will tell him myself.'

'You can't tell me what to do, who...'

'Yes I can princess' He says interrupting you putting his hand around your throat softly which momentarily shuts you up. He smirks as you go quiet. 'I think you like me telling you what to do' he cocks his head staring down at you. A blush rises on your cheeks and you are just glad for the dark room.

'No I don't' you say but it sounds weaker then you intended. You push his chest trying to create space but he just moves closer his hand caressing your cheek and the other on your waist 'Still resisting me sweetheart?'

'Thought you were done with me anyway' you say trying to sound nonchalant but it came out more bitter.

He smirks 'you didn't like it did you? My attention not being yours, you can play hard to get all you want but I know you will always think of me.'

You glare at him 'Is that what that little stunt with Cormac was, and this little dress you trying to get my attention love?'

'You are so full of yourself not everything is about you!'

'Oh but I think it is' he plays with the hem of your dress 'It is all a sad little attempt to get me to think of you again isn't it.'

You snort 'Like you ever stopped.'

He smiles 'Mhm your quite right, you know I haven't been able to fuck another girl all I can think about is you' he says huskily.

You narrow your eyes 'your lying.'

'No love I am really not I fucking wish I was, I can't get you out of my head' He says seriously his head dropping down to yours. 'Now be honest' he tilts your face up until your noses are basically touching 'have you been thinking about me?'

Before thinking, the alcohol taking over 'yeah' you say seductively.

'I knew it I could see it in your eyes every time you looked at me. You know hard it was staying away from your pretty face.'

'Why did you then' you ask looking a bit hurt. 'You kept telling me to leave you alone so I thought I would see if you really wanted me to. I love a chase but you kicked my ego a bit there.'

'I missed you Matt' you hold his hand stroking your cheek and he rests his forehead against your, eyes closed. 'I know gorgeous I missed you too, you really think I would let you go that easy?' He chuckles wickedly.

'Why do I still want you so much its not fair Matt why can't you like me back then you could have me.'

'Fucks sake love, you know that isn't the issue I am never going to be the man you want I will eventually fuck things up anyway its best we just keep it casual.'

'You like me?' You ask bemused never even thinking that was a possibility. He laughs 'Isn't it obvious?'

'No Matt not really I thought it was only about sex for you.'

'Yeah, yeah it was but... I don't know its different with you I would have gave up a long fucking time ago if it weren't.'

You huff 'I don't get it then why can't we just date I am not asking for your hand in marriage I just don't want you to use me and throw me away when you are done.'

'It never would have been that. You are mine. Whether you like it or not.'

Your core tightened at those words but he doesn't have to know that. You huff 'I am not yours you don't just get to decide that. And how do I know you wont get bored and leave after you get what you want.'

'I could never get bored of you, trust me once I fuck you I am not letting go and you wont want anyone else.'

'I bet you say that to every girl.'

He groans 'You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.'

'I am not stubborn I just don't fall for your false promises.'

'You are never going to believe me, you really think I would do that to you just throw you away when I am satisfied?'

'You have done that to plenty other girls.'

'You are not other girls haven't I proved that. Yes I may have been a dick but I care about you I don't know what you have done but I feel things I shouldn't.'

You sigh also realizing that no matter how much he reassures you that he isn't just using you for your body you will never believe him. You can stand here going in circles but the only way you will find out is if you take the risk which is something your heart is terrified to do. You slowly start seeing it was never a fear of something casual but only being seen as an object, discarded after you served your purpose. You know he will never give you a relationship and your heart hurts at the fact you have to sacrifice that, but isn't it enough he likes you too? It kills you that he is scared for anything more but you see he is trying in his own way, offering you all he knows.

'What are you thinking love' he says looking tortured pulling you from your thoughts. He must see your walls crumbling as a gleam fills his eyes and he moves even closer if that was possible. You already know you have made up your mind but you aren't making it that easy for him.

You pull him in for a kiss which stuns him for a second before he brings one hand to your face and the other your waist pulling you flush against his chest. He deepens the kiss and your hands tangle in his hair causing a low moan to escape his mouth. It gets more and more passionate, his tongue swirling with yours until you pull away gasping for breathe. Why the fuck didn't you do that sooner.

'Your never getting away from me now' he says pulling you back in before pulling away and placing kisses down your neck as you flutter your eyes closed. You are so entangled in one another, weeks worth of desire being released you don't hear someone enter the corridor until you hear a loud cough. You pull away from Mattheo gasping but the grip on your waist remains firm. Across from you is Pansy and Theo smirking.

'So that is were you two went' she laughs 'I was getting worried.' You pull away from him completely attempting to smooth your hair down.

'Back at it again then' Theo raises his brows, Mattheo smirks and you mutter 'Shut up Theo' causing him to chuckle. Pansy your saving grace stopping you from going too fast says 'I am going to bed you coming?'

'Yeah lets go' you walk over to her quickly linking your arms.

'Y/N...'

'Night Matty, night Theo see you tomorrow' you say and quickly walk off with Pansy.

As you get to your room she squeals 'Girl fucking tell me everything now...'

[wayfayrr]

Alright, I wonder how long an ask can be. U asked for it!😝

Also, if u were curious, since I’ve only played Botw and most but not all of totk, 98% of the time my yandere self-aware ideas will be of Wild/Tears.

How does Wild/Tears feel about the fairies? Like, is he embarrassed that reader has to watch that? Does he worry what they think? Or is he just like “eh, I can’t control their upgrade animations, sorry”. Then how does he feel when reader thinks it’s kinda cute/funny? I don’t want to traumatize the poor guy, but I must admit watching the level four animation is slightly funny bc I feel so bad for him. And in level three when he covers his face is cute.

What about when he just has to sit there for 10 hrs his time? Listen, I wanna upgrade the darn champion’s tunic but the stupid upgrades require 2 of each farmable dragon Zelda item. And I couldn’t find her for so long it was annoying. Ik she follows a certain path but even so u have to just keep following the path hoping u eventually run into her. So I just decided to farm an item, then sit there for 10 minutes r time until she’s farmable again. So how does Tears feel? Am I wasting his time? Is he bored? If he had an animation for it would he fall asleep? Would he glare at me for making him sit there for 10 hours? Plus, ima be honest. For those 10 minutes of me just waiting, I’ll usually scroll on my phone. I’m not gonna stare at the tv for 10 minutes, sorry lol. So is he mad that I’m not paying attention to him and stuff?

What about if I laugh at him? Alright, I don’t do it That much lol, just if I make an embarrassing mistake w him and he looks a little funny. Would he be embarrassed? Mad? ….?? I think he’s cuuute! It’s fiiine, right…?😭

Thinking about my one ask where I used him for science, totally not using bombs on him for any other reason! Anyway, so I have to admit, his overheating animation I like. I’m all for angst/whump w characters. Whenever I read AO3, 98% of the stories r angst/whump for Wild/Tears. Sicfic? Yes please! Nightmares? Yes please! Psychological torture? Sign me up! There was this one fic someone wrote about Wild being hit by a curse that trapped him in his memory next time he unlocked one, so he had to watch it over and over and over. The rest of the chain had to save him. Tho, if it makes u feel any better, I only like happy endings, no open ended ones, no sad ones, or character deaths. Nope. Fairy tale where they all lived happily ever after please and thank u lol. So anyway, I got sidetracked lol. My question was, would he be mad if I just put the game on the clothes menu when he’s overheating so he doesn’t lose any hearts over it, just watching him do it for a minute or two?

Sometimes I need to wear like one clothing item per outfit so I can use like 3 different abilities. For example, maybe bandana to climb faster, gloom shirt for an extra heartbreak, and snow pants bc it’s freezing? And sometimes I’ll complain that he looks ugly, well, not him, but the outfit, and say that I wish I could make him look cuter but I need these abilities atm. Does he hate the outfits like I do? Does he care more about function? Does he hate that I care so much?

How does he feel not being able to talk? Like literally every other character can talk except him. And he can’t do anything by himself. Everything he does is either a programmed animation or an action by my controller. I bet he has a lot he wants to say but can’t. Does he ever worry that if he were to get out and see me, what if he couldn’t talk to me??

🐰

yeah it's always a lot easier to think about the links you know better for stuff like this ngl, so I don't blame you for sticking to them. plus wild and tears are just fun too right? :3c

so starting from the top -

I think the fairies are a touchy subject for him, if you like the cutscenes then he can set his discomfort about being picked up and kissed somewhat - don't get me wrong he doesn't enjoy it but for your happiness he'll do it as many times as you make him (although, unless he finds a way to override the controls then it's not really like he has a choice in it) he'll make notes about how you like him acting in certain ways though - I mean if you like seeing him as a blushy mess covering his face in the game then you'll like it more when he's doing it in person right? Please don't make him recreate the level four one though.

To be honest, there's nothing that you could do to him that he could ever consider a waste of time. would he prefer you to be actively engaged? sure. Is he bothered if you're still there but just waiting for a bit for the dragon to recharge? Not really, yeah he'd prefer to be doing more, but at the same time it gives him a chance to observe and to get more of a grasp of how the game works while it's on and running compared to when he's robbed of his body and is left a being floating in a desolate void of numbers and machine code. He can relax and still have feeling and eyes on you and your eyes on him every now and then even though it's not as often as he'd like. as for the time? I think once he became aware he stopped running on hyrules time, so it's only ten minutes for him too. Ten minutes that granted feel longer than that cause of the scenery, but still only ten minutes. if it were a situation where he was still in a hyrule then he'd be further detached from anyone else. (my thoughts are if the game is left in standby on the switch then it's all still loaded and the links have free reign but if it's closed and you're playing another switch game then it tosses them into the abyss)

laughing at him for being cute is all good but please don't make fun of him ;-; he's only doing what you make him do after all!

I need to write more whump and hurt/comfort for tears actually, thanks for the reminder Well, he's not getting hurt by it -soooo he's kinda a bit deluded into thinking that it's another show of love for him. You simply love all the sounds that he's making <3 (and I don't blame you, his whimpers are actually just so adorable?????) You care so much that you're not letting him get hurt for your happiness!!!!

I think he takes it as a compliment that you care so much about how his outfits look, he wants to look his best for you too!!! If he could he'd find a way to stack the different bonuses so that you could treat him like a proper dress up doll without having to worry about the environment and how it impacts him :c he doesn't care what outfit he 'wears' cause it's not like he's actually wearing and interacting with it. it's glued to him like a second skin so whether you're keeping him shirtless or putting him in the thickest shirt possible there's no difference to him just don't mod him so that he's no longer himself please

The fact that there's a chance he wouldn't be able to communicate with you is something that he worries about alot, not even just not having a voice. He'd be fine with being mute if he can write or sign to you, hell he could probably delude himself into being fine that he couldn't do that if he could move freely and hold you. what scares him the most is the idea that he'd be like a puppet cut, that if he gets out that without the code acting as his strings he falls limp like a puppet cut loose. that's what's horrifying to him. anything else he could learn to live with, but that potential keeps him from making any rash movements where the cost could outweigh the benefits. I like to think that out of desperation, (this goes for sky in the fic too) they stole another characters voicebank from another game :) one that speaks your native tongue preferably, but at the very least one that shares a language you speak

[bottomlouisficfest]

We hope you’ve enjoyed the last couple of weeks of fics from the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2024! Every two weeks, we’re compiling all of the fics from that period into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

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I am br(ok)en

A fic by SweetieR on AO3 | @SweetieR08 on Twitter

53k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry is a 28 year old Alpha who just got his heart broken by his long-term boyfriend. What happens when he meets Louis, a 30 year-old omega who is the spitting image of his ex? Sparks fly and hearts get on the line... Will Harry be able to understand his feelings before it's too late and he loses everything ? Or - The one where Harry is a stupid (stubborn) Alpha who can't understand what his heart is trying to tell him after the worst heartbreak of his life, and Louis is the sweet omega who arrives out of nowhere, wanting nothing more than being loved and cherished.

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Soft Hands Organics - Adore Sensitive Skin

A fic by SilverStuff50 on AO3 | @silverstuff50 on Tumblr | @SilverStuff50 on Twitter

8k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 504: PWP where OMC/Harry owns a skincare line and is about to launch extensive butt skincare products. The problem is that they are a small business and do not have enough budget to hire a model who would show their naked bum cheeks online for limited pay. Enter Louis, who could be a friend to a friend who’s up for it. Ass worship. OR The Ass Worship fic...

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don't make me feel special

A fic by moaismee on AO3

27k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 118: Its only when Harry is chosen for the Triwizard tournament that Louis realizes that his feelings are returned. Make it ABO please.

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I love it better if I repeat it many times; firefly, firefly, firefly ᡣ𐭩

A fic by puppyvirginloui on AO3 | @puppyvirginloui on Twitter

66k | Not Rated | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Louis, don't marry him.” he gasped loudly as the alpha cornered him at the engagement party. Louis watched behind Harry to make sure that no one was paying attention to them. “Please don't.” he begged, Louis' blood was boiling, he roughly pulled away from the curly’s firm grip. He couldn't believe his audacity. “What's wrong with you? You just asked Naomi for her hand, you asshole!” He yelled through clenched teeth, still looking behind his back. Harry shook his head for a few seconds, holding his hair that was ruined in a flash. “I can't believe it. You’re-” “I know you don't love him. I saw it in your eyes, Lou. Please.” The brunette omega fell silent, opening his mouth in astonishment, the ring he'd received from Rowan identical to Naomi's weighed heavier against the accusation that fell from the alpha on him. Harry took a step closer, they were practically already close from a start, right now, their chests were brushing. He watched his pleading gaze, his large, warm hands clinging to his arms, Louis felt his mark burning. “Harry-” “If you ask me, I won't get married. If you ask me, I’ll give up on all of this.” His heart along with his knees went weak.

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No bananas in the library

A fic by emmli28 on AO3 | @emmli28 on Twitter

36k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Sometimes it all starts with a dare, sometimes the dare comes later, and sometimes the dare is actually the push someone needs to be brave enough to talk to someone. Louis wouldn’t say Harry is his enemy but that loud frat boy can be incredibly annoying, always disturbing Louis when he tries to study, and Louis has certainly told him so. And he’s always eating his disgusting bananas. However, one day Harry approaches him to say that he wants to get to know Louis. This isn’t the typical “dare”-story.

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we're leading each other out of the dark

A fic by anditsonlyforthebrave on AO3 | @HARRYSC1NEMA on Twitter

16k | Not Rated | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“But I don’t want you to think that I left because I didn’t care,” Harry admits, “Lou, you’re terrifying in the best way. And I knew that if I told you, if I said goodbye, I would’ve come back crying after two weeks,” Harry explains, “and I wish I had a better explanation, but everything I have ever said to you was true. I loved you, and you were the most important person in my life and I never, ever wanted to let you down.” “But you left me.” Harry nods, “and you hid the fact that I had a child for six years, involving my own mother.” “But you left me,” Louis repeats. or Harry leaves and never looks back, only for him to eventually come home to find Louis and a little girl that looks exactly like him.

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I used to call you my best friend way back before you were my everything

A fic by @roselouis on AO3 | xx on Tumblr | @locksloxlahks on Twitter

7k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Okay, this is going to sound insane, but I really can’t stop thinking about you.” Louis’ eyes widened and his heart skipped. “How do you mean?” he whispered. “I mean. I kind of, like, want you. And like. I don’t know if I can have you.” “Oh, yes you absolutely can,” Louis gained confidence at Harry’s sudden lack thereof. “What? I was supposed to look after you, and now, not only have I gone and put myself in a position to not be there for you, but I also just. Want you. What would everyone think?” “Harry, I—I want you, too. Who cares what anyone thinks? Do you mean my parents? They’ll live, considering they love you more than they love their own sons sometimes.”

--

as the summer fades away

A fic by cinnamons on AO3 | @sunbellylou on Tumblr | @sunbellylou on Twitter

66k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry and Louis were not supposed to be. And that was a fact Louis had been very aware of for the past decade. It was just the way the universe was. And Louis knew there was no bending and pushing that would change the facts. Harry was his neighbor and his father’s best friend. A constant in Louis’s life for years. Sturdy and unmoving, with an ever present frown pulling on his mouth. Unattainable. When Louis landed back in Texas after graduating college, he learned that sometimes the universe could bend a little at his will.

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[starsfic]

Monkie Kid prompt:

Nezha discusses his sacrifice against the dragon king with MK after the events of the pillar

(He seems like the right person to talk to about this with MK)

Anon: nezha seeing mk was yet another prophecy child of chaos, that would sacrifice himself for his family sake. He wishes he'd have listened to the group sooner, maybe they could of avoided that heartbreaking outcome had he just helped them from the beginning

Nezha’s death had never been discussed in the family since their welcome to the celestial court.

Some part of it may have been because they all had different things to do and stayed far from each other. Nezha had certainly made sure he was never really alone with Li Jing since then. It may have also been because that was what had been expected of him. Nezha had shamed the family, put their home at risk, and enraged the gods. 

If killing himself would deal with the problem…

Nezha absently wondered if, at least he and his brothers talked about it, he would stop having nightmares about it.

Qi Xiaotian was ready to have nightmares, he could tell.

In the aftermath of whatever happened at the pillar, Sun Wukong and his little band had gathered at the pig’s noodle shop. Nezha hung outside, unsure whether to knock or just go away. The windows were open, allowing him a peek inside the building.

Most of the mortals were talking, doing this and that, setting up the table or making food. A fresh pot of tea was being poured by the demon with the cat, Mo, who seemed content to just sit and watch, right next to Qi Xiaotian.

He was the only one sitting and seemed to be by himself, despite the room being filled with people. As Nezha watched, he could see at least one person look at him, try to smile, and look away, wiping away tears. Wukong looked visibly haunted as he cut and diced vegetables and fruits, wearing a loose hanfu Nezha hadn’t seen him wear in years. 

It only made the guilt in his chest sour even more.

Nezha crept to the door carefully and pushed the bamboo aside. His eyes met Xiaotian, who gave a start. “Nezha?”

It was enough for everyone to whirl around, teeth bared. He immediately held up his hands at the sight of Wukong and the knife. He knew, logically, that his friend-not-friend would never actually stab him, but Wukong’s glamor on his eyes was dropped and he was clearly upset and the logical thing at that to do was put his hands up. “Can I speak with you? In private?”

“No,” the pig said as Xiaotian said “Sure.”

“Kid-”

“If he does anything, you’ll probably hear,” Xiaotian said, standing up and picking up Mo. “I promise, I’m not going to do something stupid.”

Nezha’s mouth went dry at the words.

…It was more than he ever got.

Xiaotian walked out and led him to the mouth of an alleyway next to the shop. Mo squeezed his way out of his arms and settled on his shoulder, meowing at Nezha until he pet him. “I thought you were in Heaven already,” the mortal man said. “What brings you around?”

“You should go to therapy.”

The minute he said it, he was tempted to bang his head against the nearest wall. It was there, it was just a step away. He didn’t even give a hello! Xiaotian blinked, gaping at him. “Excuse me?”

“I- You should go to therapy,” Nezha said, deciding to dig down. “I…I’m starting therapy because when you offered to sacrifice yourself, I agreed with you.” He felt his hands clenched. “If I was in your place, I would have done it without a thought.”

“Then why do you make it sound like it’s a bad thing?” Xiaotian asked, not unkindly. “It’s the world.”

“Sometimes the world isn’t enough,” Nezha said, his thoughts scrambling together. “I killed myself to save my village.” Xiaotian’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t look surprised. It was, after all, an important part of his story, right next to the slaying of Ao Bing. “I thought, when I was resurrected, that I would be at peace or at least determined.” There was no regret, even now, and Nezha knew that wasn’t normal.

Xiaotian blinked. “But you just felt tired,” he guessed, drawing attention to the grey under his eyes.

“Yes,” Nezha nodded. Some urge seized him and he reached up, squeezing Xiaotian’s other shoulder. Mo reached out to sniff it. “You and I are a lot alike. I…worry that we may be similar in this as well. So, please.”

The warmth of the home seemed to increase.

“For the people who love you, take care of yourself.”

[digitaldiarystuff]

The Interview

Hi guyss! Thank you so much for the support for my last post, here’s another idea I’ve had and if you want a part 2 to any of my stories feel free to reach out to me!

————

summary: You’re an actress in Spain who supports atletico and are asked in an interview about Joao’s goal against your team, you playfully answer and receive a notification afterwards.

genre: fluff

pairing: Joao Felix x Y/N

————

So, Y/N, we’re coming to the end of our interview but before that, I see here in my cards that you’re a die hard Atletico fan. Is it true?” Jim, the interviewer asked. You giggled.

“It’s true Jim, growing up, my dad was a football man. We spent every weekend watching games in the stadium or at home and I still do, just not going to games because of my crazy schedule, just watching them with my Griezmann shirt at home. We’re all big fans.” you answered truthfully. You loved watching the games but sometimes it was hard to catch up.

“So, did you watch the game they played against Barcelona?” he asked, intrigued.

“I did, actually. It was heartbreaking.” you said.

“Oh yeah yeah. Felix scoring the goal.”

“Yeah, it was hard to watch because I always knew he was a good player, seeing him score against us was hard.” you answered hoping that nobody would get upset because as much as it was true, you knew you had to make interviews professionally. Especially the live ones.

Soon after, the interview was done and you were in the backstage grabbing your items to head out. It was an off-day and you had planned on going home and not do anything.

When you went into the house, your dog, Biscuit was waiting for you at the door. You played with her for a few minutes and then grabbed some treats from the kitchen and a blanket to make yourself cozy and watch some TV but your phone vibrating like crazy meant the interview was up and everyone had seen it. You weren’t a big time celebrity but your recent role in a Netflix series has gained you tons of attention.

You were going through your message requests seeing the good and the bad things people said until one name caught your eye.

Joao Felix

Sorry to break your heart 💔 he said. You stared at the message for what felt like an eternity.

Maybe one or two footballers slid in your dm’s in the past months but none had any effect on you but Joao’s single sentence made your tummy flip. Was he mad? How could you respond to this, if you were to respond of course because you shouldn’t. Right?

It’s a little late for that, what’s done is done, you wrote but deleted right after, was it too harsh. You always had a weird sense of humor and enjoyed banter in flirting but you didn’t even know if this was flirty.

Well, you could always make up for it, you wrote then but feared it might be too forward, what if he was just apologizing genuinely to a fan? Oh god that would be embarrassing.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just your job” you wrote and sent. This is the most appropriate, you thought. And maybe, he wouldn’t even respond after this.

You were wrong, he replied back in a minute.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

Okay, this wasn’t about all fans, you thought. Because he specifically asked what could he do for you. Breathe Y/N, breathe.

Before replying, you quickly went onto his page, he was an amazing looking athlete there’s no denying and you’re single so you shouldn’t feel bad about the butterflies in your stomach.

“You could start with a dinner.” you replied and threw the phone on the couch scared of his response. Oh god, you hope you didn’t misread the interaction.

After a few minutes you decided this was stupid and picked the phone up.

“My pleasure. Tonight at 8?” he wrote and you nearly screamed, this gorgeous man was taking you out tonight and you were already shaking.

You quickly said ok and decided to have a long shower and get ready since it’s already 5. He also asked for your location to pick you up at 8.

After the shower you went into your closet trying to decide on what to wear and ended up with a navy dress and did your makeup. Just as you were putting on earrings, you heard the door knock. You tried calming yourself and opened the door and saw the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on with a big smile and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Hi.” he said sheepishly.

“Hi.” you replied equally giddy.

“Are you ready?” he asked, eyeing you up and down.

“Yes, here just let me take those of your hands and we can go.” you said, blushing because he was looking at you with no shame.

He drove you to a fancy restaurant which you’d once been with your manager as a celebration but he reserved a secluded table for the two of you.

At first, you were a little nervous about being on a date with him but that quickly went away as you talked about anything and everything. You quickly realized he was the most down to earth guy and wasn’t full of himself. He listened and gave you compliments as you described your life and you listened about his career. Before you knew it, it was nearly midnight and you were having the time of your life. You didn’t have to put on a facade with him and say whatever.

When the bill came, you of course offered but he wouldn’t budge and paid for the night and helped you walk to the exit with his hand on the small of your back. You got goosebumps just from a simple touch.

You went in the car and he started driving so you put on the radio and singing along the song when he joined you. You giggled.

“What, do you not like my voice?” he asked offended.

“No, I actually do.” you said. It felt like you knew him for years.

“I had fun tonight.” he said while walking you to your door.

“Me too, thank you for everything.” you said as you walked up the stairs to your door.

You stood just looking at each other’s eyes, lost in the moment.

“I sho-“

“Do you want to come inside?” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“Yeah.” he smiled as you walked in the door.

He started looking at your home, analyzing details and when he saw the pictures of your family, he smiled.

“Did I also break your dad’s heart?” he asked.

“Why, are you going to buy him dinner too?”

“No, that was all for you.” he said as he walked over and held your waist looking at you intensely.

You looked up at him and smiled. He leaned in and stopped, as a way of making sure this was okay and you gave him the permission by pressing your lips against his. He smiled into the kiss and started moving his lips immediately. You lost yourself at his touch and placed your hands behind his head, playing with his hair. His hands roamed over your body trying to hold you closer.

“Y/N, I think I like you.” he said after you broke the kiss to breathe.

“I think I like you too Joao.” you said smiling widely.

“Now take me upstairs.” you said in a quiet tone, needing more of him.

He nodded immediately telling you to jump and wrap your legs around his torso. He carried you upstairs and you strengthened the connection you found today, until the sun came up.

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling a presence next to you and it was Joao. He was still sleeping. After you went to sleep, your mind wandered if this was just for one night but seeing him next to you happily snoring made that feeling go away. You carefully escaped his arms holding you at place to wash your face and go down to the kitchen. Just as you were passing the living room, you saw the flowers he brought last night. Smiling to yourself, you picked them up to put in a vase when you noticed a card sitting in between pink tulips.

You opened it up to see what was inside and found a note from him and smiled even wider if it’s possible.

“I hope this is the beginning of a great story”

————

Ahh, this was sooo sweet even when I was writing I was smiling, hope you enjoyed it! Feedback is always appreciated luvs 🌷

[cal-flakes]

can you do a story where the reader and rafe are bestfriends and he confesses that he likes her & he wasnt expecting her to feel the same way but she does?🧍🏼‍♀️

╰┈➤ bestfriend!rafe tells y/n the truth (blurb)

warnings: light swearing, kinda hurt/comfort, fluff.

summary: rafe get a bit fed up of listening to his friends sob story’s about boys who don’t treat her well. (very heartbreak girl by 5sos)

rafe sighed heavily as his hand ached, having been stroking y/n’s hair for quite some time. his eyes flickered between her and television, trying to see if she’d fallen asleep or not.

“y/n?” he whispered, jolting her slightly. groaning in response, she turned to face him, showing him her puffy, flushed face, covered in dried tears from earlier. “yeah?” she cooed, resting her head against the arm of the couch as she sat up, cuddling into his side.

“i thought you’d fallen asleep, are you feeling any better?” he queried, a sad look in his eyes. “i am now that you’re here” she smiled sweetly, allowing her head to fall into the crook of his neck.

sighing, his eyes moved to the television once again, deep in thought as she nuzzled into him, not caring for the splotches of tears cascading down his white t-shirt.

“do you really mean that?” he asked, deciding to go for the kill. “mean what?” she hummed, glancing back up at him.

“do you really mean that you’re happier when i’m here?” he pushed, watching as her facing contorted into confusion. “of course i do, you’re my best friend, i’m always happier when you’re around..” she muttered tiredly, a need for sleep apparent as a violet hue spread underneath her eyes.

“no but, that’s not what i- actually, it’s fine, it doesn’t matter..” rafe huffed, throwing his head back against the couch in defeat. she’d never understand, he thought. “hey, no. it does matter, cause something is clearly bothering you” y/n argued.

the sudden lack of warmth in his side couldn’t go unnoticed as she sat up in a flash, confronting him head on. “what do you mean rafe?” she sighed, resting her now crossed legs on his waist as he avoided her eyes, biting at his nails.

“y/n please, it’s fine” he plead, wanting the ground to swallow him up as he realised his options. lie, or tell the truth. he didn’t want to tell the truth, but he also didn’t want to lie. mostly because he knew that she would know in an instant if he was lying, her ability to tell honestly grated on him sometimes.

“but you seem sad rafe, and i hate when you’re sad, and like- y’know, i’m sad too! so if you tell me why you’re sad, we can be sad together” she rambled, giggling slightly as she prodded at his cheeks, clearly pushing his buttons. “so tell me why you’re sad, cause i’m sure i can help!” she beamed, cupping his cheeks.

his heartbeat quickened as he leant into her warm touch, enjoying the slight scrape of her nails against his skin.

“fine, okay. i’m sad, because..a girl i really like, like- really really like, doesn’t look at me the same way..” he mumbled, once again diverting his eyes. “seriously? who would be stupid enough to not like you back? that’s insane!” she exclaimed, pulling back to show him her shocked face. chuckling, he nodded along with her. “yeah, you’d think so huh?”

“do you want me to talk to her? i could put in a good word?” she teased, though her words were genuine. she’d do anything for him.“don’t be silly, she wouldn’t listen, she’s got too much on her mind already..”

“what’s more important than you?” she huffed, crossing her arms, utterly surprised by this girls behaviour towards her friend. humming, he picked at his fingers. “what?” y/n asked, noticing his change in demeanour immediately.

she scoffed as he fell completely silent, staring into her eyes. “rafe, what is it?” she demanded, growing frustrated. “well, it’s you..” he whispered, pulling into his lips into a thin line “what’s me? i don’t understand..”

“y’know, the girl i really like, who as more important things on her mind? it’s you y/n..”

“it’s me?”

[1d1195]

Tulips

This is the story I dubbed as therapeutic for myself. I've been struggling a lot lately (I apologize for the delay in posting). I actually wanted this to be more but I wanted to post very badly. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy a lot of fluff and bit of angst.

Harry was convinced that even if they did end their relationship (and he was certain that would never happen) he would thank her for the heartbreak.

Harry was at the grocery store, passing the florist department when he realized his mistake. He had been dating her for nearly two months when he came to the realization that he hadn’t gotten her a bouquet of flowers yet. He felt horrible immediately and wanted to remedy the situation as quickly as he possibly could.

But he wanted her to like the flowers he got, and he wanted it to be a surprise. Neither of which he was sure he could pull off when he hadn’t asked her once what her favorite flower.

Like an absolute creep, he messaged her youngest sister on Instagram; he had at least met her in passing on one of their dates when they stopped for a coffee while she was working. Harry hadn’t met the other two just yet so messaging them would have seemed insane.

Hiiii. Uh...sorry to message you like this...any chance you know your sister’s favorite flowers?

Oh, my goodness, that’s too sweet! Umm...now that I think about it, I’m not sure. Let me ask.

Er...I was hoping it could be a surprise.

Aww...Don’t worry I have just the idea, wait one minute.

Harry waited patiently for her response thinking about how smitten he was with the beautiful girl. Just the mere thought of her brought a smile to his face, making him nearly giggle with how much he liked her. Flowers didn’t seem like enough. She deserved a whole garden.

Here’s what I got. She’s so sad sometimes *eyeroll*

Harry frowned and clicked on the screenshot titled Will Recipients. He chuckled at the name. He knew it was between the four girls and Harry was looking for his lovely lady’s response in the many messages they managed to send. He was slightly amazed they had time to send all of them in a matter of five minutes that he texted her sister.

Her sister started: I’m doing a project for school. What’s your favorite flower?

Harry didn’t know which middle sister was which, but he thought their responses were funny, nonetheless. What kind of project asks about your favorite flower?

I like daisies.

That’s the most boring answer I’ve ever heard. Harry knew the youngest was brutal sometimes and he thought of messaging with Gemma, and it was nothing in comparison to four girls ranging from their late teens to their mid-twenties. It’s for my stats class.

I took that class, we never did a flower thing.

Can you just tell me?

Finally, the oldest answered and Harry examined her little gray message for entirely too long. Like the one I actually like? or the one I tell everyone I like? That was her response.

What kind of lunatic lies about their favorite flower?

The kind that gets told their favorite is old-ladyish all the time. Or laughed at because it’s a stupid flower. Forget it, I like sunflowers.

Harry frowned and responded to her sister once more. Any chance you could find out the real one?

Sure!

Within moments Harry had another screenshot.

Hey drama queen, I won’t tell the others, what’s your real favorite flower. I’ll even keep my comments to myself.

Tulips.

Nothing else. That was the only thing she wrote. Harry didn’t really know what to expect but it wasn’t tulips.

Thank you, love. I appreciate it.

Any time Harry! Let me know how she likes them!!!

Harry was planning when he’d see her next and looked into all types of tulips and how to care for them as well. He wanted her to like them and didn’t want her to feel bad about liking them. Making her happy was his goal. He didn’t really feel any particular way about tulips at all. He didn’t really think they were old-ladyish so he wondered where that came from. He felt bad the poor thing had to hide her real feelings. He never wanted her to feel that way around him.

Harry thought it would seem too obvious if he brought flowers right away. So he had to wait for just right the time which gave him plenty of time to research the perfect color and care needed for the pretty girl that deserved pretty flowers.

*

Harry knocked on her door holding the bouquet in his hand. They were going to dinner and a movie that evening and Harry came prepared—especially since it was now approaching nearly three months since they began dating. After a quick greeting she seemed to finally notice all at once the flowers in his hand. “Kitten?” He asked gently as she stared at the flowers. Her eyes sort of glazed over.

“Are you the reason my sister was asking us our favorite flower?” She wondered.

Harry frowned a little. First, she was too smart. He was sad she knew so quickly the motives of her sister asking the question were tied to him. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she still lied to her sister, and these weren’t her favorite flowers. Harry bit his lip and sighed. “Er...yeah,” he sounded so shy. “M’sorry, kitten...I thought I got the right—” She shook her head and stayed silent as Harry stopped speaking. It was so silent. Nearly uncomfortable with how silent it was. Why would her sister lie to him?

God, he really liked her, and he thought he ruined everything just by getting her flowers. His frown deepened and he sighed as he went to the kitchen to find a vase. She stayed by the door almost in a trance, and Harry felt a little awkward trying to figure out what her reaction meant.

“Harry?” She said softly and suddenly hurried to the kitchen. He was filling the vase with water, and he looked at her entering the kitchen a tad nervously.

“Yeah, angel?” He asked.

“Thank you,” the thankfulness, the kindness, the overwhelming amount of gratitude in her voice almost shattered Harry. She was so grateful for the flowers.

He sighed with relief and smiled at her as he put the stems into the vase. Setting it on the counter he came to her side and slid his hands up her neck and gently rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “’Course, beautiful,” he hummed and pressed his lips against hers. Kissing was still kind of new—and he loved the way she nearly sighed each time their mouths connected. He smiled as he pulled away. “Sorry it took me s’long t’get y’some.”

 She bit her lip. “What do you mean?” She asked.

“Should have gotten y’flowers every time I saw you,” he smiled and rubbed his thumb on her lips. He kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose before he turned his attention back to the vase and settled it in the middle of her coffee table. “Y’ready t’go?” He asked.

Since she seemed speechless, she nodded. Harry gave her a reassuring smile, took her hand, and left happy the bouquet seemed to be a hit.

*

They were flowers. Flowers. Just flowers. She wasn’t going to lose her mind over a bouquet.

But she kind of was.

Fortunately, Harry was giving her a hilarious recap of the movie that she was hardly able to stay focused on while it played. His summary allowed her to make believe she had watched the whole movie. While instead, for the better part of the last two hours, she really thought only about the tulips that Harry had placed so effortlessly in the middle of her apartment. As if the flowers didn’t mean everything in the world. Like it wasn’t earthshattering that he got her flowers.

“Are you okay, love?” He hummed and gave her hand a squeeze as they made it to the restaurant. He put his hand on her lower back as he held the door open for her and ushered her inside. His eyebrows pinched together. “Did y’like the movie?” He wondered nervously as she walked inside. Maybe his recap was overdone. But Harry enjoyed the movie and the way she seemed so engrossed and how captive she was through his summary he assumed she did. Maybe he was wrong this time about her—like he thought she didn’t like the flowers. She grabbed the next door and held it open for him but he placed his hand above her to hold it open so she could walk through first once more.

She would have enjoyed the movie if she paid any attention to it. But she didn’t. So, she fibbed a little. “I did, yeah. M’just a little tired... movies make me tired,” she explained with a breath of exhaled laughter. That wasn’t a lie. They were lucky they were in a theater because if they were at one of their apartments—and she wasn’t having a meltdown over a bouquet—then she would have fallen asleep for sure.

He frowned. “Oh, m’sorry, kitten. D’you want me t’take you home instead?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, I’ll perk up. I’ll get a coffee,” she said and reached for his hand as they stepped to the hostess stand. She squeezed it reassuringly. “I...I like our date nights,” she smiled sweetly.

Harry seemed to sigh with relief. He liked her so much. Lately, more and more, he didn’t want their date nights to end either. Of course, he would have taken her home if that was what she wanted. He would do anything for her. But he was so glad he didn’t have to. He wanted to spend forever with her. “Okay,” he said with a happy grin. Turning his attention to the host, “I have a reservation for two under Styles?” The host nodded and brought them to their table. “I know it’s not your job, but could you get us a cup of coffee, please? Cream and sugar,” he asked as he held her chair out for her. The amount of chivalry and manners in Harry made her melt every moment they were together. No one ever held a door open for. Certainly, never pulled a chair out for her. He always asked so politely for anything she wanted. It made her fall so effortlessly and heavily in love with him at every moment.

Harry sat down and placed his napkin in his lap. She kind of wished she told him she would like to go home. She would much rather enjoy the bouquet and sit with Harry on her couch until she did fall asleep. The restaurant seemed too public, even though no one was paying any mind to them. They were just a young couple on a date and there wasn’t anything to really witness.

But she was in love.

And Harry was perfect.

She wanted him all to herself. “Have y’ever eaten here?” Harry asked.

“Umm,” she looked at the name on the menu as she did wonder if she had been there before when he broached the date idea earlier in the week. As she scanned the titles of the dishes, she responded to him. “I think so—but it was a while ago.”

Smiling, he nodded. “M’a huge fan of the cauliflower.”

“We should get it then,” she answered. “If you’re willing to share,” she winked at him.

He chuckled. “Only with you, kitten.”

*

When they headed back to her apartment, he rubbed his thumb on the outside of her hand. He loved touching her—even just holding her hand made him feel like he was floating. “D’you have any plans for tomorrow, love?” He asked.

“Probably just clean and read some. Maybe go for a walk or something,” she shrugged.

“That sounds nice.”

“How about you?”

Just think about you all day. He thought to himself. “Hmm...nothing comes t’mind. Probably just lounge around.”

She nodded. “Well...you should come lounge around with me then,” she said sweetly. He turned to look at her with a grin.

“Yeah?”

A beat of silence, her lips pursed together, and she glanced up to meet his gaze briefly as she spoke finally. Harry thought she was nervous again. He didn’t like that she was nervous—he wanted her to feel utterly comfortable around him. “I really like spending time with you, Harry.”

Harry leaned against the wall beside her door and smiled at her. He couldn’t see his own face of course, but he hoped his expression was as loving as he felt. “I love spending time with you, angel,” his voice was filled with infatuation, she felt her face warm under his gaze. Gently, he reached for her and brought his hand to cup her face so he could kiss her once more. He let his lips linger against hers for a few moments and peppered a few extra kisses along her jawline. “Goodnight, kitten. Send me a text when y’want me over,” he nearly hummed as he left her standing in front of her door.

He heard her sigh near dreamily and he smirked to himself as he headed off to his car. As he turned his car over, her message popped up on his screen. Thank you again for the flowers, Harry. It was so so sweet &lt;3

Of course, kitten. Glad you like them :) See you tomorrow, sleep well. Xx Alone with his thoughts Harry left feeling excited that she liked the tulips so much but was suddenly overcome with disappointment—but not disappointment of her. Merely because her reaction made him a bit sad.

He messaged her sister before pulling away from his parking spot. She LOVED the flowers. Thank you for the help, love! Xx

Woooo! Yay! I’m so glad I could help!

Harry was sincere in his thankfulness—she did love them. But she loved them so much for so much more than they were... and Harry felt...devastated by that fact. He wanted to know why. Wanted to know why she was so quiet when he entered the apartment. She was rendered speechless. So much so that it seemed she didn’t pay any mind to the movie. He didn’t harp on it of course, but now alone he couldn’t help but think about it. He supposed he would see her the before he knew it the very next day maybe he could figure a way to ask then.

*

It was early afternoon when she finally messaged him. Harry was waiting anxiously by his phone with nervous energy worried that she wouldn’t ask him over. Hiii I’d love to have you over if you’re not busy.

Harry thought that maybe he should have waited longer than thirty seconds to respond. It seemed desperate. I’ll be there soon, love :)

He arrived nearly fifteen minutes later, knocking on her door and smiling at her as she answered. He leaned against the wall beside the door frame just as he did the night before. Pushing off he smiled at her and wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tightly. Kissing the top of her head, he sighed. “Mmm,” he hummed. “Hey, angel.”

“Hi Harry,” she murmured into his chest.

They were quiet for a moment before he released all but her hand and gently nudged her inside. “Didn’t know there was anything t’clean in here,” he smirked as he inspected how spotless it was (as it always was). He enjoyed the scent of the candle she lit that seemed to mix so effortlessly and perfectly with the smell of the dryer running from another room.

She giggled cutely. “It’s not...bad, y’know...I just am a bit particular. And I like to make things look nice.”

“It’s lovely, kitten,” he chuckled. “Do y’want to watch a movie? Or read...?”

“Are you...sure?” She asked.

“Well yeah. Y’said we were lounging. I’ll do whatever y’want, love,” he made himself at home on the couch and he set the book he had in his bag on the coffee table beside her bouquet of tulips that still (thankfully on Harry’s part) looked beautiful. He patted the seat beside him. After a second of uncertain hesitation, she situated herself beside him. “Jus’ glad t’be spending time with you,” he said and dropped another kiss to her temple. Turning to face her she smiled at him. Harry thought he would melt just from the warmth of her pretty lips curving up in his direction. He cupped her face delicately between his hands. He brushed his lips over hers causing that beautiful, wonderful sigh to escape her lips. Harry rested his forehead against hers. “M’in love with you,” he told her.

She all but gasped as her lips parted ever so slightly as she looked at him mere millimeters away from her face. “Really?” She whispered.

That crushed him. “Very much, beautiful,” he murmured even though he was heartbroken by how...confused she looked. Of course, Harry loved her. She was perfect. “Been loving y’more every day.” She blushed between his hands, and he kissed her nose. “Y’don’t have t’say it back,” he said softly. His heart broke a bit at the idea. “I know m’probably a bit early, but...I jus’ wanted you t’know tha—”

“I love you,” she said simply, not quickly like she was rushing to say it. It was definitive. She didn’t have to follow up with her next words, but he was so lucky and grateful she did. “So much.” Harry felt breathless and he leaned forward and kissed her so deeply he thought he might never breathe again.

*

Harry was helping her with the dishes after they had eaten at his place. He was tired of having her overnight bag sitting on his bed and just a drawer of her things being the only part of her around when she wasn’t. But that wasn’t true. She was constantly in his thoughts. Even in the brief seconds he wasn’t thinking about her, the notes she left behind for him to find made his attention turn right back to her. “You okay?” She asked kindly. “You seem a little quiet and out of sorts.”

He shrugged. “Mmm,” he sighed. “Jus’...thinking.”

“Sounds scary,” she smirked after a moment.

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I would handcuff you t’myself.” She giggled and turned her attention to making sure the dishes didn’t shatter as she put them back. “D’you ever wish we lived together?” He asked.

She paused. Harry thought that maybe as good as things were going after a year, it was still too soon. Sure, they spend nearly every weekend together. They talked every day and saw each other every other day. But maybe that was enough for her. Maybe it was easier to just have a Harry-weekend and live her life during the week. Harry pursed his lips about to take back his offer—or make some excuse that it it didn’t need to be a right now thing. “You want to live with me?” She wondered.

He turned to lean against the counter, and he watched as she put the dishes away as if she did in fact live there. “Well, yeah,” he said. “I’d see you a lot more,” he reminded her. “Wouldn’t be sick missing you s’much,” he brought his hand to his mouth, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers and pulled nervously at her response. “If y’don’t—”

“No, I...I really want to live with you,” she nodded. “If you want to live with me,” she reaffirmed quietly.

Harry dropped his hand from his mouth and grabbed her hand. “Yeah?” The smile on his lips grew by the second. “Of course, I do, angel. You’re the best part of m’day—I want it every day.” She looked down slightly and smiled. Harry didn’t miss the blush that painted her cheeks and he squeezed her hand. “I love you,” he reminded her.

“God, I love you, too.”

*

It was Saturday. The first one they were living together. Harry moved into her place, and she was so utterly accommodating. There was so much room for all his stuff. She made it effortless. They went through everything logistically—her bed was bigger, but Harry had a better couch. Harry wanted to hire a mover, but she was insistent that she and their friends could do it. And they did.

It was embarrassing how long Harry lay in bed. He scrolled through social media, answered a few work emails, and read some of the books he started before he went to bed last night. He would have gotten up sooner if he noticed the sound of her wandering about the apartment. It wasn’t until he heard a few dishes clink together that he realized she was home. He assumed she may have been running a few errands—she mentioned them before—things she wanted to move in for herself.

After the dish clinking, he paid closer attention to her movements and that was when he heard the distinct sound of a cleaning spray bottle and the sound of the washing machine going. Shit. He thought to himself, threw the covers back, and marched out to the kitchen.

He realized he should have started with a good morning, but it was too late. “What are y’doing?” He asked.

“Oh! Hi Harry,” she jumped at his question. She must have only half heard him through the music playing in her ears. She turned to him with a hand over her heart. She wasn’t used to Harry being around so casually. She was used to him shirtless and only in boxers, but it was the first time seeing it in their own place. He didn’t seem amused as he waited for her to answer his question. Which she nearly managed to forget while she waited for her heart to simmer down. “Uh...cleaning?”

Harry looked...annoyed? That couldn’t be right. She didn’t do anything to cause him to feel annoyed. She was quiet and cleaning all morning. It couldn’t have been an issue. Harry was just hanging out in their room and—

“You’ve been cleaning all morning, yeah?” He said already knowing the answer. She felt like she was suddenly in trouble. She nodded solemnly.

“Uh...yes,” she said quietly.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Pursing his lips he glanced around at the near spotless place—their place. Their. Place. “Can y’go sit down for me, then?” He asked gently.

“I’m sorry?”

“Jus’...don’t want y’doing t’much. I wish I was paying attention more—I thought y’were...well I don’t know what I thought y’were doing. M’sorry. I’d like t’take it from here and do the rest of the cleaning so y’can lounge around.”

She swallowed and the uneasiness in her stomach transformed a bit into something less of feeling like she was about to get into trouble and more into a worry of not...being enough. “Oh, Harry. I don’t mind,” she whispered looking at her feet. “I...I’m really used to cleaning...I kind of like it and...I don’t know. I didn’t mean to bother you. I thought I was being pretty quiet, so I’m sorry if I woke you,” she spoke to his feet the whole time and she couldn’t shake the idea that he was mad. It made her so nervous that she had already ruined their first couple of weeks of living together.

He didn’t respond but he kept his eyes glued to her face—or where her face would be if she was looking up. “Kitten,” he said so quietly, almost sadly. “Can y’look at me please?” He asked. Tears were in her eyes, and it felt more like she was in trouble once more. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. Harry looked as sad as he sounded. He reached out and grabbed her hand. “M’not mad at you, m’love,” he whispered.

Harry was crushed by the relief that exhaled from her body. “No?” She whispered.

He squeezed her hand. “Angel, why would I be mad?”

“Um...” she swallowed again and smirked but there was no humor. It was just sadness. “Uh...I don’t know,” again, no humor, but a laugh escaped her lips.

“Kitten,” he hummed gently. Tears started to overwhelm her vision and she swallowed nervously against the emotion. When she sniffled, Harry finally lost the stand he was taking. The one where he was going to make her say it, because he wanted her to, and he didn’t think it was right. He pulled her forward and pressed her against his chest, her head beneath his chin and he sighed softly. “Tell me, baby,” he said rubbing his hand up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head and hated the way her shoulders shook from the tears that fell from her eyes.

She hated that he was so handsome—especially almost entirely naked because there wasn’t even the layer of a thin t-shirt to hide the tears that she was shedding. “He was,” she sniffled like it hurt to say.

“I know,” he sighed. “But m’not him,” he reminded her. “I don’t want you t’do it all, kitten. I don’t expect you to,” he slid his hands to her face, and he crouched just a little as he peered down into her eyes. “I love you,” he promised. “You’ve done so much for so long... for so many people.” Biting her lip, she turned her head from him. He wasted not even a second tilting her chin back, so her eyes were back to him. “Y’don’t have t’do anything for me,” his voice was so gentle it hurt. It made her feel sick and undeserving.

“If I don’t...then...” she sighed and closed her eyes.

“Kitten, please look at me,” he begged so quietly, she hardly heard him, but she didn’t open her eyes.

“Then...you’ll...not...want...me,” the pauses between each word hurt more than all of them said together. It meant she was thinking about every single syllable. Each word that was going to break her heart...and Harry’s.

It wasn’t the time to do it, but he couldn’t stop himself. Harry thought of the tulips. He thought of the times she thanked him for putting the laundry—the laundry that she washed and folded—away. The way she said “Really?” when he told her he loved her for the first time. There were all the times she never asked for anything from Harry but he could sense she wanted to but was...scared to do so. It made sense now. She was scared. For no reason. But still scared. Harry felt so angry toward every person that ever broke her heart and made her feel less than perfect. He hated when she hurt. “M’beautiful angel,” he sighed softly stroking his thumb over her face.

She sniveled and brought a hand to her face. “Harry,” she whimpered.

“I know, love,” he cooed softly and brought her back to his body. He let her cry for a few moments. He listened to the way she sounded like she was in pain as she let the tears fall freely and it made him so sad and upset, he could have cried himself. “Baby,” he hummed to the top of her head. “Y’don’t have t’do anything for me, m’love.” She nodded against him and he sighed. “Y’don’t, kitten. Y’really don’t need t’do anything,” he promised. He hoped if he repeated it enough she would believe him.

“But—”

“No,” he shook his head. He didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t final or demanding the way he spoke. It was just a simple no. There wasn’t anything else to be said. Harry let her tears subside before he settled her on the couch and finished her cleaning. For the first time since she moved in, she relaxed on a Saturday while someone else cleaned for her.

The love she felt for Harry was overwhelming.

*

They were lounging on the couch. The TV was on, but she was turned away from it, facing Harry’s chest. With one arm looped behind his head he could see the show and with his other hand he rubbed it up and down her back. It was so peaceful and gentle. It was everything he ever wanted in a relationship. It was everything he wanted with her. “Y’okay, love?” He hummed dropping a kiss to the top of her head. She nodded wordlessly and he smiled and continued watching his show.

“Wanna stay here forever,” she mumbled. He smirked, placing another kiss on the top of her head. He sensed there was more, but he hated pressuring her into saying more than she may have wanted to—after that first weekend she cried to him, he let her feel exactly what she wanted and how she wanted. Harry knew most of her thoughts. He of course wanted to know all of them, but he knew that she always told him anything she wanted to tell him.

“Is there more, kitten?” He asked quietly. She nodded. “Y’can tell me if y’want,” he reminded her gently.

“It’s stupid.”

He shook his head and glanced down at her perfect face and her fingers fidgeting with the cross and chain around his neck. “You’re anything but stupid, angel,” he felt her feet wiggle uncomfortably. He wanted to beg and pull the words from her lips, but he waited patiently.

“How do you know when I want to say more?” She asked instead.

“Because I adore you,” he responded instantly. She snorted a short laugh but didn’t seem to have an answer to that. “Jus’ know you so well, love. Been trying t’read your mind for the two and a half years...think m’getting pretty good at it. Now jus’ have t’make sense of what y’don’t say,” he smirked and kissed the top of her head.

“Are you frustrated that I don’t tell you things?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head.  “No, course not.”

She was silent. “I think about marrying you every day,” she whispered so quietly Harry almost missed her words.

“Oh?”

“I never thought about a wedding with anyone I’ve ever dated in the past. It seemed like so much work because I would do all the planning and the everything...” she explained. “Now...God...I just...I want to show you off to everyone I know and show how wonderful you are because I know you would make the wedding of my dreams come true...because you make all my dreams come true.”

Harry was so quiet thinking about how that may not have seemed like much but to her it was—it was letting herself be vulnerable about wanting to spend her life with Harry. Without knowing how he felt—which was silly since he wanted to spend every second with her in his arms, reading her mind, or listening to her every thought. He wanted to cheer her every win and console her every loss. She was all his and he adored her so completely. He tipped her chin back. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he promised. He saw the way her face seemed to sink with relief which broke his heart, but he couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked even when she did—it left him breathless, wordless, soundless. Harry was convinced that even if they did end their relationship (and he was certain that would never happen) he would thank her for the heartbreak. As he always did when she left him speechless, he kissed her so deeply he thought he might never breathe again.

But it would have been the best way to go.