#at least the final match he played last weekend won them that whole day

[shadowkat2000]

Grief is a weird beast

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[etherrreal]

“sweet on you”

Pairing: osamu x gn!reader Genre: fluff WC: 1,168 Summary: you’re on a mission to confess to osamu and you’re hoping that he’ll get the hint with some tasty homemade desserts Warning: there are like 2 puns that are the worst, im so sorry. A/N: sooo, this came out longer than intended lol hope you don’t mind that I can’t write a drabble! but this idea just inspired me to much that I couldn’t help myself! -Luna

Mission "Confess-to-Osamu" began the day after the Inarizaki volleyball team won an intense game, the final set ending in a 32-30 win.

You had to stay up all night to do it, but you managed to make and decorate a dozen cookies shaped like volleyballs and one special cookie that resembled his jersey, the number 11 written carefully in chocolate-flavored icing. You wrapped them up in a cellophane bag, complete with a black ribbon tied into a neat bow.

You arrived at homeroom as early as possible, wanting to place the cookies on his desk and sit down to calm your nervous heart. From the back of the room, you watched as he strolled in 20 minutes later, sending you a wave and a tired smile. He dumped his bag on the floor before picking up the note you tucked under the bag of cookies that read:

'congratulations on your win! you played an amazing game, wish I could've celebrated with you :)'

His eyebrows scrunched as he racked his brain to try to figure out whose handwriting it could be. He shrugged when nothing came to mind, figuring it was just another gift from one of those fangirls who frequented his team’s volleyball matches. At the very least, it gave him something to rub in Atsumu’s face later.

He sat down, munching on one of the volleyball-shaped cookies, which he found delicious enough to eat two more of. You slapped your forehead, more annoyed at yourself rather than Osamu.

Okay, time to try something else.

You made a single-serve raspberry tart this time after you heard Osamu mention to his friends one day that he had a strong craving for one. Again, you arrived early to school, placing the note face down under the treat and spoon so none of your nosy classmates could read it as they walked by.

This time, you made sure to sign your initials at the end of the note, figuring that was the reason why it didn't click for him last time. However, knowing that he would immediately figure out that it was you had your palms sweaty and knees weak.

Osamu walked into homeroom, barely awake, but when he saw the dessert on his desk, his eyes shot open, face lighting up with interest. He looked up to greet you, but you were busy staring blankly at your textbook. The cookies from last time had been devoured before he even left school, though he did save the jersey cookie because he appreciated the effort put into it.

He lifted the tart to grab the note that was stuck underneath. It read:

'hope you liked the cookies from last time! I made a raspberry tart because you're just so sweet ♥'

When you peeked over to look at him, you noticed that there was confusion written all over his face, not knowing what the hell the letters at the bottom stood for. You heard him repeating word combinations that began with your initials to try to figure it out.

Your forehead hit the desk, baffled by how a man could be so cute but so stupid.

This was going to be it. You would place the slice of apple pie on his desk, he would read the note–with your whole name on it this time–and he would finally understand how much you liked him.

So, you went through the same process as before, setting it neatly on his desk with a folded note underneath.  There was no way that he could misconstrue anything this time.

Osamu was suspicious when he saw the sweet treat on his desk that morning. He reached for the note first, like always, to examine it.

'I hope you're not occu-pied this weekend ; want to go on a date with me?'

He knew that you would never be so blatant with your confession, not with your shy nature. Not when all it took was a simple wave from him to make you blush and look away. You'd most likely approach him in a less public setting to ask him out, or text him privately.

Which is why he assumed that this entire thing was just his brother pranking him with some store-bought pie. ‘Tsumu had teased him recently when he’d gushed about how cute you were before. He didn't put it past his brother to mess with him just because he kicked his ass in practice yesterday.

He sat down at his desk with a loud 'humph,' angrily digging into his pie that tasted just as good as the rest of his desserts he had received before.

Meanwhile, you were so frustrated that you swore you felt your soul leave your body.

You'd had enough. The stress of leaving Osamu desserts and waiting for him to figure out how much you liked him was too much. You were just going to have to be blunt and in his face with your confession.

Storming into class with a packaged cupcake in hand, you stopped right in front of his desk. He was taken aback by your sudden appearance.

"Oh, hey, (Y/N)," he greeted. "That's a good lookin' cupcake ya got there. Who's it for?"

You froze. You knew your newfound confidence could only last so long. Actually standing in front of his desk and looking into his eyes was very different from staring at yourself in the mirror as you rehearsed your lines.

Osamu watched as your mouth flapped open and closed, thinking about how you resembled a goldfish at that moment. Suddenly, you shoved the cupcake towards him, looking away shyly.

He barely heard you squeak out the words, "I like you."

He had never felt more stupid than he did in that moment. It finally dawned on him that it had been you the whole time, leaving him the edible gifts and little notes. It actually was your attempt at asking him out.

Osamu gently took the plastic container out of your hands, fingers brushing against yours. "I can't believe it was actually you. Thought it was my stupid brother prankin' me."

You failed to make eye contact with him despite chuckling at his assumption, instead toying with the buttons of your blazer.

They’re so adorable. He had to put you out of your misery. "Do ya still wanna go on that date with me? It's the least I can do for all the trouble I caused. Maybe I can cook for you this time?"

You nodded in response, feeling like you were going to combust at any moment.

"Great! We can walk home together, and I'll whip ya up something good to eat."

"Sounds good," you said once you found your voice. 

Your cheeks were no doubt on fire as you sat at your desk. You assumed that at any moment, you'd be waking up from this wonderful dream. There was no way you could predict that he'd reciprocate your feelings but now that you knew, you didn't think you'd ever stop smiling.

Written by: Luna

[jamilelucato]

Hi there! Could I maybe get a fred Weasley x Romanian!Reader and maybe like she goes to the burrow for the holidays? She could try to confess to him by telling him he loves him in Romanian but always telling him it means sth else. But she doesn't know about Charlie and the fact that he used to live there, and then... y'know, up to you? Just thought this was an interesting idea lmaoo. Thank you and congrats!!🥺💕

Te Iubesc [F.W.]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Romanian!reader (can be from any House really)

A/N: I ended up changing a bit of your context and only noticed it later, and I’m really sorry for that. Instead of she saying it all the time, she accidentally confesses it in Romanian. I'm sorry it's not what you actually asked for, but I hope you enjoy it either way.

Send a request! ||  Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

**

It was particularly weird being a Romanian at Hogwarts, but since it was your parents’ dream to you study there, you were not to complain.

It took you a while to find your place, but it was way easy when the famous Weasley Twins played a prank on you. 

When your whole body turned blue, and you ran around the corridors of Hogwarts, asking, angrily, if anyone had seen who could be guilty of it — you knew it could only have been the twins. They appeared two hours later in front of you, with puckered foreheads and using minimal eye contact. One of them had a flask, and he handed it to you.

“We’re really sorry,” he said, with an almost smile, but not of happiness. He wouldn’t dare laugh at your blue skin while you stared at him with a killer expression. “It wasn’t for you; we mixed it up in the deliver.”

“And what is this?” you asked, raising the flask closer to your eyes to analyze it better.

“The antidote,” one of them said.

“You don’t want to be forever blue, do you?” asked the other and they both giggled.

You drank all the liquid in one gulp, desperate to go back to your natural colour. The twins stared at you while your body changed its colour, and you couldn’t see the point. What did they want? Thanks?

“Are you two expecting me to thank you?” you asked, with a mean voice.

They exchanged looks before smiling.

“No, we just would like to introduce ourselves, that’s all,” said the one that had more freckles.

“You’re Fred and George Weasley, everyone knows who you are,” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You saw their eyes following your arms, and then they blushed. You chuckled at those boys stupidity.

“But do you know which is which?” he continued, smirking. “I’m Fred,” he whispered, tipping you since you hadn’t answered his question.

“I’m George,” said the other.

You took a great look at both of their faces, making sure you discerned things that would make it easier to differentiate them. Fred had a better posture, nothing very perfect, but just slightly better than George. And he had more freckles, at least on his face he did.

“I’m y/N,” you said, noticing they were waiting for you to present yourself.

And that was enough for a born of a beautiful friendship.

The pranks still got you, those times on purpose, but they all gave you a break when you asked. You started helping them with their homework and study for exams — even though they hated it.

You lost track of how many vacation days you spent in the Burrow, and this year, you were going back there. You were especially excited this year — and partly worried — because, since the beginning of the sixth year, you’ve been developing an enormous, gigantic crush on Fred.

So, spending the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys, having Fred next to you all weekend, was going to be awesome, but also terrifying because he had no idea you fancied him — and you wanted things to still be like that. 

Fred was known to have had tons of girlfriends — he usually told you everything about every girl he ever snogged. You didn’t want to be just another one that he would abandon in a month. That would completely ruin your friendship, and that meant being apart from a ton of other friends. Being friends with the twins allowed you to befriend Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry, and now they are essential in your life too.

“Hi, dear!” Molly hugged you tightly as soon as you stepped in the kitchen. You hugged her back once your shock passed. “I’m so happy to have you here for another year; surely I can’t stand my kids saying again I have a terrible taste for music.”

Oh, yeah, one fact: every Weasley kid (in particular Fred) hated your taste in music. They hated it because you loved the same singers as their mom did, and Fred disliked it the most. As more annoyed he got by your singing, more you sang.

“By the way,” you smiled, “you’ll love the present I got you. I know I shouldn’t say something yet,” you leaned in Mrs Weasley’s ear and whispered: “but I just wanna make sure you haven’t got Warbeck’s newest CD, have you?”

Molly Weasley gasped in surprise and hugged you even tighter.

“That’s why you’re my favourite!” she muttered in your ear and winked when you leaned away and faced her.

Blushing, you went upstairs to find the room Molly always left for you — it was Charlie’s old room. It was the closest to the twins, so you liked it. And the place was decorated with old faded posters of creatures only your home country could offer.

You’ve never met Charlie Weasley, only Bill and Percy, but you knew he was fascinated with dragons, and that your country had to offer. 

You lost a couple of minutes staring at one of the posters; not for the dragon, but because of the background — your old but forever home.

When you got out of the room, you didn’t even need to wander around to find the twins.

“y/N! You came!” shouted an excited Fred Weasley, getting you by your waist and spinning you around in a hug.

George was right next to his twin, rolling his eyes at how foolishly obvious you two were about fancying each other, but none would move a finger to change the situation.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you say when Fred finally puts you down. “Hey, George!”

George hugs you too, but not with the same passion as Fred. It makes you wonder if it was your fault somehow to why Fred spun you around. You should have gone with a simple embrace like you’re doing with George. Gosh, why having a crush has to be so hard?

“So, we’re planning a Quidditch game in the yard. You in?” Fred asked as soon as George released you.

“Sure,” you smiled, placing your hands on your waist. “But I’m seeker,” you warned, raising a brow.

“Harry will love to hear that,” George commented.

“And I need a broom,” you added, tilting your head, trying to look pity-worth.

“You can take mine,” Fred said while you three headed downstairs.

You stopped right away. George kept walking, and suddenly it was just you and Fred in the middle of the stairs.

“You’re gonna use your old one? No way; that thing sucks, Fred,” you said.

“But a seeker needs a better broom than a beater,” he pointed out, tilting his head towards you and some red locks fell upon his eyes. Instinctively, you reached for them and took away from his eyes. He blushed with a small smile.

“You’re too nice to me,” you said, nodding and starting to walk again.

“Perhaps you deserve it,” he muttered, half-hoping you wouldn’t hear, and half-hoping you would.

Fred has been playing this dangerous game for a while now — plainly flirting with you, expecting that if you didn’t see him that way, you would take it as a joke.

When the game finally started, you were glad to be in Fred’s team. Some arrangements had to be done to accommodate less than the minimum number of players per team, so instead of two beaters, your team had only Fred.

Ginny was your keeper; even though she hated the position, she was proving to be quite good at it. Of course, Ron, on the other side, was being way better.

The disadvantage for you was that although you are a great seeker, you had to be also a good chaser, because your team had only three players with you, so that left you with two jobs. Fred helped as much as he could, but he was more used to his role as a beater than to play a chaser.

When George’s team won — Harry got the Snitch (I mean, come on, how to compete?) — you were completely dirty.

You’d never tell Fred, but George was a better beater than the twin, so you’d been hit more times than you would’ve liked and ended up rolling on the grass, still wet from the rain the night before, enough times that your pants (which were blue jeans) were now the colour of mud.

None of this was bothering you, however. You were, in fact, laughing at yourself and everyone who was also dirty. Hermione had arrived in time to watch the last minutes of the match, but she was now trapped in the kitchen, with Ron and Harry filling her with bizarre theories. George and Ginny had run off right after the victory celebration, to see who could get to the shower first.

Although you have no idea how long you would still have to stay dirty, showering was your last concern. At the moment, you were occupied in trying to smudge Fred even more, while both rolled on the grass like two crazy kids.

It felt like a tickling and laughing competition — what you were competing about was uncertain, however, you were definitely competing because Fred wasn’t leaving you alone and you were loving it.

“Thanks for the match, Fred,” you said the instant you were able to breathe without laughing. You were propped up on your right elbow, which raised your head enough so that you could see the redhead’s face, who was looking at the sun that was already hiding behind the clouds. “You could have left me; it was clear that I was going to lose.”

“Give it up then, y/N. I’ll never leave you,” he replied, looking sideways at you and looking back at the setting sun.

You took a deep breath, enchanted by his beauty and his words. When you realized you had already said: “Te iubesc.”

Fred turned quickly at you, frowning. “Did you say something?”

You gulped, as red as one can get and quickly got up. You had just said you loved him, thankfully in Romanian, but still... Close call.

“I’m heading to the shower,” for the first time that late afternoon, you were urgent to get cleaned up. 

“I don’t think George — or Ginny, whoever got there first — is done yet,” Fred said, sitting down on the grass.

“Doesn’t matter,” you pretended to laugh it off and rushed inside the Burrow, leaving a confuse Fred behind.

Well, not so confused. Fred was almost certain you said “te iubesc” to him, and he was sure that was something in Romanian. He knew you were from there, and he always waited for the moment you would let a Romanian dialect, word or accent slip, but that day never came — until now.

He waited for this moment because he made Charlie teach him some primary words, so he could reply with a ”yes”, “no” or simply “Nu mai esti în România.”

Although at the top of his head, your words didn’t click in his head as nothing he knew the meaning, he had a feeling he had heard it before. He could ask Charlie, but knowing the family owl, it would take Fred a week to learn the meaning.

He waited a while before heading to the kitchen, where he found a distracted Harry, a sceptical Hermione and his younger brother, Ron, eating, as always.

“Ron?”

“Huh?” Ron let out between bites. 

“Have you seen Mum?” Fred asked.

“I think she’s doing laundry,” Ron answered. “Why?”

“Wanted to ask her something, that’s all,” Fred was already turning away when Hermione called.

“Perhaps I can help. What’s it?”

“Nosy,” grunted Ron, but the girl didn’t hear.

“It’s a phrase in Romanian. Somehow, I think I heard Charlie say it to Mum once,” Fred shrugged, assuming Hermione wouldn’t be able to help with that.

“Your mom keeps a Romanian dictionary in the living room. Over the fireplace,” Hermione said as if it was nothing — as if the whole family knew about it.

Fred raised his brows, suddenly excited. “Thanks, Hermione,” he mumbled before rushing to the fire to get the book.

After some minutes with it, Fred was about to give up. The dictionary was no help with phrases; it was only good for random words alone.

“Mum!” he exclaimed in surprise and relief when Molly walked in, holding a basket of clean clothes.

“Fred!” she exclaimed back. She wasn’t used with her kids that excited to see her.

“Last time Charlie was here, he was using a lot of Romanian dialects,” Fred started, not sure of how to proceed.

“Yes,” his mother simply said.

“And he said something to you after hugging you. Did he translate?”

“Oh! Te iubesc?” Molly definitely was not used to Romanian — in Fred opinion her accent was terrible compared to yours, but the words were apparently the same, so he didn’t complain.

“That’s it! What does it mean?” Fred jumped from the couch towards his mother.

“It means I love you. Your brother is such a sweetie,” Molly smiled with the memory — she missed all her kids, but most especially Charlie and Bill.

Mrs Weasley was so distracted by the memory of the last hug she gave her son, that she left the room without lingering with her older twin son. She didn’t seem to notice that Fred was paralyzed in place, relying on the sofa to keep him upright.

Fred couldn’t think — he was silly, completely silly. As crude as the adjective was, that was how he felt. He was happy, of course, he was!

You had practically declared yourself to him, and yet you had done so in innocence, using your mother tongue, which, in Fred’s opinion, only proved how true you were.

He had to do something about it. But what? It’d be ridiculous to use your words to reciprocate the statement — Fred wouldn’t be able to copy the accent well enough to make the sentence natural.

Something told him that he should act naturally about it and wait for your confession in English, which would mean that you really wanted him to understand. 

But then, how to look at you again and ignore that the most beautiful girl in the world, the friendliest, the funniest, the most talented, had said that she loved him? How would he ever go back to acting normally knowing that the only girl he ever loved— that he always hoped would be his— loved him?

Taking a deep breath, Fred came to an inevitable conclusion: he needed to be the one who would confess his feelings. Now he just needs a plan to how to do it.

After a long wait, it was finally your time with the shower, and you hoped it would clean not only your skin but also your thoughts.

So close, so close you came of confessing to Fred. Well, you actually did it, but in Romanian, so he’ll never know it.

You needed to distract yourself from Fred Weasley, but after that shower, everywhere you looked, there he was. 

Fred was outside of the bathroom, waiting for his turn to shower. You greeted him with a yellow smile before rushing back to your room. 

Just an hour before dinner, you were sitting in the living room, and he decided to sit next to you in the couch. Sure a part of you was thrilled, but another was freaking out.

When dinner was ready, he sat next to you again at the table.

When you thought you were about to free yourself from him —leaving quickly from the dinner table and rushing to get the armchair, where you would at least sit alone, he called you out.

“I need to show you...” he looked around before continuing in a whisper, “... a new product.”

You sighed, deciding it was better if you learned how to swallow your feelings and let your love for Fred kill you from inside out.

You two walked to upstairs where he guided you to hs room.

“Where’s George?” you asked once you sat down, remembering that generally, when they had a new product, George was always around to see your reaction too.

Fred just shrugged, almost ignoring your question.

“I have something to tell you,” he said fast, scared he would lose his courage. “And, well, I don’t really know how to do it... You see, I’ve never told a girl I’m in love with her before.”

Fred hadn’t realized that he had just done that, so while he was lost in words, rambling how amazing you were, you were frozen at just the “I’m in love” bit.

“Come again?”

“...should have said it sooner, because I’ve been... — wait, which part do you want me to say again?” he stopped his tracks.

You sighed and looked up from your knees, raising your eyes enough to meet his.

“You love me?”

“Te iubesc, yes,” Fred said. and then he hit himself in the forehead because he had promised he wasn’t going to use Romanian to declare his feelings. “Sorry about the Romanian bit. I love you, yes, that’s what I meant.”

“Wait. You understood me earlier?” your brain was just malfunction at this point, like a broken old computer.

“Not right away...” Fred stopped talking when he noticed you were panicking. “Look, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time now. When you said it first, you just made things easier for me.”

“How did you know?”

“Charlie, my brother. He lives in Romania.”

Damn it, of course, the dragon fanatic would have gone live in your country; why wouldn’t he?

For a few minutes, or at least you guessed it had only been minutes, Fred stood in front of you, who was sitting on his bed, and the two avoided looking at each other for a long time.

“Should’ve guessed. Your mom kept Charlie’s posters of my country in his room,” you tried to laugh it off.

Fred ended up chuckling too. “Can we quit being awkward? I really want to kiss you,” he said, smiling and blushing slightly at the same time. “I mean, my brother will leave the room just to us for not much longer.”

It was your time to chucked while getting up, ready to have Fred’s lips in your for what you hoped would be the first of many times.

“I have a room for my own, silly,” you whispered in his ear before he smirked and trapped you in his embrace.

[yeochikin]

late night talks. | k. hongjoong

a/n: hehe my brain kept going brr every time i tried to finish this so i understand if this was a bit sucky. please excuse any mistakes, and feedbacks are very much appreciated! 🥺✨💖

word count: 3k+

main focus: hongjoong x fem. reader

warning(s): none, really!

“y/n, our life saviour, our queen!” you heard wooyoung’s dramatic wailing as he instantly engulfed you into a hug as soon as you stepped foot into mingi’s apartment, where you and the boys were gathered for a sleepover during the weekend.

with a roll of your eyes, you knew exactly the reason why he was suddenly all clingy. your hands were full of snacks and drinks that they had wanted you to buy on your way to the place for the sleepover, though of course, maybe some extra few snacks for them as well. 

totally not because of you wanting to spoil them, not at all.

“wooyoung, i swear you’re gonna make me drop these snacks all over the place if you don’t let me go.” you whined, your tone laced with feigned annoyance as you spoke. 

being the cheeky boy as always, wooyoung merely gave you one last squeeze in the hug before dragging you further into the apartment where the rest of the boys were as he announced your arrival. 

there in the living room, you watched as jongho and san were sat on the carpeted floor. the two had their eyes glued to the television with their thumbs furiously mashing against the buttons of the controllers in their hands, giggling to yourself as you watched san throwing his head back with eyebrows all furrowed as it seemed like he had lost a match against the other boy before letting out a whine to rematch.

yeosang and mingi were sat on the couch as they watched the two boys with amusement written in their eyes, yeosang occasionally making witty remarks as he watched the gameplay while mingi acted as if he was the spokesperson throughout the game. it was only when wooyoung mentioned that you were there that the boys turned their heads to look at you, immediately greeting you with a huge smile on their faces before mingi stood up to give you a tight hug to which you returned with your free arm, moving the plastic full of snacks so it would be dangling on your arm. 

“woah, you bought a lot of snacks!” yeosang exclaimed, popping up next to you as his eyes were trained on the bags full of the said items, then stretching his hand out so he could help you carry them, which you gladly accepted as soon as you started to feel your hands growing a little tired.

“hongjoong and yunho are in the kitchen with seonghwa!” you heard jongho say, you sending him a grateful smile in response as you let your legs lead you to the kitchen, where the mentioned boys were in, with yeosang already a few steps ahead of you. 

that would explain the delicious smell wafting into your nose as soon as you stepped foot into the small apartment. no doubt the trio were probably cooking up something in the kitchen for tonight’s dinner. 

walking into the kitchen, you instantly saw hongjoong. or rather, almost bumping into the brown haired boy as it looked like he was about to exit the kitchen. with a sheepish smile plastering itself on your faces, you sidestepped to let him pass through but of course he couldn’t read your actions as he mirrored yours, ending up in the same position as before. with a second try, it only led you to the same result with the two of you sharing a sheepish chortle.

by the third attempt, and before you could even move, hongjoong moved his hands to rest themselves on top of your shoulders so you wouldn't budge, promptly turning the both of you around so you were in the kitchen, and hongjoong was right outside. with one last shy smile from the boy, he turned around to join the rest of the boys in the living room, telling the boys to clean up the mess in the living room so they could gather in for dinner later on instead of the small kitchen.

being mingi’s best friend since you were in 4th grade, the two of you were pretty much attached to the hip with how close the both of you were until you started college, due to both being in different classrooms. you were thankful that mingi would still find you whenever the both of you had lunch together, and it was also from there that you were introduced to the new friends mingi had made in his class. though, the first meeting was rather awkward for you, really. 

you see, being a shy person, it was a little difficult for you to mingle around, much less in a loud group. however, that didn't mean you were completely lonely either as you had a few other friends in the other classes you took if mingi was not in any of them. you tend to hear people joke about how mingi was the extroverted friend who adopted an introverted you, which you can't deny. it was kinda true in some way.

after being introduced to mingi’s friends and spending a little more time with them when they invited you out to join them at a pizza place one time, you had learned that they were entertaining to be with, even finding yourself cracking a few jokes here and there, mingi watching you proudly from the side.

yet, as much as you enjoyed the boys’ company, there was still someone who somehow you had a hard time interacting with. dark brown haired boy, the one who would always seem to have his nose buried in his notes with earphones plugged in his ears, lips moving silently as he read through the words he wrote out.

kim hongjoong.

it wasn't because he was giving you a cold shoulder nor was he ever rude to you by all means! rather, he seemed to shy away from you whenever you tried to start a conversation with him. you brought up the topic with mingi one day, a pout on your lips as you wondered if there was anything wrong with you or you said the wrong thing for hongjoong to act that way around you. but your taller friend could only laugh, patting your head reassuringly to say that hongjoong was merely a shy person. 

of course, that was a year ago. 

now, hongjoong has finally started to warm up to you, even to the point of letting you listen to some of his songs before the other boys could, wooyoung whining in a playful manner in the background as you got to be the first person to listen to the former’s piece. it was no surprise he was immersed in his own little world back then due to majoring in music in college. 

“earth to y/n?” you heard a deep voice reaching into your ears, making you snap back into reality, eyes instantly meeting seonghwa’s raised brow. 

it seems that the only people left in the kitchen were seonghwa and you, wondering to yourself how long you had been standing in the middle of the doorway to the point you failed to realise yunho had already left. 

“what’s going on in that head of yours, little one?” you heard him say, never failing to throw in the little nickname he had for you, as he was busily stirring the pot’s contents.

waving it off as nothing, you walked over to his side before rolling up your sleeves in case he needed any help, mouth already watering from the scent of stew filling your senses. as if he could sense your hunger, seonghwa could only chuckle as he gently asked if you could prepare the bowls and plates for all of you, to which you gladly did so. 

it only took you a little more later for you and the boys to finally gather in the living room as all of you shared the events that had happened prior to the sleepover over dinner, giggling to yourself at how the wooyoung and san teased the oldest of the boys, who was playfully threatening to stab them with a fork. but all of you knew he would never as he had a soft spot in his heart for all of his close friends.

after dinner, all of you had cleaned up the living room before changing into your sleeping attires, deciding to play a game of among us before bed. that was when the chaos would start.

you watched the boys with amused eyes as hongjoong and yeosang kept suspecting mingi for being too quiet when in reality he was just doing his tasks. your eyes went wide in disbelief as soon as your character died in the game just as you were about to finish starting up the reactor, lifting your gaze from your phone to silently glare at jongho, not wanting to out him for the sake of fairness of the game, the boy having a proud smirk playing over his lips yet he remained stoic throughout the whole round. 

as soon as yunho reported your body, all hell broke loose. a series of accusations thrown in after another, jongho actively making the others turn against one another, mingi yelling that he kept messing up the swipe card task in admin when seonghwa asked why he had stood there for a long time.

“it’s yunho! he self-reported the body!” wooyoung yelled out, pointing an accusing finger over at yunho, the latter’s eyes widening in surprise at the sudden claim.

“you were with me the whole time, i even scanned in medbay!” he defended.

“oh right, never mind.” 

sadly, the round was skipped as jongho ‘claimed’ it was far too early in the game to vote someone off just yet, much to your dismay. 

in the end, jongho had won the game, him cheering as he threw his arms up in the arm. yunho pouting playfully as he sulked, saying he had the last task until yeosang died in the game. you could only offer him a light pat on his shoulder.

“it’s okay, at least you didn’t die a minute into the game.” you say, earning a round of chortles from the boys. 

“another round in a different map this time?” hongjoong asked, which all of you agreed without a word.

needless to say, the remaining few hours before sleep were spent playing the game where trust amongst yourselves was nowhere to be seen along with shared laughs at how each of you kept accusing the wrong person. without your knowledge, you fail to realise a pair of eyes that had kept glancing your way throughout the whole game. 

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

you woke up with a start, body immediately sitting up on the couch you were currently situated on as you felt your breathing growing all ragged, eyes frantically looking around the place as if you were afraid that you would still be stuck in the horrific dimension you dreamt of earlier prior to waking up. 

to your relief, your eyes were not met with the spiraling dark abyss of your dream didn’t apply to the waking world. only, the familiar decoration of mingi’s apartment was what your pupils had set on. looking off to your side, you saw how the other boys were already peacefully asleep, most likely all tuckered out from the games all of you and the boys played earlier.

san was tightly hugging an extra pillow close to his chest next to wooyoung and yunho, the latter slept on his back peacefully as light snores left his lips. at first, you couldn’t really tell who was the one all curled up underneath the blanket right next to jongho, but with the tufts of blonde locks peeking out underneath, you could tell it was yeosang. on his left, was mingi who slept with his mouth slightly ajar, his leg was placed over yeosang’s lower half while seonghwa took space of the more larger couch than the one you were on. but one of the boys were missing, and that would be hongjoong.

judging by the sliver of light that had peeked out from the door near the hallway, which was the bathroom as you recalled mingi had pointed out earlier when you arrived at the apartment when you needed to use, you had made the conclusion that hongjoong had gotten up earlier than you to use the bathroom. 

checking the time on your phone, you realised that you had woken up in the little hours of dawn. despite still feeling the heaviness of sleep weighing on your eyes, you were still a tad shaken up from the dream you had earlier. the image was still fresh in your mind every time you close your eyes. it was then you decided to make your way to the balcony to clear your mind, tiptoeing carefully as to not wake the other boys up, or accidentally stepped on them. 

as soon as you stepped foot on the balcony, quickly shutting the sliding glass door behind you, you were met with the shining light from the moon, the cool night breeze gently caressing your skin to leave goosebumps in its wake. a contented breath was heaved out of your lips once you leaned against the railing, the cool metal pressed against your arms yet you paid no mind to it while your gaze was plastered on the stars shining around the moon. 

“don’t lean too much or you’ll fall.” 

you jumped ever so slightly at the sudden voice, immediately tearing your eyes away from the sky to the figure making themselves present next to you, mimicking your position against the railing. a low breath left your lips as a hand rested itself on your chest, calming your heart. 

“you scared me, joong.” you replied, only to receive a quiet chortle from the male next to you. judging by the slight rasp in his voice, you figured that he had just woken up just before you did. 

“can’t sleep?” he asked, leaning against the railing as his head tilted to the side in question.

a little smile made its way over your lips before turning your gaze back to the sky’s canvas once again, giving hongjoong a brief opportunity at how the moon’s light shone against your features. from the curve of your cheekbones, to your eyes that could rival against the stars with how they seemed to glint with unspoken emotions in them. 

“a bad dream, rather.” you answered, the dark brown haired boy nodded understandingly. 

“would you want to talk about it?” he offered, moving a bit closer next to you, the both of you now standing side by side underneath the moonlight. 

with the sight of you growing a bit hesitant followed by a shake of your head, hongjoong could feel a slight twinge in his chest. not because of how you rejected his offer, but rather the slight fear in your features washing over for a split second before it was replaced with a smile on your lips made you look vulnerable. reaching a hand out, he gave your head a gentle stroke, murmuring how it was alright if you didn’t want to do so.

you, on the other hand, felt your body freeze at the touch before relaxing into his touch, somehow finding comfort. the action was small, yet it managed to give you quite an impact as you find yourself leaning against his touch. 

“we can talk about anything you want to keep your mind off of it until you are ready to go back to sleep, we can even stand in silence, and i’ll be okay with that.” you heard him say, his tone laced with a welcoming warmth that sent your mind at ease. 

and with that, you agreed. the two of you stood in the balcony staring up at the moon while talking about whatever had crossed your minds that ranged from what your favourite colours were to what had made you decide to choose the courses you were currently majoring in. 

it was a rare moment between the two of you to be able to talk so openly like this, and if you were being honest, the you back then would probably be in disbelief to know that hongjoong and you could actually talk about any topics that came to mind without the tense atmosphere, or rather, not anymore. but you weren’t complaining, you are pretty much thankful that the two of you finally started to open up more with each other. 

“joong, do you remember when we first met?” you asked, slightly surprised to see him already looking over at you once you turned to look at him. 

with a hum, hongjoong turned around so his back was rested against the railing, arms folded in front of his chest as his lips pursed in thought.

“we met when mingi invited us to lunch on his first day of college, no?” you couldn’t help but to smile at yourself, he remembered.

“well.. remember when we were so awkward with each other?” you added, hongjoong emitting a low chortle at the memory, slightly cringing at the same time as well. 

“i thought you hated me on our first meeting with how quiet you were.” you said, the male’s eyes widened at your sudden confession, quickly reassuring you that was not the case. 

“it’s more like, i didn’t know how to interact with you.” he answered after a brief moment, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

your head tilted ever so slightly to the side in question, patiently waiting for him to continue whatever he had meant by that. though it would be a lie to say a rush of thoughts made its way through your mind from all the possibilities of what he had thought about you when the two of you first met each other. 

“though, i am not at all saying i saw you in a negative way or anything like that!” he defended after seeing the conflicted expression painting over your face, the two of you now staring into each other’s eyes, your own widening in surprise. 

“something about you somehow made me feel a little nervous to the point i didn’t know how to act around you, as ridiculous as it sounds.” hongjoong added, feeling the tips of his ears grow warm, purposely avoiding your gaze on his face by staring down at the dimly lit streets below.

silence made itself present between the two of you, and hongjoong swore that he could almost hear your eyebrows furrowing out of confusion, clearly not understanding by what he had meant by that. 

“and.. why is that, if i may ask?” he heard you say, confusion evident in your tone as you spoke.

now gathering enough courage to look at you, the brown haired male reached a hand out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the corners of his lips twitching up into a gentle smile as the hand that tucked your hair rested itself atop of your head. 

“you intrigue me, one way or another, y/n l/n.” he said, the simper on his lips growing wider upon catching the slight pinkish hue itself blooming itself over your cheeks. 

“mingi was right, you do get flustered easily.” he teased, a clear attempt to lighten the atmosphere, causing you to sputter out gibberish words in response along with a light slap against his shoulder. 

“and hit hard.” he groaned, rubbing a hand on the spot where you hit.

“that’s for making me think that you hated me or something back then, you dummy.” you merely replied with a shrug, a cheeky smirk curving your lips at the way hongjoong stared at you after letting out a scoff. 

the both of you stared at each other in silence for a few more seconds before bursting into a fit of giggles, hongjoong playfully nudging his shoulder against your own while you retaliated with a nudge of your hip against his. the two of you spent a little while longer in the balcony than you intended just talking underneath the moonlight until you could feel the sleepiness starting to become apparent after feeling how heavy your eyelids were getting. 

this, did not go unnoticed by the other. 

“head on in and get some sleep, okay? i heard mingi’s planning to bring us to the new cafe in town down the street.” you heard him say as you stifled a yawn behind your closed fist with a nod of your head. 

“what about you?” you asked, pushing yourself off of the railing.

“i’ll stay here for a bit, i’ll go in soon, i promise.”

with that, you could only nod your head in reply as you made your back inside, not before bidding the brown haired male a gentle ‘goodnight’, to which he returned with a wave of his hand. once he was sure you were inside and the sliding glass door was shut behind you, hongjoong switched his gaze back up to the sky as he heaved out a low sigh out of content.

“you really do intrigue me, muse.” 

[guileheroine]

a sky full of song, chapter one

Korra, princess of the Water Kingdoms, receives a gift from her blacksmith friend on the auspicious winter festival / Korrasami royalty AU / ao3 / My piece for the @korrasami-valentine-exchange (assignment: Date A) (reposting with cover!)

“The wedding of the Earth Prince, yes, on the solstice. But it’s an opportune moment for a longer tour, we don’t want to waste the journey. I’m afraid your father can’t afford it, and before you ask, I’ve been conferring with your mother’s office. And frankly, I’m loath to request it of her after…

Councillor Panak trailed off as Korra hurried him along with a gesture of the hand. He pushed his eyeglass up his nose and took her eye seriously. “To the point, then—what do you say?”

Korra was tapping her foot under the meeting table. Prince Wu, if she recalled, was equally as intolerable as old Hou-Ting, the spirits bless his poor betrothed. But the prospect of a fortnight around the Earth Kingdom, with its delicious fare and diverse landscapes… that made her much more amenable to the whole idea.

“Around the solstice, huh? Alright. Why not.” It was a way off. She had time to arrange her retinue and her schedule as efficiently as possible for maximum enjoyment.

“…That means a tour to the Earth Empire in the spring—or summer, if Her Royal Highness prefers it?”

“Oh, spring,” Korra said in a rush. “Spring. I’m not sure I can do Earthen summers.”

Panak smiled quite kindly at that, and nodded at his scribe to jot it down. Korra returned his smile. They really were getting along better. It was nice. This meeting was also stretching much farther into the evening than she had understood it would.

The Lotus Guard at the doorway didn’t so much as blink as she pushed the heavy door open and went out. He was one of the older men, having been here long before the war, and quite accustomed to her ways.

Once Korra was out in the foyer, she raced. Her quarters, and her next appointment, were in the other wing of the palace, but she had promised to go see her mother first for a few minutes before the Queen went to bed. The winter sun was long gone; all the windows she skipped past were dark, torchlight gleaming on the icy sills. In the halls, on the other hand, the air was bright as frost, festive. She wove around decorators from all over Agna Qel’a hanging new crystalwork along the old bead tapestries and tying berry wreaths around the tall pillars. Down the stairs, in the main hall, the humongous fires that burnt uninterrupted over the winter lit the place generously. As she sped through, headed for the opposite staircase, Korra caught the eye of one of the housekeepers.

“Mina! Mina, are you busy?” She took the girl’s arm, whose eyes goggled, alarmed only at the princess’s sudden appearance but unperturbed by her familiar ways. “Could you go to the kitchen and send for some tea to my apartment? Milk and honey for me���and some of whatever black blend is left, what my blacksmith friend likes. They’ll know. Thank you!”

When she turned to continue, she was immediately waylaid by one of the ice sculptors.

“Your Highness! A moment.”

Just a moment to breathe was exactly what it took for Korra to finally notice the centerpiece of the hall: an elaborate sculpture-fountain of Yue. The moon and ocean spirits hovered above each of her hands, water pouring in gentle arcs out of their gaping mouths.

Korra’s father was pulling out all the stops for Yue’s Day. She knew, for her part, that it was a private gesture for the Queen, newly returned from a long diplomatic engagement with the northern Air court. Korra stood at attention for the sculptor, whose fingerless gloves allowed him to bend with especial precision.

“Should her hair run—” he said, bending Yue’s locks of ice into free-flowing rivulets, “or stand arrested?” Another curl of his palm froze them again.

“Freeze them. More volume!” Korra said, thinking of her mother, who always grumbled about her limp hair. Then she was on her way to the Queen’s chambers, and then her own.

“I got your tea. Hi, princess.”

Korra’s blacksmith friend took a pointed sip when she finally entered her drawing room. Asami’s smirk was hidden behind the glassy cup, and her hair was wet. One of Korra’s towels was slung over the back of her seat—one of the nice ones with the finely embroidered monogram.

“Asami. Sorry I’m late!” Korra slumped onto her divan, sending one of the cushions flying onto the carpet. “It’s good to see you.” She took a moment to catch her breath before picking the cushion up, sitting comfortably and grasping for the tray on the table.

“Don’t worry about it,” Asami said, moving the cup from her mouth, the smirk finally melting off. She pushed the tray into Korra’s reach. “I’m done for the day. A couple of the apprentices are closing up shop for the very first time.” Her brows waggled.

“Impressive! But still, thanks for coming. I know you’re working hard.”

“We had an appointment, right? And—” Asami grinned and stretched, pulling her warm wools tighter around her “nothing like the thought of a royal shower at the end of the day to get you through it, you know?”

Korra rolled her eyes. The staff knew to let Asami into Korra’s apartments, and even if she could tell they were a little reticent about her using the princess’s bath and vanity, they of course said nothing. The dogs more or less dragged Asami in through the gates every time she came by the palace, and by order of the princess, they were the ones that decided things in her absence.

Asami scrutinised the tray from the kitchen carefully before picking out a little moon pastry. “How was your meeting?” She took a bite, attentive both to the pastry and Korra.

“Looks like I’m going on tour to the Earth Kingdom in the spring,” Korra told her. She wasn’t surprised to see Asami’s brow spring up, and her taste-testing pause.

“What, all over?”

It was a town in the Earth Kingdom that Asami originally hailed from, before she travelled to the Fire Empire with her father, an innovator in the art of war. After the war’s end and the subsequent reunification of the Water Kingdoms, the newly humbled Sun Emperor had gifted King Tonraq an ancient forge for the royal armoury as a token of good faith and cultural exchange. Korra remembered how it had taken several pulleys, and days, for it to be transported into place in one of the main avenues in the city. They had set up a house around it for a new smith to eventually train locals in the foreign art. Asami—skilled as a metalworker, but bereft of a livelihood and a family after her father’s foundries were shut down—had decided to venture north to start afresh. She vied for the position and won it handily.

Korra glanced at her long. “You could come with me, you know. Take a vacation, if you manage to get this new shop set up in time. I’m sure you’ve trained all your underlings well.”

“We’re getting there,” Asami said vaguely. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”

Korra was musing, recumbent with her feet up now. “I must warn you, t’s for the wedding of the Queen’s nephew. They’re a lot stuffier in the Earth kingdom. All the pomp and pageantry,” she clarified. “I’m not looking forward to that part.”

“I’ll bet.” Asami gave her a sympathetic smile.

Sitting pretty in formal assemblies, she did not enjoy. Peace was harder than war, in a lot of ways. At least it was for Korra, who had been right at home as a strategist commanding the bending battalions in the few Fire Empire skirmishes that had reached the north. Or as a captain fending off the marauding warlords and shaman-kings in the southern fiefs who took advantage of the chaos to arouse the spirits and stage deadly rebellions. Her leadership, covert though it was, had played no small part in subduing the northern theater and paving the way for all the ancient Water tribes to be reunified under Agna Qel’a and her father’s leadership. The lasting peace of the years since had proven they were stronger together. Just as it had proven that the Princess’s patience for peacetime bureaucracy needed a good deal of practice.

“You should come. We’ll do you up as my retainer so you get a salary. I might need you to keep me straight.”

Asami was good at that, blowing off steam after long, boring days. The mellowness of the warmth, nothing like that of her forge, evened Korra’s mood like little else.

“Oh, so you want me to drop everything and trail you around as a handmaiden?”

Korra scoffed, embarrassed. “Well, don’t put it like that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Asami sat up. “An Earth royal wedding, huh? Think they’ll let me in?” She picked at the cushion in her lap.

“They will if I have anything to say about it.” Korra yawned. “It’ll be my turn soon enough.”

“How’s your mother?” Asami said, following her train of thought seamlessly—it was always the queen that pestered Korra about finding a match, good-natured but more earnest than she ever realised she was appearing.

“Sleeping. She had a long journey back from the Northern Air Temple. Dad’s happy, though. Just casually planning her a ball this weekend for Yue’s Day.”

“Hey, is that what that business down in the hall is?” Some forgotten curiosity clearly jolted Asami. “There were all these new kayaks moored around the drawbridges when I came through, too.”

Korra nodded, while tentative recognition continued to filter into Asami’s expression. It was easy to forget Asami had been here nary a year. But she had, and it had been a busy year too, with little time for exploration, per her own frequent complaints. “You know about it, right?” When Asami shrugged evasively, Korra explained, “It falls on the day of the first full moon after the winter solstice. Yue was a princess of legend—our ancestor, apparently—who became the moon spirit.”

Asami sat forward. She loved tales like this, and listened to them like she was being entrusted a secret.

“We’ve celebrated it as long as anyone remembers, but the festival is supposed to usher good fortune and fertility. I think that’s why it became a couples thing.” Korra didn’t think much of that. “But, well, the idea is to spend the evening under the full moon, which is why all the kayaks are out. Really, everyone just needs an excuse to liven up the winter!”

“That I understand,” Asami said wryly, ill accustomed to the polar night. “Yeah, I went to the market in town to pick up some new gloves and they had stalls and stalls of new fare. Jewelry, wind chimes, furs.”

Korra sat up, conspiratorial. “I bet at least one of your new proteges will sneak you a little gift. I get messages every year. Mostly upstarts, but some cute ones, too.”

When Asami had first been appointed as the blacksmith, Korra was uncertain what a girl her age was doing heading up an official royal undertaking like that, with all its bells and whistles. When she arrived at a welcome dinner with her family, Korra found her altogether too precious, and definitely not deserving of the private summons and the White Lotus escort. Especially not when the whole rigmarole was keeping Korra from her planned retreat to the kennels for the evening, where, in the end, the strapping night guards were giggling and blushing about the new blacksmith.

At her father’s behest, Korra had put on her most functional anorak and taken Asami some cakes, conserves and newly dried jerky from the palace a couple weeks after their meeting. He insisted it was a part of the Princess’s duty to look after someone in their employ so new to the land—a girl her own age no less. Down in the city, the townsfolk were pleased to see Korra as she made her way to the workshop, but no one made a fuss (unless they were young and excitable already), unlike what she had heard of the other Kingdoms, larger and loftier as they were. She wondered if Asami the Blacksmith liked that about here, or found it lacked decorum, as Korra knew some folk abroad definitely did.

Asami had a study above the forge, from which she dealt with its administration, and living quarters on the next storey. These were yet lonely and sparse, but not completely devoid of homely touches, as though she would have spruced them up if she only had the opportunity. Korra noticed well-kept shrubs and a vivid landscape on the wall; then Asami came and curtseyed deep and pulled off her apron.

She was willowy and beautiful under the gear and the soot (over it, too, to be honest), which endeared and repelled Korra in fairly equal measure, ultimately leaving her as indifferent as ever.

“My parents and Lord Arnook want to know how you’re getting on.” Lord Arnook was the esteemed keeper of the royal armoury, and he liked Asami just as much as everyone else did.

A flicker of sadness—shame?—crossed her face, then she put her hand on the table. “Won’t you sit? Your Highness. Let me bring you something hot first.”

Asami lit the fire in the blink of an eye and stoked it without watching, like it was the back of her hand. She had some bread in the pantry, over which she spread the aqpik jam Korra had delivered her. Korra watched her as she boiled the water. Her skirt was heavy, probably to insulate from the heat and cold alike, but it fell flatteringly from her height; and her long hair, which had flown in waves in a foreign style at dinner, was pinned into a practical bun. She made a sharp, fragrant tea she had brought from the continent. Her eyes lit up unexpectedly when Korra bent her own cup to cool it.

“Ah, I love seeing that,” she cooed. “I suppose I’m still not used to it. The other elements don’t bend like that. And I hear you have great skill.”

Korra’s own smile came too quick for her to suppress. “Who told you that, the King?” Then she regarded her keenly. So, how are you… Do you need anything? Do the men from the quarry treat you okay?”

“Oh, everyone here is… They’re very warm. Makes up for the chill,” Asami laughed.

It was a line so hackneyed that gritting through it was itself a country-wide inside joke. But this calm and rosy girl injected fresh, charmless charm into it. Maybe everything was charming if someone this winsome did it. After that, Korra softened considerably.

“They are,” she replied, with no small amount of pride. A sudden shame crept up her chest, that she probably couldn’t count herself among those nice people that had made Asami feel welcome.

Then Asami swallowed and the colour of her voice changed. “I miss my home, though. I know this job is more kindness than I deserve, after what we did but… It is a little lonely here.” She confirmed what Korra had already deduced, mostly because she knew the feeling all too well. “I guess I just don’t have a lot of time to go and make friends after work.”

Korra didn’t doubt that; it was hard, physical work. The one or two times she’d witnessed it, the clang rang in her ears for hours afterwards. She wouldn’t have pegged a girl like this for it. Asami reminded her more of some of the young ladies she knew from her old classes, when all the children around the court would be dumped into the royal healing hut together for some hands-on learning.

“Have you been beyond the city yet? The land out there… that’s our land. This is just a fortress.”

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to,” Asami said, wistful. “Pretty sure I can’t go on foot though.”

“Well, if… if you don’t know anyone else, I could take you. I have the best dogs in the Four Kingdoms.”

Before the month was up, Korra had sent a commission to the Queen’s personal seamstress for some sealskin gloves and winter-grade furs. She gifted them to Asami on her birthday. “You need these anyway, I think, but you’ll definitely need them where we’re going.” And that night, Korra took her to see the aurora.

There was a hamlet a few miles north of Agna Qel’a where Korra knew the elderly chief and had asked her for passage to an outcrop in their territory, after divining the well kept secret that it was one of the prime spots for watching the sky dance. Asami, enchanted, never took her eyes off it—so unflinching that Korra almost began to feel envious of the lights.

It became a routine. Korra knew every inch of her realm. If a diplomatic mission sent her to one tribe or settlement, she would be sure to take a day or two exploring the local country before she returned to the capitol. It had been a great boon when the southern tribes first came under their stewardship. The Princess spent time in every village, took interest in their land and in their lore; met challenges of the wilds and the weather with hunger, and any unknowns thereof with abiding curiosity. She knew what to wear, which sled or boat to take. When to find the rarest whale pods before they went south; where the starriest cliffs were, and the sunniest lakes.

All of which impressed Asami a great deal, and that made Korra happier than most things. And no worse were the days they spent in her apartments going over the sordid palace gossip, or in her apartments tracing old scars by lamplight, healing them word by gentle word.

On Yue’s Day, Korra stopped by to see various palace aides located around the city with customary gifts. In a castle town, there were plenty with such connections, and she relished the ruddy smiles, quick drinks, and flustered curtsies she received in turn. She saved Asami for last, because Asami had asked for some time together. Korra entered the smithy by the front, her senses clogging with immediate heat. Two of the apprentices were there: one of them gaped while the other barely blinked.

“Asami? I come bearing punch… and those moon pastries you like!”

She commenced the usual ritual of announcing her presence over the steam and noise while peeling off all but a couple of her layers, when Asami emerged out of the back. She was squeezing her hands together in excitement.

“No, no, no, don’t,” she urged, a gleam in her eyes like the blades that hung behind her, “we’re going somewhere.”

A few minutes later, they were walking along the main canal under the sparkling lights, milling through the townspeople. A fresh drift crunched beneath their boots. In a few more, they were alighting one of the kayaks in the dock.

Asami faced her and paddled like a natural; and naturally, Korra gaped.

“Do not tell me you haven’t done this before!”

Asami’s tongue stuck out in concentration as she suppressed a giggle, but her limbs moved with finesse. “Just the once. So far. Don’t be distracting me.”

“I won’t let us capsize,” Korra assured her.

Eventually, Asami settled into her rhythm, and the canal carried them out of the city, past all the lights. The banks of glass-cut brick gave way to a more jagged channel littered with pack ice at its mouth, floating blue and still. Korra gripped the edge of the kayak, not for any physical comfort. A crackling anticipation, and an unnameable fondness both, were welling and welling in her with every mundane word they shared.

When they disembarked on the lake’s other edge, the ice was landfast: a ghostly field glowing under the full moon.

Korra knew this place, but she had scarcely been here in the middle of winter, when the ice field extended endlessly, as vast as the sky. As they tramped across the snow, she began to wonder what Asami’s surprise was. There wasn’t much for a mile in any direction.

“We should sit for this,” Asami said, pointedly ignoring Korra’s prying questions.

The wind had kicked the snow up into berms along the field. Korra froze one so it was sturdy enough to perch on. Then Asami took her pack, and pulled out some plain tubes of parchment; nothing Korra would have looked at twice, although she didn’t know what they were.

“What’s in there?” She said.

“Some of my metals, some of my salts,” Asami replied enigmatically, almost sing-song. “Wait here.”

She heaved herself off the berm, ran several yards towards the horizon and stooped. She planted the tubes, and did something else Korra couldn’t see, though she thought she recognised the bright filigree on the cover of the pocket matchbook Asami carried everywhere.

When Asami had trundled back and sat again, Korra crossed her arms and laughed, bemused, her humour ebbing. “Are you going to tell me what’s going—”

BOOM!

Korra gasped, startled out of her words. She would have fallen from the perch if Asami didn’t catch her around the waist, giggling blithely all the while—

A wheel of light bloomed in the sky like a flower, dazzling and surreal. All the colours of the aurora—except they were peals of crystal fire, pouring out like diamonds before disappearing into the smoky air. Another wheeled up after it with a strange whirr, before it exploded into a glittering shower, and more in succession.

They reminded Korra of the spirit hales in the heart of the wilds, and even deeper in a buried memory, of the Fire explosives some of the raiders had once set off on the Southern Sea. Except these were brighter—and safer, because Asami had made them.

Korra looked to her when they had died, beaming under the mitten that covered her mouth in shock. “Are there more?”

To her eternal delight, there were more. New flowers sprouting on the celestial vault, they would be burned in her memory forever.

“They’re no aurora,” Asami said, while Korra scoffed and slung her arms around her, huddling for the cold and the buzz. Under her embrace, and half her weight, Asami looked chuffed. “But I thought they might liven up your night.”

Korra cupped her earmuff, then her cheek. “Thank you. This is the best day I’ve had all winter.”

Asami’s pyrotechnical skills didn’t even surprise her, but that could hardly diminish the sheer majesty, and novelty, of the display. Even minutes later, Korra could hardly believe what she had seen.

“Well, I couldn’t let you be the only show-off around here.” Asami smiled. Then the smile dropped from her eyes and she hesitated, like she couldn’t let that sit for an explanation. “Korra. I wanted to do something special. You’ve made me feel at home here in a way I never imagined. And I’m just a smith, from the Fire Empire!”

Korra felt her eyes water and blinked the tears back quickly, because they would ice and sting in the bitter air. She bit the smile off her lips. “You’re not just anything. You’re a terrific handmaiden.”

She snorted as Asami shoved her off and reached for her pack again.

“One more thing. I thought it might be too smokey for this after all those incendiaries, but it’s worth a shot anyway.”

This time Korra recognised the device she emerged with. It was made of two cylinders, and the mechanism that held them together spun smoothly like the spokes of a wheel. She handed it to Korra, who held the spyglass up.

A field of stars materialised. Korra held her breath.

The stars were luminous at the poles, but she had never seen them like this, and for the first time they felt close enough to touch, invoking a bracing, irrepressible wonder. In silence, she gazed.

“The moon spirit leads all the stars out tonight, right?”

Asami had done her research. Korra turned back to her. “So they say.” She hooked her arm through Asami’s, and held her hand. With the spyglass still to her eye, she let her head fall against Asami’s bundled shoulder.

“Tired, princess?”

Korra rustled her breath, long-suffering. “Why do you call me that!”

The way Asami said it—like it was something of her own decree, and not that of ten thousand years of tradition and some profoundly sacred doctrines. There was a sweet and strange tug in Korra’s belly whenever it happened, and this time, tonight, it lingered longer than ever.

“‘Cause you’re a piece of work,” Asami said, trying to interlace their thick, mittened fingers, which required some effort.

Tentatively, Korra turned the spyglass to the moon herself. She winced— it glared straight back, too bright. Maybe another night, when it wasn’t Yue’s Day.

Yue’s Day. She now held the thought delicately in her chest, as if she wanted to guard it from the wind and chill. If Asami loved her—were to love her—there were several reasons not to say it. They both knew them, whether they had turned them over consciously or not.

But the risk of showing was low. And the reward, as her own euphoric mood tonight proved, was magnificent.

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 7

Word Count: 4,131

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning and Pens (others)

Notes: So today was like crazy busy, but I was able to finish this tonight then do a quick edit. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but here it is anyhow...haha! Hope you guys have a great weekend! Happy Reading!

As you followed Logan to the lobby, you thought for sure this was going to be another false alarm, just as the rest had been. Why after all this time in the bubble had these men decided to fight, you had no idea? You knew tensions were high with games starting but they all had seemed fairly cordial with each other. There were about a dozen players gathered round when you saw the first fist fly and suddenly your heart rate sped up. You wormed your way to the front, to see who the hell was fighting. You weren't surprised to see Brad Marchand mixing it up with one of the Flyers but you couldn't quite tell who it was as their back was to you.

 The two teams had just come off a round-robin game, that you had no clue as to who won as you'd been busy working the entire time and not caught any of the game, but it obviously left a bad taste in their mouths. As Marchand swung with his right hand, the two twisted and it was then that you saw Travis Konecny was the one he was fighting with. While you knew that TK was a bit of a chirper, you'd seen a completely different side to him that first night in the bubble. You'd honestly thought he'd be the least of your worries here, other than maybe calling you up again to say his bed squeaked, yet here you were watching him take a jab at Marchand. Not that Marchand probably didn't deserve it, hell you wanted to take a swing at him the other day when he'd shoved you into the pool.

 You looked around at the other players that had gathered hoping one of them would put an end to this whole mess, but they seemed more entertained than anything. Part of you wondered if this went on would more of them end up fighting? TK had a nice right hook into Marchand's jaw and you saw them stumble back knocking a vase of flowers off the entry table and shattering it. That's when you knew you had to do something. "That's enough boys," you yelled trying to use your most authoritative voice, but it was ignored as Marchand threw a punch to Konecny's abdomen. At some point, you were sure this was going to turn into a wrestling match with the two of them lying on the ground amidst shards of glass. You gave a sharp whistle hoping that you sounded like one of the refs during play and that they would at least calm a bit, which they did. It was at that moment you chose to try and break the actual fight up, apparently feeling more like a referee now that you'd got them to just circle each other, neither one letting go just yet.  Taking your arms, you moved between the two hotheads saying, "I said stop fucking fighting in my…" You weren't exactly sure what happened next but you felt a partial fist fly to your jaw. It knocked you off your feet and sent you stumbling back hitting your head against the table the vase had been on moments ago.

 "Holy fuck!" Someone yelled. You closed your eyes to stave off the pain that was now not only in your jaw but also on the back of your head. "Jesus, are you ok?"

 "I don't think she is."

��"She's bleeding."

 You had no clue who was saying what but you could feel a million pairs of eyes on you. "Someone call one of the trainers."

 "I'm fine," you managed to mumble out while opening your eyes, only to have your vision blurred by blood trickling down. "Ok, maybe not." About five players were kneeling down around you, or maybe it was four, it was hard to tell as the blood obscured your view. Finally, someone gently pressed something against your forehead to stave off the flow.

 "Fuck (Y/N), I'm so sorry, you got messed up in this." It was Travis's voice you were sure of it and not because you knew Marchand would never apologize but because you recognized it from your night with him. Only he wasn't surrounding you at the moment.

 "Next time keep it on the ice and not in my hotel." You went to sit up but felt a little woozy. A strong arm clamped around your waist. It was the same person who was holding, what you now believed to be said person's shirt, against your head.

 "I think we need to get you somewhere else then this lobby." The voice was smooth and rich, and pleasing to listen to, yet every time you tried to see who it belonged the damn t-shirt was in your way.

 "You can take her to her suite." This voice you knew, for you'd been plotting to strangle him so many times over the last several days, it was hard to forget.

 "Thanks, Logan, I was just going to say that."

 "Here hold this and I'll carry you." In one easy swoop, strong arms scooped you up, and then he was standing with you in his arms. He was shirtless and you could feel his muscles bunch as he held you. Vaguely you realized where his shirt was at, as you held it to your head.

 "Logan, can you clean this up, please? And have Carly get new flowers in here." You saw him scurry away out of the corner of your left eye.

 "I'm sure there's someone in charge here that can take care of that." The man who was now carrying you off to the elevator said.

 "Yeah, that's me," you told him catching a glimpse of soft brown curls as you again tried to get a good look at his face.

 "Oh, I didn't realize." Which seemed funny considering how everyone at the hotel seemed to know who you were.  "What floor?"

 "Penthouse."

 "Well, I guess you are in charge then." He laughed and you found yourself joining in, even though your head hurt a bit. The ride on the elevator was short and soon you were in your room and he was setting you down on the sofa. "I'll grab you some ice if you steer me in the right direction."

 "Kitchen is down the hall on the left." He turned and you got a view of his well-defined ass as he walked away. God, even the muscles on his back were sexy. You heard him rummage around a bit and you wondered how bad you actually looked. You were too far away from the hallway mirror to find out, but you imagined you had blood in your hair from the cut; you just hoped your jaw wasn't sporting a nice bruise. It was then, that he walked out of the kitchen and you were finally face to...well somewhat face to face, with your rescuer, Josh Anderson. It was no wonder that he didn't know you, as he wasn't currently staying at your hotel. "Now, let's see that pretty face of yours," he said while cupping the good side of your jaw. "I don't think it'll bruise too bad. Didn't look like Marchy got you full force with that hit." Josh gingerly put the ice to the spot that had been hit.

 "I should've figured it was Marchand that hit me. He's had it out for me since he got here."

 "Marchy has it out for everyone, but I can't see why he would pick on someone as beautiful as you." The compliment caused you to blush, but thankfully between Josh's shirt and the ice, you didn't think he'd notice.

 "Not sure what I ever did to him, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me."

 "Well, his loss is my gain." It was Josh who was blushing a bit at his own words this time and you found it very attractive. "Now, let's have a look at that cut and see if it needs stitches." He brought his shirt down and examined your head. His lips just a hair's breadth away from yours making you ache to kiss him. "I think you'll be good with just some butterfly ones. It doesn't look that deep, though I can call our trainer and have him come over and double-check."

 "No that's ok. I'm sure your right. I have some upstairs." You went to get up and he placed a supporting arm around your waist.

 "Here why don't you just let me…" Before you could even take a step, he scooped you back up into his arms and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He made it seem like carrying you around was nothing, and honestly, it was sexy as hell. He set you down at the vanity stool in the bathroom. "Ok, so where are bandages?"

 "Top shelf there is a medical kit with some in." He grabbed it, shuffling through it to find what he needed. "This might sting a bit," he told you as he opened up an alcohol swab to clean the cut first. You winced as he gently stroked it over the wound. When he stepped back, you finally looked in the mirror at yourself.

 "Oh my god," the words were out of your mouth before you realized how they startled Josh.

 "Are you ok? Did I hurt you more?"

 "No, it's not that. I was just looking at my face…or maybe my hair." Dried blood covered half of your face and your hair was matted and tangled like a stray dog's. "I look like I walked out of the set of a horror movie."

 He laughed, brushing your hair back before placing the steri strip on your forehead. "It's not that bad."

 "I seriously need a shower."

 "Oh…uh…" Josh fumbled around with his words, looking very uncomfortable and you sort of chuckled to yourself. "I can leave you alone then…probably should be going anyway."

 "You don't have to," you mentioned casually, though you weren't sure that he would take you up on your silent offer with the way you looked at the moment. "I mean, I'm still a little unsteady on my feet." There wasn't a whole lot you knew about Josh Anderson but what you did know of him, was that he was the protector type; so you tried to play to that sensibility of his.

 "Well, I wouldn't want you to fall in the shower and get hurt worse." There was a cute little smirk on his face and if you weren't doused in blood you would've kissed him. Instead, you stripped off your top, yet another piece of clothing ruined, you thought vaguely. Your skirt and shoes followed till you were left in nothing but your bra and panties. Josh made quick work of getting rid of his shorts and stood there in front of you in his boxer briefs. Reaching around you unclasp your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders and to the ground, before gliding your panties down your legs. Josh bit his lip as he drank in the sight of your body; his eyes lingered a bit long at your breasts before moving down to look at your pussy. Even though he still had his boxers on, you saw his cock twitch as he took you in. You let him drink his fill and when he didn't make a move, you stepped into the shower hoping that he would follow. He did within seconds.

 The water sprayed over your head diluting the blood that had been matted to your hair and skin. When you went to grab the shampoo, Josh's hand stopped you. "Let me." He put some in his hands, then started to massage it into your scalp. His fingers were gentle and he avoided your cut as best he could, sliding through your hair all the way down to the ends. When he was done, he had you rinse then followed up with conditioner. It was only as that rinsed out of your long strands that you finally turned to face him. Droplets of water coated his body, and there was a heated stare in his gaze. Josh was tall, so you went up on your toes so that you could kiss him. His arms immediately went to your waist to press you to him. Maybe it was his caring nature or the way that he'd just simply swooped in to take care of you, but your body just completely melted into him and you moaned into him as his tongue caressed yours. Josh was a sensual kisser; his mouth and tongue just working its magic on you as he ignited a flame deep within.

 His hands roamed around your back only to slide up your sides and move to your breast. Breaking the kiss, his lips traveled southward along your neck and collarbone until he was cupping a breast and bringing it to his lips. His tongue swirled around your nipple before he took it in his mouth and sucked on it. You felt yourself grow damp though it wasn't from the water cascading down on the two of you. Josh lavished each of your breasts, and with every tweak and caress you moaned out his name. When his fingers skated down past your stomach to slip between your folds, you thought you would die from the pleasure he was giving you. It was nothing like the other night with Tom. Josh knew exactly what he was doing. Listening as you moaned out what you liked, so he could repeat the action again. "I want to taste you so bad," he whispered, before dropping to his knees. You backed up against the shower wall, and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. His tongue slipped out to lick a strip between your folds, and you found your hands threading into his hair to urge him on. They were small little licks at first before he actually sunk his tongue deep in your pussy. You tossed your head back forgetting about your injury, but not caring when he repeated the action. His nose nudged your clit as he licked at you furiously. Your hips started to buck and one strong arm, held you upright and secure against the wall, as his mouth suctioned on to your clit.

 "Yes Josh, fuck that feels so good." You panted out, as your hand locked around the back of his head. He slid two fingers into your pussy easily, pumping them in and out, while he continued his torturous treatment on your clit. Your orgasm hit as he made that simple come-hither movement with his fingers. Your legs shaking, body writhing as the pleasure overtook you. He dropped your leg back down when you finally came down from your high. Moving gracefully off the bathroom tile, Josh stood up and kissed you. Your essence still lingering there on his lips, as his cock pressed hard against your stomach.

 Reaching down you clasp your hand around the length of him; twisting your hand as you stroked him, in a way that had him hissing out his pleasure. "Fuck (Y/N), I just need to be in you." He moaned out. "It's been way too long." He drew your leg up again to wrap around his waist this time, allowing him easier access to the place he longed to be. His cock nudged between your folds, the head just inside you. Josh was thick and as he slowly slipped inside you; you could feel your pussy stretch to accommodate him. "Damn you're tight." You weren't sure if that was the case or if he was just so big, but you knew he felt delicious as he bottomed out. He took a minute, just looking you in the eyes as he stayed buried deep inside you.

 In the next second, his lips were on yours and he started to move. His tongue mimicking what his cock was doing, as he thrust in and out of you. You were simply two bodies sliding together as the water pelted down on you. Josh pinned you to the shower wall again, his strong arms biting into your waist and you thought you'd have bruises there but you knew he was also keeping you from falling down to the tiles. You looped your arms around his shoulders, so your hips could meet each of his thrusts. The water caused your leg to slip off his hip. "Josh…" you panted out.

 "I know," he hissed and he was pulling out of you so that you both could be more comfortable. He twisted your body so that your back rested against his chest for a moment before, bending you down. You spread your legs wide giving him greater access to your cunt so he could glide back in. Using the bench seat, you placed your hands there to hold on as Josh grabbed ahold of your hips before thrusting back in. Moans echoed off the bathroom walls as your bodies slammed together. "Fuck, yeah baby," Josh groaned as you pushed your ass back against him.

 His hand on your hip, snaked down so his finger could rub circles around your clit. "Yes…Josh…yes." He had you teetering on the edge in no time. It was when his other hand drew you halfway up and his lips bit down on your neck that you completely lost it, cuming with a loud moan. Your legs shook and felt like they would give out but Josh held you close still pumping in and out of you as you came down from your high. He pounded in and out of you a few more times, before thrusting even deeper into you and spilling himself inside your pussy. A guttural moan left his mouth and his fingers dug deep into your hips holding you still as he came.

 He stayed inside you for a minute as he said, "Damn, I needed that." Dropping kisses on your shoulder, he slowly pulled out. "Thank you," he said softly, turning you around so he could once again capture your lips in a sweet kiss. "We should probably finish up." You knew he was right, though you were out of energy after two orgasms. Josh must have sensed this for he grabbed your loofah and the shower gel, and started to wash your body. His touch was gentle and he added more soap to his hands, abandoning the sponge as he washed your breasts and pussy. You couldn't help the moan that left your mouth as he touched you; your body still sensitive. "God, you are so sexy. I could…" He didn't finish the sentence.

 "You could what?"

 "You've already given me enough. Especially with this," his hand brushed the water off your forehead where your cut was. You'd completely forgotten about it. Your eyes dropped down to his cock, where you could see it coming back to life.

 "I'm fine Josh," you told him, looking him in the eye. "Though maybe we should get out of this shower."

 He chuckled lightly. "Agreed."

 He went to turn off the water and you stopped him. "Let me at least wash you a bit first." Josh eyed you funny considering he really wasn't the one that needed to shower. "Humor me." He shrugged and you grabbed the soap. The feel of his hard muscles under your soapy hands, made you tingle all over again. By the time you reached his cock, it was back to being erect. The suds made it easy to work your hand up and down the length. This time it was Josh that was moaning as you pumped him up and down.

 "Babe," his voice warned, as he gripped your wrist and you knew it was time to rinse off and continue this out from under the water. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist before taking another so that he could dry you off. His fingers were swift yet gentle as he made quick work of drying you, then did the same for himself. The two of you shared more soft kisses as you headed to the bedroom for round two, which was just as magical as it was in the shower. "I should probably head back to my hotel before I'm missed," Josh finally said as the two of you laid in bed.

 You hummed your agreement. "I forgot for a little bit that you're not staying here."

 "Well hopefully we'll get to move over here soon and maybe we could continue this." The idea of spending more time with Josh was definitely appealing and something that could be happening soon.

 "I'd like that," you told him as he kissed your lips one more time before crawling out of bed. "I'll walk you down."

 "You don't have to, but you should get some ice on that jaw." He tipped your head to the side and winced. "It's starting to bruise a bit."

 "Ugh, at least it doesn't hurt."

 "You're one tough cookie." He pulled on his boxers and shorts, while you grabbed a robe. "You know I'm not opposed to beating the shit out of Marchand for you."

 "Don't bother, he's not worth you getting into trouble."

 "Well, I'm sure he'll get his somehow," he gave you a little wink and you wondered what he was planning with that statement. "So this was fun…well except that part." He gently touched your bandaged head before kissing you. "See you soon?"

 "I sure hope so." With one last kiss, he left you alone, and you went to grab the ice he talked about earlier. Now that you were done having your fun with Josh, you realized your jaw did hurt a bit, but a couple of aspirin would help. You headed back upstairs to grab the meds, then laid back down on the bed, texting Carly to make sure everything was fine, which it was and she told you to take it easy.

 You were half asleep when your phone rang; a FaceTime call from Tyler popping up on the screen. "Hey Ty," you answered sleepily.

 "Hey…omg what happened to you?"

 In your half-asleep state, you'd forgotten about the bruise and cut on your face. "I stupidly tried to break up a fight. It didn't go well."

 "Jesus babe, are those stitches?" There was concerned laced in Tyler's voice, as well as a worried look on his face.

 "No just butterflies. I'm fine." The look he gave you said he thought you were lying. "I swear it's not that bad."

 "Who the hell was fighting? Better yet, who do I have to kill?" You winced, not really wanting to tell him. "(Y/N), I swear to god if you don't tell me…"

 You weren't sure what he was going to do if you didn't tell him, but there was also no point in hiding the truth. "It was TK and Marchand, though apparently, it was Marchy's fist that caught me."

 "That fucking son of bitch." His face was getting red with anger. "I'm gonna kill him."

 "Easy tiger," you tried to tease but you could tell he wasn't having any of it. He started to pace around the room. "What are you doing?"

 "Packing. I told you I'm going to beat the shit out of him."

 "Tyler, you're not a fighter." He finally stopped at your words.

 "I'll still beat him to within an inch of his life."

 "Oh, stop. I'm fine. And you're not coming here. You're in the damn bubble and not going anywhere on my behalf." Tyler had a tendency to overreact at times and this was one of them, though you'd never seen him this angry before. "With a little makeup, you won't even see it."

 "You can't stop me from calling him and bitching him out."

 "Well, if it gets him to settle down in my hotel, I'll gladly take the help." It would be nice not having to worry about being thrown in the pool again or him starting up fights with another player. "But enough about that, tell me about your day?" The two of you chatted for over an hour, Tyler never once hinting about anything sexual happening, which surprised you a bit. It was nice though just talking about everything and anything with him. You always had this easy banter with him, but this just felt different. "Hey, I have another call coming in. Can I call you later?"

 "You can call me anytime babe. Feel better." He kissed you over the phone and you did the same for him before hanging up.

 You didn't recognize the number, but said hello anyhow only to be met with, "Hey (Y/N), I need your help?"

[lunnanunna]

Birthday Movie

STRAY KIDS Extra Member AU

Summary: Ollie sets up a movie for Felix’s and Jisung’s birthday.

Warnings: swearing

Taglist: @hyunmijung​ @galacticstxrdust​ @giant-puppy-yunho​ @kimonmars​ @soobinssmile​ @mythicalamphitrite​ @atinygracie​

A/N: I’m sorry for the short and somewhat uneventful update. It’s been along weekend and I’m still trying to catch up on sleep. Hope you enjoy!

Requests for each girl is open! Please let me know what you think!

Ollie rounded the corner with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies. She found Felix and Jisung huddled together on the floor, backs against the couch. They were wrapped up in a big blanket, and were surrounded by other blankets and pillows.

“That’s a cute nest,” Ollie said, chuckling. The two boys looked up at her smiling as she walked over to them, placing the tray in front of them.

“Thanks, Noona,” Felix said, scooting over a bit to make room for her in between them.

Ollie smiled, reaching over to ruffle his hair. She moved to fetch the remote that was on the TV stand and went over to sit between the two.

It was, miraculously, a quiet evening. Quiet in the sense that they had it free. Back Door just dropped, and while promotions would start soon, the company had given them two evenings to rest up. And it perfectly matched up with Felix’s and Jisung’s birthdays.

On Jisung’s birthday, the group took both boys out to eat and on Felix’s (Today) Ollie had a movie night with the birthday boys. This tradition had been going on since debut, and Ollie thanked the heavens for their last few free days.

Chan helped Ollie clear out the dorm just like they've always done and Ollie set up the living room for a comfy movie night. The leader had promised to keep the others out of the dorm until ten or eleven, meaning they had more than enough time for a movie with hot chocolate and snacks.

“What movie did you guys pick?” Ollie asked, repositioning the pillows behind her, so she could comfortably lean against the couch.

“Joker,” both boys said in unison. They looked up at Ollie almost hopefully, as if she’d say no.

She snorted. “Sounds like a fucking plan,” Ollie nodded in approval. The younger two cheered, fists in the air. One would think that they had won some award. Ollie shook her head, smiling.

Felix grabbed the remote from Ollie, searching through the TV for the movie. Jisung reached out to grab his drink and then placed it on the floor next to him. 

Ollie grabbed Felix’s and handed it to him and he placed it on his other side. She then grabbed the plate of cookies and placed them on her lap, holding onto her mug as well.

Jisung grabbed a cookie, quickly taking a bite. Ollie watched with a smile as he closed his eyes, humming at the taste. She grabbed one as well, holding it out to Felix who was still hard at work looking for the movie.

A slight flush appeared on his cheeks as he took a bite of the offered cookie. “Thanks, Ollie,” he said, chewing on the warm cookie. (It hadn’t been that long since she had taken them out of the oven.)

“Of course, babe,” Ollie grinned. She offered more of the cookie and Felix went for another bite.

“These are really good, Noona. Though if we’re being honest here, your cooking is always perfect,” Jisung said, reaching for another one.

Ollie chuckled as she watched Felix reach for one himself. At the rate that they were eating the cookies, Ollie was glad to have made two batches. It was very likely that they’d eat them all before Felix even pressed play.

“I’m glad that you like them so much,” she said, head leaning back on the couch, lazily smiling at both boys.

“Found it,” Felix said, triumphantly.

“Finally,” Jisung rolled his eyes. Felix glared at him and Ollie lightly slapped Jisung’s arm.

“Be nice,” she jokingly scolded.  

“Yeah, ya heard the lady. Be nice,” Felix pouted, arms folded over his chest.

Ollie nodded her head then paused and turned to Felix. “Yah! Lady?!” she almost screeched, brows shooting towards her hairline.

“Felix, that’s not very nice,” Jisung said in a mocking tone.

“I’m so very sorry, Ma’am,” Felix hung his head in “shame”.

Ollie glared as the two laughed, finding the whole thing extremely funny. Ollie didn’t. She crossed her arms, pouting. Facing the TV, she ignored their snickers. “You’re both so mean.”

“Noona, we love you.” Felix was the first to crack (When was he not?), wrapping his arms around her, facing burrowing into her neck.

“Traitor,” Jisung grumbled out, but soon found himself cuddling the older as well.

Ollie smugly sat there, holding two of her favorite boys. Felix hummed in content as Ollie began to card her fingers through their hair. Jisung sighed happily as well, then reached for the remote, pressing play on the movie.

The three happily sat, enthralled in the movie as if they were watching it for the first time. (It was Ollie’s favorite movie, so she’s at least seen it a few times.)

“Sometimes I wonder if I should worry that Noona loves this movie so much,” Jisung said, smirking at the older. Ollie was so immersed in the film that she hadn’t heard him.

Felix chuckled, looking up at Ollie as well. “You think she like, has a spiritual connection with him?” he asked, pointing at the Joker – who was mid dance on the stairs – with his chin.

“You know, now that you mention it, I can see the resemblance,” Jisung said, squinting his eyes at the screen.

“Keep at it and you might just see how crazy I can get,” Ollie threatened, eyes not leaving the TV. Both boys quieted, eyes wide. “That’s what I thought,” she said, bringing the boys in closer to her side.

“Sungie, this might be our last birthday,” Felix stage-whispered.

“It was good knowing ya buddy,” Jisung said, screwing his eyes shut and swallowing.

“Oh fuck off,” Ollie grumbled, pinching each of their cheeks.

Ollie’s Masterlist

[fanfics-arent-therapy-but-idc]

Zutara fluff

Oneshot

Love

Katara found herself unconsciously bending droplets of sweat off her forehead and arms as her carriage pulled into the palace. “How does the fire nation manage to get hotter every time I visit ?” She asks herself as her aid helps her off of the carriage and escorts her through the palace front doors. Katara was still in disbelief every time she made a trip here. How did a Southern Water tribe girl end up becoming a regular guest at the fire nation palace? “Well, it does help that your boyfriend is the Fire Lord,” she answers her own question. When she entered the front door she was met by a lady with a solemn look on her face.

“My deepest apologies, Lady Katara but Fire Lord Zuko has been called into two emergency meetings by his council and will not be able to greet you until sun down. He sends his personal apologies and has also told me to inform you that he has added a pool and blackout windows to your quarters,” the elderly lady in a palace uniform said.

Katara let out a sigh, but it was one of understanding. The visit had been impromptu, a pit stop of sorts before she headed to the newly founded Republic city. “No worries. Just let him know that I’ll be here, waiting for him,” she replies. The messenger bowed deeply to her, something that she still can’t get used to, and scurried away. Katara was left to her own devices.

Her first visit wasn’t to her new pool, but to the last room on the west wing. She knocked on the door and waited, hoping that the person on the other end was there. The sound of a latch opening and the delicious aroma of Jasmine tea comforted her in a strange way that also makes complete sense. The door finally opened to reveal an old man with kind eyes, smiling at her. “Ah, if it isn’t my favorite water bender,” he said while ushering her into his quarters.

“Iroh, I’m one of the only water benders you know,” she replied jokingly.

“Well, you are still my favorite nonetheless,” he responded casually.

Katara laughed at the old man and took her usual seat at his Pai Sho table. He took his and they began to play the ancient game. Iroh won the first match in five moves. Katara, similar to Zuko, wasn’t the best at this game but she didn’t particularly care that she was losing to him. She just enjoyed spending time with him; Zuko’s real father. The next five games last longer than the first but the results are the same. Iroh leaves the table to make what she can only assume as his 30th cup of tea of today and Katara follows to watch the master at work.

“Would you like to learn how to make my famous Jasmine tea?” Iroh asks.

“Yes, that would be great Iroh. Even though I’m new to the whole ‘tea’ world, I know that yours is some of the best there is!” She exclaims.

“Thank you, dear girl,” he replies bashfully and begins the tea making lesson with a long history about tea leaves and their properties. She listened intently, determined to learn the ancient art of tea making. Iroh heated the leafy water using his bending and then with a flick of her wrist, Katara poured the tea into the strainer and placed equal amounts of water into two ornate tea cups. They took their cups back to the table and carefully sipped from the piping hot cups, both eager to taste their joint creation. It had been a while since she had tasted Iroh’s tea so she looked to him with eager eyes for the official comparison.

Iroh closed his eyes in concentration for what seemed like hours until he finally spoke. “This tea is perfect Katara. A little weaker than I prefer, but despite that it’s amazing,”.

Katara smiled in delight. “At least I’m good at one thing Fire Nation related,” she blurted.

She hadn’t meant to say that out loud but it had happened and she wouldn’t lie to Iroh about what it meant either. A small part of her wanted to say it to someone. To work out her feelings about her future with Zuko and how hard or easy it could be. She waited to hear some of Iroh’s famous platitudes about destiny, but to no avail. He just took another long sip of tea and said “Pai Sho master or not, Katara, Zuko loves you just the way you are.”

Love. The word, she’s heard a million times before but it sounds so unfamiliar in this context. Did she love Zuko? Did Zuko love her? What else would keep a relationship a world apart and sustained through letters and weekend visits so strong for two years? What else would cause her to even question leaving her tribe and team Avatar to live in a permanently overheated palace? What else could keep them from losing each other in the vast sea of complications that is their lives?

“I’m in love with him,” she says, once again, her thoughts spilling out of her mouth.

“I would spend every second of every day in this hot as coals palace if it meant that we would be together,”

“And he would spend every second of every day in an ice igloo in the South Pole if it meant that he could be with you,” Iroh speaks on behalf of his absent nephew. It was at that moment the door opened slightly and Saya, her aid, peeked her head through the door. Katara turned to the large window in Iroh’s room and a swarm of butterflies invaded her stomach. It was sundown. “Go to him,” Iroh commanded with a smile on his face. She hugged the old man and sprinted out of his room, leaving a startled Saya in the doorway of General Iroh’s bedroom.

“Care to play a game of Pai Sho?”

Katara was running through the gilded halls of the palace, her wavy hair bouncing behind her. When she finally reached the large and heavy wooden doors of his bedroom, she took a deep breath, bracing herself for the unexpected.

She found him facing a mirror, hands searching through his hair for the pins that attached his crown to his head. “Are you ready to do this,” she asks herself although she already knows the answer. She takes one last deep breath, as though she’s preparing for battle. This is it, she reminds herself before she does the unthinkable.

“Zuko, she whispers,”.

He turns his body to the sound of her voice and when they lock eyes Katara’s heart swells.

“Katara!” He exclaims, making his way over to her and embracing her in a bone crushing hug. They haven’t been this close in months. He was warm; and even though the palace was already too hot and the sun was blazing through the windows, she didn’t want to let him go. He breaks their contact to look at her. It’s like he was getting drunk off of her presence and Katara could say that the same thing was happening to herself. At this moment, nothing else but the two of them existed.

“I love you,” she whispers to him and only him. She searches his golden eyes for a response but there are so many emotions playing on his face. Katara isn’t sure that she’s ever seen his scarred eye open that wide. “Say something!” She wills him in her mind. Instead of words, Zuko pulls her face to his and they meet in a kiss so intense, yet so soft that she feels like she’s floating. His lips are like drugs to her, she keeps seeking them out the moment they’re apart from hers. Her hands are in his hair, knocking the crown off of his head. His sturdy hands are caressing her back while simultaneously keeping them intertwined. Katara regretfully ends their kiss so she could catch her breath.

“Was this your way of telling me you love me back?” Katara asks in between small gasps of air.

“Yes. I was never all that good with words so I thought that I’d show instead of tell,” he said with that same stupid crooked smile that she loved so much. Katara’s mind flashes back to a flustered Zuko attempting to join team Avatar after months of chasing them around the world. The past.

“Well then if you don’t mind I’ll just keep doing the talking then,”

“Sure, why no-“

“Marry me,” an empowered Katara interrupted. “One kiss for yes. Two kisses for Hell Yes,” she finished.

Zuko pulled her close again, letting his body do the talking. “One, three, ten… ” Katara attempted to count, losing track after reaching double digits. “So that’s a Hell Yes times fifty,” she joked when they broke apart once again.

Zuko chuckled. “ That’s a Hell Yes times infinity,”

“Wow,” she responded wistfully, contemplating an eternity with Zuko by her side. A paradise, she decides.

“And people say you’re no good with words,” she says smiling. Zuko brings her back to him for another hug.

“You’re cool,” he comments on her body temperature, “I like it,”.

[renaxwrites]

Hello! Can I request an hc with a BHNA x HQ crossover where Todoroki, Bakugo, and Amajiki’s s/o is a top U.A student with a powerful quirk (like Maleficent or Jean Grey), a Phoenix but is also famous volleyball player, trained in U19 and is titled as the Goddess of Volleyball. Also, their s/o is ranked in the top three aces in Japan. Sorry if its random hehe Thank you in advancee! 💜

BNHA x HQ Crossover:

Support for the Winged-Ace -

(Todoroki, Bakugou, Tamaki)

a/n: I’ve had this one chillin in my inbox for a minute, sorry about that 🥺 I tried to find a good balance between the two. For some reason writing this made me feel a little (soft) idk why lol. Anyway I hope you like it 🥺💘

Todoroki:

It was just any other day, and Todoroki was doing some self-training, to clear his mind

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He couldn’t really concentrate from the repetitive thuds coming from the other side of the training center, so he went to go investigate. In doing so, he almost got decapitated by you, his classmate. Or, to be exact, a volleyball going what felt like 100 mph.

“Oh my gosh! I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry!” You and a couple of your teammates rush over to see of he was alright

He chuckles, but is still feeling the rush of the ball flying by. “I’m alright, but what are you doing? Is this your new training technique?”

You begin to explain how you’re on a volleyball team on the side, and you practice in your spare time. Intrigued, he wanted to see more of your practicing. YOUR crush, wanting to watch you do what you do best? It took all your willpower not to lose your brain cells or magically forget how to spike a ball. “Alright, let’s take that play from the top!”

The ball is practically floating through the air between your teammates, until you, the ace, slam the ball down to the other side, from out of nowhere. Perfect for the unsuspecting opposing team. “Yes!” You squeal in triumph as your wings descend you down.

Todo is mesmerized with what you just did. Or more specifically, you. “What was that?”

You turn to him with a certain kind of hunger on your face. “That, Shoto, is what is going to take us to be the champs this year. Hey, we actually have a tournament this weekend, you should come watch!”

And so he did. Well, he also invited a few fellow 1-a classmates to come along. They’re all having a good time, with the whole volleyball world being a new venture for them. The lights turn down, capturing their attention. They were to introduce a new player.

“And now, you know their name! You’ve seen them in every tournament imaginable, trained in U19 this year, is one of the top picks for the country, and is battling it out to be Ace of the Year this time, give it up for your ‘Volleyball Goddess’, Phoenix!!!”

You step out into the spotlight, waving to the crowd, subtly looking for a specific pair of mismatched eyes

Once you do, you smile and blow a kiss, letting them know that this game would be for him

And there he was, sitting there dumbfounded at the fact that you really do look like a goddess, with wings, uniform and all

Throughout the tournament, your classmates could feel the same pains and triumphs you did, through all the highs and lows of the games, all the way until the very last

The suspense was killing the crowd, with the score being 26-27. It was gruesome, with the game never seeming to want to end. But this point, this one point was all on you, and every person in the stadium knew it

Your team forms a quick huddle, deciding to follow through with the play you did when you almost killed Shoto. This is it!

This whole time, you had kept a cool head, but with this one point being all-or-nothing, slight nerves began to creep up. And Todo noticed.

Use of quirks weren’t necessarily allowed for safety regulations, but he needed to let you know he was cheering you on, to calm your nerves

He freezes his arm, then softly blows a slight cold breeze in your direction, praying it would reach you just enough

You shiver at the sudden, slight drop in temperature. You look up in the direction it came from, and are met with a soft smile, silently telling you, ‘you got this’

That was all you needed. You wink back, thanking him.

The ref blows the whistle, signaling the start of the play. Your team serves, and is ready to receive it from the other team. The ball comes back, and is floating on your teammates’ fingertips. You rise up, and spike the ball down to the rivals’ weak spot. They were caught off guard, not seeing you coming.

Brrt!

The whistle blows again, ending the match. You won! You and your teammates jump and squeal for joy, and soon you and the other team thank each other for the game. Then, the awards began, rewarding the top players of positions in the country.

“And now, with the top scorer for ace, taking over the top spot by .5 points more than 2nd place…Phoenix! Your Goddess!” Tears cloud your eyes as you step onto the podium. Everything you’ve worked so hard for, finally rewarded. You are presented with a bouquet and gold medallion, and just as you begin to wave to the crowd, you unintentionally catch something hard and cold in your hand. You look down in wonder.

A rose made of ice.

Once again you lock eyes with Todoroki, a silent message passing between the two of you.

After the awards, he is the first to congratulate you, and after the formalities, there’s a quick awkward tension. So you decide to break it.

“You know, I may have won first in the country, but I’m still waiting for the results for something else too.”

He tilts his head in curiosity. “And what would that be?”

You intertwine fingers with the clueless boy, and a pink blush taints his face. “I’m wondering what place I am in your heart, Shoto.”

He seems astounded. You have no idea how long he’s been wanting to confess to you, and here you are, beating him to the punch.

He takes your hand and presses a light kiss to it. “Number one, of course.”

You both stare into each other’s eyes for what seems like an eternity.

You totally forgot that some of your classmates came along, so their cheers at you two finally being together broke your tance from Shoto’s eyes.

They all fangirled at the two of you and definitely had taken the opportunity to take pictures of your love-staring-contest

The picture is both you and Todo’s wallpaper now

Bakugo:

Homie sees everything as a competition, so when he sees how big you appear with your wings, he saw you as a threat

It got on his nerves when he saw you training more than usual lately, what was your deal?

No way was he mesmerized by the way your thunderous wings carried you into the air, allowing you to spike a ball at any volume he wanted…nope he definitely wasn’t into you, nah uh, no siree

You had permission to leave class for one of your tournaments, one that would determine your rank in the country. Aizawa was actually supportive, and got approval from the staff to allow a class trip to watch your games today

Needless to say, a certain someone was a little more eager to see your power than the rest *cough* Katsuki *cough* and everyone knew it too

The second you step onto the court, you’re met with the screams of adoring fans, those who have seen your growth for the past years, seeing you go from an average player to being one of the most recognized aces in Japan.

Eventually, it was between the final two teams in the tournament. Your team was at their top level, and it was up you, their ace, to determine this set point. With a few hand signals exchanged between the players, it was silently spoken that you would be doing your secret back attack play to get this win

The whistle blows. The whole arena goes silent, so quiet you can hear a pin drop.

Your classmates all hold each other in anticipation, silently praying for you to make this.

A pair of crimson eyes bore into you, transferring a strong desire to see you succeed

You toss the ball up. Your maleficent-like wings willing you into the air, and you spike the ball to the other side with a great force. As soon as you make contact with the ball, you speed over to the front to the net. By now, the opposing team had already set it to your side, where you predicted. You and your setter make eye contact.

They set it up to you, where you were already awaiting in the air. You slam the ball down with all your might. You get the point.

You and your team tackle each other in a group hug, with tears flowing all over the place. Thunderous applause fills the stadium, with your classmates being the loudest section.

Even Aizawa was clapping along, like the proud father teacher he is

For the awards, the hosts began to present the top 3 aces of Japan, based on the scores, and you scored second! You stood next to your friendly rival, who was number one, and the two of you exchanged playful banter, promising no mercy for the number one spot next year

Once the awards were over, you walk outside to greet your classmates, and they all suffocated you with prideful hugs and congratulations, and were all sweet enough to pitch in for a big beautiful bouquet

Bakugo was biding his time to the side, where you noticed he was waiting his turn to talk to you. You walk up to him, and all he says is, “Tch, couldn’t even get number one huh.”

You smile, then clench your fist in determination. “Don’t worry, I’ll be standing at the top next year, you’ll see!”

Your perseverance caused a glimmer in your eye, which in turn created a slight blush on Bakugo’s cheeks. “You better be number one, otherwise what’s it for?”

You think about it for a moment. “Well, I may have not gotten first this year, but I got you to notice me, at least. So I won something, I think.”

Baukugo.exe has stopped working. “Huh?”

You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me Katsuki.”

He grins and pulls you in, and you wrap your wings around the two of you to shield you from the surprised eyes of those watching.

Tamaki:

Soft boy™ had always admired your confidence, and the power you carried with your wings gave a radiance unlike any other

One day, you were working on your spikes at the training center, and he happens to be passing by. He heard the whoosh of your wings and the soft thuds of the volleyball, and once he saw it was you, his long-time crush, he couldn’t look away. Not when you looked like an absolute angel like that…

At some point, you felt a pair of eyes on you, so you turned to see your super-duper-secret crush Tamaki watching you with complete awe. “Hey Tamaki! What brings you over?”

His brain cells go haywire. He was trying (and failing) his best to act like his wsan’t watching you for a while. “Well I-I was walking by a-and I saw you doing yo-your thing with the ball I thought… thought it was k-kinda cool…” God she’s so cute and here I am stuttering like a love-struck fool…

He’s so cute when he’s flustered… you think to yourself. You calm him down by explaining what you were doing and going over the drills you just did. “I have a really important tournament this weekend, it can determine my rank of being an ace throughout Japan…I may not look like it, but I’m actually really nervous.” You laugh and rub the back of your neck.

Your laugh is like music to his ears. “I’m sure you’ll do great, y/n. You’ve always overcome any goal you set your mind to. I believe you could d-do it!” He is so sure in giving you positivity that his encouragement sparks an idea in your head.

“Tamaki…would you want to…come watch me at my match? I’d feel a lot better if you were there to support me…” you offer a wishful smile. That was all it took.

“A-are you sure y-you want me there? I m-mean I wouldn’t want to d-distract you or anything…” he’s a blushing mess at your offer.

Eventually, you convince him to come, with Mirio and Neijire tagging along for moral support. They watch in fascination as you step onto the court, with you creating a newfound presence for yourself in your volleyball uniform. You were truly a vision. Everyone knew you as the ‘Phoenix’, but you were given the nickname “Goddess of Volleyball” for both your radiance and talent combined.

You work your way towards the very end, with a little blood, lots of sweat, and a couple tears shed. But now, it has come down to the final point, the one point that would determine who were the champions.

You channel all of your focus to the ball. You take a deep breath. You look at your teammates and nod. Time for the secret weapon.

You toss up the ball, bracing your wings to get ready to fly. Once the ball reaches a certain level, you float up and point the ball so hard into the opponent’s side it almost breaks the gym floor. You get the point!

You become practically deaf from the amount of screams surrounding you. The one thing that kept you grounded was an indigo-haired boy that was now looking at you like you were the most gorgeous being he’s ever seen

Awards were given, and the second they were over, you sprinted off your first-place podium and headed toward the outside, where you knew your friends were waiting

Signature indigo-hair catches your attention, and you soon tackle Tamaki into a huge hug. “Tama-kun, I did it!!”

You release him from your grip, and he found some hidden courage and kisses you on the cheek, catching both of you off guard.

Mutual, unspoken feelings were finally understood, and so the two of you walked off with intertwined pinkies.

“I knew you could, angel.”

[flamingo-writes]

Good Luck Kiss — Asahi x Reader

Summary: From the first moment he saw you, Asahi hasn’t been over your gentle smile. However, he’s so terribly shy it takes him his entire high school years to finally do something abut his feelings. 

Posted: 08.08.2020

A/N:

I’m Shiratorizawa trash, reason why, this is a Sharatorizawa!Reader possibly all of my hq fics will have a shiratorizawa reader because i’m traaaashhhh I even have a shiratorizawa hoodie ayyy

Japanese reference: I make a reference to some kanji. [烏] reading: ‘karasu’, crow and [ 鳥] reading: ‘tori’, bird. Both kanji are almost identical, except for ‘tori’ which has one more stroke than ‘karasu’. Reason why, in season 3, some of the Shiratoriawa mistakenly say Torino, instead of Karasuno, becaue they’re reading the kanji wrong. 

I usually present the characters as they would in japanese, meaning Last name first, then first name. Also, a lot of people point out how I shift between surname and name, that's totally on purpose. I like the way Japanese treat first names in such a personal way in which only those close to you get to call you by your first name. I feel like this adds a whole level of trust and intimacy. So, keep an eye for that.

Fun fact: Asahi was best boi before Satori’s smug ass face showed up and took Asahi’s place as my fav character. 

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: fluffy fluff fluff with no warnings that I can think of. Except a few curse words here and there. 

One of Asahi’s favourite memories from high school, ironically, was that time Shiratorizawa effortlessly kicked Karasuno’s butt at a casual game between both schools. It was his first game against a truly intimidating school, and yet, his highlight of the day was that gentle, friendly smile shining warmly at him. And he kept remembering that same smile, shyly chasing after you since, despite the both of you going to different schools. 

His desire to go to nationals, since first year, pushed him to work real hard. Along with Daichi and Suga, however, the rest of the team didn't share that same ambition at the time. Just the three first years, against pretty much everyone else. Of course, it didn't come as a surprise that in their first match against Shiratorizawa, the latter won with a truly obscene score. 

That match, Asahi sadly couldn't do much. The ace player at the time was your usual Shiratorizawa monster at full power. At some point in the game, Asahi hurt his wrist during the game.

Just like Asahi, you were in your first year as well, and you had the chance to be Shiratorizawa's team manager. Being the only spare person at the moment, you offered to take Asahi to the infirmary. That's when he met you, and since, he was never able to forget about your smile. He held onto the memory of you walking him around the school, talking to him, very close to his heart.

"I'm so sorry!" You apologised as you guided Asahi through the wide halls of the school. 

"It's alright, it's not your fault" He answered shyly, holding his right arm close to his chest. 

"I know, but the guys in the team truly are scary, I'm sorry you got hurt" The way your eyes looked at him warmed his heart, not only painting a blush in his cheeks, but soothing the pain in his wrist almost instantly. 

"They're doing their job” He giggled awkwardly looking away “I'm not mad, I swear. But thank you for worrying…I’m Azumane Asahi, by the way..." 

"Over here, Azumane-san" you said politely as you turned on one of the halls “I’m [Full Name]”

"How do you not get lost in this school?" Asahi said following you closely as you chuckled awkwardly, looking back at him. 

"Oh, I do get lost. I'm a first year and I’m still not used to this big ass school...But I walked countless times from the gym to the infirmary and back so…" You stopped in front of a white door and slid it open "Here we are"  You walked in first, as you addressed the nurse, looking up from the screen of her laptop and explained the situation.

Asahi waited by the door, waiting for instructions from the woman before him as she asked Asahi o take a seat and proceeded to focus her attention on his writs. 

"Azumane-san, would you like me to stay with you?" You asked leaning closer to him, poking your head over his shoulder, as he felt his head grow hot by how close you were to him. 

"I...I-I thi-think that wo-would be convenient…” He stuttered as the nurse noticed how his cheeks were getting rossier “I don't think I know how to get back to the court by myself" 

"Yeah, thats fair" You sighed and sat next to him, paying close attention to how the nurse was bandaging Asahi’s wrist. 

"I know you guys like volleyball and like to play rough, but you'll have to rest for a few days at least" She said standing up from her chair. 

"Wait, so I can’t keep playing today?" You looked at Asahi, noticing the slight disappointment in his voice.

"I'm afraid not" The nurse continued “Make sure you go see your family doctor, so they can prescribe you some painkillers, and give you further instructions” 

“Yes, ma’am” Asahi answered.

"I'm sorry" You whispered as Asahi looked at you, and smiled softly before looking away.

"Ye-yeah...me too…" He muttered. 

The walk back to the gym was a lot more silent than the way to the infirmary. You could tell Asahi was feeling down, however, you couldn’t quite think of what to say to help him feel better. Once back, you saw the score and felt even worse for Asahi and his entire team. 24-5 was a shameful score, and given that he was injured, you could only imagine how he felt. You still followed him to the bench and sat next to him, brushing his shoulder against yours. 

It didn’t take long for Shiratorizawa to score the match point, and as Karauno’s team shamefully gathered and bowed goodbye, you walked with Asahi to the entrance, several feet behind his team.

"I'm sorry, Azumanei-san" You whispered as Asai stopped and looked at his teammates walk away before turning his gaze towards you.

"It sucks, to be honest…" He sighed with a small smile on his face, trying to stay optimistic.

"Be careful, okay?" 

"Hmm?" The way your wide eyes were looking at him tickled his tummy, nly adding to his newfound crush on you, making him feel silly for developing a crush instantly on a girl he knew he wouldn’t get a chance to see.

"Make sure you rest,” You continued “And take it easy. It'd suck of you injure yourself again and go even more time without playing" 

"Yeah, you're right" He looked down at his wrist, trying to gather his entire will to look back at you and ask you for your number "uhm…[Name]?" He said shyly as his heart began beating faster and stronger than before, your hypnotizing stare torturing him as he felt his knees get weak "thank you, for everything" He sighed, not realising he’d been keeping his breath, ashamed that he’d failed at something as simple as asking for your number.

"What are you talking about? I didn't do much" You giggled, once more, flashing that friendly smile that caught his eye a few minutes after he’d stepped inside this school a few hours ago.

"I'm still grateful though…” He admitted, smiling back at you “So, see you next year? When the volleyball season comes around again?" He said shyly.

"What?” You asked “Until then? Azumane-san, that's an entire year from now!” The trace of disappointment in your voice made him feel somewhat better, the fact that you didn’t seem to wait that long to see him again boosted his shy ego “I mean, we hung out in the infirmary for like 20 minutes, but...I had a good time with you!" You said pouting, fueling his thoughts about how cute you were.

"Yo-you did?" He asked, brushing his hand through his hair nervously.

"Didn’t you?" 

"Ye-yeah. You're kind, and sweet….and pretty…" His voice faded as he felt the embarrassment cling to his cheeks, not noticing the way your eyes lit up upon hearing him.

"And yet you want to wait an entire year to see me again?” You answered “Did you hit your head too?" You joked as Asahi giggled awkwardly

"I...I'm starting to think I did…" 

That memory never failed to make him smile whenever it popped to his head. Just like your texts always made his heart skip a beat. And blessed were the days in which you managed to make a spot for him in your busy schedule. This was yet another reason why he usually waited for Volleyball season to begin, so he could see you during the weekdays, since you were usually very busy and only had the chance to see him a few weekends during the school year and during the holidays. 

As Karasuno’s team paced through the halls towards the courts, the echo of their steps only added to their collective anxiety. They’d never gotten this far into the Interhigh Tournament. 

"Asahi! You're gonna see your girlfriend again!" Noya sang, upon noticing the white and maroon uniforms gathering at the entrance and slowly making their way in. 

"She's not my girlfriend…" Asahi whispered signaling Noya to do so as well.

"Asahi-senpai has a girlfriend?" Hinata asked loudly, as the ace’s face got progressively pinker and pinker, eventually turning red. 

"She's Shiratorizawa, though!" Suga teased wrapping an arm around Asahi’s shoulder, making Suga stand on his tip toes. 

"She's not my…" 

"But she is!” Daichi interrupted Asahi “She's been flirting with him since first year" He laughed loudly, a Asahi kept looking back and forth,noticing how you and your friends were approaching at a considerably fast speed.

"Why haven't you kissed her yet, tiger?" Noya said jumping around him

"Guys, keep it down, she’s almost here…" Asahi whispered irritated.

"Who's this girl? Tell me!" Hinata said spinning on his toes, looking around.

"She's Shiratorizawa's manager. We played against them in first year, and completely kicked our asses. Asahi got hurt, she offered to take him to the infirmary. And they've been friends since" Sugawara said poking Asahi’s ribs as Hinata looked delighted by the whole story.

"We text a lot, and we go out from time to time during the holidays…" Asahi admitted shyly, however, there was still some pride mixed in his voice.

"Kiss her already, ohmygod!" Daichi whispered.

"Yes dude! She's like, super into you, you know that?" Tanaka, on the other hand, yelled.

"Asahi-kun!" Your voice echoed through the halls, as the entire team turned around and saw you waving excitedly, followed by a pack of very tall and intimidating guys. 

"Ah, your Torino boyfriend, right?" A tall redheaded guy said waking right next to you as he gave you a cheeky smile.

"Karasuno! It’s Karasuno, Satori! God, you gotta study kanji more" You snapped loud enough for the Karasuno team to listen, as each and everyone of them noticed how you didn’t deny what Satori had said, and instead focused on Satori’s misread of their school name.

"Hey, darling, is not my fault 'karasu' and 'tori' are pretty much identical, okay?" Satori said, still looking amusedly at you as your stare was glued to Asahi’s. 

"Asahi-kun!" You caught up with Karasuno. "How are you?" That warm smile Asahi loved so much shone in front of him, as you easily ignored everyone’s stares on you two.

"[Name]-chan" Asahi smiled back as a faint blush painted his cheeks. 

"[Name]-san" Ushijima called your name in his usual monotonous voice. "We'll be waiting for you in the court. Please don't take long. The match will start soon" 

"Aye, aye, cap’n. I won't take long" You sand as your team kept walking forward.

"Make sure you kiss your boyfriend good luck, [Name]-chwan” Satori teased, hitting you softly with his elbow as he gave Asahi a quick glance. “Unless they're playing against us, in that case don't kiss him!" He joked glaring at the whole team.

"Jesus ficking christ, Satori.Cut the crap, will you?" A dark skinned guy said, slapping Satori in the head softly. "See you in a bit, [Name]"

“Sure, I won’t take long, Reon-kun” You said waving at your teammates as they proceeded before looking back at Asahi "I'm sorry for that…" You noticed his intense blushing right away, and couldn’t help but bite your lip.

"N-no...its cool…" Asahi stuttered.

"Well, Asahi, we'll be going too. See us there?" Daichi said, patting asahi on the back, breaking him away from his trance.

"You're not playing against us...are you?" You asked right away as Karasuno’s team left, every now and then, peeking back at you and Asahi.

"No, we're playing against Aoba" He answered, his smile shy and gentle as always.

"Oh cool. Please win, I swear, Oikawa's smug ass pisses me off so much" You sighed.

"I cant promise we'll win, but I can promise we'll do our best" He chuckled shyly.

"I'm sure you'll do great this year” You said gently holding his arm, as he felt himself catch fire by it “I've been keeping a close eye on you, and you've playing a lot better this year, that makes me happy" You squeezed his arm gently before letting go, as Asahi’s heart suddenly sped up.

"Ye-yeah, we got a couple of first years who are very good, so, we do have a good chance of winning...If we win this match, we'll be playing against you guys, though" 

"Oh, wouldn't that be interesting? Look, as long as I don't get to see Oikawa, I'm fine. But hey, if I get to see you, that'd definitely make my day, and pretty much my whole season" You flirted, amused by how flustered he got. God, he’s so fucking cute, you thought.

"You dislike him that much?" He asked, looking away trying to calm himself down.

"He's always flirting with me, even though I tell him I'm not interested" 

"Oh" He said, noticing your annoyance.

"Yeah. He's not my type. Besides, I like someone else" You said looking into his eyes, almost as if your eyes were screaming I like you, Asahi.

"Oh...do you?" He felt his cheeks turn red once more, knowing perfectly well you meant him, but he was still so terribly shy, he felt bad.

"Yeah, anywho. I've got to go" You sighed.

"Ah, that's right...me too… I guess I'll see you, then…" He smiled ready to go towards one of the main doors to meet his team, as you headed towards the exact opposite direction. However, a few steps into your way, you stopped and spun on your toes.

"Asahi-kun" You called. Every time you called his name, he felt his heart stop for a whole second, as his sight turned a slight shade of pink. He stopped at once and turned around.

"Are you free after this?" 

"Most likely the coach will have us meet at the gym back in school…" He said playing with his ponytail like a little girl.

"Oh…I see..." You murmured.

"Bu-but, that's gonna be late...I-I...do you want to...hang...out...wi-with me? Before that. I-I me-mean, if you're not busy…" He stuttered shyly, trying to bring himself to ask you out for once, instead of always being you.

"I'd love that, Asahi” You eyes shone brighter than before as Asahi smiled “I'll text you when we're done?" 

"Ye-yeah...sure!” He smirked proudly. “See you, then” He sang.

Just like promised, you texted him, telling him you’d be waiting for him outside the courts. While the entire team returned to Shiratorizawa on the bus, you told the coach you’d be catching up later, since you still had some pending business. Being the responsible student Coach Washijo knew you to be, he didn’t question you any further and simply gave you an instruction to meet the team at the gym by 8 o’clock.

You didn’t have to wait long for Asahi, and he quickly caught up with you, apologising for making you wait. The both of you walked absentmindedly for a while, talking about how each team had done, and you congratulated Asahi on his win against aoba. Walking into the first coffee shop you both saw, you didn’t stay long in there as the both of you had to return to your respective schools. 

It was a short time, but it was one of those dates in which time felt to stop still for the time being, and everything there was was each other’s company and  the gentle tickling anxiety in your belly. 

Asahi offered to walk you back to Shiratorizawa before taking a taxi back to Karasuno. And as much as you didn’t want to make it to Shiratrizawa, eventually you arrived at the entrance, barely 10 minutes before 8. You stopped before the gate and turned around. You noticed Asahi staring at you with such a sweet stare, you swore you’d melt right there and then. God, you liked him so goddamn much. 

“Asahi, can I tell you a secret?” You whispered looking into his gentle eyes as he nodded silently. "Look, I love to go to nationals, and I love to see my team win, but, I'd actually would like to see you guys win tomorrow"

"You do?" Asahi asked. 

"You guys have never gone to nationals...you deserve that experience. Especially because you've wanted to do so since the first year, haven't you?" 

"Yeah" 

"Asahi-kun" Asahi looked at you at once, noticing a slight change in your voice, only to have his heart stop for another second upon seeing your stare.

"Yes?" 

"If you don't win tomorrow, I'll be pissed, okay?" You said playfully, a sweet giggle escaping your lips and caressing his ears.

"Okay, okay. I promise…” He chuckled softly, still looking at you, enjoying the sweet melting stare you were giving him. His entire body tingled, and for a brief second “I promise to give my all tomorrow, for you" You smiled softly, noticing the way he was staring at you, at your lips. With your heart on your throat, you walked closer to him and stood on your tiptoes. 

Asahi knew at once what was happening, and knew that the best option was to not think about what was happening, and instead, leaned closer,leaning into you and pressing his lips against yours in the lightest, most delicate of kisses. You wrapped your arms around your shoulders and brought him closer, kissing him back and locking your lips with him in a shy awkward kiss. It took a few seconds for Asahi to synch his rhythm with yours, and once he did, the both of you melted into the kiss. It was slow, and sweet, and much better than Asahi had fantasized. Your soft lips dancing against his, your gentle smell embracing him, and your warmth igniting his heart. Everything about this kiss made him realise how easily he could become addicted to you. And how much he’d been craving this moment. 

He had you in his arms, just like he’d dreamed of countless times, you were stealing his breath as he lost himself more and more in the kiss. He wished to hold onto this moment forever. Just like the memory of when he first met you. Breathless, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

"[Name]" He purred.

"Yes?" 

"Will you be my girlfriend?" If your heart hadn't stopped beating as he kissed you, his question sure made you feel like it did. 

"Oh god, finally! I thought you'd never ask" You giggled, feeling your face get hotter and hotter.

"Oh god...I’m sorry" He said, taking a step back and covering his face with his hands. 

"I’m kidding, Asahi” You giggled, holding him by his wrists so you could look him in the face “I know you've liked me since first year. And I've liked you back since then too" 

"Really?" His eyes widened,feeling clumsy for asking since you gave signs that you liked him back since day one “I’m sorry...I’m shy…” He giggled awkwardly, as you stood on your tiptoes kissing him on the cheek. 

[eddieeatsass]

The Truth Is That I Think I've Had Enough

Summary: For the first time since Stan developed feelings for his best friend, Richie was finally single on Valentine’s Day, and Stan was fully planning on taking advantage of it. He invited Richie on a camping trip, just wanting one night where he could pretend, but Richie had different plans. Pairing: Stozier Rating: E Warnings: Eventual smut, explicit language

Read on AO3

When it came to the list of things Richie wanted to be doing on Valentine’s Day, Stan knew camping was not high up on the register. Richie was a city boy through and through, but he was also a loyal friend, so when Stan suggested they go camping for the weekend, Richie had gone along with it.

They were both single, after all, and it’s not like they didn’t hang out every other day of the year… so why should Valentine’s Day be any different?

Well, as far as Richie was concerned, it wasn’t. But Stan may have been indulging in his yearning just a little bit. For the first time since Stan developed feelings for his best friend, Richie was finally single on Valentine’s Day, and Stan was going to take advantage of it. So sue him if he wanted to pretend for one night that things were different.

But the truth still stood that Richie knew nothing of Stan’s pining, and nothing about camping, which made the trip a little tricky. They’d gone camping a few times when they’d been kids, tagging along with Stan’s parents who had done most of the handy work. All Richie and Stan had worried about was how toasted to make their marshmallows in pursuit of the perfect smore.

But now Richie was standing before him, gazing between the crumpled tent on the ground, and Stan’s awaiting expression, clear confusion boggling his mind.

“You gonna help or am I doing this all on my own?” Stan asked with light laughter.

“Uhhhhhhhhhh…” Richie drawled, unsure of how to proceed. “I mean yeah, of course, I just don’t quite... know... how.”

Richie picked up one of the objects sitting atop the tarp-like material. He jumped back when what started as a small bundle of sticks suddenly snapped out into a series of rods.

“Careful Rich! I didn’t plan on losing an eye today. We don’t have the medical equipment for that.” Stan warned, making sure to keep an ease to his tone so Richie knew he was teasing.

Richie nodded earnestly, taking more precaution as he began to snap the sticks into one long rod.

Stan knew what he was doing well enough to not need instructions, but Richie’s every move was a gamble between helping, or causing the whole tent to deflate. Stan finally took pity on him and assigned Richie the easy task of getting their blow up mattress out of the car, figuring it would be easier to finish the tent without Richie’s helping hands.

Their tent was generously sized, large enough for a twin person air mattress, and then a little extra room for their cooler and bags. Stan assured Richie that there were no bears in the area, so it was safe to sleep with their food alongside them, but Richie was still hesitant. He soothed himself by insisting that Stan sleep on the side closest to the cooler. If a bear attacked, it would be Stanley’s job to keep Richie safe. Stan’s heart fluttered a bit at the trust Richie instilled in him, no matter how hypothetical, or how unlikely he’d be to actually win a fight against a bear. Stan chose to keep both of those hypotheticals to himself and let Richie think him brave.

When Richie trekked back from the car, heavy box in one hand and air pump in the other, Stan was all done setting up the tent.

“God, why is this so heavy!?” Richie complained, plunking the box with the air mattress at their feet.

“It’s the price we pay for comfort.” Stan said, amused.

“At least we don’t have to blow this thing up with our mouths.” Richie conceded, giving the box a swift kick in retaliation for making his arms hurt.

“Psh, you don’t have enough air in your lungs.” Stan teased, taking the pump from Richie’s outstretched hand.

“But I have the blowjob lips to make up for it. One wrap of these puppies around that nozzle and it would blow itself up.” Richie made obnoxious kissing noises, too distracted by his obscenity to notice the way Stan’s cheeks heated up. His pulse pounded in his ears as thoughts of Richie’s lips wrapped around something else crept into his mind.

“Richie, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but blowjobs don’t involve any actual blowing.”

“And how would you know that, Stanley?”

“I’m a virgin, not an idiot.” Stan deadpanned.

Truth be told, Stan wasn’t as much of a virgin as his friends thought he was. He hadn’t done much, but because of his religion and strict parents, they’d all assumed Stanley hadn’t even kissed anyone yet. Low and behold it was at Jewish summer camp that he had experienced his first kiss, and his second, and so on. He’d even gotten to second base on the very last day of camp with good ol’ Patricia Blum.

But Stanley was a private man, and as respect for Patty, he hadn’t gone around spreading word of their affairs, even though he was secretly dying to tell Richie and see how far his jaw dropped when he found out Stan had gotten more action than he had. Trashmouth never shut up about sex, but they all knew he’d never had any. Stan wondered if Richie would ask Stan for tips, or ask him to demonstrate how he’d groped Patty down by the lake that day. He could show Richie a thing or two, teach him how to be soft and gentle with his fingers.

“Looks like the sun is already starting to go down.” Richie noted, peering off towards the cliff that overlooked the valley. They’d gotten prime real estate thanks to Stan’s knowledge of the woods. He knew exactly where to go where they wouldn’t be disturbed by other campers.

“We should start a fire.” Stan decided. He’d had enough training in the boy scouts to know it was always better to start your fire before the sun went down. It saved you a lot of annoyance, frozen fingertips, and a much harder time finding resources by flashlight.

“Rich, can you gather some twigs for me? About this big,” Stan picked one up that was by his foot. “and make sure they’re dry.” He handed the stick to Richie, who immediately brought it to his forehead in a fake salute.

“Aye aye captain!” Richie stiffened his limbs, swiveling around and doing his best army march impression as he wandered off in search of sticks.

While Richie was away, Stan got to work on setting up a makeshift pit for the fire to be contained in. He gathered as many rocks as he could find nearby and set them up in a neat little circle. Once Stan was satisfied with his work, he moved on to blowing up the air mattress inside their tent.

As he connected the pump to the mattress and began the repetitive motion that would surely leave his arms aching, he let his mind wander.

In hindsight, there was probably a much subtler way Stan could have found to spend Valentine’s Day with Richie. He’s sure if he’d offered up their usual Chinese food and ‘The Princess Bride’ (Richie’s all time favorite movie no matter what he says to the contrary), Richie would have pounced on the idea. So why had Stan felt the need to make it into a whole thing?

Well, he knew why, but he didn’t want to admit it. The knowledge was coated in shame and guilt, but it was still buzzing in the back of his head like a bug he couldn’t squish. Stan wanted this to be a date. Maybe he even liked pretending it was. He knew that wasn’t fair, but he didn’t have much control over it. If they’d done the same thing they always did, it wouldn’t have felt special.

Once the air mattress was completely inflated, and the pump tucked back into its box, Stan let himself fall forward on to the air filled PVC with an auditory oof.

Face down in the uncomfortable fabric, Stan felt like it was where he deserved to be. Lovesick, lying, dirty little-

“Yo, Stanny, I got your sticks!”

Stan steeled himself, tucking away his intrusive thoughts in favor of less intimate ones.

When Stan exited the tent, he wasn’t expecting to come face to face with a mountain of sticks. Standing before him, Richie was covered in dirt, twigs sticking out from his bush of hair, and arms full of branches towering high enough to shield half his face.

“Get in a fight with a tree?” Stan teased, hurrying forward so he could take half the stack from Richie’s shaking arms.

“Yeah, the tree won.” Richie answered with a matching tone, causing Stan’s heart to flutter traitorously.

“We didn’t need this many, you know.”

“I know, but I figured better safe than sorry, right? What if we suddenly need to build two fires? Or three? Or maybe even a fourth? What if we get stuck out here forever and need to provide heat to the village we create to survive. Our children deserve fires too, don’t they Stan? Don’t they?”

“We’re having children?” Stan questioned, beginning to place the sticks in the small fire pit he’d made.

“Yes.” Richie answered definitively as he plopped down beside Stan.

“I’m not sure that’s anatomically possible, but sure, I’ll play along.” Stan delighted.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have two kids. Twins.”

“Of course.” Stan nodded seriously, entertaining Richie’s wild imagination.

“One girl and one boy, or, you know, whatever gender they wanna be. We ain’t gonna be those kind of parents.”

That roused a laugh from Stan, knowing too well how strongly Richie’s opinions on parenting styles were. Richie had thought long and hard on what kind of parent he wanted to be in the future. You wouldn’t think Richie Tozier was a sap when it came to children, but tiny tots had him wrapped around their fingers. Richie had been dreaming about starting a family since they were kids, and Stan was no stranger to being ‘the wife’ in the equation. Richie had organized many imaginary weddings for them when they were young. They’d been married seven times in total, and had played house more times than Stan could count. It was almost enough to fuel Stan’s late night thoughts that Richie might actually reciprocate his feelings.

“We’ll name them Pizza and Macaroni.” Richie declared.

“Why in hell’s name would we do that?” Stan scoffed, grabbing the box of matches from his pocket. He ignited one and flicked it into the center of the pit.

“We’re creating a new society, Stan. There are no rules, no norms. Pizza and Macaroni could be the new standard for names. Imagine.”

“I don’t want to.”

Richie wrapped an arm around Stan’s shoulder and pulled him in close, leaving little room between their faces for Stan to breathe.

“Imagine.” Richie repeated with extra vigor.

“Fine.” Stan closed his eyes and paused for a moment. “I’m imagining it.”

“And? It’s beautiful, right?” Richie asked excitedly.

“Oh, oh god, Macaroni just stabbed Pizza with a fork. He’s bleeding everywhere! There’s no paramedics around, the town consists of just us and we never got any medical training. I’m holding our son, Richie. I’m holding him in my arms, oh god, his blood tastes like tomato sauce Richie-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Richie laughed, wrestling Stan to the ground and pinning him in place. “Take it back! Do not eat our son, Staniel!”

“But he tastes so good.” Stan giggled, his eyes still squeezed shut.

“Spit him out! Spit him out or we’re getting a divorce!”

Stan finally peeked one eye open, seeing Richie’s bright smile hovering over him and dark curls falling into his eyes.

“You’ll have to divorce me seven times then.” Stan challenged with a quirk to his eyebrow.

“Huh?” Richie’s face contorted as he tried to pinpoint Stan’s line of thought.

A piece of Stan’s heart detached from itself and fell into the pit of his stomach. Of course he didn’t remember, why would he?

“Nothing, never mind.” Stan laughed shallowly, shrugging Richie off and rolling back on to his feet. He stopped to check that the fire was successfully catching and was moderately pleased with the small flames he saw licking at the sticks. It should continue to grow if they left it.

“Are you hungry?” Stan asked over his shoulder, using it as an excuse to detach himself from what had just happened.

“Uh, yeah, I could go for some food.” Richie answered, mild confusion still evident in his voice.

“Cool, I brought hot dogs and beans-”

“I think I want smores.” Richie’s voice suddenly rang from beside Stan, causing him to jolt. Richie just laughed at the reaction, cutting in front of Stan and jogging towards their tent.

“You can’t have smores for dinner, Richie.” Stan chastised.

“You’re not my mom!”

Stan once again found himself fighting back a smile as Richie’s figure disappeared into the tent.

An hour later Stan found himself sitting on a log they’d rolled over from a nearby fallen tree. He was holding a stick over the fire, a marshmallow precariously hanging from the end of it. The sky had darkened to a navy blue, pin pricked with stars and constellations they had yet to discover.

Stan moved the marshmallow a little farther above the flames, keeping it from getting charred like Richie’s own marshmallow, which was engulfed in flames.

“I can hear you judging me.” Richie quipped, keeping his eyes on his marshmallow as he brought the flaming gelatin towards himself and began erratically blowing it out.

Stan kept his laughter locked behind his lips.

“It’s just… so unnecessary.” Stan responded.

“It’s not unnecessary! It’s fully necessary! This is the only way to get the perfect marshmallow!” Richie defended.

Stan looked over at the gooey black orb Richie was shoving between two graham crackers. He made a fake gagging noise while sticking out his tongue, finally letting his laughter free when Richie punched him playfully in the arm.

“The perfect marshmallow will never include scorch marks.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.” Richie took a stubborn bite of his smore, reaching out with his free hand and tapping Stan’s stick.

Stan watched in horror as his flawlessly roasted marshmallow disappeared into the flames of the fire, immediately disintegrating into nothing but sticky residue.

“Saboteur!” Stan yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Richie’s chocolate covered face.

“Moi!?” Richie gasped, throwing a hand to his chest dramatically. “I would never! But, I am not a heartless man. Please, as condolences for your loss, will you accept the other half of my smore, monsieur?”

Stan wanted to cringe at the terrible french accent Richie adorned, but his cuteness won over and Stan was just left smiling.

“I suppose I’ll eat your ash-cookie.”

“I’d rather you eat my ass, cookie.” Richie shot back without pause, winking slyly as he scooted closer to Stan on the log.

The air around Stan began thickening, heating him up from the inside out and causing his brain to melt just slightly. He watched in slow motion as Richie’s fingers brought the half eaten smore up to Stan’s lips. It should have been gross; Richie’s face and fingers had remnants of chocolate on them, the smore was falling apart and showcasing the awfully burnt marshmallow, and Stan had a strict ‘no-sharing-food’ policy because he didn’t like sharing germs. But regardless of all of those reasons to pull away, Stan found himself leaning in closer.

As soon as Richie’s fingers brushed Stan’s lips it was like something inside him took over. Stan raised his hands to hold Richie’s wrist, and then cocking his head so he had a better angle, he raked his tongue over Richie’s fingers as he gathered all the chocolate he could. It was a lewd gesture, one Stan would never imagine doing any other time, but something about the flickering campfire and the stillness of the wind made him feel like he wasn’t in this world anymore. He was in a world where he could make Richie want him.

“Uhm…” Richie’s shaky breath brought Stan hurtling back to reality fast enough to leave him dizzy.

Stan quickly let go of Richie’s arm, pulling away both physically and emotionally as he chewed his smore with vigor.

“You’re right.” Stan said through a mouthful of goo. “It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

Richie just stared in awe as Stan tried to swallow past the sticky chocolate and marshmallow that stuck to his teeth in defiance.

Once the residue of his humiliation was all swallowed down, Stan stood abruptly, stretching his arms high above his head and producing a fake yawn.

“Jeez, I’m tired already.” Stan lied, hoping Richie would go along with it.

“Makes sense, we did have a long day of travelling.” Richie answered towards Stan’s turned back.

Stan let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. As he let his arms drop, so did his shoulders, and some of his tension along with it.

“I’m gonna go change into my pajamas.” Stan stated, leaving hurriedly before Richie could respond.

Once in the tent, and hidden behind its nylon walls, Stan was finally able to process what he’d just done. As he slowly changed into his pajamas he went over the course of events in his head, wincing as he recalled the way he’d indulged so passionately in such a platonic touch. It had felt so good in the moment, convincing himself he saw lust in Richie’s eyes, but the remorse he felt now settled over him like a blanket. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Richie, he couldn’t, he had to keep himself together.

Stan was startled out of his stupor as the zipper of the tent began to open. Stan quickly pulled his sleep shirt the rest of the way down, hiding away his body and his thoughts alike.

“You decent?” Richie asked teasingly before opening the zipper any wider.

“Yeah.” Stan responded, warmth already licking back up his chest.

Richie opened the tent the rest of the way and as he climbed in Stan could see that he’d put out the fire. He felt a weird swell of pride that Richie had remembered at least some of the camping basics Stan had taught him.

He’d averted his eyes as Richie changed, had curled in on himself as Richie leaned over him to reach their stuff, but now he was laying next to Richie’s warm body with no way to escape. Their proximity seared into him like a burn that he was far too aware of.

“You know, this was way more fun than my usual Valentine’s Day.” Richie offered into the silence, gazing up through the skylight that allowed them to see the stars.

Stan’s heart threatened to break out of his chest.

“The past few years I’ve usually spent it with some equally lonely one-night-stand. The sex was never good enough to make the next day worth it.” Richie admitted.

“Why not?” Stan piped in.

Richie thought for a moment, allowing the silence to lull them a little bit deeper into the comfort of night.

“I’d wake up feeling disappointed because the person next to me was never who I wanted it to be.”

Stan’s ears perked up. He angled his body towards Richie, cushioning his head in the crook of his bent elbow as he contemplated his friend’s profile. This was the first time Richie had ever alluded to having a crush.

“Who did you want it to be?” Stan asked shakily.

Richie turned his head towards Stan, locking eyes with him and seeming to search for something.

“What about you?” Richie asked, flipping the question around without answering it.

“What do you mean?”

“Who would you choose to wake up to every day?”

The question leered above their heads, threatening to fall and crush the thin veil of tension that had formed between them.

Stan gulped audibly, wanting nothing more than to shy away from Richie’s gaze, but he held strong.

“It doesn’t matter, they don’t want the same thing I do.”

“How can you be sure?” Richie murmured challengingly.

Stan’s mouth gaped open and closed like a fish out of water as he tried to wade through the chaos in his head.

“All I know is I’m glad I’m waking up next to you tomorrow.” Richie said, turning his head back to the sky.

Blood pounded in Stan’s ears as he tried to decode Richie’s words. Was he saying what he thought he was saying? Or was Stan just reading into things, spurred on by his unrequited feelings and juvenile hope?

“I’m glad too.” Stan breathed out.

Richie didn’t miss a beat before answering.

“Glad enough to kiss me?”

Stan’s entire body froze, something inside him shattering as the butterflies finally escaped his stomach, filling up their tent until Stan couldn’t see anything but Richie.

Slowly, as if scared one wrong move would make Richie run, Stan propped himself up on his elbow, peering down at Richie’s expectant face. He kept his pace steady as he slowly dipped down and braved a single kiss.

It wasn’t much of anything, just a chaste peck, a quick dip into the pool to test the water. But that one kiss was enough to erase all of Stan’s trepidation, leaving him as bare and open and vulnerable as Richie was. And it felt liberating.

The next few minutes passed by in a flurry. Richie surged up to reclaim Stan’s lips, no longer just a peck but now a full-blown kiss that left Stan’s legs shaking. Richie flipped them over so he was hovering above Stan, using his leverage to kiss up Stan’s neck, the line of his jaw, and back to his lips. It was quick to turn feral, their teeth clanking against each other as desperation took over. Stan had never felt so terrified and turned on at the same time, his hand trembling as it fisted into Richie’s lush curls and pulled him closer.

Stan’s breathing was labored, his swallows dry as he tried to steady his quickening pulse. Richie was everywhere, blanketing all of Stan’s senses. The smell of Richie’s laundry detergent swirled around them, melding with the lingerings of their campfire. His tongue tasted sweet like the chocolate they’d eaten, and the sound of Stan’s own meek noises were swallowed up by Richie’s own deep growls. If all that wasn’t already over-stimulation enough, Richie’s was consistently rutting himself against Stan, causing his arousal to become less and less subtle with every passing moment.

Stan broke away with a heaving breath, peering up at Richie through hooded eyes.

“I’m a virgin.” Stan blurted.

Richie stared deeply into Stan’s eyes, churning his gut with intensity until what felt like several minutes had passed. When Richie finally spoke again, the sound nearly startled Stan.

“Me too.”

Stan smiled, thankful that Richie felt safe enough to be honest with him. He reached a hand up and gently cupped Richie’s cheek, who immediately leaned into the touch.

“We don’t have to, uh, do anything.” Richie stuttered out, his eyes gently closing as he relaxed into Stan’s hold.

“I know. But if you wanted to…” Stan trailed off, leaving the offer open-ended.

Richie’s eyes popped back open, searching Stan’s face for further explanation.

“I brought stuff… uh… just in case. I guess I was kinda hopeful about tonight.” Stan admitted, averting eye contact. “Can I make a confession?” Richie whispered, his voice going a bit rough at the end. “I was kind of hopeful myself…”

“What do you mean, exactly?” Stan asked.

“I sort of fantasized about the way tonight might play out. I’ve had some… personal experience with receiving, so I made sure to clean myself in case my wildest dreams suddenly came to fruition. But I can also top! Uhm, if that’s your preference.” Richie rushed in addition.

“Personal experience? I thought you were a virgin?” Stan’s tone held a lick of jealousy, which he tried to cover up by clearing his throat.

In response Richie held up his hand and wiggled his fingers, hoping that Stan got the message.

“Fuck that’s so hot.” Stan groaned, letting his head fall back against his pillow. He felt open mouth kisses being peppered down the column of his neck and keened embarrassingly loud.

“I’ll be honest, the thought of splitting you open on my cock does sound appealing.” Stan murmured.

Richie’s head shot up, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Stan thought he’d said something wrong until Richie was suddenly shucking his clothes as quickly as possible, dizzying Stan with his pace.

“Slow down! Rich- Richie- there’s not that much room in the tent!” Stan laughed, trying (and failing) to get Richie to sit still. When he finally stopped moving, Richie was stripped down to his underwear.

It’s not like Stan and Richie had never seen each other in their underwear before, but apparently context did a lot, and in this context Stan’s whole body was thrumming at the sight.

“Fuck, we’re really doing this, huh?” Stan whispered, trailing his gaze down Richie’s lean torso.

“Only if you want to.” Richie assured.

Stan wanted to. He wanted it more than anything. But words were failing him as he took in this brand new Richie, bathed in moonlight from the tent’s open skylight, eyes wide and vulnerable with lust.

So instead of talking, Stan took action. He locked eyes with Richie as he began stripping off his own clothes, doing so much slower than Richie had. It was purposeful, a confirmation that he was all in. Their gaze didn’t break until Stan was bared to the same degree as Richie, his navy blue boxer briefs a stark contrast to Richie’s hot pink flamingo print.

Stan was the one to surge forward when their tension peaked, knocking Richie on to his back and giving himself room to straddle him. Richie’s hands were slow burning coils against Stan’s skin, lighting him up everywhere they touched. Stan rolled his hips down experimentally, feeling Richie’s responding twitch between the thin fabric that separated them.

“Off.” Stan demanded, pawing at the waist of Richie’s offending boxers.

Richie complied, but did one better. In the same fail swoop, Richie hooked his thumbs under both of their waistbands and pulled them down in conjunction.

The action resulted in a collective moan as their oversensitive cocks finally broke free and rubbed against each other.

It didn’t take long for Richie's hands to slither back up their thighs and in between them, grabbing them both in one hand. Stan hissed at the contact, clenching his teeth in an attempt to hold back the wave that already threatened to crash over.

“Fuck, Stanny. Who knew you were packing?”

The comment was so un-sexy it made Stan puddle into laughter, his head falling to Richie’s shoulder as the chest underneath him rumbled in tandem.

“Sorry, I don’t think I’m very good at this whole dirty talk thing.” Richie admitted between giggles.

“I don’t want dirty talk.” Stan murmured, placing a gentle kiss on Richie's temple. “I just want you.”

Richie nodded, evidently calmed by the notion that he didn’t have to perform, he just needed to be.

Richie experimented with another flick of his wrist, causing Stan to jerk away instinctively.

“Rich- if you keep doing that I’m not gonna last.” Stan admitted.

“Damn, I’m that good?”

“Shut up and teach me how to finger you.” Stan smirked as he wiped the smile right off Richie’s face.

“It might be better if I just… show you.” Richie shifted out from under Stan and got to his knees.

“You said you have lube…?” “Oh!” Stan exclaimed, bouncing up and reaching for his backpack. He immediately procured the lube and condoms he’d brought.

“Thanks babe.” Richie said casually, missing the way Stan spluttered at the pet name.

Richie reached for the lube as Stan tried to recover, but he didn’t have much time to do so as he watched Richie squeeze a little bit of lube on to his fingers and immediately reached behind himself.

Stan’s heart went mad, bouncing against its confines like it was a prison. He couldn’t help but stare at the way Richie’s face contorted into an all new type of expression, one Stan had never seen on anyone’s face before.

His eyes trailed down Richie’s torso, stopping to admire the way his thin body strained around muscle, how his pale chest flushed pink with arousal, and the delicious way his cock stood to attention just begging for praise. But it was the space between Richie’s spread thighs that mesmerized him, where he could see his hand moving behind him.

Without thought, Stan’s hand drifted to his own cock, acting on instinct as his mind went hazy. He held it gently, not stroking it so much as just giving it the pressure it craved. He watched as Richie’s index finger disappeared inside himself, making Richie moan lewdly.

Richie didn’t take long to get all three fingers inside himself, getting more and more into it as the minutes ticked on. Richie now had his eyes shut and his head thrown back as he fucked himself down on his digits. Stan almost didn’t want to stop him, wanted to see how long Richie could ride himself until he made himself cum, but even more than that, he wanted to feel Richie’s tight heat constricting around his shaft. “So are you gonna let me fuck you or what?” Stan’s voice seemed to jostle Richie out of whatever place his mind had gone to, causing him to look around the tent for the culprit of his ceased pleasure.

“Stanny, fuck, please-” Richie’s voice was completely hoarse as he crawled towards Stan eagerly. “Come here, let me take care of you.” Stan ushered Richie forward, pulling him flush against his chest and kissing him as passionately as possible.

“I want you to ride me.” Stan whispered against Richie’s lips.

“Yes, please.”

Stan laid back down, pulling Richie on top of him for the second time that night.

They kissed for a while longer, grinding into each other as Stan’s cock teased at Richie’s entrance. Keeping their lips locked, Stan reached for his condom, tearing it open expertly and bringing the latex down between their bodies.

Richie sat up on his knees, giving Stan room to roll the condom down over his dick, but as soon as it was situated snug against Stan’s pelvis, Richie wasted no time coating it in lube. He threw the bottle behind him, moving impatiently as he fumbled to line Stan’s cock up with his hole.

“Rich...” Stan reached for Richie’s free hand and entwined their fingers. The gesture gave Richie pause and he finally let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I’m just… I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Richie said quietly.

Stan’s heart swelled. He squeezed Richie’s hand in reassurance.

“Me too, but that doesn’t mean we have to rush. I’m not going to suddenly change my mind, we can take our time with this.”

Richie bowed his head, a shy smile flashing pearly teeth. Stan took the opportunity to slink his own hand around his cock, joining Richie’s. Together, they held it still as Richie slowly sank down until the head popped past his rim.

They both gasped as the new sensation washed over them.

Richie started cursing under his breath, sinking down a little bit lower every few seconds until he was fully seated in Stan’s lap.

Stan held an iron grip on Richie’s hips as he tried to ground himself, the feeling of Richie clenching around him almost too much to bare.

“Why haven’t we been doing this all these years.” Richie whined, pulling himself up until the head of Stan’s cock threatened to slip out, before pushing back down at a satisfyingly slow pace.

“Because we’re idiots.” Stan answered, raising his hips to meet Richie as he came down.

“H-huge idiots.” Richie agreed, nodding along with his thrusts.

“We have a lot of - hnnnng fuck - a lot of time to make up for.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Rich, I would literally stay in this moment for a lifetime if I could- ahhhh.”

“Your dick might shrivel up.” Richie noted, speeding up his rhythm upon hearing Stan’s moans.

“Worth it.” Stan swallowed thickly, getting lost in the sight of Richie’s cock bouncing against his stomach.

“I wanna suck you off.” Stan blurted, no longer able to filter his thoughts through the haze in his brain.

“Fuck, Stanny- you’re so perfect- nnnnggggg ohmygod-” Richie’s entire body tensed up as he reached his peak. Stan watched as his cock twitched, releasing strings of cum that shot impressively far. The feeling of Richie clenching around him paired with the sight of him completely unraveling tipped Stan over the edge along with him.

His orgasm felt like it lasted a lifetime, draining every ounce of energy out of him and leaving Stan completely boneless by the end. He vaguely processed Richie slipping off him, heard the sound of the tent unzip, and then felt the warmth of Richie’s body saddling back up beside him.

“You okay there?” Richie’s voice drifted through the tent, but it still felt light years away. Stan nodded meekly, his bearings just starting to come back.

Stan peered down at his spent cock, giving it a small nod in appreciation for its performance.

“Where’s the condom?” Stan asked drearily.

“I put it outside the tent.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Would you rather we sleep with it next to us?” Richie asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Mmmmm- shut up and spoon me.” Stan grumbled, turning to his side and pulling Richie’s arm over him.

“As you wish.” Richie whispered.

[amoveablejake]

The Inevitable Preview Piece

Right, I’ll say it now. This piece was inevitable, even if I didn’t realise it at first. Ofcourse I was always going to write a Premier League prediction piece, it was just a matter of time as to when this fact would hit me. As the season starts this weekend the past week or so has been full of predictions all over the place from podcasts I listen to, to different articles online and now I have this platform I thought why not put my thoughts in, which when the league ends I will undoubtedly look back upon and laugh at. Anyway, shall we begin because we have a fair bit to get through and I can already tell some of you may be skipping to the next segment. I promise I’ll try and make this at least somewhat interesting for those of you who don’t care. Maybe I’ll try and give each team a little title, that will keep you reading, right? Right? (Sigh)

Arsenal: The train that runs out of steam.

Arsenal always start well. I know that, you know that, we all know that. They are a team who always start well by playing exciting football and for a while their fans start to think, hey, maybe this will be our year after all. The thing is though, the first ten matches of the Premier League are the days of wine and roses and they don’t matter as much as you’d think. Its always after this honeymoon period ends that Arsenal hit a slump and run out of steam and maybe they’ll pick it back up at times but they never truly get back on track. I do however think they’ll do slightly better this year so I’m going to say they’ll finish fifth. I like Arteta what can I say. 

Aston Villa: The Royal team. 

Whilst Prince William supports Aston Villa I don’t think even his Royal support will spur them on to play exciting football. They had a relegation scrap last year and I see the same for them once again. I will admit that until I looked at the list to see who is in the league this year I had forgotten they were still in the top flight. I think that speaks for itself. I think that Aston Villa will finish seventeenth and will survive once again by the skin of their teeth. Sadly. 

Brighton and Hove Albion: Seagulls take flight. 

I don’t know why, but I have a funny feeling Brighton might do a bit better than usual this year. They always seem to finish around the middle to bottom of the table but I think that they might keep themselves in a European conversation, for a little while at least. The addition of Adam Lallana is a very positive one and I think they will prove to upset some of the bigger name teams over the course of the season. Plus they have a very swish new home kit and I sort of do have a soft spot for them. Predicted finish: Ninth, hey, its on the right track. 

Burnley: You again? 

Burnley is another team that I always forget exists, let alone in the Premier League. I’ll keep this one short, I think they’ll finish fifteenth. Now I’m not being mean, I hope that they have a nice season and their fans enjoy watching them play. I won’t though, I have paint to watch dry. 

Chelsea: Money can’t buy happiness. 

Okay, okay, I’ll admit it, I do not like Chelsea. At all. Yes they have quite a nice new home shirt and technically, technically, they are the closest Premier League team to where I was born however, they don’t get my support. To me Chelsea have always felt like the bad guys and perhaps that is unwarranted but what can I say. I just don’t like the Death Star. The boys in blue have spent a lot, and I mean A LOT, this summer but will it work? I don’t think so. They have bought excellent players in but the problem is Frank had a good team of youngsters already and I think by bringing in a lot of new players he has shown he doesn’t have faith in those younger players afterall and I don’t know if the team will form a solid base this time around. I see Chelsea coming in sixth and honestly, I don’t know if Mr. Lampard will make it to the end of the season. 

Crystal Palace: Please, just let Zaha leave. 

I’m never that convinced by Crystal Palace. That isn’t to say they’re not very good, they do have moments of prowess and do show signs of making it into the Europa League but then they tend to lose silly matches. I think the club might be nearing the end of its relationship with Roy Hodgson and after he leaves it might get a little shaky for a while. And the will they let him go or won’t they dance they have with Zaha every year is getting very tiring and I can’t imagine its good for the team’s atmosphere. Please, just let the man leave whilst you end up finishing in thirteenth. 

Everton: Just how Everton can Everton be. 

Everton are managed by Carlo Ancelotti. Everton. That is quite something. I’m still not sure if I believe it and honestly, I don’t think Carlo does either. Yes he has signed old pal James Rodriguez this summer which for my money is a fantastic new addition however, I don’t see Carlo seeing out the season at Merseyside. Its not the club for him and thats fine. I think they will show moments of looking pretty good but ultimately Everton will do what Everton is destined to do. And that is finish tenth. 

Fulham: Don’t Cry For Me Brentford 

I’ll keep this one short. I wanted Brentford to go up in the playoff final. Fulham didn’t deserve it. Thats right, I said it. I don’t want them here, I am still bitter and I’m not crying, you’re crying! But whats this I see through my years, I see Fulham finishing in nineteenth and me tasting sweet, sweet revenge. 

Leeds: They used to be quite big right. 

From what I’ve heard, Leeds used to be quite a big team. People were scared of them. The thing is, I am too young to remember those days so I don’t have the respect for them that some do. I am pleased that their fans finally got to see this return and I don’t think they’ll shoot right down again, in fact I think they’ll do reasonably well. I see them finishing fourteenth, which isn’t bad for a first season in the Premier League. They will show moments early on I think where people will say they’re going to do exceedingly well, but once again, never trust the first ten games. 

Leicester City: Believe in yourself. 

The foxes feel like a team that are running on the water and then when they realise what they’re doing they lose their confidence and sink. They are a team which as we know can be exceedingly good, they can be a joy to watch and whats more their players always look happy to be out there. Last season they were flying very high indeed especially on a rainy night in Southampton however, they tend to lose their confidence in themselves and I think they might do the same again this year. Also, Vardy is a great player but his back must be getting heavy carrying that attack. I think that this time around Leicester will take eighth place. Thats not a comment on them but more so on how close I think those top eight places are going to be. 

Liverpool: Foot off the gas. 

Liverpool are the best team in Britain at the moment. Maybe. Well they were for the past couple of years but now, I’m not too convinced. Why, why do I doubt such a strong team, its because there have been no changes. There haven’t really been any transfers and hey if something isn’t broken why fix it. I’ll tell you why, because whilst you were out there on your boat, enjoying the sun, looking around at your crew who you realised that they are all getting that much older and they’re very comfortable in their roles. In fact, they don’t really have to fight. They seem to have lost that hunger, a hunger that all the sharks growing underneath the boat certainly have and you better believe the moment they smell blood they’re going to surface. I think Liverpool will finish in third. They will still challenge for the title but it won’t be coming back to Anfield this time around. 

Manchester City: A team with Pep. 

Manchester City were bad last year. Yes they came second but they were so far behind Liverpool it was not a successful season. They only won one trophy also which by their standards is not good and it wasn’t even the Champions League or FA Cup. I think this season they’re going to be back to their old ways, not in a perfect way however, there are a lot of holes in that team (a new defender and striker would be good) but they do have Kevin De Bruyne and that man is from another realm. Do I see City lifting the Premier League, honestly, no, I think they might win everything else but not this. 

Manchester United: I’m allowed to be biased okay. 

Yes, I do support Manchester United and yes I do know that makes me biased however, I do have a sneaking suspicion they will win the Premier League. Whys that, well it might not look like it yet but I think some more transfers are coming both now and in January. The arrival of Van De Beek is also very welcome and I think the squad will start to believe in itself more and they’ll definitely improve as that confidence comes back. Don’t get me wrong, it won’t be a beautiful win, infact I think they will win on the final day and the whole title race this year will be very close but I don’t know, I have a feeling that they’ll do it. Either that or I’ll be crushed when they get relegated. 

Newcastle United: Mike Ashley out. 

For once Newcastle have made some good signings this summer, good sensible signings and they have kept Steve Bruce on which I think is a good thing however, with Mike Ashley still being the owner and that ever present cloud hanging over the team I don’t think they’ll ever really hit their stride. Sadly I see them finishing in sixteenth although I would really like to see them finish higher. 

Sheffield United: My soft spot. 

I have absolutely no idea but ever since I was little I have had a soft spot for the Blades and after their very impressive performance last year I would like to see them do well again. However, I think the end of the loan spell with Dean Henderson will hurt and they didn’t look as strong post the lockdown pause so I see them coming eleventh which is still good just not as good we’d like. We being me and a team always keep an eye on. 

Southampton: It was nice whilst it lasted. 

Southampton again had a very good year last year and I’m sure that their fans are hoping for more of the same however, I think that this time around the top half of the table is going to be a much fiercer, closer battle and sadly that will be at the detriment of teams like Southampton who will find themselves twelfth and it won’t really be their fault. I would like to see them head into Europe as they are my local team but I don’t think that they will this time around. 

Tottenham Hotspur: No prime delivery. 

Despite the fancy Amazon documentary coming out and Jose being Jose, I think that Tottenham will do exactly what their fans have sadly grown used to which is showing signs of being a top four team but ultimately making silly mistakes and losing against teams that they really shouldn’t which will slide them down to seventh. I hope for their fans that they win something this year, anything really but when it comes to Spurs you just never can tell. What am I saying, you can and they won’t. 

West Bromwich Albion: Someone has to do it. 

Someone has to finish last and it will be West Brom. Do I really need to say anything else. I suppose I should say something nice, um, I’ve heard that you can buy a nice pie at their stadium. A nice pie to soak up the tears when they get relegated. 

West Ham United: Time to learn. 

I want West Ham United to get relegated. Why? Because they need to learn. Not the players, not the manager but the club. The club is run horribly and they constantly make bad decisions whether it be getting rid of promising young players, signing players at big costs to no avail or to have a constant merry go round of managers. Its a shambles and thats a shame because they have a very nice home kit and I do sort of like West Ham. With that in mind they’ll finish eighteenth and I’ll be happy about it so that they come back stronger. 

Wolves: Hear them howl. 

I like Wolves. In fact my favourite animal is a wolf but thats not why I have a fondness for Wolverhampton Wanderers. No, thats because they are a good team, with a great manager, who make sensible signings, seem to be run well, sadly have a horrific kit but play very good, classic football. I like the players, I like the team and I always want to see them do well and upset the establishment. Even when one player rubs baby oil on his tree trunk arms so the other players can’t grab hold of him. He’s good enough to not make someone do that but hey, there are worse jobs to have (see playing for Burnley for further details). I think Wolves will finish fourth this time around and will reach the Champions League. I also think they’ll do well in the FA Cup and will win more praise that they definitely deserve.  

So there we have it, we made it. How will these predictions pan out, probably not very well but hey, its not like I’ve written them down so I can be mocked with them later. 

- Jake, a man who is fully aware he can never go to Burnley now, 13/09/2020

[looselucy]

Storms

December 24th We always spent Christmas Eve in The Tin Mouse. Most of Rosebury did. It was jam-packed in there, the atmosphere as upbeat and beautiful as ever, the lot of us stood near the bar after walking in and seeing our usual table was occupied. It was the happiest I’d been in weeks.

“I got this one when I broke my arm, d’ya remember?” Lincoln was working his way through the many scars he’d acquired over the years, bending his arm to look down to the large scar that started at his elbow and ran up towards his hand. “Yeah, you take the five-a-side games well too seriously, mate.” Louis huffed. “You broke your arm playing footy?” Harry sniggered, amazed and confused. “I take the beautiful game very seriously, and I have no shame. Did we win the fucking match?” “I don’t think that’s the point.” Louis laughed. “Did we win the match, Louis?” “Yes, we won.” “Exactly. Totally worth a broken arm.” “I still don’t get how!” Harry chuckled. “I tried to do one of those fancy kicks to get the ball in the goal. Y’know like… where you jump,” He was talking with his hands, trying to get the image across to Harry. “And you go backwards and kick. Well, the ball went in, but I landed on my arm. But we won, so, y’know.” I could see the image going through Harry’s mind as he laughed, scrunching his nose, leant against one of the wooden pillars. I hadn’t seen Harry since I stormed out of his house the weekend before. It wasn’t just down to not having the time, but also not really wanting to. It had been good to take a few steps back, give myself a break. I’d warned him on the Wednesday that once again, I wouldn’t be attending his class, texting him saying we were too busy at the shop, and he replied that it was fine. But other than that, we hadn’t interacted at all. I had been trying to come to terms with how he was, accept the boundaries he’d built. It seemed I had no other choice than to get used to it, he wasn’t giving me any other options. I still thought so highly of the boy, and I cared about him a lot, so his privacy was something I’d have to accept, not just to continue with our secret, but to be his friend at all. I’d been dreading seeing him that night, wondering if it would be achingly awkward, but it hadn’t been. I think he understood why I’d wanted to step away from things, even if it was briefly. He was already there when I arrived, and he’d been as friendly and chipper as ever, making me ease instantly. I don’t know why I was still surprised that he could have that effect on me. “All my scars are from stupid shit like that. I wish I had a cool one, from a fight or something.” Lin tutted. “I’ve got one from a fight.” Harry disclosed. “Just above my eye.” Lin and Libby leaned a little closer to him to gage the scar he was talking of, but I didn’t need to. I’d been close enough to him to have spotted that scar countless times. He raised his brows to show the scar more clearly, but I found myself staring at the scars on his hands, wondering if I’d ever find out what had created them. I didn’t care to learn about the scar above his eye, the fight that had caused it, because I knew it wouldn’t have been anything revealing or with depth, or else he wouldn’t have mentioned it. This was yet another example of Harry handing the perfect amount of himself over to other people, enough to fool us into feeling as though we were getting to know him, but we weren’t, not really. At least not to the extent I craved to. I couldn’t have been the only one who’d seen the scars on his hands. He didn’t hide them, but how could he? I felt like that was one of the reasons he’d purposefully brought up the scar on his face, as if to say, this is the scar I’m comfortable talking about, this is my limit. I didn’t think any of us would have ever had the guts to ask about the ones on his hands, they were too dominant, too ominous. It was clear they weren’t created through a simple accident, there was something much more baleful behind their birth, there must have been. “I really can’t imagine you in a fight.” Louis folded his arms. “No?” Harry smirked. “Nah, you’re just so… easy-going.” “Mm.” He quietly agreed. “It’s not summat I wanna do, but… some people fucking deserve it.” “What happened?” Chloe asked him. “I saw this guy spiking a girl’s drink. I went and told her, I didn’t even think he’d seen, but then he just came at me from nowhere. He had a good punch on him, I’ll give him that.” “You won, right?” “No one wins with fighting, Chloe.” He simpered sarcastically. “You definitely won.” He just shrugged, looking self-satisfied, and there was no question about it. He’d definitely fought back and he’d definitely come out on top. “Oh shit, team!” Niall cried, peering around the corner. “Looks like our tables about to be free! I say we run and grab it.” Everyone started slowly edging their way over there, ready to pounce when the table was finally unoccupied, but as I tried to walk over with them, Harry, who was still leaning against the pillar, grabbed my arm, bringing me to a standstill. He leaned down to me. “Are we okay?” He asked. “Yeah. We’re fine.” My attempt at a smile was weak, but genuine at least. “Stay at mine tonight.” I looked forward again, making sure everyone was out of earshot, before looking to my side, back to him, speaking as softly as I was able in such a brash atmosphere. “It’s Christmas Eve!” “So?” “I just-” “I’ve missed you, Fee.” He told me assertively, still holding onto me, not wanting me to walk away. “Stay. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” His suggestive tone sent my stomach spiralling, suddenly undressing him with my eyes, biting at my lip, restraint seeming impossible. “How, exactly?” “How detailed do you want me to be?” “Very.” “I want my tongue inside you. I want your pretty little lips wrapped around my dick. I want-” “Have some fucking class, Harry, we’re in public.” I grinned. His smile was big, bright, mischievous, the very tip of his teeth catching his bottom lip, his eyes running down my body before he let go of my arm, allowing the two of us to act innocent as we went to join the rest of them once more. We both knew I was going to end up at his. It didn’t need discussing further. I felt surprisingly good about it. I wanted things to go back to how they had been before we’d gone to see my mum, when it felt simpler, before we’d argued, before I’d seen that room, before my emotions had started getting the better of me. It had been so easy and wonderful for the majority of our time taking part in this whole friends with benefits arrangement, and I had to hope it wouldn’t be impossible for us to go back to that, to keep things straightforward, despite everything that had gone on over the last few weeks. It seemed we were going to disregard everything, just go back to fucking. That felt like a good thing at the time. Ignoring how blatantly naive it was, of course. We all sat around our table, waving quickly over to Louis’ parents who were stood near the door, and settling in our familiar spot. “You going to your mum and dads tomorrow?” Niall asked him. “Actually, they’re coming to mine. I’m cooking. Can you believe that shit? I feel like an adult, it’s weird.” “M'gunna get Alfie cooking the turkey tomorrow.” Lincoln jeered, putting his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. “You’re gunna be a Crosby for the day.” “Alfie Crosby.” Chloe said. “That’s got a ring to it.” “What’ve I missed?” Harry enquired, sat on the stool across from us. “I’m spending tomorrow with Lin and his family. He was nice enough to invite me, so.” “Yeah, it’s cause I love ya.” He kissed my cheek, keeping me tucked into his side. I’d asked my dad if he wanted me to go over and spend the day with them instead, but he’d told me not to. I’d been there before on Christmas Day, and it wasn’t a nice experience, nor was there much going on. I had plans to drive over again in the new year, but for Christmas, my plan was still to be with Lin and his family, despite the recent progress with my own. Harry simply nodded, brows a little low, eyes darting between me and Lin, eyeing the way I was held against his body almost suspiciously. “What’re you doing, Harry?” Louis asked. “Um… Nothing, I don’t think.” He snapped out of it, looking away from us, clearing his throat. “What?” Niall cried. “Well, I don’t have… No, I… I dunno.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” Niall was truly appalled by the idea of Harry not having plans. “You can’t be by yourself on Christmas Day.” “I’ve done it before, I don’t mind.” “Well I do.” Louis huffed. “You’re coming to mine.” “Nah, Louis, it’s fine, I don’t-” “Don’t argue, mate. Easy for me to put an extra seat round my table. You’re coming to mine, end of. Be there for one, yeah?” Harry looked amazed. Truly amazed. I don’t think he could fathom it, but to Louis it was so simple. Harry was his friend, and he wasn’t going to let him spend the day on his own. There was no way. He seemed somewhat choked up over it. “Thank you.” He eventually mumbled, unsure what else to say. “Don’t mention it.” Louis shrugged. “Besides, the food could be bloody terrible. Might not be much to be thankful for.” “You’re a good cook, Louis. Harry, you’re in for a treat, I promise.” Libby smiled. Harry grinned, his throat hitching a little, patting Louis on the back before reaching for his pint, stuck for words. I loved seeing how happy he was, how happy we made him. I wondered when the last time he’d spent his Christmas with someone was, who that was. You could see in his face that it meant a lot to him, that Louis had invited him. I guess it was all so unfamiliar to him, to have the sort of friendship where that could even be proposed. I hoped, that slowly, we were all creating a sort of foundation where Harry finally felt as though he could open up and share himself. I hoped.

“Does Lin like you?” Harry asked from behind me as we wandered upstairs. “I hope so. Gunna be an awkward Christmas if he doesn’t.” I was practically wringing water out of my hair, a downpour having stung us as we’d ran to his home from the pub. “No, I mean… Does he like you?” I looked back over my shoulder to show him the puzzled look my face had formed. “No?” “Hm. Okay.” “Why, what?” “I think he might.” “Why do you say that?” “Just… I dunno. Just a… mood I’ve picked up on, I dunno.” I lingered on the top floor so we’d be walking side by side, looking up to him as we made our way down to his room. “I don’t even know how you’ve come to this conclusion.” I sniggered. “It’s like… the way he is with you. The way he touches you and stuff. You must have noticed.” “You’re way off. That’s just Lin, that’s what he’s like.” “I only see him being like that with you though.” I shrugged off his suggestion, because it wasn’t even worth giving it thought. I knew what Lin was like, what our friendship was, I didn’t want to start overthinking things or looking into things simply because Harry was seeing something that wasn’t even there. If it had come from anyone else, I may have questioned it, but thanks to the fact it was coming from the boy I was sleeping with, I took it with more than a pinch of salt. “What would you do if he did?” Harry dragged the conversation on, closing his bedroom door behind us. “He doesn’t.” “Right, I’ll pretend I believe you, but then hypothetically, if he did.” He stood with his arms folded as I dropped down to sit on his bed, looking up to him. “I… I dunno! I wouldn’t do anything. Why are we even talking about this? I don’t know what I’d do, and I don’t need to know because it’s not gunna be an issue I have to face. Can you drop it?” “You could do a lot worse than Lincoln Crosby.” He was suddenly smirking, pulling off his damp t-shirt quickly, shaking his hair. “I know I could, you fucking idiot.” I found I was laughing as he practically straddled me, smiling as he grabbed my chin and lifted my head, kissing me fiercely and pushing be backwards. I hitched properly on the bed just in time before he lay his body on mine. For almost a week, I’d been trying to persuade myself that I hadn’t been pining for his touch, to be back in his room with his kisses roving over my body at will, breathing in the energy he permitted, the plants in there, his scent. I wanted to tell myself that I’d be fine without this, because it wasn’t going to last forever. There were already waves of complexities crashing upon the shores of our system, our denial merely a temporary dam that I knew could only take so much weight. I’d wanted to make my peace with the inevitability of it all, be okay with not being that way with him, but the second his lips were back with mine I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. This was exactly how I knew it would go, why I’d overthought and initially attempted to put a stop to it all, but if I couldn’t do it then how the hell did I expect to ever be able to? I knew it’d end up messy despite our efforts and I could already feel it coming. I didn’t want it to end. I really didn’t want it to end but my thoughts were once again getting the better of me, becoming this overbearing blare that burnt at my ears, forever swirling questions about him, his past, what had created the boy I was spending so much time with. It didn’t feel simple in the way it once had. We’d probably been foolish to think it ever could be simple. “What do you wanna do?” He asked, kissing my neck. “I wanna get out of these clothes.” “That’s a good start.” He fell to the side of me, messing with the button of his loose, light jeans as I began stripping too, our clothes damp. I’d hoped for snow, really, but my hopes were shattered most years. It seemed we’d have yet another year of miserable rain on Christmas Day. I’d somehow managed to undress with more speed than Harry, who had just about ripped off his sodden jeans and underwear by the time I’d pushed at his chest, crouching by his side as I made sure he was laying back on the bed, his legs dangling over the edge as I kissed over his chest and reached my hand to cusp around his dick, slowly working my hand up and down. I let my lips lurk towards his nipple, soon enveloping it, my tongue stroking over the tip, feeling the way his body ticked as a reaction to me playing with the sensitive area. I opened my eyes slightly, looking to my side to gage his face, the tiny and content smile on his lips, one hand reaching to weave within my hair. I closed my eyes again, sucking for a second before I began my journey down his body, waiting until his pubic hair tickled the tips of my lips before I lifted my head and immediately took him to the back of my throat. His grip on my hair tightened. “Shit, fuck.” He huffed, hot and bothered. It was hard even attempting to fit him into my mouth; even when he was at the very back of my throat, my stomach jolting as a response, my lips weren’t close to his base. I worked with the area I could, inspired by the noises be made, one hand on the bottom of his stomach to aid my balance as the other reached to lightly cusp at his balls, pressing over the area with the tips of my fingers. “You’re so good.” He creaked, carelessly pushing my head down, meaning I was almost gagging, but loving it. I quickly grew impatient when giving head. I often found the whole thing so sexual that I became too worked up to endure until his finish. I wanted him, urgently, and it was taking literal determination not to stop and climb on top of him. I did want to remain that way for a while, feel that control, hear the special sounds he submitted when my tongue strayed over those inches of his body, but it was hard. Harry was about to make the perfect proposal. “Fee, move.” I heard him breathlessly instruct, but I barely listened. “Move. Please, I want to sixt- Fuck. Oh fuck, that’s it.” I still didn’t move, too fixed on what I was doing to follow his fumbled words, and it seemed Harry was too worn out and worked up to keep attempting to vocally request what he wanted. So instead, he let go of my hair, reaching and gripping my leg and pulling my backside towards him, dragging me so my core was edging closer to his face. For a moment, he took his fingers and stroked them over my wet heat, but then within seconds he’d twisted his body so he could grab and my hips with both hands, lifting me upwards with an alarming ease and altering my stance so that I was straddling his face. “Holy fuck!” I gasped after letting him fall from my mouth. “You’re so fucking strong, what the fuck.” He ignored me, desperately biting at the inside of my thigh, triggering a gorgeous sting before he lifted his head slightly to engorge me. Moaning, I took him back into my mouth, and straight away I was outstandingly overwhelmed with the sensations such a position sent soaring through my body, where every flick of his tongue and mine could make my whole body alert, so responsive to each and every movement. It wasn’t just his lips against me, his hands smoothing over my backside, the way he felt in my mouth, but even the way our stomachs met in the centre, the light way they brushed together made my insides roil. I knew I couldn’t tolerate it for too long. I was already shaking, whimpering, wishing I could somehow drag more air into my lungs. His mouth was a fucking wonder, humming deeply with his tongue inside me, too much to take. It felt like such a vulnerable position to be in, unflattering and exposed, but it was electrifying. I’d never done that before, and I’d kind of predicted that I’d hate it, but it was the total opposite. Every single thing about it felt magnificent, otherworldly. Harry made me so comfortable with him and within myself that there was no need to be wary of anything, it was all pleasure. He stopped, breathless as he kissed at the spot on my thigh he had bitten before speaking. “Fee, m’gunna cum.” He warned. He knew that I wouldn’t want him to finish when he was still in my mouth, because he’d literally asked me my preference when things first started between us, which was such an unfamiliarly kind question to ask. I suppose a lot seemed kind compared to the experience I’d had with Sam. I shifted the top half of my body upright with speed so I could throw my hair over my back and get it out of my face, clutching just above his knee with my left hand to steady myself and taking his dick in my right. Harry went back to tasting me as soon as he could, struggling straight away because his orgasm was taking over. I bit my lip when it happened, watching him cum, warmth dripping onto my hands and down on his thighs, and then I closed my eyes, and let Harry complete his work. He barely gave himself a second to relish in his own high, his focus was mine again instantly. It was when his fingers tightened their grip on my arse that I came, shuddering, weakening, becoming completely flimsy and faint. I felt him relax behind me, dropping his head back down to the bed, and it really felt as though every muscle in my body was waning. “Alf?” Harry noticed my state when I began swaying from side to side. “Am… I… I’m a- I…” “Woah, Alfie, fuck-” I started falling forward slowly, Harry reacting with speed as he bolted up right behind me and caught my waist in his hands, having edged to the very edge of his bed, pulling my body back towards his, literal seconds before my face smacked against the floor. “Are you okay?” He gasped, holding my body in place, but I didn’t answer. “Alf? Talk to me, please.” “I need… Lie down.” I was utterly absent as Harry moved me, having to take all my weight and lay me down on the bed, resting my head on the pillow and then hovering above me, looking rather concerned. I closed my eyes, giving myself time, Harry not taking his eyes off me for even a second. Eventually, I began giggling. “I’m not finding this funny.” He gawped. “M'fine.” I flapped my wrist, coming back to my senses. “Sorry.” “You sure?” “Mm. It was just… a lot.” “Okay.” He sighed, then falling to his side of the bed, finally taking his time to relax beside me. We lay side by side in silence for quite some time, but then as soon as my mind was back with me fully, I just started giggling again, lightly at first and then it got worse, laying my hand on my chest and laughing away to myself. “What?” Harry was chuckling beside me, my laughter clearly infectious. “It’s just funny. I could feel myself going but I had like… no strength. Fucking hell.” I sniggered. “You were inches away from smacking your face on the floor, it’s not funny!” The statement was hard to believe thanks to his chortling. “Stop laughing!” I didn’t, and nor did he. We lay together and laughed it out, finding the humour in the fact I’d become so weak in my post-orgasm state that I’d almost fallen face first on the floor. It was hilarious, really. It might not have been quite as funny if Harry hadn’t caught me, and there was likely the possibility of a broken nose, but he’d made sure that didn’t happen. Things cooled down in time, Harry leaning over to check his phone as he let out the very last of his laughter. “It’s past midnight.” He told me, laying back down. “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas.” I returned. I was glad he’d be spending the day with Louis and his family rather than on his own. At the pub, he said he'd been on his own before, but I was absolutely sure that he’d hated it, even if he couldn’t admit it aloud and even if he was accustomed to it. I could see from the look on his face that he’d been happy that Louis had practically forced him into the plans. I think I’d half predicted that he would have someone to spend the day with, like maybe it was the one day a year where he saw his family, if he had a family to see. It seemed I was wrong. I found my eyes were closing. I’d told myself I’d head home, wake up in my own bed on Christmas Day, but in those moments, it didn’t feel as appealing as just staying there, falling asleep with him at my side. “You looking forward to spending the day with Lincoln? Your future husband.” He added, grinning away to himself. “You’re such an idiot, honestly.” I shook my head as he rolled onto his stomach so he was closer to me, staring up to me. “Don’t drag this out.” “M'telling you, I’m right.” “And I’m telling you, you’re wrong. And I think I know Lin better than you do.” “But I know how blind you are to this stuff. Y’know how obvious I made myself with you? I literally had to put my hand down your pants, and then you were still baffled that I wanted to sleep with you.” I looked at him, still shaking my head and pinching his cheek, not wanting to say anything else to drag the conversation on. He was smiling, scrunching his nose and his eyes when I nipped softly at his skin. Then we heard a rumbling, and his face dropped. Jolting, he looked back over his shoulder to gaze out of the window, rain still tapping relentlessly against the window, and I could see his chest was heaving. “Was that thunder?” He asked what he already knew, breathless. “Sounds like it. You okay?” “I… I-I hate thunder.” He was waiting on another sound, his gaze locked on the windows though it was pitch black outside, so dark that we couldn’t see anything. He was getting unusually worked up. “It’s okay.” He didn’t acknowledge my words, so I reached out, placing my hand gently on his cheek and pulling him so he was facing me again. “Hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” He nodded, looking relatively convinced for only a second until the sky let out another ripple of low growls, louder than last time. He snapped. “Fuck, sorry, you need to go.” He scrambled backwards off the bed, standing upright and gripping at his hair for a second before he was bending down to get his underwear off the floor. “Harry, it’s okay! Calm down!” “Fee, I’m being serious, it’s fucking with my head. Please leave.” He was stumbling into his underwear, anxious and agitated. “What the fuck is happening?” I sat up. “I can’t do this. I seriously… I really hate thunder and lightning and I can’t… I can’t do this right now. I wanna be on my own so just please… please go before it gets worse. Please.” He was freaking out. I was in a state of shock. Once his tight boxers were back on, he was reaching back down to the ground to practically throw my clothes at me, desperate to get me out of there. I watched him with wide eyes, stuck for something to say. It was clear that he was terrified, and I had to wonder what the hell had happened to him that could make the weather affect him in such a way. “Harry, you’re only making me wanna stay.” I told him, not dressing myself. “You’re worrying me.” “It’s just… this thing I’ve got in my head, and I hate it, and I just-” Another rumble, so loud this time I knew the lightning would happen soon, and he must have known it too, cursing and clutching his hair. “NO! No, I can’t do this, Fee, please go.” “Harry-” “PLEASE, ALFIE!” I held my hands up in surrender for a second before taking the clothes he’d thrown at me and putting them back on. He was pacing the floor, gnawing at his lip, so uneasy I couldn’t believe it. I kept my eyes on him as I dressed myself, really not wanting to leave him despite the fact he clearly wanted me gone. I’d never seen him like that, nor had I ever expected to. He was frightened and rigid and almost angry in the way he was carrying himself. Once I stood up and started pulling my pants on, Harry stood himself at his door, gripping onto the handle and waiting for me to leave. “I just think-” “Alfie, please, I’m sorry, but I can’t-” Lightning struck then, and it got worse. The flash of light tore through his room, and the second the bolt burst, he reacted like he’d been punched in the gut, the sound like a bullet to him. I watched in shock as his body crippled; he bent over and stumbled backwards until he crashed into the top corner of his room, knocking over the plant beside his bed as he sunk down to the floor, hands in his hair and knees tucked up to his chest. I rushed down to him in second, dropping down to my knees and trying to reach out for him. That was when I saw he was crying. “Harry, holy fuck, what is happening?” “I can’t.” He sobbed, looking down to the ground, almost ripping his hair out. “I need it to stop. I can’t fucking breathe.” I wished it was within my power. I saw the look of agony on his face, and I wished more than anything that the skies were under my command, that I could steal the thunder from the clouds and crush them in my hands. I would have done fucking anything to take that fear away from him, to stop his tears and cease the pain he was experiencing. But there was nothing I could do. Nothing. I didn’t even know what to say. Another bolt hit the ground, Harry flinching and dropping his head even more, his chin on his chest. “Why is this happening?” I wailed, tears in my eyes. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to help. I don’t… I don’t know!” I think he’d wanted me to leave so that I didn’t see him in that state, but it was too late. He was no longer begging me to leave; I wasn’t sure he’d even have the capacity, but I took at as a sign to stay, the fact he was no longer screaming and begging me to get out of there. But I didn’t know how to comfort him, I didn’t know how to make things better, I daren’t even touch him. I was thankful thunderstorms didn’t usually last too long, but I knew full well that this one would feel like it dragged on for hours. “Just block it out, okay?” I attempted to say the right thing. “Cover your ears, block it out, pretend it’s not happening. Concentrate on… Concentrate on something that makes you happy.” “I can’t, Fee, I can’t.” He wept. For months, I’d had questions about Harry. For months, little things would happen or he’d say something, and I’d find myself wondering about his past, things that had happened to him, what made him the man he was. None of them had sparked my fascination and desperation to know more so than seeing what that weather was doing to him. I could understand and disregard a slight amount of fear, but that was beyond anything I had ever seen. He was shaking violently, tears streaming down his face, unable to even look up at me. This was a horror I’d never seen the likes of, and I didn’t believe for a second that the terror he was suffering could happen without there being a meaning and a maker behind it. I was witnessing fear in its most brutal form. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what could have happened that would lead to the broken boy I was seeing then. Every time lightning struck, his body would quake like he’d been hit, his shudders severe, his whimpers increasing, my heart breaking. Again, I found myself wishing for snow. “It’s okay.” I told him, but I’d never sounded less convincing. “I’m not going anywhere. It’ll be okay. It’ll pass soon.” He nodded slightly, and I could see that he was trying with everything he had to stop his tears, to become so vacant he could remove himself from the environment completely, but it wasn’t working. All his efforts were falling flat and it was awful to behold. I knew I wasn’t aiding the situation, but at the same time I was so glad I was there, so thankful he wasn’t on his own in that big house, frightened and upset and alone. I reached out and took his hand within mine, but he barely responded, still simply sobbing and shaking. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything. I’m so sorry I can’t stop this.” I wept, squeezing his hand. “I wish there was something I could do.” Lighting struck again, and he reacted the same way, jerking and howling, finally gripping my hand in return. It was like he was in literal pain. It was so awful sitting there and trying to deal with it. We waited it out together, his head down the entire time, our hands locked together. I remembered experiencing this grand feeling of gratitude even when I could sense the storm distancing, hearing it start to fade away into the night like it had never been there at all, like it hadn’t caused so much trauma in its wake. I stayed with him. Until the morning, I stayed with him. Once the rain had stopped, I practically picked him up off the floor, tucked him up in bed, and then got in with him. He’d been rather hazy the whole time, curling his body up, hands against his mouth, but eventually he began to ease, drifted off to sleep, my fingers gently running through his hair and my eyes on him until I knew he was fast asleep, at peace. I never wanted him to face a storm alone again.

[sumeshi-t]

higanbana;

A/N: Okay, a bit late I guess but I started writing this 19th July. Didn't make it in time. Also I forgot which blog I saw the prompts from lmao this is also kinda self-indulgent but hey what’s the use of making self-inserts for your self right

Pairing: OikawaxReader

Wordcount: 3,303 trash

Genre: angst??? try-hard angst yeah im sorry got lost in how to end it i--

*higanbana = red spider lilies. they are associated with final goodbyes, and legend has it that these flowers grow wherever people part ways for good.

tagging some cute lil haikyuu friends :( @floofwrites @akaashit-baeji @sportanime-maniac

•》》》》》》》••《《《《《《《《•●•》》》》》》》••《《《《《《《•

"(y/n)?" Iwaizumi's voice sounded strained, tired even, as he spoke to you through his phone's mouthpiece. You ask what was bothering him on such a fine weekend afternoon. 

"It's been... bugging me for days now, it's such a pain in the ass." 

You hum, taking your time chewing the chips you've put in your mouth. You were binge watching movies on your free day when he called. "Well, you know, that isn't really part of my job. But congratulations on devirginizing your ass, I guess." 

Iwaizumi stutters, and you could clearly see the image of horror and embarrassment on his face in your mind. "T-That's not what I meant!" He clears his throat, before continuing. "Just... I feel like playing again. And I think I've become rusty for the past year."

He hears you gasp, and he wasted no more time in setting a meeting place before completely hanging up on you.

Warmth spreads throughout your chest at his sudden call and the reason why he wanted to meet up suddenly made you giddy. 

You and Iwaizumi go a long way back—way back middle school. By the time you graduated from college, he finally got accepted to play and be part of the National team. So you mustered enough courage and confidence, gathered some experience before applying for the team's physical therapist.

Luckily though, you got hired, and even received compliments from the coach saying that they have never seen the players perform to "such an extent".

It was a fun experience, the team had a great run during those times but one day, Iwaizumi decided to quit. Until now, you never knew why, but soon after he did, you also bid farewell to the team and began working in hospitals or nursing facilities.

So hearing that he wanted to play again set you in a good mood; you even start rummaging through your old files for the training regimen you used to give him, and brought it along with you.

You passed by a convenience store, grabbed two bottles of a light alcoholic drink, the celebratory mood getting to you.

Until you felt utter disappointment, confusion, and even a little annoyed at seeing who was there on the bench, waiting.

"(y/n)-chan~!" 

It was him. 

You suddenly wished that aliens were real so they could just take him. 

"You still call me that? Stop it. Where's Hajime?" You still weren't sitting, tempted to throw the bottles to his good-looking face before he could answer your question. 

Oikawa pouted, scooting over to make space beside him for you on the bench. "First name basis? You two that close already?" 

You didn't even try to understand the underlying tones that statement had. "None of your business. Now if you're not gonna tell me where he is, I'm gonna have to leave. Nice seeing you," 

As you turned around to leave, Oikawa stops you by saying, "I had him call you so we could meet here. So obviously, he's not coming." 

You hesitated, but with a deep sigh, you wordlessly made your way to the bench, placing all the stuff you brought between you and the brunette. He looks down at what you did, and when you weren't looking at him, Oikawa pops open both bottles with a little trick, trying not to smile that you decided to stay. He places your drink next to you, as he holds his own and takes a sip.

Oikawa just looks at you in silence, as your eyes focus on the red spider lilies before you; lined in a straight path, some surrounding the tree nearby. Both your face and his was unreadable, and when you couldn't bear the silence much longer, you took a breath before speaking.

"You didn't have to do that." your eyes narrowed, still refusing to look at Oikawa. 

"Do what?" the way he was feigning innocence got on your nerves a bit but you decided to settle things as mature as adults could be.

"...this whole thing, making Hajime set this up. There's actually, absolutely, no need for it."

"I just need an excuse to hang out with you." He answered immediately, gauging your reaction. Oikawa takes another sip of his drink, "It's been a while since we last talked, (y/n)-chan. I tried texting or calling you but I figured you probably changed numbers."

You bit your bottom lip, looking down on your feet. You take a single gulp of the alcohol and leaned back on your seat, trying to at least relax and feel more comfortable in your own space.

"Why? Felt bored?" You finally spare him a quick glance, and your ex had a long leg over the other, both hands now inside the pockets of his jersey jacket. There was a small flag of Japan by the chest and only then did you remember that he was now also a member of the volleyball National team; perhaps even their captain—you didn't know. Ever since leaving the team, you didn't bother catching up to any news about them. 

When Oikawa didn't answer your question, you mumble, "I heard... you were doing good." 

He shrugs, "More or less... and you?" The brunette sighs, scratching the back of his head. He turned to you with a  slight pout, which you couldn't tear your eyes off of. "Why are we talking like we have sticks up our asses? Iwa-chan sure is rubbing off on you real good." Oikawa whines, his nose stuck in the air after grunting. 

You didn't know why but you found it ridiculous, that you were reminded of the times when you were younger. A chuckle escapes your lips, making his brows raise at your sudden reaction. "God, are you six or something? Trying to be all cute and whiny?"

Oikawa smirks, "So first it's 'nice seeing you'; and now you're saying I'm cute? (y/n)-chan, I'm very flattered. But there's no need to tell me what I already know." He even had the audacity to wink at you and stick his tongue out.

You lightly punch his shoulder, rolling your eyes at his display of narcissism. "Hah, some things... really don't change." 

Oikawa's short burst of playful attitude came to a progressive stop, his calm demeanor slowly resurfacing. "Yeah... guess you could say that."

He then rummages through the files you brought along for Iwaizumi, and he hums in acknowledgment. "So you did become a PT." Oikawa was mumbling to himself, and you didn't even try to take back the folder he was holding. 

'It's better to have minimal physical contact as much as possible.'

You notice his brows scrunching together, and assumed that he was trying to read through the small fonts you used, as Oikawa wasn't wearing his glasses. But what you didn't know was that he was actually glaring at Iwaizumi's photo.

He returns the folder to you, "Think you can be my therapist?" Then, his other hand pats his bad knee thrice.

The question caught you off-guard; just as quick as the good memories flashed by, the bad and painful ones that replaced it were the hardest to ignore. It triggered the memory that began the downfall of your relationship with Oikawa.

See, you and him had made the relationship work through  some similarities and despite of your differences.

You were understanding and supportive of his passion and commitment to his volleyball career. You went to his games and cheered him on no matter the results were; when you had free time, you'd wait until night for him to be done with practice. Meanwhile, he never felt as though you were dragging him down; he even learned to appreciate classic rom-coms because of you and had some of your favorites next to his sci-fi stash; and of course, he fueled the drive you had for achieving your dreams of becoming a doctor.

The amount of selfies you've taken with him is unreal; your gallery also full of memes you both send to Iwaizumi even during dead hours of the night. You hated his gut sometimes, and he doesn't like it when even you nag at him; you were both stubborn, had a little pride here and there—but you knew you felt the happiest when with him, and he always told you that he felt the same.

College came. You were in different universities, but was in the same one as Iwaizumi's. When you were still a freshman, you still had some time to spare; meet up after practice, or him waiting for your class to end. 

It was interesting: you knew one way or another, a match between your university and his would be inevitable.

And Oikawa's team always won. 

But as the semesters went on, both of you spent less and less time together, talked more on occasion than how it used to be. 

For you that was fine, you understood that careers must be prioritized than relationships because both of you were at that age which would decide your individual futures. 

Sometimes you'd get jealous at some of your friends when they're gushing about their own adventures in the romance department that you even mockingly ask yourself if you're actually single.

The relationship just came to a point where you felt like you were the only one trying, making it an effort to meet or hang out.

You had to admit to yourself: it was tiring. And all these, you had no choice but to rant it all out on Iwaizumi—which was part of the reason why you two became much closer. It was completely platonic for you though, no doubt about that.

There was a particular match, you finally had some spare time from your busy schedule and brain-draining program, that you managed to watch it. Though, you were a little late, having arrived halfway through. 

Every step you took closer to the stands, the more you became eager to feel the rush of adrenaline through your veins, of having your throat going dry from screaming and cheering—

But you didn't expect that you'd instead have to swallow a lump in your throat and push back tears. 

When you arrived, the first thing you saw was your boyfriend, Oikawa, lying on the floor of the court, clutching his knee, teeth gritted, sweat and probably some tears on his pained face. And Iwaizumi, on the other side of the net, frozen in shock at what was happening to his bestest friend.

Next thing you knew, you were in the hospital.

It was a bad fall they said.

Probably the court was too slippery. A little misstep.

The worst was that maybe it was the beginning of the end of his career. 

The following days, weeks, weren't really the best. You could say bad things turned to worse things. 

The doctor was a bit too pessimistic for your liking, saying that Oikawa might never be able to use that knee again for volleyball, post-surgery. 

"Since when did you know about this? Was it after the Karasuno match? Or during your freshman year in college? Tooru... please..." you asked him, as he stared ahead at the wall, the usual cheerful dork now seemed to have aged ten more years at the hurtful words of his own doctor. 

Oikawa didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer and he felt that everything came crashing down as he began building his walls higher, keeping everything and everyone out—even you.

You reached out to caress his knee, and you noted the flinch he made under your touch. "Hey... I know it's hard right now, but... trust me, I don't think what the doctor said was true." You pursed your lips; still no reaction from him. 

"I mean... this is why rehabilitation medicine exists! I believe that this could still be worked on and you'll be in your best state in a few month's time, Tooru." You were speaking from your little therapist-to-be heart, the passion, the blood, sweat and tears you've shed so far serving as fuel to strengthen your resolve in wanting to help heal your boyfriend.

You pulled your hand away when Oikawa let out a scoff. 

He gave you a ridiculing look, "What do you know? I don't see you having any problem with your knee."

"T-Tooru... I—"

"Why? Just because you're a student now, you honestly think you could be my therapist?"

Were you hurt? Very. But then there was a voice in your head saying that Oikawa was in much more pain than you could imagine. And so you waited. Patiently. Diligently. 

You didn't want to let him see you crumble at his mere words that only stemmed from his self-loathing. This isn't him, this isn't him. It was your new mantra. 

You could only take so much. 

You still end up crying it out on Iwaizumi. He was able to provide you with the head space you could breathe in. You didn't realize that Oikawa could sense this. That was your mistake, you knew that but only after the split.

"Why don't you leave me alone? All I see from you now is pity. Guess what, (y/n), I don't need any of that from you. Right? I don't make you happy anymore right? You think I didn't know you've already found someone better?" 

This was his mistake. 

The memory of your tears, of your trembling hands, and voice breaking—still stung in his mind. 

"Not once did I pity you, Tooru, because that's not what you need. All this time, I've endured every word you hurled at me like I'm your least favorite person in the world." You sniffed, swallowed. 

"But if that's what's going to make you better, make you happier—then I'll go. I hope you understand how much I've exceeded my limits, only for you to throw me out over and over again."

You gripped hard on the doorknob, and said your final words. "And leave Iwa-kun out of this. I didn't think you would actually doubt a friend and your own girlfriend." You bitterly smile, causing the tears that pooled in your lids to fall.

"Maybe I was wrong to assume that I could become your stronghold through this. I'm sorry for disappointing you, Tooru. Get well soon,"

"And we never talked after that." he murmured, eyes reddening, jaw clenched in an attempt to fight his own tears from falling. 

And you?

You've downed half of your bottle in one go. 

You refuse to look at him because you knew your heart's wounds would reopen and be like onions to your eyes. You let the alcohol spread to make you numb. More, more, you said.

"It's embarrassing but... since you left I have no one to talk to. The days I spent in the hospital was a lot bearable when you used to visit me." 

You took another swig of the alcohol. Another bitter smile  on your lips more bitter than what was burning your throat. "Then don't talk to me now like you're coming back."

"Don't you want me back?"

Your heart ached at his question. You bit your lip, sniffing, trying to find the right answer—your heart wanted yes, but your mind wanted no. "Did I even mean anything to you? Was that all I was to you—just another person you could talk to?"

Oikawa winced at your words. "(y/n), I—I... of course not! You're worth more than that to me!" there was a shaky exhale, and a quick intake of air right after. You figured that he was choking on his own fought back sobs. "I... I'm sorry but I just miss you so, so, so much."

This time, you tried looking him in the eye—and all you could see was a mirror of your own pain. His ears were already red, indicating the emotions he was holding back on you—a trait of his that you can't seem to forget.

"There's a difference between missing someone and missing having someone, Oikawa." He flinched at how much you tried to put distance between the two of you for calling him that way. Oikawa tried to answer but you continued, "I, for one, miss you because I..." you gasped, letting the tears stream down your face. "Because I never stopped loving you, Tooru."

Oikawa was frozen in his seat, watching you as you harshly wiped tear streaks from your face, finishing your drink then gathering your things and standing up to leave. You quickly walked away without looking back, and that was the only time the brunette finally found how to move his limbs. He was so at a loss that he forgot his own unfinished drink on the bench.

"W-Wait, (y/n)-chan! (y/n)," Oikawa chased after you, unable to control his own strength once he grabbed your arm, making all your things fall to the grass. You pull your arm away but he holds you by the shoulders.

"Why are you leaving? I'm not going to push you away anymore, (y/n)." His grip on you got tighter, as if he was restraining himself from pulling you close to him and capturing your body in his. 

You look down, avoiding his stare, seeing red spider lilies once more by your feet where your things were scattered. 

His hands slide down to grasp your hands in his. They're still as warm as I remember them to be. 

"...Real feelings don't just go away."

"So why did you let me leave?" Your lips trembled, voice coming out in a whisper, voice cracking in the end. 

"(y/n), I know that what I did and said was wrong. I let my pride get in the way between us; I let my sadness eat me away." His hands were shaking now, a bit sweaty too. He sniffed, "You saw the messed up parts of me and stayed. But I was a jerk, a big asshole, for pushing you away. It was selfish of me... I... I didn't see that my in-actions would cause us to fall apart."

To your surprise, he pulled you in, burying his face near the crook of your neck. You could feel something wet seep into your shirt. "My biggest mistake was thinking I could live without you."

"But... I can see you're doing well now without me. Because you only waited this long to try and reach me? Why now when you could've done it before?" 

Oikawa hugs you tighter, shaking his head. "I just don't want to lose you; not again, not anymore. I love you (y/n), I never did stop."

Soon, he pulls away, eyes searching yours. You look up at him, and he wipes the tears from your face. "Can I be selfish one last time? Please give me another chance—I'll make it up to you."

You all but gently removed his touch from yours, and suddenly the air around you grew cold. 

"Tooru, I... I love you, I miss you, I forgive you. It was nice meeting you but... I don't think I'm ready to open my heart for you again. Maybe not now. Maybe not ever. Because I've made up my mind long ago to love you from afar."

You smiled softly and used the back of your hand to wipe his tears. Then, you stood on your tiptoes and placed a peck to his nose before turning away. 

Oikawa could only watch in silence at your retreating figure, wondering if this was the best thing for one or both of you. Everything now was even more unsure for him; except for the fact that a new-found determination sprang in his chest. 

Oikawa Tooru was going to win your heart back, no matter what it takes.

[guileheroine]

a sky full of song

Korra, princess of the Water Kingdoms, receives a gift from her blacksmith friend on the auspicious winter festival. Korrasami royalty AU 🏰🤍🕯️ / My piece for the @korrasami-valentine-exchange (assignment: Date A) / 4.2k / ao3

“The wedding of the Earth Prince, yes, on the solstice. But it’s an opportune moment for a longer tour, we don’t want to waste the journey. I’m afraid your father can’t afford it, and before you ask, I’ve been conferring with your mother’s office. And frankly, I’m loath to request it of her after…” 

Councillor Panak trailed off as Korra hurried him along with a gesture of the hand. He pushed his eyeglass up his nose and took her eye seriously. “To the point, then—what do you say?”

Korra was tapping her foot under the meeting table. Prince Wu, if she recalled, was equally as intolerable as old Hou-Ting, the spirits bless his poor betrothed. But the prospect of a fortnight around the Earth Kingdom, with its delicious fare and diverse landscapes… that made her much more amenable to the whole idea. 

“Around the solstice, huh? Alright. Why not.”  It was a way off. She had time to arrange her retinue and her schedule as efficiently as possible for maximum enjoyment.

“...That means a tour to the Earth Empire in the spring—or summer, if Her Royal Highness prefers it?”

“Oh, spring,” Korra said in a rush. “Spring. I’m not sure I can do Earthen summers.”  

Panak smiled quite kindly at that, and nodded at his scribe to jot it down. Korra returned his smile. They really were getting along better. It was nice. This meeting was also stretching much farther into the evening than she had understood it would.

“Are we done, then?” Korra stood before he answered, and he scrambled to his feet after her. “Perfect!” 

The Lotus Guard at the doorway didn’t so much as blink as she pushed the heavy door open and went out. He was one of the older men, having been here long before the war, and quite accustomed to her ways.

Once Korra was out in the foyer, she raced. Her quarters, and her next appointment, were in the other wing of the palace, but she had promised to go see her mother first for a few minutes before the Queen went to bed. The winter sun was long gone; all the windows she skipped past were dark, torchlight gleaming on the icy sills. In the halls, on the other hand, the air was bright as frost, festive. She wove around decorators from all over Agna Qel’a hanging new crystalwork along the old bead tapestries and tying berry wreaths around the tall pillars. Down the stairs, in the main hall, the humongous fires that burnt uninterrupted over the winter lit the place generously. As she sped through, headed for the opposite staircase, Korra caught the eye of one of the housekeepers.

“Mina! Mina, are you busy?” She took the girl’s arm, whose eyes goggled, alarmed only at the princess’s sudden appearance but unperturbed by her familiar ways. “Could you go to the kitchen and send for some tea to my apartment? Milk and honey for me—and some of whatever black blend is left, what my blacksmith friend likes. They’ll know. Thank you!” 

When she turned to continue, she was immediately waylaid by one of the ice sculptors. 

“Your Highness! A moment.” 

Just a moment to breathe was exactly what it took for Korra to finally notice the centerpiece of the hall: an elaborate sculpture-fountain of Yue. The moon and ocean spirits hovered above each of her hands, water pouring in gentle arcs out of their gaping mouths. 

Korra’s father was pulling out all the stops for Yue’s Day. She knew, for her part, that it was a private gesture for the Queen, newly returned from a long diplomatic engagement with the northern Air court. Korra stood at attention for the sculptor, whose fingerless gloves allowed him to bend with especial precision.

“Should her hair run—” he said, bending Yue’s locks of ice into free-flowing rivulets, “or stand arrested?” Another curl of his palm froze them again.

“Freeze them. More volume!” Korra said, thinking of her mother, who always grumbled about her limp hair. Then she was on her way to the Queen’s chambers, and then her own. 

“I got your tea. Hi, princess.” 

Korra’s blacksmith friend took a pointed sip when she finally entered her drawing room. Asami’s smirk was hidden behind the glassy cup, and her hair was wet. One of Korra’s towels was slung over the back of her seat—one of the nice ones with the finely embroidered monogram.

“Asami. Sorry I’m late!” Korra slumped onto her divan, sending one of the cushions flying onto the carpet. “It’s good to see you.” She took a moment to catch her breath before picking the cushion up, sitting comfortably and grasping for the tray on the table.

“Don’t worry about it,” Asami said, moving the cup from her mouth, the smirk finally melting off. She pushed the tray into Korra’s reach. “I’m done for the day. A couple of the apprentices are closing up shop for the very first time.” Her brows waggled.

“Impressive! But still, thanks for coming. I know you’re working hard.” 

“We had an appointment, right? And—” Asami grinned and stretched, pulling her warm wools tighter around her “nothing like the thought of a royal shower at the end of the day to get you through it, you know?”

Korra rolled her eyes. The staff knew to let Asami into Korra’s apartments, and even if she could tell they were a little reticent about her using the princess’s bath and vanity, they of course said nothing. The dogs more or less dragged Asami in through the gates every time she came by the palace, and by order of the princess, they were the ones that decided things in her absence. 

Asami scrutinised the tray from the kitchen carefully before picking out a little moon pastry. “How was your meeting?” She took a bite, attentive both to the pastry and Korra. 

“Looks like I’m going on tour to the Earth Kingdom in the spring,” Korra told her. She wasn’t surprised to see Asami’s brow spring up, and her taste-testing pause. 

“What, all over?” 

It was a town in the Earth Kingdom that Asami originally hailed from, before she travelled to the Fire Empire with her father, an innovator in the art of war. After the war’s end and the subsequent reunification of the Water Kingdoms, the newly humbled Sun Emperor had gifted King Tonraq an ancient forge for the royal armoury as a token of good faith and cultural exchange. Korra remembered how it had taken several pulleys, and days, for it to be transported into place in one of the main avenues in the city. They had set up a house around it for a new smith to eventually train locals in the foreign art. Asami—skilled as a metalworker, but bereft of a livelihood and a family after her father’s foundries were shut down—had decided to venture north to start afresh. She vied for the position and won it handily.

Korra glanced at her long. “You could come with me, you know. Take a vacation, if you manage to get this new shop set up in time. I’m sure you’ve trained all your underlings well.”

“We’re getting there,” Asami said vaguely. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”  

Korra was musing, recumbent with her feet up now. “I must warn you, t’s for the wedding of the Queen’s nephew. They’re a lot stuffier in the Earth kingdom. All the pomp and pageantry,” she clarified. “I’m not looking forward to that part.”

“I’ll bet.” Asami gave her a sympathetic smile.

Sitting pretty in formal assemblies, she did not enjoy. Peace was harder than war, in a lot of ways. At least it was for Korra, who had been right at home as a strategist commanding the bending battalions in the few Fire Empire skirmishes that had reached the north. Or as a captain fending off the marauding warlords and shaman-kings in the southern fiefs who took advantage of the chaos to arouse the spirits and stage deadly rebellions. Her leadership, covert though it was, had played no small part in subduing the northern theater and paving the way for all the ancient Water tribes to be reunified under Agna Qel’a and her father’s leadership. The lasting peace of the years since had proven they were stronger together. Just as it had proven that the Princess’s patience for peacetime bureaucracy needed a good deal of practice. 

“You should come. We’ll do you up as my retainer so you get a salary. I might need you to keep me straight.” 

Asami was good at that, blowing off steam after long, boring days. The mellowness of the warmth, nothing like that of her forge, evened Korra’s mood like little else. 

“Oh, so you want me to drop everything and trail you around as a handmaiden?” 

Korra scoffed, embarrassed. “Well, don’t put it like that.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Asami sat up. “An Earth royal wedding, huh? Think they’ll let me in?” She picked at the cushion in her lap.

“They will if I have anything to say about it.” Korra yawned. “It’ll be my turn soon enough.” 

“How’s your mother?” Asami said, following her train of thought seamlessly—it was always the queen that pestered Korra about finding a match, good-natured but more earnest than she ever realised she was appearing.  

“Sleeping. She had a long journey back from the Northern Air Temple. Dad’s happy, though. Just casually planning her a ball this weekend for Yue’s Day.” 

“Hey, is that what that business down in the hall is?” Some forgotten curiosity clearly jolted Asami. “There were all these new kayaks moored around the drawbridges when I came through, too.” 

Korra nodded, while tentative recognition continued to filter into Asami’s expression. It was easy to forget Asami had been here nary a year. But she had, and it had been a busy year too, with little time for exploration, per her own frequent complaints. “You know about it, right?” When Asami shrugged evasively, Korra explained, “It falls on the day of the first full moon after the winter solstice. Yue was a princess of legend—our ancestor, apparently—who became the moon spirit.”

Asami sat forward. She loved tales like this, and listened to them like she was being entrusted a secret.

“We’ve celebrated it as long as anyone remembers, but the festival is supposed to usher good fortune and fertility. I think that’s why it became a couples thing.” Korra didn’t think much of that. “But, well, the idea is to spend the evening under the full moon, which is why all the kayaks are out. Really, everyone just needs an excuse to liven up the winter!” 

“That I understand,” Asami said wryly, ill accustomed to the polar night. “Yeah, I went to the market in town to pick up some new gloves and they had stalls and stalls of new fare. Jewelry, wind chimes, furs.” 

Korra sat up, conspiratorial. “I bet at least one of your new proteges will sneak you a little gift. I get messages every year. Mostly upstarts, but some cute ones, too.” 

When Asami had first been appointed as the blacksmith, Korra was uncertain what a girl her age was doing heading up an official royal undertaking like that, with all its bells and whistles. When she arrived at a welcome dinner with her family, Korra found her altogether too precious, and definitely not deserving of the private summons and the White Lotus escort. Especially not when the whole rigmarole was keeping Korra from her planned retreat to the kennels for the evening, where, in the end, the strapping night guards were giggling and blushing about the new blacksmith.

At her father’s behest, Korra had put on her most functional anorak and taken Asami some cakes, conserves and newly dried jerky from the palace a couple weeks after their meeting. He insisted it was a part of the Princess’s duty to look after someone in their employ so new to the land—a girl her own age no less. Down in the city, the townsfolk were pleased to see Korra as she made her way to the workshop, but no one made a fuss (unless they were young and excitable already), unlike what she had heard of the other Kingdoms, larger and loftier as they were. She wondered if Asami the Blacksmith liked that about here, or found it lacked decorum, as Korra knew some folk abroad definitely did. 

Asami had a study above the forge, from which she dealt with its administration, and living quarters on the next storey. These were yet lonely and sparse, but not completely devoid of homely touches, as though she would have spruced them up if she only had the opportunity. Korra noticed well-kept shrubs and a vivid landscape on the wall; then Asami came and curtseyed deep and pulled off her apron. 

She was willowy and beautiful under the gear and the soot (over it, too, to be honest), which endeared and repelled Korra in fairly equal measure, ultimately leaving her as indifferent as ever.

“My parents and Lord Arnook want to know how you’re getting on.” Lord Arnook was the esteemed keeper of the royal armoury, and he liked Asami just as much as everyone else did.

A flicker of sadness—shame?—crossed her face, then she put her hand on the table. “Won’t you sit? Your Highness. Let me bring you something hot first.”

Asami lit the fire in the blink of an eye and stoked it without watching, like it was the back of her hand. She had some bread in the pantry, over which she spread the aqpik jam Korra had delivered her. Korra watched her as she boiled the water. Her skirt was heavy, probably to insulate from the heat and cold alike, but it fell flatteringly from her height; and her long hair, which had flown in waves in a foreign style at dinner, was pinned into a practical bun. She made a sharp, fragrant tea she had brought from the continent. Her eyes lit up unexpectedly when Korra bent her own cup to cool it.

“Ah, I love seeing that,” she cooed. “I suppose I’m still not used to it. The other elements don’t bend like that. And I hear you have great skill.”      

Korra’s own smile came too quick for her to suppress. “Who told you that, the King?” Then she regarded her keenly. So, how are you... Do you need anything? Do the men from the quarry treat you okay?” 

“Oh, everyone here is… They’re very warm. Makes up for the chill,” Asami laughed.

It was a line so hackneyed that gritting through it was itself a country-wide inside joke. But this calm and rosy girl injected fresh, charmless charm into it. Maybe everything was charming if someone this winsome did it. After that, Korra softened considerably.

“They are,” she replied, with no small amount of pride. A sudden shame crept up her chest, that she probably couldn’t count herself among those nice people that had made Asami feel welcome. 

Then Asami swallowed and the colour of her voice changed. “I miss my home, though. I know this job is more kindness than I deserve, after what we did but… It is a little lonely here.” She confirmed what Korra had already deduced, mostly because she knew the feeling all too well. “I guess I just don’t have a lot of time to go and make friends after work.”

Korra didn’t doubt that; it was hard, physical work. The one or two times she’d witnessed it, the clang rang in her ears for hours afterwards. She wouldn’t have pegged a girl like this for it. Asami reminded her more of some of the young ladies she knew from her old classes, when all the children around the court would be dumped into the royal healing hut together for some hands-on learning.

“Have you been beyond the city yet? The land out there… that’s our land. This is just a fortress.” 

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to,” Asami said, wistful. “Pretty sure I can’t go on foot though.”

“Well, if… if you don’t know anyone else, I could take you. I have the best dogs in the Four Kingdoms.”

Before the month was up, Korra had sent a commission to the Queen’s personal seamstress for some sealskin gloves and winter-grade furs. She gifted them to Asami on her birthday. “You need these anyway, I think, but you’ll definitely need them where we’re going.” And that night, Korra took her to see the aurora. 

There was a hamlet a few miles north of Agna Qel’a where Korra knew the elderly chief and had asked her for passage to an outcrop in their territory, after divining the well kept secret that it was one of the prime spots for watching the sky dance. Asami, enchanted, never took her eyes off it—so unflinching that Korra almost began to feel envious of the lights.   

It became a routine. Korra knew every inch of her realm. If a diplomatic mission sent her to one tribe or settlement, she would be sure to take a day or two exploring the local country before she returned to the capitol. It had been a great boon when the southern tribes first came under their stewardship. The Princess spent time in every village, took interest in their land and in their lore; met challenges of the wilds and the weather with hunger, and any unknowns thereof with abiding curiosity. She knew what to wear, which sled or boat to take. When to find the rarest whale pods before they went south; where the starriest cliffs were, and the sunniest lakes.

All of which impressed Asami a great deal, and that made Korra happier than most things. And no worse were the days they spent in her apartments going over the sordid palace gossip, or in her apartments tracing old scars by lamplight, healing them word by gentle word. 

On Yue’s Day, Korra stopped by to see various palace aides located around the city with customary gifts. In a castle town, there were plenty with such connections, and she relished the ruddy smiles, quick drinks, and flustered curtsies she received in turn. She saved Asami for last, because Asami had asked for some time together. Korra entered the smithy by the front, her senses clogging with immediate heat. Two of the apprentices were there: one of them gaped while the other barely blinked. 

“Asami? I come bearing punch… and those moon pastries you like!”

She commenced the usual ritual of announcing her presence over the steam and noise while peeling off all but a couple of her layers, when Asami emerged out of the back. She was squeezing her hands together in excitement.

“No, no, no, don’t,” she urged, a gleam in her eyes like the blades that hung behind her, “we’re going somewhere.” 

A few minutes later, they were walking along the main canal under the sparkling lights, milling through the townspeople. A fresh drift crunched beneath their boots. In a few more, they were alighting one of the kayaks in the dock.

Asami faced her and paddled like a natural; and naturally, Korra gaped. 

“Do not tell me you haven’t done this before!”

Asami’s tongue stuck out in concentration as she suppressed a giggle, but her limbs moved with finesse. “Just the once. So far. Don’t be distracting me.” 

“I won’t let us capsize,” Korra assured her. 

Eventually, Asami settled into her rhythm, and the canal carried them out of the city, past all the lights. The banks of glass-cut brick gave way to a more jagged channel littered with pack ice at its mouth, floating blue and still. Korra gripped the edge of the kayak, not for any physical comfort. A crackling anticipation, and an unnameable fondness both, were welling and welling in her with every mundane word they shared.

When they disembarked on the lake’s other edge, the ice was landfast: a ghostly field glowing under the full moon. 

Korra knew this place, but she had scarcely been here in the middle of winter, when the ice field extended endlessly, as vast as the sky. As they tramped across the snow, she began to wonder what Asami’s surprise was. There wasn’t much for a mile in any direction.

“We should sit for this,” Asami said, pointedly ignoring Korra’s prying questions.

The wind had kicked the snow up into berms along the field. Korra froze one so it was sturdy enough to perch on. Then Asami took her pack, and pulled out some plain tubes of parchment; nothing Korra would have looked at twice, although she didn’t know what they were.

“What’s in there?” She said.

“Some of my metals, some of my salts,” Asami replied enigmatically, almost sing-song. “Wait here.”

She heaved herself off the berm, ran several yards towards the horizon and stooped. She planted the tubes, and did something else Korra couldn’t see, though she thought she recognised the bright filigree on the cover of the pocket matchbook Asami carried everywhere.

When Asami had trundled back and sat again, Korra crossed her arms and laughed, bemused, her humour ebbing. “Are you going to tell me what’s going—”  

BOOM!

Korra gasped, startled out of her words. She would have fallen from the perch if Asami didn’t catch her around the waist, giggling blithely all the while— 

A wheel of light bloomed in the sky like a flower, dazzling and surreal. All the colours of the aurora—except they were peals of crystal fire, pouring out like diamonds before disappearing into the smoky air. Another wheeled up after it with a strange whirr, before it exploded into a glittering shower, and more in succession.

They reminded Korra of the spirit hales in the heart of the wilds, and even deeper in a buried memory, of the Fire explosives some of the raiders had once set off on the Southern Sea. Except these were brighter—and safer, because Asami had made them.  

Korra looked to her when they had died, beaming under the mitten that covered her mouth in shock. “Are there more?”

To her eternal delight, there were more. New flowers sprouting on the celestial vault, they would be burned in her memory forever.

“They’re no aurora,” Asami said, while Korra scoffed and slung her arms around her, huddling for the cold and the buzz. Under her embrace, and half her weight, Asami looked chuffed. “But I thought they might liven up your night.”

Korra cupped her earmuff, then her cheek. “Thank you. This is the best day I’ve had all winter.” 

Asami’s pyrotechnical skills didn’t even surprise her, but that could hardly diminish the sheer majesty, and novelty, of the display. Even minutes later, Korra could hardly believe what she had seen.

“Well, I couldn’t let you be the only show-off around here.” Asami smiled. Then the smile dropped from her eyes and she hesitated, like she couldn’t let that sit for an explanation. “Korra. I wanted to do something special. You’ve made me feel at home here in a way I never imagined. And I’m just a smith, from the Fire Empire!” 

Korra felt her eyes water and blinked the tears back quickly, because they would ice and sting in the bitter air. She bit the smile off her lips. “You’re not just anything. You’re a terrific handmaiden.”

She snorted as Asami shoved her off and reached for her pack again.

 “One more thing. I thought it might be too smokey for this after all those incendiaries, but it’s worth a shot anyway.”

This time Korra recognised the device she emerged with. It was made of two cylinders, and the mechanism that held them together spun smoothly like the spokes of a wheel. She handed it to Korra, who held the spyglass up.

A field of stars materialised. Korra held her breath. 

The stars were luminous at the poles, but she had never seen them like this, and for the first time they felt close enough to touch, invoking a bracing, irrepressible wonder. In silence, she gazed.

“The moon spirit leads all the stars out tonight, right?”

Asami had done her research. Korra turned back to her. “So they say.” She hooked her arm through Asami’s, and held her hand. With the spyglass still to her eye, she let her head fall against Asami’s bundled shoulder.

“Tired, princess?”

Korra rustled her breath, long-suffering. “Why do you call me that!” 

The way Asami said it—like it was something of her own decree, and not that of ten thousand years of tradition and some profoundly sacred doctrines. There was a sweet and strange tug in Korra’s belly whenever it happened, and this time, tonight, it lingered longer than ever.

“‘Cause you’re a piece of work,” Asami said, trying to interlace their thick, mittened fingers, which required some effort.

Tentatively, Korra turned the spyglass to the moon herself. She winced— it glared straight back, too bright. Maybe another night, when it wasn’t Yue’s Day. 

Yue’s Day. She now held the thought delicately in her chest, as if she wanted to guard it from the wind and chill. If Asami loved her—were to love her—there were several reasons not to say it. They both knew them, whether they had turned them over consciously or not. 

But the risk of showing was low. And the reward, as her own euphoric mood tonight proved, was magnificent.