#because he's so lost and confused and there's only one constant in this entire mess

[princesskenny1998]

One Piece | Monkey D. Luffy x CurlyHaired!f!reader ~ Goddess

It was one of those rare, warm afternoons where the sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden light over the bustling market of the small, lively island you had docked at. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, vendors hawking their wares, and the rhythmic murmur of waves hitting the nearby shore. You were on Luffy-duty, a task that had become familiar every time the crew stopped on a new island. Luffy had an uncanny ability to wander off, get himself into trouble, or eat his way through entire stalls if left unchecked. It was your job today to keep him out of any unnecessary messes, though you had already resigned yourself to the fact that some trouble was inevitable.

With your braid pulled tight, as usual, you followed Luffy as he darted from stall to stall, his eyes wide with wonder and his mouth constantly chattering about the next cool thing he spotted. You kept your distance, knowing that if you got too close he’d drag you into whatever antics he was planning. But that didn’t mean you weren’t watching him like a hawk, ready to intervene when necessary.

The market was lively, and you could feel the heat gathering under the sun. Absentmindedly, you ran a hand over the back of your head to make sure your braid was still in place. It was such a habit at this point, making sure your hair was neatly contained.

Your hair had always been a point of insecurity—the wild, unruly curls were a constant reminder of your childhood, the teasing and bullying that had followed you everywhere because of it. You’d learned long ago that straightening it, braiding it, and keeping it under control was the only way to avoid those whispers and snickers.

Lost in thought, you didn't notice when the tie holding your braid snapped. You didn’t hear the soft ping as it hit the cobblestones or feel the gentle loosening of the hair that had always been tightly bound.

By the time you noticed something was wrong, you were already trailing behind Luffy through a side street, the faint tug of your hair falling out of the braid finally catching your attention. Your hand flew up, fingers brushing through strands that had started to escape their confines, but it was already too late. Your hair, free of its constraints, was slowly springing back into its natural, bouncy state. With each step you took, the braid loosened, until, with a soft rustle, it all came undone, spilling around your shoulders in wild, soft curls.

You froze, panic surging in your chest as you realized what had happened. Luffy, who was a few feet ahead of you, had already stopped, turning to look back when he noticed you weren’t right behind him.

“Oi!” he called, his voice bright and carefree. “What’s taking you so—?”

His words died off as he caught sight of you, and you could see the surprise flicker across his face, his eyes widening. Your breath caught, and you instinctively reached up to gather your hair back, trying to hide the curls you hated so much, but Luffy’s reaction stopped you cold.

His expression wasn’t confused or judgmental. It was... amazed. His eyes were wide, and a slow, fascinated smile spread across his face, the kind of smile he got when he stumbled across something truly incredible—like treasure or a rare, exotic meat. He took a step forward, his eyes locked on your hair, and you froze, too shocked to move.

“Whoa...” Luffy’s voice was quiet, almost reverent. He reached out, his fingers hovering just inches from your unruly curls as if asking for permission. “Your hair... it’s... it’s amazing!”

You stared at him, utterly bewildered, your hands half-lifted as you tried to process what he was saying. “W-What?” you stammered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “No, it’s not. It’s—”

“It’s awesome,” he interrupted, his grin growing wider, brighter. Before you could stop him, his fingers gently threaded through a loose curl, his touch light and curious. You watched, stunned, as he pulled the curl down gently, only to watch it spring back into place the moment he let go. He laughed, delighted by the way it bounced back, and did it again, this time leaning in closer to inspect it.

“I’ve never seen hair like this before, even Usopps and Brooks is different,” he said, his voice filled with genuine wonder. “It’s so... wild!” He tugged another curl, his eyes following the way it moved, completely absorbed.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a mix of disbelief and uncertainty tangling together as you watched him. “It’s... it’s a mess,” you said, your voice cracking slightly, but Luffy just looked at you like you’d said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“No way!” he said, shaking his head vigorously, still playing with the ends of your hair. “It’s not a mess at all. It’s...” He paused, tilting his head as if searching for the right word. “...beautiful.”

You stared at him, the word echoing in your mind as if you couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. Beautiful? Your hair? The same curls that had been the source of so much teasing and insecurity? You felt something inside you soften, a warmth spreading through your chest that you couldn’t control. No one had ever said that before—not about your natural hair, not about the part of you you had always tried to hide.

Luffy’s fingers were still moving gently through your hair, playing with it like he couldn’t get enough, his expression filled with genuine curiosity and joy. He was treating it like something precious, and the way he looked at you—with open admiration—made your heart skip a beat.

“Why do you always keep it tied up?” he asked, his voice softer now as he met your eyes, his hand still gently twirling a curl between his fingers. “I like it better like this. It’s... it’s so much more you.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked down, feeling the sting of old insecurities rise up, only to be drowned out by the warmth in Luffy’s gaze. “I... I don’t like it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s too wild. It’s... I got made fun of for it when I was a kid.”

Luffy’s expression shifted, a flicker of confusion and concern crossing his face. “What?” he said, his tone almost indignant. “Why would anyone make fun of it? They’re crazy! Your hair’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!” He said it with such fierce conviction, such simple honesty, that you felt the weight of your old fears start to crumble, just a little.

“Luffy...” you started, feeling a lump form in your throat, but he just grinned, his fingers gently combing through your hair, smoothing down the curls with a tenderness you didn’t expect.

“Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks,” he said, his voice light but earnest, his eyes bright and clear. “I think you look like a goddess.” His fingers lingered for a moment longer before he pulled back slightly, his grin widening. “And that’s good enough for me!”

You blinked, stunned, your cheeks burning as you tried to process his words. You looked into his face—his open, earnest expression, the sheer delight in his eyes as he admired your curls, and the gentle way he held you like you were something precious. It made you want to believe him, to let go of all the fears that had kept you hiding behind tight braids and straighteners.

He tugged on another curl, watching it spring back with an almost childlike fascination. “You shouldn’t hide it,” he said again, his voice softer, like he was sharing a secret. “You look amazing like this... I could look at you all day.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest, and you laughed—nervous and giddy all at once—feeling something inside you release. Luffy was still grinning, completely captivated, his fingers still tangled in your wild curls as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

Maybe you could start believing him. Maybe you didn’t need to hide anymore. And maybe, just maybe, your wild hair wasn’t something you had to hate.

After all, if Luffy—your captain, your friend, the man who saw the world in the brightest and most honest light—thought you looked like a goddess... maybe it was time to start seeing yourself that way too.

[matrixxsystem]

Boots With The Spurs (the real first chapter)

"Turn left here."

"Where?"

"Just- Up here, left- Left! Your other left!"

"Don't yell at me!"

"Then don't miss the turn!"

"Do you wanna drive?"

"I would but I can't!"

"Well-! Oh.. S-Sorry Don.."

"..It's fine.. just... You stick to driving and I'll stick to giving directions okay big guy?"

"Yeah... Okay.." The drive seemed to take forever, going from New York all the way to "the middle of nowhere" wasn't exactly around the block. Donnie glanced back to where Mikey was sitting, a Jupiter Jim comic in metal hands Donnie had loaned him while his were still recovering. Leo was sitting next to him, watching Mikey read to him doing his signature voices for all the characters. There was a faint smile on his face but it was overcast by the dark circles under his eyes and the bandages covering his limbs. Everyone still had injuries that were hearing but Leos took the most time considering he got the worst of it.. Well, him and Raph really. Raph was another case, it had only been four years since the "Kraang incident" and everyone seemed to be dealing with their own aftershocks even now. 

Leo lost his arm coming through the portal back to Earth, his mind was a mess, constantly having nightmares and losing sleep over his memories. Raph lost his right eye, and split a new alter from the time he was possessed by the Kraangs parasites. Donnie suffered severe nerve damage in his back that sometimes flared enough to cause seizures, Leaving him bedridden, sometimes for days. And Mikey's carpal tunnel got worse, with mild Tendinopathy added to his diagnosis only meaning he wasn't able to use his hands half as much as he'd like to. He could hardly hold a pair of chopsticks long enough to finish a meal before his hands started to cramp up. But they all helped each other through it, they all took turns playing nurse and making sure their family was okay. Or as okay as they could be at least.. The final straw that made them want to leave the city was when Splinter passed away and Leo had a minor mental breakdown. They all decided to go somewhere they didn't have to hide. Somewhere quiet, without the constant reminders of everything they'd lost or the constant threat of danger. With the NYC foot clan disbanded there was less crime, and less reason for them to patrol or try to be heros there. "This is it." Donnie said as he pointed to a driveway that was coming up. "Decrease speed and proceed into the driveway." 

"On it, so.. This is like... A house big enough for all a' us right?"

"Something like that. But fret not, I have a plan to make sure its able to accommodate all of our needs." Raph parked the car, everyone perked up now that they'd stopped moving. Mikey rushed to open the door, excited to see what their new home was going to be like. He expression quickly went from ecstatic to confused. "Dee.. Are we at the right place? This one looks... Janky"

"It is 'Janky' Michael, it's a large plot of land I only managed to get for cheap because of it's quote unquote 'Jankyness' so.."

"It's not janky, it's just a fixer upper is all! Nothin' a lil elbow grease and.. uh... Regular grease can't fix!" Leo got up last, following everyone out of the turtle tank. The overgrown grass and weeds, the dirt road beneath his feet, the warm breeze against his back.. "Raph as fun as this brotherly DIY project sounds, were all seriously injured and none of us can hold or lift anything long enough to repair the front door  let alone this entire house. This is a job for my tech.. The last job for them..." He took out a remote from his pocket and pressed a few buttons, dozens of small robots sprung from the tank and ran towards the house. Scanners covered the house, barn, and even the yard. Then they took a moment to calculate before they started humming with energy. 

"Donnie..?"

"They're supposed to sound like they're about to blow up, the internal motors are half the size of their exoskeletons to give them extra power. Just sit back and be amazed." A few took to the lawn, what looked like a mouth turning into spinning blades that trimmed and seemed to eat the grass. Others went to the house, and started repairing the wood, spewing resin and metal threads, gnawing the broken wood into clean cuts and merging them with the spun material. Others did the same with the barn. And the last few flung themselves into drains and pipes, cleaning them from the inside. They all came together, mixing the materials they'd harvested and made it into paint, coating the house and barn. And after five minutes the house looked brand new, like they were transported to a completely different place.

Donnie gently clapped his hands together and the robots disappeared into the house, "Alright fam, we have two hours, sixteen minutes and forty three seconds till the sun sets. As long as you stay on the property you are free to do at you please, but be reminded there are wild animals and birds of prey about and I won't have a foolproof fence up and running till the bots are finished recharging. Mikey's ordering dinner for us when he feels up to the task and we will be calling first dibs on rooms with the usual exception that the biggest one goes to Raph and I get one downstairs." 

Leo glanced between them with a nod, "I'm uh.. I just wanna sit out here for a bit, stretch my legs and all if it's cool with you." 

"In the grass? I mean, suit yourself but take a shower when you get inside cause, eugh, dirt.."

"Donnie don't you love gardening?"

"Ironic isnt it?" 

"Oh oh I want to pick my room! C'mon Red let's go see what it looks like on the inside!" Raph took Mikey's hand and let himself be pulled into the house, Donnie was busy walking the perimeter and taking measurements, just his usual nerd stuff. Leo went and sat in the grass, it looked faded and dead, but it wasn't as scratchy as it looked, it was actually kind of soft.. He felt another warm breeze and laid back, one arm behind his head as he looked up at the sky. It was so quiet compared to the city, no cars, busses, or trains. No one shouting or promoting anything in the streets. Not even the constant chatter of birds and various stray animals. Sure everything ached, but breathing the fresh country air made that pain seem so small. 

"Leo- Hey, Leoo"

...

"Jesus Crimmity Leo get up before you catch a disease-"

Leo opened his eyes and suddenly the sky was dark. He saw Donnie standing over him with an unamused expression. "Oh.. Hey Dee... I uh"

"You fell asleep. It's fine but maybe do it inside the house next time? Kay?"  Leo rolled his eyes as Donnie offered his hand to help Leo up. He knew by now as much as he didn't want to admit it that he needed to accept defeat. He took Donnie's hand and stood up, "Thanks. What did Mike end up getting for dinner?" 

"You'll see, just get inside before something eats you"

"Pfft.. Okay"

Leo headed inside, opening the door to reveal a surprisingly nice place..? A few feet ahead was a straight staircase leading to the second floor. To the right was a open archway into a decently sized kitchen with an island counter and everything they needed, well, except the food but all the appliances were there! To the left was probably going to be the living room, right now it was pretty empty but it wouldn't take love for Donnie to fill each corner with a plant or Mikey to staple his art to the walls and make it look more lived in. He could see it now, how lively this place would be once they settled in and started their usual shenanigan's.. What were their usual shenanigan's again? He rubbed his eyes trying to think back to why they even left New York in the first place.. He knew his dad passed away but that wasn't the only reason right? 

"Hey Leo! Come check out our rooms!!" Leo snapped out of his thoughts and saw Mikey waving at him from the top of the stairs. He smiled a little and put his hand on the railing heading up to see what the commotion was about. 

"Alright alright I'm coming! Which rooms did you guys pick?" Mikey was practically bounding in place as he waited for Leo to reach the top, widely gesturing to a door that already had an Encanto style sketch scribbled onto the front. "This is my room! It had the best lighting for art! Raphs is the one across from yours over there!" He walked past him pointing to the door with a small blue sticker stuck on at eye height, on the left side of the hall, the back of the house. Then to the door on the right with several red stickers. "Donnie says the one next to mine can be his too so he has a room up here to store stuff, but dont worry that's why he gets the small one hehehe" Leo nodded a little, opening the door to his room, it had a bed, classic. Some empty shelves, a small dresser and two boxes which were presumably his stuff from the tank. He looked back to Mikey who stood in the doorway, still looking so excited he might combust or something. "Soooo? What do you think?" 

"I think.." He shrugged and put his hand on Mikey's shoulder, "It's nice. Really. I can't wait to put it all together, maybe you could make some posters to liven the place up a bit when you're up for it?" 

"Ohhh that's a good idea! Yes! Well need one with cats, and one with lasers! And one with a cat, shooting lasers!!" Leo let out a little chuckle, Mikey always had the craziest ideas..

"Hey Donnie said you took care of dinner, so what're we having?" 

"He didn't tell you? That silly goose, I got some stew from some local restaurant. The.. The Fancy Phrog or something idunno, but it's really good! The dining room is through the kitchen, or there's a hall behind the stairs that goes there too so, take your pick! I'm gonna see if Raph wants seconds"

Leo nodded and left after Mikey, heading downstairs and taking a right to see the rest of the house on his way. The living room had a bookshelf and a long couch, a few of the robots from earlier had formed a monkey chain and were passing books from a box up to the bot who was neatly placing them on the shelf. There were a total of three rooms in that hallway, one was a full bathroom on the left, then Donnie's lab/room in the middle, and a spare room that they had agreed would be their medbay across from the archway to the back of the dining room. Donnie was sitting at the table, he didn't have his phone like he usually would, not even a tablet or projector.. Instead he had a notepad and a pen scribbling something down with one hand while he ate with the other. Leo took the blue bowl that hadn't been filled yet and served himself from the container on the table. "Watcha writing there..?"

"Code.."

"... Okay .. For what?"

"A sentient tractor"

"I'm sorry what!?"

"Kidding. Sort of.. It is code, but it's... How do I put this in a way a Leo would understand- I want a function that lets the machine assess the situation and use variables to determine the best course of action, but the parameters for those variables isn't set in stone, so it needs to be able to adapt and understand a vast blanket of skills to have a full and accurate assessment.."

"...Okay so, a robot with opinions?"

"Sure, well go with that." 

Leo shrugged and ate his food, he was never a big fan of vegetables but the stew was pretty damn good.. His mind wandered back to why they were there in the first place, it was something unpleasant for sure but why couldn't he remember? He looked back up at Donnie, "Hey... This is.. It's gonna sound stupid but can I ask you something?"

"That's never stopped you before."

"Oh ha ha, but seriously, why did we move out here again?" Donnie's hand stopped writing, he looked back at Leo a little confused at first but there was something else too, he was nervous? "You don't recall you're morphine induced rant about wanting to be a 'cowboy baby' or however the Vine goes?"

"..No- But c'mon that can't be the only reason we left the city right? I mean, you guys wouldn't leave everything just cause I randomly blurted out that I wanted to be a cowboy, while I was loopy"

"Well- No that wasn't the only thing that provoked us leaving. But if you don't know the reasons maybe it's better to keep it that way? Your brain might be trying to protect you from information you might not want to know?"

"Oh please, I saw big mama shoot webs from her ass and saw Jericho throw up the special sauce that's used on his food. I think I can handle whatever my brain is worried about!" Donnie sighed, putting his pen down, "Leo, I shouldn't be the one to talk about this really.. But a lot of bad things happened, it was just a constant stream of bad luck and injuries, nearly losing everything, and everyone.. It was bad, so the less you remember the better."

"...But that doesn't answer my question-"

"Then ask someone else! I can't talk about it."

"Can't or won't??"

"Fine. I won't talk about it." Leo huffed and leaned back in the chair. "Ugh... Whatever" Donnie took his bowl and notepad, heading into the kitchen then to his room downstairs. And Leo was alone again. 

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

The next morning rolled around  and it seemed like the only thing to do was unpack, anytime Leo tried to ask Raph about why they were there he was only met with, "Go ask Raph" which really wasn't helping.. When he asked Mikey he was also told to "Go ask Raph" so, it was a lose-lose battle really. Eventually he gave up and finished unpacking his boxes, there really wasn't much besides his knick knacks and comics. Most of his other things were trashed or left behind.. He was older now anyways, a lot of what he kept in his teens just didn't spark joy like they used to. 

He pulled out a string of photo booth pictures with him and what used to be his boyfriend, he scoffed at the pictures but he'd held into them all this time. It showed him, on his twenty first birthday and the guy beside him with his arm around Leo. Some dog yokai with blonde fur and a streak of blue dye in his hair, he had a drink in hand and so did Leo. They looked messy and absolutely trashed, but happy. If he was being honest he didn't remember much of that year or the one before it, but like Mikey says, if you don't remember then maybe it's not worth remembering? He set the pictures down on his dresser and flattened the boxes under his arm, "There's gotta be a way to remember all the stuff I'm missing right..? Maybe Cherry can help.. Leo headed out of his room and downstairs where Mikey had dragged Brick, one of Raphs alters, to play "Downbeat" a game Leo never understood, I mean all you do is shake dice and then yell 'downbeat' it's not very fun in his opinion. "Hey, can you help me Mikey-"

"Downbeat!" 

"Mikey hey-"

"Oh! Hey Leo! You wanna play with us?" 

"I'd rather stick my tail in an anthill, then in a fire- Sorry, no, but I do need your help with something soo.. Can you come here for a sec" Mikey pouted a little but put the dice down and headed into the kitchen with Leo, "What's up? Need help rewrapping your nub?"

"Wha-? No, no this is unrelated to me. I need to talk to Cherry" 

"Well, Brick's fronting right now, it might be rude to ask him to leave?"

"I know, that's why I need your help.. Think maybe you would be down to bake? You get to cook, I get to talk to Cherry, you two get some quality time?" Mikey narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, "I don't know why you need to talk to her, but I do want to break in our new kitchen so.. Fine, I'll do it." Leo smiled and put his hand on Mikey's head ruffling the air where hair would be. "While you do that I'm gonna go see what Dons up to, any idea where hes at?" 

"Yeah uh, he's in his downstairs room, the middle one." Leo nodded and headed through the dining room to get to Donnie's room, he knocked seven times in a special pattern. "Password" 

"Wha-? Donnie, open up I did the special knock"

"Password." Leo sighed and rubbed the bridge between his eyes, "God damnit- Just- Open the goddamn door." After a moment of silence the door opened, "You sir, are no fun."

"It's too early for this."

"It's 11:15."

"My point stands."

"State your business"

"Brotherly shenanigan's."

"For or against?"

"For, it's already in motion"

"Seeking asylum then?"

"Why would I do that with you? No, I'm killing time while I wait for the pay off." 

"Noted. Entry granted." Leo stepped into Donnie's room, a few boxes were stacked along the walls, a table was set up with a chair and one of his forearm crutches leaning against it. Along with a bed on the opposite wall. A potted plant already sat on the table beside a stack of papers. "Getting all settled in are we?" Leo joked as he went and sat on the bed. Donnie gave a little shrug as he sat back in his chair, taking one of the papers off the top of the pile and sketching something out. "Yeah yeah, I know, I should be focused less on causing trouble and more on fixing things up or whatever clever advice you have in mind."

"Well that wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but close enough. You're still healing, not just physically either."

"Whats actually funny, is that you guys keep telling me that I'm healing, but you still won't tell me what I'm healing from- I mean if you're going to lie at least make it convincing"

"Oh what? You want me to break your foot or something?"

"I'm just saying a physical injury is way more of a reason to be bedridden than a mental one"

"Well think of it like your brain being punched, is that a mental image wounded enough to make you stop acting like a dum dum?"

"I didn't come here to get roasted."

"Then you came to the wrong brother, my sanctuary comes at a price, otherwise what would be the means to harbor such a fugitive within my quarters?"

"Ugh, I lose braincells when you start using big words-" Donnie rolled his eyes as he kept writing, it was only quiet for a few more moments before one of the small robots that had rebuilt the house came to his side. They both looked down at the small machine and waited for it to do something. 

It started dancing

Leo looked more and more confused and Donnie just nodded along, "Mhmm, Mhmm, I see" He muttered as the little jig went on. "Oh you can't be serious- Did you actually program them to talk through dance? Just give it a voice box-!"

"Shhh! He's not finished. Please, Stephan, continue."

"Stephan??"

"I said shhh!!" He watched as the robot danced for another minute or so before bowing, Donnie gave a small applause and leaned over to extend his hand, picking the robot up and examining it closely. "Well- Are you gonna tell me what it said?"

"..You're still here?"

"Yes! And I'm being nosey! So what's the deal with that thing?"

"To answer your previous question, yes and no. The dancing itself wasn't the form of communication but it was the steps. The tapping was mores code, he was informing me about the structures that were reformed and the ones that would need to be repaired by hand."

"..Oh?"

"Ill be taking care of it later, thankfully with the long, long drive out here I had plenty of time to rest and gather strength so that I would be able to do a fair amount of physical labor provided my bots were unable or I was unable to have one of the Raphs help me since they're quite a bit stronger. But don't worry about it."

"Well hey wait I can help-"

"Did you not listen to the part I said fifteen minutes ago? You, my dear dum dum, are still recovering and are down one arm. While you'd be a good supervisor, or even director if you could read blueprints, it still wouldn't be as much help as the physical strength required to say, lift a post or a seventeenth of a ton of bricks. So, the gesture is appreciated but I'll pass. Besides, you're still seeking shelter correct? Just, sit here and don't touch anything. We'll watch a movie or something you approve of later." 

"Are you seriously gonna go out there?" Donnie looked unamused at his poor attempt to prevent him from leaving, "Should I be worried?" He asked, pushing some papers aside to organize them while he waited for Leo to try and rationalize how much of a dum dum he was being. "Well- No.. But..." Donnie rolled his eyes, "Then yes, Once all the repairs are fully complete we can start doing the real work." He got up from his chair, about to head out. "Real work?" Donnie nodded, "But of course." He looked back to Leo as he stood in the doorway.

"You didn't think I'd purchase all this barren land and not plant something, did you?"

[depressedbagpipe]

A Heartrender's Fire: ch. I

Tolya Yul-Bataar x Lantsov!ofc

Words: 3846 Warnings: tolya x tamar x irina being a chaotic trio, also sturmhond being sturmhond. canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol and drunk people, brief mention of SA at the end A/N: again, idk what this is, but this is helping me get back into writing after so many months, so enjoy!

Series Masterlist Next chapter

I: No shelter but me

Very few times had Irina Lantsov wished she had actually followed her brother’s advice and stayed at the ship. This was one of those.

She ducked before the drunken soldier could slash her neck open, forcefully kicking his legs and making him fall back, accidentally smashing into a table that broke into a thousand wooden pieces, and left the man unmoving on the ground.

Irina grimaced at the sight, but couldn’t dwell on it much before yet another man was hurled at her. She was used to the constant bar-fighting, bottle-smashing, and table-breaking, but it didn’t mean she liked it. Even though she was perfectly capable of standing on her own, the fire in her veins always called to her, begging to be used, and it always took a toll on her when she couldn’t let herself go completely. She was used to it, anyway. And this was just another bar fight. 

The princess caught her twin companions with her eye, both of them on opposite ends of the bar, with fearsome looks on their faces and shining eyes as they too dodged and avoided the weak blows coming their way. The girl didn’t even need her axes; one look and the surrounding men cowered away. The boy was left alone in an instant too, his height too high and imposing that made even the drunkest know they would never be a match for the giant.

Irina expertly punched and smashed her way out of the tavern, avoiding the fallen traders, merchants, and sailors who had, unknowingly, chosen their fates as soon as they decided to launch themselves at the three Grisha.

“Well, that was fun,” grinned Tamar, once they had found refuge at the end of the street.

“So much for not bringing attention,” Tolya breathed out, not in exhaustion but in reprimand.

“For the record, he started it,” Irina defended herself.

Tolya counter-argued. “I don’t think Sturmhond will care about that, Ainthe.”

“Well, Sturmhond’s not here, is he?” Irina had a certain spark in her eyes as she spoke that made Tamar grin.

“And there’s no way he would know. Because we’re not gonna say anything, right, brother?” her gaze was lethal as both girls stared at the giant.

Tolya sighed in defeat, but eventually nodded his head. “Let’s just leave before they arrest us. One less bar we’ll be welcomed at.”

The girls grinned as they walked away in the other direction, leaving behind a mess of First Army officers and confused Zemeni citizens as they tried to explain how the entire tavern had ended up in shambles in a matter of minutes.

Irina took a deep breath as she looked at the street, with all the merchants and traders expertly scamming the many visitors the busy city received every day.

“It still baffles me how you don’t manage to gag every time you breathe here. The docks are nasty,” Tamar commented after eyeing the younger girl.

“It’s the smell of adventure, Tamar. I wouldn’t trade the taste of freedom for anything,” she replied.

“‘Let us appreciate life, for it only graces our fingers before it’s lost forever’,” Tolya recited, looking up at the clouds, a hand over his tender heart.

“Saints, not again,” Tamar groaned as Irina laughed, loving the little interactions she had with the twins.

“Always so delicate, Tamar,” Irina laughed, and even Tolya couldn’t help the smile on his lips.

“As much as I’d love to continue this conversation, we should go back,” Tolya’s statement was met with groans.

Irina complained. “Already?”

Tamar backed her up. “But it hasn’t even been three hours!”

“Sturmhond will kill us if he finds out what we did,” he reminded them.

Irina frowned. “You’re bigger than him.”

Tamar nodded. “You could take him.”

Tolya groaned. “Nobody’s gonna take anybody, alright?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Irina replied.

Tolya rolled his eyes. “The fun is that we all get to live another day, okay?”

Irina grinned, despite the constant bickering. As much as she liked traveling around new places, she ultimately loved the sea. Any excuse to go back to the Volkvolny, she’d take it.

It was only after they arrived at the harbor that they saw the First Army ship, unloading a bunch of boxes that would most likely contain weaponry. It wasn’t unusual for the presence of soldiers around the harbor and nearby taverns, but an entire legion?

The twins continued their bickering about bars and Fjerdans when a conversation between a First Army lieutenant and his soldiers made them stop in their tracks.

“Right, soldiers, listen up. Our fugitives are loose, but I have men blocking the roads, so their only way out is passage here, on a ship, in this harbor. We turn her in, and split the reward. But only if we stop them before they get on a boat. Is that understood?”

The officers yelled a chorus of ‘Yes, sir,’ before they disbanded, with the lieutenant walking back to presumably repeat the same orders to the smaller groups of soldiers perched around the harbor. Their uniforms were neat and put together, and the young faces of the soldiers almost made Irina shiver.

Tamar looked at her friends. “Sounds important… or dangerous. I can never tell the difference.”

She had one of her axes in her hand already, looking at it with care and mischief.

Tolya nodded, ignoring the sarcasm in her sister. “Definitely important. Come on.”

He grabbed his sister and pulled her back, knowing she was already going to pose some opposition.

“But–”

“No.”

Irina chuckled behind them, casting one last look at the army ship, hoping her disguise would be enough, and trailed after the twins.

–·–

Night had finally fallen over Novyi Zem when everybody was back at the Volkvolny. The harbor was empty, per Sturmhond’s request, and it was only a matter of time before a certain magic girl made its willing way up the ramp.

“I sure hope she falls for it,” Irina muttered under her breath. She was perched on the balustrade of the ship, looking at the crew as they loaded some of the boxes they had definitely not stolen from the First Army soldiers. “And how much longer is it gonna take? Weddle isn’t that big.”

“Maybe if you helped you wouldn’t be so bored,” Tolya pointed at her.

“Cute, but the second-in-command doesn’t load weapons; she uses them,” but their conversation was interrupted by Tamar.

“They’re here.”

Irina frowned. “They?”

And right on cue, a young couple appeared out of thin air and ran to their ship. The girl ran a bit forward.

“Hey, stop!” the crew looked at her. “We need a charter out of here immediately.”

Tolya and Tamar stood at the ramp, both receiving the girl and guarding the ship. Irina didn’t move from her place, but was looking down at the newcomers curiously, analyzing their every detail, just as her brother had taught her. The twins shared a look that Irina knew was a satisfactory one but waited for the couple to talk.

“I can pay,” said the girl again, bringing her hand to a small pouch by her hip and pulling out a beautiful hairpiece, one Irina recognized all too well. “It’s gold.”

Tamar took in her hand, feigning dubiousness, even bringing the object to her mouth and biting it to test its falsehood. With a shrug, she gave it to Tolya.

“That’ll do,” she said casually. 

“Come on then, hurry up. I’ll take you to the captain,” he said after inspecting the hairpiece too, with another playful smirk on his lips. 

The couple were quick to stand on the ramp, and Tolya was about to follow when the same lieutenant the trio had seen in the afternoon called after them. 

“You, stop!” he was pointing at the couple.

Irina sat straighter in her place, her eyes dancing between the soldiers, counting in her head how many were pointing their rifles at them. Her hands stood close, ready to summon if she had to, but made no other move. Tamar and Tolya didn’t even budge. She grabbed one of her axes and spun it in her hand, taking dangerous steps towards the officer.

“You want to fight, Ravka? Hey?” her axe stood inches away from the lieutenant’s neck. 

He recoiled and took a step back, fear evident in his eyes, pointing at the man whose hand had protectively grabbed the girl’s arm. Irina noticed that, because of course she did. 

“That man is a deserter of the First Army. He belongs in our custody.”

But Tamar hadn’t come to play. By that point, the entire crew was staring at them, waiting for the next move. “Is that so? All right then.” She turned, looking up at Irina. “Ravka wants a fight!” with her shout, everybody stood, dropping whatever they were doing and getting into position. Irina, regardless, kept being seated down, knowing that Tamar alone could do as much damage as an entire army.

“I don’t want to escalate the fight with Shu Han.”

At this, Tolya grabbed his katana and walked beside his sister. “We’re not with Shu Han. We’re independent.”

“Maybe you save your bullets for the war, old man?” Tamar mocked him. Even though the tension was escalating quickly, everybody knew, they were no match for the crew of the Volkvolny. They had the higher ground. “First Army needs to know its place.”

Everything that happened later was a blur. The soldiers left, with a generous tip on behalf of the ship’s captain, and they were all soon on their merry way. 

Irina and Tolya had taken the couple below deck, with the giant chatting happily about the majestic ship they all stood on and effectively distracting them of the speed the Volkvolny was sailing at away from Novyi Zem, and with Irina still looking at the newcomers with interest.  

Opening the door to Sturmhond’s cabin, Tolya spoke.

“Request for charter, Captain.”

Irina also walked into the room, sharing a knowing look and a nod with her brother, before standing beside him on the other side of his desk, full of maps, papers, and a huge picture of the Darkling and the Sun Summoner, hand in hand, as the most wanted people in Ravka.

The boy walked inside decisively. “Immediate charter.”

The girl trailed after him. “He means we need to leave right now.”

Sturmhond fixed his blue coat, adopting the imposing posture he was known for. And went straight for the kill.

“Let’s be clear about two things. I don’t take orders in my own ship. And we’re already underway,” he pointed to one of the portholes on his right. “I’m glad you’ve joined us. Now, maybe you’d be so kind as to give the room a little light. After all, you are Alina Starkov,” he fixed his eyes on the girl. “A 20-million-kruge Saint.” 

He grabbed his pistol and forcefully dropped it on the poster, with the canon staring directly at the young couple, every moment carefully planned out to let his guests know he hadn’t come to play, and that he had the upmost upper hand in the situation.  

“Dead or alive.”

The silence that filled the cabin almost sent a shiver up Irina’s spine. The air was thick with tension, especially coming from Miss Starkov and her friend. 

“No point in denying it, Miss Starkov. You are the Sun Summoner.”

She stood straighter at the mention of her title. “You’re right.”

She was quick to summon light with her hands, creating two smalls of pure sun that she held in her palms. Both Tolya and Irina tried to keep their composure, but they too believed in Saints. And they were standing right in front of one, who was coincidentally threatening Irina’s brother. Luckily for him, his too-clever fox face didn’t show any slight change. He whistled, still sat in his chair, lounging comfortably as if he was simply catching up with some old friends.

“Impressive. And it’s not often I say that.” To the untrained ear, his words would come out as sarcastic, almost venomous. But Irina knew better. 

Alina’s words were quiet but stern. “Let us go. Or you’ll be out 20 million kruge and a ship.”

The captain stood once again, chuckling lightly. “While I’m well aware you could consign us all to the watery deep, you should really consider how far from the docks we are.” He casually poured some kvas into a couple of glasses. “Besides, I’m not handing you over to the Fjerdans,” he took both glasses and handed one over to his sister, who had made herself comfortable at the only empty corner of his desk. 

Irina gladly accepted the glass, downing half of the beverage, still looking at the couple.

Alina frowned. “You’re not?” She even searched Irina’s face, searching for confirmation.

“Saints, no,” he stopped, checking with his guests. “Sorry, is it offensive to say that in the presence of a living Saint?”

Even Tolya shifted his weight at the captain’s words. The boy rolled his eyes, unnerved, and Irina shared a look with Sturmhond, both of them thinking the situation the most fun they’d ever had.

The captain sat back down, which made the boy follow his lead and sit on one of the chairs Sturmhond had on the other side of the desk. Alina stood behind him, only now Irina couldn’t tell who was protecting whom. Tolya kept guard by the door, frustrating Alina’s plan of escaping.

“Okay. What do you want with us then?” the boy tried to bargain.

Sturmhond wasn’t finished.

“With you? Nothing.” He eyed him down. “Honestly, I’m not even sure who you are.” Irina had to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape her lips. “But the Sun Summoner…” he pointed at the girl, looking at her as one would eye their prey. Because to Sturmhond, that’s what she was. “Well, you have to know you’re quite valuable.” 

The boy leaned forward. “You just said you wouldn’t turn her in for a bounty, pirate.”

“Privateer.”

Irina rolled her eyes, being a little too used to listening to that conversation.

“Oh.” The boy humored him.

“And what I said was I wouldn’t hand her into the Fjerdans. I said nothing of the Kerch or Shu.” He loved playing with his food before eating it. “I paid a small fortune to empty the dock and make sure you got on my ship. And, frankly, I think the Fjerdans are severely undervaluing you.”

Alina nodded, with a flash of determination. “You’re right. They are.” She walked closer to the desk and leaned on it, having the upper hand. Or so she thought. “Because you’ll be able to ask the King of Ravka for twice as much.”

Both Irina and Sturmhond froze in place. Their looks weren’t taunting anymore; they were cold and unforgiving. But none of them let it show.

“You know the King?” the captain asked Alina, who fired back.

“I’m the Sun Summoner.”

Tolya was greatly enjoying the conversation at the back of the cabin, analyzing closely Irina’s reactions. She was rather shocked at Alina’s words but liked that someone else was trying to put her brother into place as if he wasn’t already running ten steps ahead of everyone.

“By all accounts, the First Army have now turned their sights on Grisha. Thanks to what you and your conspirator did in the Fold,” he looked down briefly at the paper. 

Sturmhond’s sharp tongue had suddenly become poisonous.

Alina drew back. “The Darkling and I were not partners. You may believe otherwise, but once I tear down the Fold and reunite Ravka, the world will see I am not his ally.” Her voice almost broke. Even Tolya noticed it. And he knew she was telling the truth. “Help us and you’ll be rewarded.”

The Ravkan siblings were staring at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads. The prospect seemed impossible, but then again, a living Saint stood before them. They had seen stranger things.

“To tear down the Fold?” Sturmhond scoffed, but Irina still detected the hope that was now running through his brother’s mind. “And how do you plan on doing that exactly?”

Alina raised her head. “By hunting Morozova’s Sea Whip.”

“Alina.” The boy warned her, but she stopped him with her hand.

Instinctively, both siblings raised their kvas glass and took a long sip, mulling over their words. Sturmhond eyed Irina briefly.

“Well, I suppose if the Stag existed, the Sea Whip and the Firebird might as well,” he thought out loud, his gears turning. His eyes were glimmering. “You couldn’t do it with one amplifier, but two…” 

“Unburdened by General Kirigan, under my own power,” Alina continued, also feeling the hope in the captain’s eyes. He leaned forward on the chair, looking down at his feet, the last traces of his plan finally coming together. “Will you help us or not?”

Sturmhond stood up again, never able to sit still for too long. He looked at his sister, who wore a similar face to him, her consent being the only other thing he needed to embark on the journey of the Sun Summoner.

“There’s adventure, danger, money? Now you’re speaking my language.”

The siblings downed their glasses at the same time on opposite ends of the desk, finalizing the deal with a bright smile.

– · –

“What is the difference between a privateer and a pirate?” Mal, Alina’s friend, whispered to her, but not low enough not to be heard by Irina, who walked behind them.

Sturmhond led the way, stopping occasionally to acknowledge the crew.

“Hey, Ainthe, need a light over here!” Irina quietly made her way to a fellow sailor who couldn’t seem to light the candle, and thankfully for her, her brother called everyone’s attention, which allowed her to blend into the crowd for a second. 

Her fingers danced, and a light flame suddenly lit up the lamp the sailor needed. She retreated with a smile, knowing her brother was about to give a speech.

“All right, listen up, everyone! We have guests! The Sun Summoner and,” he turned to Mal, in the mood to mess with Alina’s grumpy companion. “Uh… You are?”

“Malyen–”

“A guest of the Sun Summoner!” Sturmhond interrupted him, much to Mal’s annoyance. “I expect you’ll treat them with all the respect I’ve come to know from you pack of liars and thieves.” The crew laughed at his words. Irina shook her head. He motioned them forward. “Come along, my darlings, come on, come on. Now, you can have the two in the back, it’s the most private suit we have.”

Sturmhond referred to the two fabrics arranged as hammocks, at the far end of the room and next to the stairs that led to the deck. It wasn’t cozy by any means; the room smelled of sweaty pirates, it was noisy and poorly lit, yet the siblings had grown accustomed to it, even if they slept at a different cabin. There was something about the mess that they could call home. 

Alina eyed him wearily as she walked past him, leaving her things on a nearby table, under Mal’s attentive gaze.

“See you in the morning, Miss Starkov,” Sturmhond said with a leisure bow, quickly leaving them to their fates.

“Sweet dreams,” Irina finally spoke, sending them a smile in a much kinder way than her brother had done, and trailed after him.

– · –

“I hope you know what you’re playing at,” Irina frowned as she looked at her brother.

“You caused a bar fight?” he stormed at her.

“We have the Sun Summoner and now what? The Darkling and the entire First Army will be after us, Nikolai, and we’ll have no way of escaping then,” she crossed her arms.

“An officer could have seen you, Irina! Your face could now be printed in the papers! So much for having a fake identity!” Sturmhond threw his hands in the air as he walked around his cabin.

“The entire country is tracking her. We’re supposed to be under the radar and now you want to shelter the most wanted person in Ravka? And not only that but what will happen when we go back?” she went on.

“You can break as many necks as you want when there’s nobody around who could get you into trouble!

“We are gonna be in so much trouble regardless!”

“Can you both stop having two separate conversations at once, please?” Tamar interrupted.

Both siblings turned to look at her, who wore a bored face. Tolya stood behind her, with a simple grin, enjoying the fight between the princes. The four of them stood at the captain’s cabin, away from prying ears, going over the details of their next steps.

“Tamar, back me up on this,” Irina implored her closest friend.

Tamar sighed. “It is risky, Sturmhond. I stood guard until we left the harbor behind and didn’t see any other ship sailing around, but those two are hiding something.”

“Of course they’d feel weary around us; they’d be stupid not to,” Tolya released a breath.

Irina took in one. “Why does this feel like it’s the beginning of the end?” she asked no one in particular. “And how did you even know about the bar fight?” she asked her brother, but quickly turned to glare at Tolya. “Was it you?”

Tolya raised his arms in surrender. “Not me.”

“You forget I have ears everywhere,” Sturmhond took another sip of his glass, raising his eyebrows in mystery. The two of them had almost finished an entire bottle by that point of the night.

“You saw us didn’t you?” Irina squinted his eyes at him.

Sturmhond scoffed. “No, I didn’t!”

“He’s lying,” Tamar interjected.

“Okay, yeah, I saw you. The bar was just around the corner as I walked back. Which is how I bribed everyone into forgetting you three were ever there,” he confessed. “And again, Ainthe, you can’t start fights with everyone who crosses you!”

“He touched my ass, Sturmhond, you can’t expect me to stand there and do nothing!”

“He what?!” 

Tolya suddenly appeared between them. “Alright, it’s best we stop. We’re all alive and well. And we’ll get to see another day for now, so let us sleep and rest and continue the fight tomorrow, okay?”

Nikolai and Irina shared a glance, a silent agreement both of them were too accustomed to. A silent way of communicating both of them had perfected over the years, which promised that they wouldn’t bring it back tomorrow. They knew they were too stubborn to allow the other to win, which would cause yet another endless source of bickering.

“Better be back on deck, then. We might need some fire,” Irina commented, taking one last sip of her kvas. “See you all in the morning.”

“Remember, just a spark, Fireball, not a whole bonfire,” Sturmhond called after her.

“Can’t make any promises!” Irina laughed one last time, before closing the door behind her, leaving an equally smiling Nikolai Lantsov on the other side.

Next chapter

[the-terrible-theys]

tried charting the heights of all the wild kratts characters for funsies :)

aviva: 167 cm/5’ 5.7”

koki: 160 cm/5’ 2.9”

chris: 173 cm/5’ 8.1”

martin: 180 cm/5’ 10.8”

jimmy: 175 cm/5’ 8.8”

donita: 177 cm/5’ 9.6”

dabio: 203 cm/6’ 7.9” (woah)

zach: 174 cm/5’ 8.5”

gourmand: 154 cm/5’ 0.6”

rex: 176 cm/5’ 9.2”

paisley: 120 cm/3’ 11.2”

this isn’t perfectly accurate because 1) i couldn’t find screencaps to use to compare every character, 2) sometimes there was a lot of variation in height differences between characters and chris/martin (i tried to use those two as references as much as possible because they have canon heights), and 3) mostly because i was just eyeballing everything

reference images i used + a few notes are under the cut if you’re curious!! (by “a few notes” i mean i basically accidentally wrote an entire essay btw)

i went ahead and put the bros in first since, again, they have canon/googleable heights, and could be used as references for all the other characters. i ended up tweaking these heights very slightly (putting martin as closer to 5’ 11”, basically) just to feel a little more accurate to the show’s height difference between them and other characters

next i did the rest of the crew!

the height difference between chris and jimmy was kinda hard to deduce. in some screenshots jimmy is a bit shorter than chris and in others he’s noticeably taller ?? i decided to take the average and put them at almost the same height with jimmy being very slightly taller

i think jimmy was being mean to me on purpose a little bit because i had similar issues between him and martin. sometimes he’d be quite a bit shorter and sometimes they’d be practically the same height. c’mon jimmy

figuring out koki and aviva’s height differences relative to the others wasn’t quite as hard, though aviva did have a bit of height variation (in the first image, she’s about the same height as chris, in the second she’s much shorter, and in the third she’s taller than chris would be in comparison to martin). thankfully i have precisely a billion and a half screenshots saved so finding ones to average out was an easy task. i decided it’d be best to keep aviva noticeably shorter than chris by a couple of inches, but to also not have their height difference be quite as significant as in some of these images

koki’s relative height seemed to stay the most constant out of everyone, with only very slight variations (her being closer to aviva’s height sometimes, but usually she’s shorter) (in case anyone is confused! i’m measuring her from the top of her head, not hair, so about where her headband is)

once i felt like the crew was all accurate, i moved to the villains. i started with zach because i have more pictures of him, both with the crew and other villains, so he’s the best reference)

it was a little hard to judge his height in comparison to chris. they’re definitely close but i for some reason couldn’t find good reference images to get a more exact estimate. in both of these at least one of them is slightly leaning

i tried to avoid using any references with the creature powersuits activated, since those can mess with height (or at least my perception of their height) a bit. i did break my own rule here, though, just to see how tall zach was in comparison to martin. i figured he was tall enough for me to viably place him as very slightly taller than chris, but still at nearly the same height

(i’m pretty sure i looked at a second, even better pic i had of zach and martin as well but i lost it)

from there it was decently easy to estimate donita and gourmand’s heights with zach as a reference. i had the same height variation issue with donita as i’d had before, but when i found that fifth image while looking for dabio height references, i was able to find her height much more easily, plus verify my placements of zach and gourmand, plus get a good estimate on dabio.

(i also looked at more dabio references, some with donita and some with each of the bros, but i can’t find those either. oops) (trust me when i say him being 6’ 7” probably isn’t inaccurate, though) (the dude he’s based on, fabio, is 6’ 3”, so i was originally going to guesstimate him at around that height, but he looks WAY too tall for even 6’ 3”)

i have VERY few images of paisley and rex, much less any that make usable height references, but i did manage to pick out a couple that were helpful. paisley seems to be shoulder height-ish on gourmand who i placed at 5’ 0”. i can also see that donita’s elbow is also around shoulder height of gourmand, giving me two points of reference

paisley is also at approximately elbow height of rex, meaning that rex and donita are similar in height

managed to find this image as a somewhat more helpful point of reference. yeah it’d be more helpful if rex and paisley were touching the ground, and if martin wasn’t in a cps (because, again, trying to avoid that for the sake of accuracy). beggars can’t be choosers, though, and the pixelization of this image is screaming beggar.

anyway! if i squint a bit and hold my fingers up to my screen, i can tell that paisley is at maybe just under belly button/elbow height of martin. rex looks to be a little shorter than martin, meaning my estimate of him being a similar height to donita is of some accuracy. i made him one centimeter shorter because he looks to be a little shorter in comparison to martin than donita would be? idk

i would’ve liked to search for better reference pics for paisley and rex just to make sure i’ve got their heights down, but i’m tired and have also hit the image limit for this post, so i’m just gonna stop there

[sweet-nothing26]

Barbie (2023)

Okay, so here is my take on Barbie, the barbie land vs the real world storyline was a metaphor for the non-exclusivity between womanhood and girlhood. In contrast, manhood and boyhood are mutually exclusive; meaning most boys gradually and slowly shift from boyhood to manhood, so a boy is never a man thus he gets to fully experience the innocence of childhood (which is something girls never had the privilege of experiencing) and a man shall never be referred to as a boy because men acquire endless measures of maturity, wisdom, and logic. As a female, you're either treated as a grown woman when you're still a young child or infantilized, belittled, and misunderstood when you are literally 40 years old. The constant shift of treatment makes you feel like you're tripping on some sort of hallucinogenic and it deeply messes with your perception of who you are.

You're an 11-year-old prepubescent kid walking on your way from school and suddenly you're getting catcalled by men in their late 20s. You rush home, confused and scared, ''but I thought that only happens to women? I'm still a little girl or am I?" and your tiny little innocent brain associates that terrible experience with your developing body, hence you try as hard as you can to bind your nonexistent breasts and lose some weight because that's how you regain that fragment of your lost innocence. You develop every eating disorder in the book trying to look as undesirable as you can. You continue jumping from one ED to another throughout your entire life as a young woman and up till your late 50s. you have lost hours on end thinking about food and calories or actively starving, binging, and purging. You're a 12-year-old girl, sitting with your friends in recess and you hear some of your male classmates talking about their latest pornography watches or rating you girls based on the size of your asses or who has the sexiest neck, hands, mouth...you name it. You cannot grasp what's happening? why the sudden shift? I just wanted to play and run around but everyone around me was eyeing me and sexualizing my body. I was sucking a lollipop and they were laughing. i bent over to grab my fallen pen and now they're making weird sounds. they asked me if I'm familiar with a woman named mia khalifa? who is that? You try to fit in and be more sexual because that's how those boys like it, but then you're considered a cheap whore but if you remain more reserved you are a boring ugly prude who needs to loosen up a little. When Barbie left her perfect world, she was hit by the wave of sexualization which is exactly what happens to every woman in her life. Even if you refuse to contribute to this phenomenon, you will get sexualized, even if you desexualize yourself and announce your asexuality, you will get sexualized. Maybe that's how things are. we are property to men under the patriarchy and this will never ever change in our lifetime (or at least on the bigger scale). Depressing but c'est la vie

[mswebb]

I have like alot of stories/series/alternate universes in my brain but these guys are the most recent! I introduce to you the Numero Gang! On our roster we have

- 07 (glasses & spiraly cowlick) the hacker of the group the one who most often takes down security measures and cameras when they're all doing their heists, can go through electrical devices and messing with it from the inside, they're not exactly human, she originally a computer virus that has developed intelligence and due to this was locked inside of an old computer model to ensure that they won't be able to get out..well until the fall of the corporation she was made in and they got out of that Computer real fast afterwards, along the way they found another experiment within the wreckage known as 09 and the two (due to same circumstances) bonded and became friends eventually leaving the wreckage and sought to live their lives outside which ended up with them turning to a life of crime, probably the oldest out of everyone but acts crudely and degenerative, is not stealthy she will whistle or hum a tune while infiltrating areas just to mess with the guards/security mostly because she knows she can handle herself well enough.

- 09 (Glasses & Gas mask) the silent but deadly one in the group but the silence is because she doesn't exactly know how to interact with people that much the exception being her team, she's an entity made out of pure ink (some batim shit right here) and somewhat indestructible, she also have the weird ability to go through graffiti she had made like a portal (cartoon logic where someone could paint a wall and go through it but others cannot and just hit the wall) due to the fact she mixes her paint supplies with her own inky substance, has a unusual fascination to color and fashions their weapons accordingly i.e bombs that emit colored smoke, has been in the facility she and 07 were made in for an unknown amount of time but once they met 07 she's quick to latch unto the first person(?) She has seen in days immediately following them around like a lost puppy and due to this they both become partners in crime both literally and figuratively.

- 01 (Short boy & Hat) he was originally a robot model for a delivery service and was the prototype designed by his creator or mother as he likes to refer to her as and a unknown scientist, he liked the schedule he was put under even if it was the only thing he ever knew and he loves all his brothers (clones) it was a constant never changing routine and he wouldn't have had it any other way, until his company shuts down due to reasons he was not made aware of and soon he was on the path to being crushed down and incinerated but managed to escape unscathed using his little knowledge outside of his usual programming and soon he was off into the world alone and certainly confused of what to do next, he didn't entirely liked the freedom he had it was nice but he didn't feel useful and that feeling of uselessness prevails until he meets 09 and 07 on their first high of criminal life and without much thought he followed them along and eventually was apart of their team as a spy and that made him feel useful again even more alive, he modified his body to have a holographic disguise kit so he can project different faces unto himself at the cost that it doesn't embody all of him as in he's short and if he disguises himself taller it'll take one touch to know he's not real though thankfully he hasn't been caught, along with making a suitable companion he dubs Lumos a small companion robot that can serve as a light, can make small shields, and is able to flashbang any incoming threats when prompted, he didn't have many connections in his life but he used to have a friend called Simon who he used to drop off parcels to Simon's aunt's flower shop and it had been a nice break from his routine when it got too overwhelming but he knows he won't be able to see him anymore on account of the flower shop moving and him being a criminal essentially.

- Sketchy (Bow) the sniper of the group! She was a freelance artist but wasn't getting paid enough so she turned to becoming a assassin for hire up until a mission left her so wounded she had to be transferred to a sort of synthetic body, she can disappear in a cluster of paper and cannot fight close combat wise (i.e no good with knives), she went into hiding after transferring into her synthetic body and became restless and sorta adrenaline seeking which is how she ended up with this ragtag group of nonhuman misfits! She's got alot of past stuff she doesn't reveal too often but she's real nice and cute even, until she has to do her job then she goes into professional mode.

They all operate in this district area called CyTech and generally hop around here until the had to go to the other districts, they're all really close and work well together even if they get on each others nerves aswell definitely a nice found family with maybe an antagonist on the horizon 👀 but for now they're just stealing stuff from various places for the thrill of it.

[scatcrccio]

FAKING ONES DEATH WAS LIKE BEING PUT IN A SELF-CONFINED witness protection program, without any real protection to be had. She had Misty, and that was about it. Lisa only had to feign any knowledge that she hadn't just been at the wrong place at the wrong time and Natalie, well, she had to literally die in order to make it all work out the way they needed it to. Thankfully, the little blonde was far more intelligent than anyone gave her credit for and so, most of the hard work was relied on her; forged medical documents, a new identity acquired, putting on the water works in front of all of their friends. It had been asking a lot, to lie and be deceitful to everyone around them, but it was a means to an end. A necessary evil, so to speak and of course, even Nat wasn't without some remorse over the whole thing. Especially, when considering certain individuals who had been the most effected by her supposed death.

She hadn't liked the plan initially when Misty brought up the idea, but the more she spoke, the more it seemed to make sense. Nat wanted a fresh start anyway and really, what did she have to lose—? Turned out, a lot more than she thought. She knew that Jeff had been hounding Misty nonstop ever since that night, she knows because Misty would tell her every single time and the thought of reaching out had crossed her mind more than once. But telling him risked far too much in the long run and so, she tried to ignore those teetering thoughts of woeful regrets for putting him through all of this mixed-up mess. He didn't deserve it; didn't deserve to feel as if he'd lost yet another loved one to whatever It was and lying to him was the hardest part about the whole entire thing.

However, she can't help but think back about Shauna's confession, when she admitted to him being the blackmailer instead of Adam Martin and every time she thought about it, her heart sank further into her chest as if it'd been punched through. She might have been lying about being dead, but he had been lying to her the whole time by not admitting to the blackmail himself. Then again, how could he? Knowing full well that if he had, she would've put a big, hard stop on their entire intimate exchange without so much as a single second of hesitation. In all honesty, knowing that now was the only reminder she needed that kept her from taking the leap and reaching out to him anyway. It was just, easier this way, for him to think she was gone for good.

Jeff had loved her, to a fault, a concept she still can't quite seem to wrap her head around and yet, he did so anyway regardless of her constant push backs and attempts at keeping him away. Even now, he didn't stop. Which almost baffles her to a point. So, when she hears the harsh knock upon her front door, she can't help but furrow her brows in confusion. Couldn't have been Misty, who's knocks were always so daintily administered in comparison, but she was also the only one who knew where Natalie now resided. Turning off the television set, she rises up from the couch and peaks an eye through the peephole to see who was on the other side. The sight of him catches her off-guard a bit, throat tightening before she does, finally, open the door to reveal herself.

There's a moment of silence between them, an unbearable one, because Nat can't bring herself to speak first, but when he takes that initiative, she can feel the boiling rage circling inside of her. ❝ Good. And fuck you too, asshole. I know all about your fucking blackmail attempt. Shauna told us everything. How is your wife, by the way? ❞

@scatcrccio gets a plotted thing of fuckin' angst.

They had always been a tight lipped group. Not a single one of them ever budged when a reporter or news agency reached out looking for the real story. Didn't matter how much money was offered up to them for their first hand recount of the groups time in the wilderness. No one broke the pact. And if not for Shauna's journals, he never would have known what had happened out there, even just a fraction of the truth. This time, however, there were no journals to read, no way to sneak his way into knowing what really happened.

Drug overdose, that's what was listed as her cause of death. It was believable to any and all that knew Natalie Scatorccio except for Jeff. And once again, twenty-five years later, the remaining Yellowjackets did not budge on what happened out in those upper New York woods that evening before the snow began to really fall. He can remember seeing the lights, hearing the murmured words of those that had been staying at Camp Green Pine, and most of all he remembered his wife's words. "It's Nat," she had said, his head turning to look over his shoulder to see the black body bag atop a stretcher.

The events of that night replayed in his mind over and over again for the next six months. Her funeral, that was a blur that he was thankful he didn't remember much of. Except there was one thing that had caught his attention and that was Misty Quigley and how she looked like the rest of them ( distraught over the loss of a friend...and more ) but not really. The others, including his wife...ex-wife...had been questioned and asked the same question over and over again; what really happened out there. But Misty, she had been one that he continued to hound for an answer and it took six months to finally get her to break and tell him the truth.

Jeff didn't believe or really understand what It was and never had. He never asked about it either, but Misty had told him that in order to appease It, the reason for them all being at Charlotte Matthews' compound, they had to fake Natalie's death. Hearing that, he wanted to laugh, break down and cry, laugh some more, and cry even more. She was alive, she wasn't laying in a hole in the cemetery next to her father; she was alive. It took some more convincing to get the blonde nurse to reveal where her best friend and the woman he loved was and had been for the last six months, but she finally relented and disclosed that information.

He wasn't sure what he was going to say or do when he found Nat, but he was certain that he needed to see her. So he made arrangements and made his way to where she had been living her new life. By the time he reached her new home, it was well after midnight and he hadn't slept in almost a full day, but it didn't matter. He had to see her, had to know for certain that she was alive ( he believed Misty, but seeing was believing after all. ) Given the time of night or morning, however one wanted to view the hour, he should have given more caution to how he approached and knocked upon the door.

Fist pounded on the door hard enough to make him wince, but he didn't care. The pain that had filled every inch of him for the last six months made the pain in his hand in that moment seem like a bee sting. Once he was sure that whoever ( was she alone, had she found someone else, was she even home ) was on the other side of the door heard him, Jeff took a step back and waited. He was thankful that he hadn't needed to wait any longer than a minute or two before the door swung open and there she stood; breathing, warm, alive. And it was in that moment that he didn't know what to say and maybe he should have planned for this because what he did settle on was far from a greeting.

"I hate you..." fell from parted lips as eyes stared at Natalie with a mix of emotions. Sadness, anger, relief, more anger.

[elizabethrobertajones]

What do you think a meeting between John and Cas would be like? And if he knew that Dean and Cas had feelings for each other, do you think he'd have more of a problem with the man thing or the angel thing?

Oof this is the sort of question where I down my whole coffee and think about it for 2 hours and I still need to sound things out :P 

I think there’s a few sort of variables to consider even just how we get here because my brain is bubbling with scenarios, like: is this where John is around when Cas is introduced, and how he’d react when everyone is meeting Cas, and he gets a perpendicular arc to Cas and Dean like Bobby got (aka the opposite to Bobby’s adopting of Cas and somewhat knowing looks and pep talks towards the end because Bobby and John would never agree so that dooms John to become more intolerant of Cas n Dean :P)… 

Or does John come back instead of Mary when Mary came back in season 12, so we get his equivalent reactions to Cas, when Mary was somewhat cool if stunned by his presence, but we know she was the pro-angel parent while John thought her ceramic angel was “creepy” in 5x13…

Or is this that John reappears in season 14 and sure only 2 years difference has passed but that’s 2 years of Dabb at the helm and Dean n Cas are practically ready to retire to their B&B in Vermont at this point, just as soon as they get a few weeks of no plot distractions to themselves.

I think we can use Dean from seasons 1-4 as the guide for roughly how John would have felt about angels in general, because John taught the boys all he knew about the supernatural world, and in general Dean mirrors him when it comes to grief about Mary and worldview and other things which were tied up in this complicated mess of angels watching over them. Maybe he didn’t know what Mary said to her boys but he’d have known she was religious and got the angel for them, and so we can just assume his distraught scepticism on the subject is passed down to Dean, and Mary and Sam have more in common with their approach to faith. If John had still been around in the background of season 4 onwards, like, AU where he never died, or they got him back in time, then he’d likely have been just as sceptical as Dean but presumably never been on the personal arc with Cas that Dean has, with a special heap of not getting rescued from Hell by angels annoyance, which could nicely make a scenario where he remains anti-angel while even Dean comes around to how awesome Cas is, leaving a permanent conflict about it. (Honestly I love this scenario just for how Bobby still ends up adopting Dean n Sam out from under John’s nose :P)

In this case I would probably say that his issues would be disguised as the angel thing, but very much a long-form arc about parental acceptance and homophobia using Cas’s otherness as an angel as the metaphor, in just the same way we have the actual arc with Heaven being disapproving of Cas’s friendship/supposed sex life with Dean, with “angels are forbidden to procreate with humans” as the underlying issue instead. 

For scenario 2, if John had been brought back instead of Mary, then again we have a very curious conflict from the start because Mary is reasonably accepting of Cas, perhaps a little dazed by “actual angel” but that’s taking a step down from “so I did a favour for God and his sister, and she brought you back” to accept that her sons have been running around with an angel, and she remembers being in Heaven so that’s another validation to the concept for her. She and Cas have immediate understanding as strangers in a strange land, and by the end of the episode she kills to save both Cas and Dean together which is an implicit nice kind of acceptance for the both of them at least as a metaphoric path forwards.

For John, that first reaction to Cas is going to be instantly more suspicious and probably even if he doesn’t initially find something weird about Cas and Dean embracing like that in front of him, he’s narratively set up to oppose angels like Dean once did, and would probably have been having issues with the God and Amara scenario already, with far less the tearful reunion at the start of the episode and much more distrust of the scenario and a sense of needing to get right back to work and that he was brought back for some reason (I assume that’s why he takes off in episode 3 like Mary did) because John has a bunch of secrets and doesn’t even like telling his sons stuff. It would be far less coincidental that YED reappear in the narrative for the first time since Azazel got killed in the John version of season 12, you know? 

I think a lot of what in 12x01 and 2 played out as Mary Is Family, Cas Is Family Too, Let’s All Be Family But Sad About It, would become far more tetchy and distrustful - John ordering Cas to hurt the guy would be less Mary copying Dean and making inaccurate assumptions about Cas and his role, and more John making similar inaccurate assumptions but from the more alpha male sort of angle. I suspect a lot more competitiveness with Cas, and by 12x03 in the opening where Mary and Cas had the sad quiet conversation about belonging, it may be more aggressive, at least subtextually, to the point that John may be disappointed that Cas is looking after the boys when he’s been unable to and sees his position as the third wheel usurped and that spurs him to take off on whatever he goes to do off-screen for the rest of the season :P 

12x09 and 12x12 would be the clues (er, love confessions) that Cas has a thing for Dean in front of John, and may overtly be to reconcile John to the concept of angels being real and watching over his sons. Considering this is happening in a hypothetical Dabb era where Lily Sunder still happened in between, I’m pretty sure this would not have totally positive effects when it comes to John’s path of accepting Cas n Dean or not, just because we get this reminder that Heaven is so dead set against their union. Would John warm to it as a contrast and *even he* starts to see there’s a value in it and defends it in the equivalent of the Mary Losing One Of Her Boys speech at the end of 12x12 (I assume with a Ketch/Toni flip although honestly what the hell let’s keep season 12 the same and he hooks up with Ketch and surprises himself and everyone else and it all went well and he accepted Cas n Dean back in 12x12 and - this season has completely derailed)

The John Comes Back In Season 14 one will be even more painful for him. Mary has mourned him, got over it, and has a lil crush on AU!Bobby, who, after all, has always been a flipside of John where he was the father figure they needed… This Bobby may not have that history with the boys but our Bobby and John fell out, were at gunpoint odds last time John saw Bobby, and 7x10 implies that might even have been about Bobby nurturing Sam and Dean too much while accusing John of running off endangering them and himself and not giving them time to be boys. Even a mirror universe copy of Bobby who had been with a Mary Campbell who lost John back in the 70s and AU Bobby never met, now making moves on his wife… Well, you got to ask, when you promise “til death do us part” and then you BOTH DIE, is that legally binding contract over? 

So there’s a big old blow to his entire personhood, and then he finds the buckwild family scenario at large that has Sam, who is the SENSIBLE one in this whole mess, parenting Lucifer’s son while smiling too much at the local saucy witch, Dean either a possessed fancy angel or a wreck from having been possessed by said fancy angel, also parenting Lucifer’s son, with a dynamic of an old married couple to a gloomy angel who is, inexplicably, also parenting Lucifer’s son, on the outs with Heaven, and mooning after Dean. 

Also, Mary is parenting Lucifer’s son.

I think I can only see one solid result here: amongst all the tension and falling out with and being upset by every single dynamic he stumbles across while lost and horrified by what everyone has become, losing all connection to his sons and wife, surrounded by changes in their world that his revenge-driven head is not equipped to handle… 

He probably at least ends up confusedly parenting Lucifer’s son and redeeming himself as a parent through that vector and then, perhaps, slowly, to the others.

[thegamingmonk]

Encanto Headcanons #5

Number 5 already! Thank you all for the kind words and support! They really keep my creativity going and I hope I'm doing well by these characters and their meaningfulness to both Colombians & Latinos all!

Antonio and Mirabel teamed up on a birthday present for Luisa one year. They kept it a secret for months with the help of Dolores.

It was a giant stuffed unicorn. Luisa's face was b a w l i n g when she saw it. It's her most precious treasure and named "Rainbow".

Post-movie, Abuela tries once to "get in the know" with her grandchildren in order to understand them better. Help these kids... (She's a bit confused but she's got spirit).

Being that Pepa is the middle child, of course she has the chaotic middle child energy.

Nobody would've thought that energy would spread to her children and nieces.

Camilo and Isabela (despite being the oldest) are prime examples of it.

Mariano and Isabela are the type of friends to be "The menace and the bean".

Sometimes Mariano will just wrap his arms around Dolores and softly hum in her ears just the way she likes it. His voice is oh-so soothing to her.

When young Dolores was still adjusting to her gift, Casita had extra caution to make sure that any floorboard she stepped on or door she opened never creaked/squeaked.

Dolores still appreciates this; it's the small things that count.

Thanks to her constant help with the donkeys, Luisa was given the opportunity to name a newly born donkey.

His name is Jorge and she will fight the sun itself for him.

Mirabel would be lying if she said she wasn't attached to the little guy too.

Agustín is actually a pretty decent dancer. People just tend to forget this when he trips over a stack of wood and face first into a beehive. Again.

Julieta has separate emergency stashes of arepas for different Madrigals.

One for Agustín for many reasons: one for Dolores and her sensory issues; one for Mirabel when she pricks herself while sewing; one for Félix if he accidentally gets shocked by Pepa's lightning (though that basket is open to anyone really); and one for Bruno simply because she wants him to eat more.

Camilo managed to hold an entire "One person show" by himself for the village. It was an impressive feat but left him tired out his mind.

He fell asleep on Luisa's shoulder as she carried him home.

After her gift ceremony, Mirabel spent a whole week going through a list of potential powers to try to see if she could awaken her gift late.

Camilo helped as well with this, which made things a little bit crazier than planned.

Soon they were by Julieta before Alma could catch wind of the two's plans. Good thing too because flying was further down on the list (precautions would've been made but Julieta's heart couldn't even handle the idea).

Camilo doesn't approve of Mariano dating his sister until MUCH later on. Dolores helped with that by revealing his weakness: food.

Surprisingly Mariano can whip up some great dishes. Camilo was sold.

Back when he was hiding, Bruno snuck out to grab some food and then returned to the walls, only to find a 13 year old Dolores in his room, messing around with his rats.

"Dolores??? How did you-" "Your rat friends led me here :D"

Dolores would help support Bruno while he was in the walls, whether it be leaving him plates of food in front of his painting entrance or spare blankets during the winter time.

Bruno tried to make a rat band before. Unfortunately it didn't work out... Rats can only do so much...

Pepa cannot be trusted in the kitchen worth her life.

Julieta let her cook ONCE and sworn off it ever again. Not without supervision at least.

Sometimes Bruno is the unfortunate volunteer to be Pepa's supervisor. Anytime she put something that completely did not go in the dish, he'd follow up with something that he knows will at least make it better.

When they were younger, Pepa and Bruno would go joyriding on her bike. Poor boy nearly lost his soul each and every time.

Dolores and Mariano's first date was completely set up by Isabela as she is the ultimate wingman. However Camilo tries to sabotage as protective siblings do.

It's a whole cartoon plot going on between Isabela making the date go great and Camilo trying to ruin it.

All exotic plant experimentation happens in Isabela's room in order to avoid cases of invasive species.

A scrapped concept of Isabela's powers was that she could also make sentient plant people (potatoes specifically).

I have an AU in the works with this idea but for now, just imagine. Her little potato army.

Mirabel has never been more terrified of an idea in her life.

Camilo will have moments where he walks into Mirabel's room out of nowhere and plops his head on top of hers while she's sewing.

Mirabel stopped questioning it after the third time. He just wants to be around her and she doesn't mind the affection.

After she's done, they'll go and commit twin crimes.

Pepa is usually the one breaking up a fight between Dolores and Camilo while Félix and Antonio sip juice out on the patio. They do not see therefore it does not exist.

Félix is the type to put them in a get-along shirt and tell them to figure it out.

Isabela is always this close to wrangling Camilo's neck.

If not for the spirit of Abuelo Pedro watching over him Isabela probably would've gotten it done by now.

As much as I love the idea of cousins being forever wholesome with each other, we have to admit that realistically, they're also all gremlins towards each other.

Mirabel and Camilo once broke a vase to which Dolores heard loud and clear. They begged her (or in Camilo's case, threatened) her not to tell. She promised... And then proceeded to yell "ABUELAAAAAA-".

Remember my "Mirabel and Isabela fist fight" headcanon? Yeah that would happen with Isabela and Camilo if the boy didn't run for his life most the time.

Camilo is a full blown clothes thief, whether it be his sister's or his cousins' dresses. Don't blame him that they look good on him.

Luisa and Antonio are the only safe ones from this. One's too big and the other's too small.

Anytime Isabela and Mirabel would get into an argument, Luisa would just pick them up by their clothes' collars and simply hug them until they stopped. Works every time (plus free cuddles!).

Even Casita has its moments where it'll lift up a floorboard to trip up someone or bonk someone with a door. Mischievous house it is.

All in all, cousins will be cousins but they grandkids all love each other down to the very bone.

This has gotta be the longest one so far... May be a bit of a break before my brain comes up with more ideas, but that's all for now!

[bcdwhcre]

Suggestion coming!! 🙈 If you are not comfortable with writing this it's completely fine! ❤ I was thinking maybe something fluff that turns smutty in the end with Levi.. Maybe Levi comes back from an expedition and goes to his cabin in the woods( extra points if it's snowing ❄). There he saw his soul mate crying because she thought Levi was dead because of some false information. He comforts her.. And eventually shows her how much she means to him.. 😊

This is actually my first suggestion so sorry for any inconvenience! 🖤

“Wrongful Death,” Levi x Reader

Summary: You heard rumors of Levi and his entire squad being dead from their expedition but when he comes home to you upset, he comforts you.

Warnings: angst to fluff then smut

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The long week with Levi being gone was already a lot for you to handle. You always hated when he went out on long expeditions because there was no way to communicate or to know if he’s alright or that he’ll be coming back safely.

Even though you always had full confidence in him and knew just how good he was at being a Scout, you still couldn’t help but worry or have doubts lingering inside of your head as you lay in bed alone.

One day in particular you had gone out in the town just to grab a few things you needed, including some food to make something special for him when he returns which should be relatively soon, he never stayed out longer than a week.

It was starting to slowly snow as you walked about, the cold air becoming thicker as the clouds roll in and sprinkle down the white substance onto the ground, making it stick. You had made a mental note to hurry up with the shopping before it got too cold to handle.

But as you looked down at the vegetables, picking out the best suited ones, you had heard the MPs whispering about near you and once Levi’s name was brought into it, you had stopped what you were doing to listen in on their conversation.

“I heard this expedition was one of the worst ones.” One of them said, making you slowly start to worry at where the conversation was going.

“Yea, I heard Levi’s squad all got wiped clean- no survivors.” In seconds your heart had dropped all the way down to the pit of your stomach, the instant panic that came straight to your head.

You had stopped what you were doing, completely ignoring what you were getting and started to turn back to walk home. You started to feel light headed the faster you had tried to get back to your place, not wanting to fully give into your emotions out on the streets.

The wind started to pick up on your way back, making you tug the big coat around you tighter as you tried to walk faster towards the small cabin you two had shared.

You didn’t want to fully believe what the MPs were saying but you had a gut feeling that they would know what happened out on expeditions before anyone here and that had made you believe that maybe Levi was dead, maybe this expedition was too difficult for him.

As your shaky hand unlocked the front door with the key and opened it up to the empty cabin, your heart started to shatter more, your breathing becoming heavier as you sat on the couch and started to let your emotions overpower you, making soft sobs leave your lips at the thought of him being dead.

His voice kept repeating in your head about him promising you he’ll be back home. The constant reminders he would give you when you both laid in bed before he had to go, always telling you how much he loved you and how he’ll always come back home, it only made things harder to wrap your head around.

You didn’t have anyone else, you didn’t have family, you only had Levi and now that you were fully alone, or so you thought, it broke you apart bit by bit. As you stood up after crying on the couch for a few minutes, you had decided to turn on the fireplace and take your coat off.

All you did was grab a blanket, some hot chocolate and sat back on the couch to cry out your emotions, your face flushed and full of your own tears as you stared out at the wall, almost emotionless.

All while Levi rode his horse back into the walls and towards the base to drop his things off and head back home to you. He was drained from the long week and he was glad it was finally over so he’ll have a relaxing weekend with you.

The snow now became thicker and covered up every inch of the ground, seeing his breath as he grabbed his things and made his way towards the cabin as the sun started to set as it hid behind the clouds.

He didn’t realize how fast he was walking back, he was impatient and he was dying to see your face. He didn’t want to think about the long week he had endured and he didn’t want to think about what had went down including the lives they sadly lost.

He quickly walked up the steps, opening up the door and stomping his boots on the ground to knock off the snow before fully stepping inside the warm cabin. His eyes instantly landed on you on the couch as you turned to see who opened your door, almost startling you.

When he saw your flushed cheeks and your red tear filled eyes, he became worried and shrugged off his coat before making his way over to you. You were completely stunned because you’ve been sitting here crying, thinking he was dead and now he was standing inside the cabin, his worried eyes meeting yours.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked but you quickly wrapped your arms around him and embraced him in a tight hug, more tears spilling out.

“They said you were dead, Levi. I thought you were dead.” You mumbled quietly, feeling completely dumb for believing the rumors you heard.

“Who did?” He was confused, pulling you back to look down at your red eyes.

“The MPs, they said no survivors.”

“And you believed those lazy idiots?” He scoffed, cupping your cheeks and wiping the remaining tears off your face.

“Yeah, sounds stupid now that I think about it.” He cracked a smile, continuing to swipe his thumbs across your cheeks to get rid of the tears that slipped.

“You know I’ll never leave you, right?” He said softly, sighing under his breath at the mess those MPs caused for letting a silly rumor slip.

He was angry but he couldn’t show it, he knew that it wasn’t worth the trouble arguing with those idiots and considering you’re sitting here upset and have been for a few hours, he knew that you needed someone just for a little bit, you needed that comfort to reassure you that everything is okay.

So he sat there on the couch, holding onto you as your head laid there against his chest, hearing his heartbeat thump repeatedly, reminding you that he was here and alive, it wasn’t your imagination.

You could still feel the sadness weighing down on your heart, the sighs leaving your lips so casually as you continued to imagine Levi getting killed on a mission. You couldn’t stop the anxiety that replayed in your mind, it was torture and he soon caught on to your dozed off state.

“You know you mean the world to me, Y/N.” He mumbled, giving you small words of reassurance to comfort you some more.

“I’ll never leave you behind, even if I was out there bleeding out- I would still crawl back home to you.” It wasn’t the best choice of words but you understood what he was trying to say.

“I know, I just get worried.. you’re all I have left.” It was a scary feeling to always worry about him and whether or not you’ll be attending a funeral because he didn’t make it out alive, especially a funeral without his body to bury- it killed you slowly.

“I love you.” He said quietly, his vulnerability leaking out of him to show you just how much he cared about your feelings. H wanted you to know just how much you meant to him.

He decided to get off the couch after kissing the top of your head. He knew that what he went through the last week didn’t matter, not when you were in a state like this. You were first above all, his first priority and he wanted to make sure you were happy and healthy before anything else.

So, he had decided to make some tea and take you to bed where he piled as many blankets as he possibly could to get you warmed up considering it was snowing down pretty hard outside and it was becoming increasingly chilly.

He set your cup of tea on the side table beside you, his lips landing on top of yours for a quick moment, something he’s been thinking about since he left on the expedition. All he thought about on that mission was your warm lips that fit perfectly with his and the way your fingers would always comb through his hair when you both were laid up intertwined with each other.

This all made him happy, the small butterflies exploding inside of his stomach as he slipped under the covers and embraced you in his arms, making you feel safe and more than happy to see his face again. You shivered slightly, your fingers slipping up and tangling in his hair before the both of you started to kiss which got heated pretty quickly from how much you both had missed each other.

It didn’t take long for his body to be hovered over yours and his lips molded with your own to make your skin feel hot underneath all the blankets that had surrounded your bodies.

“Let me show you how much you really mean to me.”

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Oh lord here’s another sad post about me being back but at least I posted a writing while I was at it :p

• AOT Masterlist •

• Main Masterlist •

[spencers-renaissance]

i can't forgive me & you can't forget

Summary: Spencer is happy that his boyfriend is as compassionate as he is, but watching Derek do everything he can to help Strauss with her alcoholism when he stood by and did nothing back when he was struggling with his dilaudid addiction is beginning to take its toll.

Tags: hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst, insecurity, est. rel., hurt/comfort, cuddling & snuggling, angst w a happy ending, fluff TW: referenced past drug use, addiction, and overdose, implied/referenced alcoholism

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // The other fic in this universe

Inspired by @marisatomay’s post here!!! The title is from the second part of the poem Betrayal by Lang Leav.

It’s pushing ten pm by the time Spencer finally hears the front door open and close with a soft click, hears the rustling of Derek ditching his leather jacket on the crowded coat rack and toeing off his shoes — no doubt placing them neatly at the side of the hall like he always does — and listens to his footsteps as he nears the bedroom where Spencer’s been holed up since Derek left.

“Hey, baby boy,” Derek says with a warm, relaxed smile, his fingers already working on undoing his shirt buttons, before digging through their wardrobe to find a more comfortable top.

“Hey.”

Spencer watches him with tired eyes. He’s been feeling as hurt and despondent as he does this evening for weeks now, but tonight is the first time he doesn’t have the energy to hide it. He’s spent the entire afternoon in bed, and he’s certain it shows in the imprints of the creased pillowcase on his cheek and his messed up hair, and where just a couple of days ago he’d rush to hide those tells, he simply doesn’t care enough anymore.

Derek turns around from the wardrobe and shrugs off his shirt, replacing it with a soft blue t-shirt Spencer’s always liked on him. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”

Spencer shakes his head. Derek undoes his belt and switches his trousers for a pair of grey sweatpants before walking over to the bed and climbing onto the mattress, grinning cheekily as he rolls over Spencer’s body and leans down to press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose.

It’s sweet and romantic and so painfully normal, and maybe that’s exactly why he suddenly finds himself swallowing back tears. He’s hardly spent any time with Derek outside of work in weeks and he’s hurt and sad and struggling, and it’s only making it worse that his loving and attentive boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice. Really, Spencer knows he needs to communicate, and that a significant part of his pain is his responsibility, but the shame—

“Well that just won’t do,” Derek murmurs, interrupting his thoughts as he brushes his fingers over a lock of curly hair resting on Spencer’s temple. “I’ll go and make you something. Or we can order in? What do you fancy?”

Spencer shrugs, looking away. He’s not trying to be difficult, it’s just incredibly hard to think about food and a relaxing night in with your partner when you feel like your insides are splintering and you’re just barely holding yourself together.

Even without looking directly at his face, Spencer can see Derek’s brow furrow and his happy expression fade, and soon enough Derek’s fingers are at his chin, gently moving his head until he’s looking at him again. “Hey, pretty boy,” he says gently, looking so concerned it makes his chest ache, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on in that big old head of yours.”

So much of him wants to give in and tell him everything, wants to spill his fears and his anxieties and his anger and his shame onto the sheets of their bed and lay it all out for him. He wants to shout, “See? This is who I am! This is all my mess and my pain and my regret! Look at it!”

But he can’t. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to meet the swirling worry in Derek’s deep, beautiful brown eyes and he wills himself not to cry. “Nothing,” he lies. “I’m just tired. Hungry.”

He knows Derek doesn’t believe him, but there isn’t much he can do if Spencer isn’t willing to communicate, so he nods reluctantly and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead this time, lingering there for a moment longer than he usually does. The feeling of his boyfriend hovering over him and asking him what’s wrong and kissing him so tenderly is all Spencer’s craved for weeks, but now it’s here, he still feels sad and empty and hollowed out by shame and bitterness, desperate for something more without so much as an idea as to what exactly more might entail.

“I tell you what, I’ll go make you some tortellini, alright? There’s a pack in the fridge and it only takes a couple of minutes so I’ll be back before you know it,” Derek promises, and Spencer can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Regardless, Derek hops off the bed and heads out to the kitchen, leaving Spencer alone in the softly lit bedroom. He pulls the duvet further up to his chin and buries his face in it, the soft fabric gentle on his skin, and the comforting scent of Spencer’s shampoo mingling with Derek’s cologne settling him slightly.

Derek had spent the afternoon with Strauss at the rehab centre. And not for the first time.

The problem is, how can Spencer be mad at him for that? Really, it’s the epitome of his character: genuine, constant, unconditional compassion for everyone around him, no matter who they are or what his history with them might be. Of course he’d see Strauss struggling with her addiction and swoop right in, getting her settled in at the centre and spending hours with her on visiting days, fighting alongside Hotch to persuade the director to let her keep her job.

But watching him leave every week, watching him text her encouraging messages, hearing him talk about her progress and recovery… it strikes a nerve deep inside Spencer. He isn’t proud of how he feels. He knows it’s petty and illogical, but he can’t help it.

Because somewhere deep in his soul, an old version of himself, a sad, lonely, scared, addicted-to-dilaudid boy is crying out, why didn’t you do that for me?

It’s that question that really plagues him. They’re called into work the next day for a fairly interesting case in North Dakota, and there are some fairly strong links to the world of academia, so usually, Spencer would be all over it, reeling off facts and statistics and reaching out to his contacts to further the case. But for some reason, he just can’t get his head in the game.

He finds himself zoning out on the jet and wandering off at crime scenes without even knowing where he’s going. Initially, his team had assumed that he was thinking, or was going somewhere deliberately that might help them with the case, they’d all counted on Doctor Reid to come up with some brilliant theory to bring them closer to catching their unsub.

But Hotch had quickly realised that his head was somewhere else and kept him close to his side from then on. At least staying at the police station with Hotch and being tasked with reading through the unsub’s literary work and constructing a geographical profile both gives him something specific to focus on, and — as much as Spencer hates to admit it — keeps him away from Derek.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Hotch asks gently when they both find themselves at the coffee pot in the late afternoon. He doesn’t look over at him, his eyes focused on the stream of coffee and creamer headed straight for his mug. Spencer knows it’s a tactic to make him feel less ambushed and more relaxed, but that doesn’t stop it from working.

“No,” he says honestly.

Hotch nods in acceptance. He puts a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes briefly. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”

Both JJ and Emily eye him suspiciously throughout the case as well, but no one is more confused and concerned than Derek. Spencer tries not to think about the irony.

“Baby, what’s got you all distracted like this?” Derek asks softly when they’re finally alone in their room that night, full up from the rushed dinner they’d all had in the lobby before crawling to their rooms for a couple of hours’ sleep before the manhunt continues in the morning. “This is so unlike you and you know it.”

Spencer doesn’t reply, just continues quietly changing into his pajamas before brushing his teeth and washing his face. Derek’s still sitting in the same position when he comes out, looking frustrated and contemplative, and Spencer feels guilty for making him feel this way, but he just doesn’t know what to do. He can’t act like everything's okay because it isn’t, and he’s tired himself out from pretending that it was for weeks, now. But he can’t tell him what’s going on either.

The thing is, how is Spencer supposed to admit that he’s still hurt over something that happened almost five years ago now? And how is he supposed to admit that Derek doing the right thing is only reopening wounds he’d tried so hard to heal and close? That both Derek and Hotch had specifically helped him heal and close?

He doesn’t know how to verbalise his feelings without sounding petulant or pathetic, so he doesn’t. He keeps them buried deep inside him and hopes desperately that no one comes digging.

“I’m fine, Derek,” he lies again, leaning down to kiss him gently before rounding the bed and crawling under the covers. “Just having an off day, I guess.”

Derek sighs but doesn’t push any further, clearly knowing a lost cause when he sees one. Instead, he follows in Spencer’s footsteps and gets ready for bed silently, whispering a quiet good night before switching off the lamp and climbing into bed on the other side.

It feels like the expanse of white sheet between them goes on for miles.

It’s the first time Spencer’s regretted Hotch’s decision to continue letting them share a room.

The question continues to plague him over the next week. He gets marginally better at pretending he’s not falling apart at the seams, and it’s enough to make almost everyone back off, but Hotch is still concerned and Derek is still confused, and he can feel himself drifting further away from the team each day, as though his rope tying him to the others has been cut, and now the current is having its way with him.

Nothing much changes. He continues in his hurt and lonely quietude, and Derek continues to ask what’s wrong, sighing sadly when he gets nothing out of him, and they exist in tandem.

It had always felt — ever since the beginning of their relationship — as though their relationship was a salsa dance. They were tangled in one another’s lives, both physically and emotionally, and they existed in this relaxed kind of ease that Spencer’s only ever seen before in long-term relationships. They’d fallen into a lucky, easy kind of love, and it was never as much work as everyone had promised him a relationship would be.

They’ve been together for four years, and their worst fight was over whether the cheese grater went in the cupboard next to the sink or above it. (Granted, it had spiraled into some other disagreements that came along with cohabitation, but. Still.)

Spencer knows he’s introducing a dynamic they’re unused to, and he hates it. Guilt plagues him, mingling with his shame and sadness until he’s drowning under the weight of it, no way to claw himself to the surface to take a breath.

They exist on parallel lines: next to one another; yet never crossing over. Their relationship is no longer a salsa dance.

The next off-day they have, Derek can’t get out the door fast enough. “I’m off to visit Erin,” he tells Spencer, and it still makes him irrationally angry that he’s stopped calling her Strauss and now refers to her like a friend.

Is it better that Strauss is now Derek’s friend? Him helping someone he actually cares about makes him not caring about Spencer all those years again slightly less of a gut-punch, he supposes. But the fact that Derek and Strauss of all people are becoming closer while he and Spencer drift apart hurts in a way he can’t even begin to explain.

This time, he spends the entire day crying. Every time the tears slow down and he catches his breath, another wave of grief and pain and anxiety and shame and jealousy crashes over him, and all of a sudden he can’t breathe again. It’s an exhausting cycle, and by the early afternoon his stomach muscles are aching and his ribs feel bruised.

It’s also the first day he gets a craving.

He’s an addict, right, he’s had periods of intermittent cravings over the years, that’s completely normal. Sometimes, even thinking about it in passing is enough for the itch to come back, to whisper the number of his old dealer in his ear, to recall in both his physical and mental memory the feeling that came with each press of the syringe.

This is the most intense one since his withdrawal immediately after waking up in hospital following his accidental overdose in his parking garage. It’s so intense that it scares him.

Crying harder than he thought it possible, he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and — fighting the temptation to type in the digits of his dealer — he dials the number he’s had memorised since he was nineteen. He can’t speak through his gut-wrenching sobs, but he knows the sound of him crying this hard will be enough, so he lies in bed and continues his pity party until he hears the front door swing open and the rapid steps through the hall.

Soon enough, Hotch is pulling him into his arms and he finally feels a little less alone.

Hotch lets him cry himself out, and only when his tears have dried up and the hiccups have subsided does he say anything besides the reassuring murmurs he’d spoken into Spencer’s ears as he cried.

“Spencer,” he says — somewhat desperately — “please. You have to tell me what’s going on. Let me help you, okay? Whatever it is, I’m here. I won’t let you suffer on your own anymore, I promise.”

Spencer doesn’t raise his head from its position buried in Hotch’s t-shirt, but he does finally say something. He doesn’t know what overrides the shame that’s kept him quiet — maybe it’s the exhaustion or the loneliness finally winning out — but whatever it is, he’s glad it does.

“I had a craving today,” he whispers, because it seems like a good place to start. “Haven’t been feeling good since, uh. Since… Strauss.”

It’s hopelessly phrased, but it’s the best way he can explain it and Hotch, being the miracle profiler and father figure of Spencer Reid, figures it out instantly.

He feels the way he slumps slightly, hears the tired, frustrated sigh, and knows he’s probably beating himself up for not figuring it out sooner.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”

Hotch shushes him. “You don’t need to apologise for that, Spencer, don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry for being so blind, and I am. I hate that you’ve been suffering like this and we’ve all been too stupid to realise why.”

“It still, it still hurts,” he says quietly, sadly, regretfully, “it still hurts that no one helped me until it was almost too late. But everyone dropped everything to help Strauss— I’m sorry, it’s so selfish, I shouldn’t be—”

“Hey, Spence,” Hotch interrupts him, caressing his arm gently. “It isn’t selfish. It’s human. And you’re right, we should have helped you sooner and it’s always been my greatest regret that we didn’t, and that because of that dereliction of duty, we almost lost you.”

“I’m not, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything—”

“Spencer, I know that. But you need to stop feeling guilty for how you feel, alright? It makes complete sense that this is bringing up both the feelings of rejection and betrayal, and also cravings for the drug you were addicted to at the time. It’s so obvious that I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier.”

Spencer nods, but he doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. “Derek’s been visiting Strauss on our days off,” he admits quietly. “I’ve barely seen him for almost a month now, and that— it isn’t helping.”

“I can understand that. Have you talked to him about any of this?” he asks, even though Spencer’s sure Hotch already knows the answer.

He shakes his head.

“I know it’s hard, Spence, I really do, but I think you need to talk to him. Obviously, it would’ve been better if both he and I had figured it out without you having to tell us, but clearly, he isn’t going to realise by himself. I know that as soon as you explain it, he’ll understand completely.”

Spencer sighs. Some part of him had known this was coming, he just didn’t know how it would come about. He wouldn’t have put money on Hotch being involved, but maybe he should have done. He always seems to come to Spencer’s rescue.

“He’ll probably be out for a while. He usually stays out for hours when he goes to visit her.”

“Well, how about I stay until he comes home, and then you can talk to him? How does that sound?”

Spencer looks up at him. “What about Jack?”

“He’s out with a friend and their family anyway,” Hotch reassures him, smiling as he runs a hand down his arm. “Now how about I make you some tea and we go and sit on the sofa?”

Spencer reluctantly agrees and moves from the safety of his bed to the comfort of his sofa, but he has to admit that the light streaming in from the big bay window and the feeling of sitting up makes him feel just a little better straight away. Once Hotch is back and placing a cup of chamomile tea into his hands, he doesn’t feel quite so much like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment.

“I have to ask, Spencer,” Hotch says carefully, “did you buy any dilaudid? Or attempt to contact your dealer?”

“Thought about it,” he admits, not meeting Hotch’s concerned eyes, “but I didn’t.”

Hotch relaxes. “Good. I’m proud of you, you know.”

Spencer looks at him with a hesitant smile that only grows when Hotch beams back.

They spend the afternoon watching nature documentaries — and Spencer admittedly dozes through a lot of them, exhausted from the burden of carrying so much pain around and the physical exertion of crying so hard — until Derek comes home at just gone five thirty.

“Hotch?” he asks, confused, and his voice wakes Spencer up from one of his unintentional naps.

He scrambles to sit upright, going inexplicably red at the thought of what he knows is coming. For some reason, he feels like he’s done something wrong and he’s about to be told off. He hates that this is what his relationship with Derek has come to.

“Hi, Derek,” Hotch says, squeezing Spencer’s ankle and getting up from the sofa. “Spencer asked me to come over earlier” — which is a bit of a stretch when really Spencer sobbed into the phone until Hotch showed up — “and I was just keeping him company until you came home.”

Derek’s eyebrows only furrow further, looking between them, confused. “Right.”

“Spencer,” Hotch says, meeting his eyes, “are you okay if I go now? You’ll tell Derek what we talked about?”

Immediately, Spencer blushes red as Derek’s scrutinising eyes fixate on him, but he nods and smiles weakly at Hotch, following him with his eyes as he lets himself out, if just to avoid meeting Derek’s.

“Pretty boy?” Derek says cautiously, slowly taking off his jacket and approaching the sofa like Spencer’s a wild animal liable to be spooked away at any given moment. He supposes it’s probably quite a good analogy, actually.

Spencer shifts nervously in his seat, moving his legs out of the way to give Derek more room to sit down on the sofa.

“You finally gonna tell me what’s been up with you these last few weeks?” Derek asks, and Spencer isn’t oblivious to the hope in his voice. “I’ve been worried about you, baby.”

Spencer nods and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths to compose himself. He’s told one person, and it went fine— it went well, actually. Derek is his life partner, his soulmate, and they tell each other everything. He just needs to start at the beginning. He needs to tell him all of the disclaimers, remind him that he’s not angry at him for doing the right thing or for being the compassionate person he is, he just needs to— He needs to focus, and he needs to tell the truth.

“I called Hotch earlier because I was scared of myself,” he says, finally opening his eyes and looking into Derek’s. “I was having some of the most intense cravings I’ve had since being sober, and I was seriously considering calling my dealer, but I managed to call Hotch instead, and we talked about how I’ve been feeling.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Derek says regretfully, his face melting into the very picture of apologetic as he scoots a bit closer on the sofa so he can grab Spencer’s legs and pull them over his lap.

“I know,” Spencer replies, ignoring for now that him not being here is why they have a problem in the first place. He moves on. “I’ve been… struggling… over the last month or so with feelings that I haven’t really known how to rationalise or explain, and when I finally did make sense of them, I felt that I couldn’t share them with anyone, which is why I’ve been so distant and private. And I’m sorry for that, by the way.”

Derek just smiles, caressing his bare ankle with one hand as he rests his other over his shin.

He pauses for a moment, trying to find the best way to word his thoughts, but before he can think about it too hard, the words come spilling out, unbidden. “I’ve found it hard to reconcile your attentiveness and willingness to throw everything at helping Strauss, and the way no-one helped me with my addiction back in 2007.”

Derek’s face instantly falls, and saying the words out loud brings all the emotions he’d managed to control back again in full force, and suddenly his face is crumpling, too. Derek surges forward, moving them both until he’s situated between the sofa cushions and Spencer, cuddling him as close as he can while Spencer cries into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking as he begins to cry as well. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything then and I’m sorry I didn’t put two and two together to realise why you were struggling so much. I can’t believe I was so oblivious, Spence, oh God.”

They lie there for a long time, crying together as Derek runs his hands through Spencer’s hair and Spencer clings desperately to the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt.

“I was just feeling so distant from you because we weren’t spending as much time together, and I had no idea how to admit that I was feeling hurt about something that happened almost five years ago,” he continues when they’ve both calmed down again, and they’re ready to resume the conversation. “I guess I just felt… ashamed of both my feelings now and being jealous, which is so ridiculous, I had no idea how to tell anyone how I was feeling. And I’m so sorry that my lack of communication affected us so much.”

“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry that I was hurting you when I should’ve known the effect my actions would have. This whole mess is on me for so many reasons.”

“Der, I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says insistently, urgently, looking at him imploringly. “You’ve apologised enough for what happened back then, and there’s no way we can change what happened. You were just being the same kind and compassionate person you always are when you were helping Strauss.” He reaches out and cups Derek’s face gently, hating the tells of guilt and self-loathing he can see all over it.

Derek sighs and moves Spencer’s hand to his lips so he can kiss his palm. “When I was sitting in that hospital room waiting for you to wake up,” he explains, “I made a promise to myself. I told myself that I would never let anyone down like that again. I was never going to stand back and watch anyone else I knew fall into the same trap you did. So when I realised Strauss had a drinking problem, all I saw was an opportunity to keep that promise.

“The only problem was that I was so wrapped up in doing the right thing in helping her that I wasn’t doing the right thing by you. I should’ve realised all the feelings, physical and emotional, that this would bring up for you, but I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, baby boy, I really am.”

Spencer cuddles back into Derek, burying his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and relaxing into the reassuring scent of his person. “I know, Der. I forgive you.”

“How about we order in some Thai for dinner from your favourite restaurant and watch some Doctor Who?” Derek suggests after a couple of minutes of silence. “I think we’re long overdue for some quality time together.”

Spencer smiles at him, feeling so much of the heaviness that’s been weighing him down over the last few weeks lift that he feels almost like he’s floating. “I think that sounds like a plan.”

They set the living room up to be as cosy as possible, lighting the candles Penelope had made for them and using only their soft lamps to light the room, before piling the couch high with blankets and pillows until they’re cuddled together in a little nest.

The evening is spent eating their favourite food and watching their favourite season of Doctor Who, and while Spencer’s still hurting and they still have healing to do, this feels like a damn good start.

“I’m proud of you,” Spencer whispers to Derek late into the night, when they’re close to falling asleep in the comfort of their blanket pile.

Derek turns to him, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“You made a mistake when you let things get bad with my addiction back in 2007,” Spencer explains, “and when you saw someone headed down the same path, you stopped at nothing to make sure you didn’t make that mistake again. If anything shows me how much you regret not doing anything sooner, it’s your devotion to Strauss’ recovery.”

Derek smiles at him, his eyes a little watery, and holds his chin gently as he leans in to kiss him. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”

Spencer kisses him again before cuddling back into his side. “I know you do, Derek. And I love you, too.”

And really, when it comes down to it, that’s enough.

Ahhh, this was the first fic in forever that actually felt fairly easy to write thank GOD. I loved this concept and writing that good, good angst was so much fun. Plus, we always love a happy ending in this house! Also, a reminder that how other people when you confront them with the way they hurt you or made you feel is not your responsibility.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (add yourself to my taglist here!)

[bokutoslittlebird]

Side Effects May Include...

Bokuto x reader

Author’s Note : I feel like this is long overdue

Warnings: medication [not specified], full nelson, f. masturbation, sex toys [vibrators], choking, doggy style, mating press, this is mostly smut, Princess as a pet name, creampie(s)

“Here is your prescription,” the pharmacist says. You thank her and take the bag. Taking out the piece of paper, you look over the side effects.

“May include high libido? Sure,” you laugh, though there’s no joy behind it. Your last prescription had the same side effects listed, but it lowered the libido. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but after entering a relationship with Bokuto, you found it to be bothersome. Bokuto was always bouncing off the walls with boundless energy and after the first time, he was obsessed. If he could, he’d have it every night.

You felt bad, thinking back on it. When he had asked, you always consented but you were tired after one round and found that it wasn’t as pleasureful as it could be. Bokuto noticed, of course, so you confessed about your.. predicament. He took it in stride, understanding that he couldn’t get his dick wet every night, but you let him hit it at least once a week. Yet, you would know when he went to the bathroom for 15 minutes, it was because he needed to rub one out. It made you feel like a bad girlfriend, unable to properly take care of him.

The new prescription didn’t have anything new, you felt like. Your libido was still the same, you weren’t eating more or less, and you didn’t feel the need to sleep all day from a headache. Bokuto understood, his smile as bright as it was when you guys got together when he sees you. However, he mentioned he had an away game over dinner that evening.

“It’s only down to Miyagi, so it’sa 2 day trip. I’ll leave early tomorrow mornin’ and be back late Saturday night,” he says around a mouthful of food. You laugh at that, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk.

“Alright, I’ll be here. I’ll get groceries Saturday afternoon, then,”

“Why’re ya laughin’?” He really doesn’t understand, which just makes you laugh harder.

“Swallow your food, you heathen! You look like a chipmunk,” you puff out your cheeks like his which has him giggling, having to turn away from you to swallow. Once he has loudly gulped down his food, he fully laughs and joins in with your laughter. A classic dinner.

The next day goes by without any issues, your body feeling a bit more active than when you were on your old prescription. Jogging around the neighborhood and deciding to exercise the extra energy off, you wonder if you’ll be more active to sleep with Bokuto. The next day, Saturday, however, you find yourself more than just a bit active.

The grocery run is in the morning and includes some extra things that weren’t on the list. After getting home and putting away the groceries, you rip into the packaging of the vibrator and batteries you bought. The extra vibrator you bought is off to the side, most likely to be used at a later date. You do push in the batteries, however, in case the other one’s batteries die. Before you head to the bedroom, you do reach out to grab the extra vibrator.

It’s late evening or early morning, you can’t tell. You’re exhausted from the marathon you’ve given your poor clit and underwear, two pairs stiff from the liquid they’ve absorbed. With the fan on, you lay on your bed with only Bokuto’s shirt to give you some decency, but even then it is too hot. Everything is too hot right now, you feel like, as your hand slides down your sides until it’s diving between your thighs and teasing your folds. You avoid your clit, feeling the desire to rub and tease it again, but you don’t. With the state you’re in, you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk anytime soon.

Good thing you don’t have to worry.

The door opening is almost heavenly to you, knowing Bokuto’s home. The loud thud from his bag hitting the floor tells you he’s in a bad mood, most likely from a lost. He’s quiet the rest of the way, probably hoping to not disturb you. With you wide awake, you decide to give him something to walk into. Hand still between your legs, you pump them into you as soft moans leave your lips.

“He-llo?” His voice pitches a bit as he enters the room. Frozen in place, there he stands. Turning your head slightly towards him, you give off a lazy smile.

“I need your help, big boy,” you practically moan, feeling your hands squelching with the accumulated slick. He doesn’t hesitate, his frown and confusion turning to a smile and desire. He’s already shrugging off his clothes as he moves closer to the bed. Once there, he replaces your fingers with his own, rough and thick enough to reach inside where your fingers couldn’t. Your hand drops, the ache in your arm from the constant movement getting to you, but that’s not the focus. With a nearly three pumps of his fingers, you’re gushing and moaning as juices drip out of you, down his hand and his thick arm. The same hand that reaches up and pushes past your lips so you can taste yourself, his own body moving up as his cock bobs against your thigh.

“So needy and I’ve only been gone for two days,” he practically coos into your ear, one hand lining himself up to push into you. Words don’t come as easily now, your mind fuzzy from the orgasm that begins the long marathon of what’s coming. “All ready and prepped for me, too. Gonna let me relieve some stress, baby?”

“Please,�� your whine of pleasure has him pushing into your depths, your cunt eagerly sucking him in. Mewls come from your lips as your back arches, ass pushing back into his hips to get more. “More, please,”

“You can’t take anymore,” he grunts, large arms coming to wind around your throat. The simple action prevents you from moving any farther down. “Your tiny cunt can’t take it, princess,”

“I can! I can!” broken moans and useless mewls, that’s all you hear from your lips. He doesn’t give you a chance to speak anymore, shoving his entire length into you and splitting you open, your body bouncing forward and into the pillows. The simple action has his tip bumping your cervix, making you feel as if he actually will split you in two as he fucks into your heat. Squelching and squishing noises come your cunt with each pump of his cock into you as he disappears inside, only to come back out. The wet slapping of his balls against your clit has your walls clamping down around him, sucking him in even more as he groans and releases your neck so your body is completely limp.

A murmur of something comes from him, but you don’t understand it. When his arms hook under yours and his fingers lace together behind your head, you let out a scream as he continues to jackhammer into you. “God, I’ve missed this,” he momentarily chuckles, his forehead resting against your back, sweat soaking through the fabric as he fucks you. His constant hip thrusting must be drawing him to a close, you wonder, but he continues to drive himself into you. A low moan comes from him as his hips still, against your ass as his own orgasm splashes against your walls, filling you up.

It’s not enough.

You’re still whining, backing your ass up for more as he goes to pull out. He does pull out, but he then flips you over to see the state of your face. Snot is smeared across your face and tears stain your cheeks with drool spilling from your mouth, but he thinks you’re more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen. He’s glad he came home to this.

Legs still spread wide open, your fingers dive between your legs to tease and rub yourself, collecting the sticky cum he just spilt into you. A growl comes from deep in his chest as he watches, eyes lidded as he realizes you’re still ready to go. You’re still unsatisfied, which is unusual for you, but he isn’t going to complain. The soft mewls from you and then loud moans as he sinks himself back into you. There’s hardly any resistance as he does, groaning as he throws his head back at the sensation. Moving his body forward, he picks up your legs and hooks them over his shoulders, keeping his arms on either side of you to keep your legs up.

With the change in position, he can somehow reach even deeper into you as he thrusts. Tip bumping against your cervix and every single push and pull out of you has your cunt spasming around him, sucking him in and gushing out more milky fluid. Bubbles form at the base of his cock, wetting the slick patch of hair around there. His lips find yours, stifling your moans as he pistons into you, headboard slamming against the wall as he uses every bit of energy to fuck you into a stupor. Even now, the only noises you can make are muffled mewls, startled gasps, and broken moans. Each noise gives him the courage to keep going, even as he feels his next orgasm coming, he forces it down until your squirting and screaming all over his cock.

It isn’t too long until you’re doing exactly that, nails digging into the back of his neck and his shoulder as you cry out, ending your orgasm with a mewling moan. When your walls finish fluttering around him, his cock sore from the sensations, then does he finally release inside you. Keeping you pinned beneath him, he moans as he hangs his head low, rutting against you as he pumps more and more of his cum into you.

Heavy breathing fills in the silence where there was the sounds of sex, both of you coming down from your high. He still has more energy in him, but he’s sure you’re tired and want to sleep. Removing his face from your neck, he looks down at you to see the aftermath of his merciless fucking. A small chuckle leaves him as he attempts to wipe the tears still spilling from your eyes away. His hips move, pulling himself from you, but you whine at the loss of contact.

“I gotta clean you up, you’re a mess,”

“I’m not.. I wan’ ag’in,” you manage to get out, legs locking him closer to you as your hands run down his chest. He flushed at that, as if he didn’t just finish railing you.

“Oh, you’re still wanting, uh, more? What happened?” He asks, but you’re too out of it to properly respond, pointing a finger at the pill bottle beside the bed. He seems to understand, but you don’t actually know. He does, however, push his thick cock back into you. “Alright, then we’ll go again. Wanna make you even more of a mess,”

You can’t say anything against that, tears already starting again as your mouth hangs open in a wanton moan. He has the decency to kiss you, stifling your moans as he rocks himself into you once more.

[shifuaang]

I’ve censored names because I don’t want anyone to be sent hate, but this post and the amount of likes it got enraged me so much that I had to say something about it. This truly might be the worst take I’ve ever seen about both Katara and Aang.

Let’s address how this is harmful to Katara first. The original poster seems to want Katara to keep her scars for the aesthetic™, which is already a really gross concept, but I cannot stress enough how disgusting it is to want a female character to bear permanent, painful markings in order to give a male character ‘more development.’

We are shown routinely throughout ATLA that scars are not just physical indications of trauma but emotional ones as well. 

The only person we see who has scars for “cool” character design reasons is Jeong Jeong, but even then we can assume he received them while he was fighting in the war or because he became a deserter. 

All of these characters have these scars to serve as a constant reminder of the Fire Nation’s brutality and ruthlessness. Katara doesn’t need a physical reminder of this. She already deals with the tremendous, traumatizing loss of her mother on a daily basis. How could you possibly think that it would be good to scar Katara just to ‘punish’ Aang while completely disregarding how it will affect her emotionally?

Katara should not have to bear the emotional and physical weight of Aang’s mistakes in order to teach him a lesson. 

It also completely undermines her moment when she learns she’s a healer. She gets this incredible gift that is so special to her because it means she is able to be both a fighter and a healer. These two sides of her are crucial in her fight for justice and compassion, and the healing aspect is a beautiful addition to a character who is so ‘down in the trenches’ in her approach to achieve these things.

This revelation is not only important to Katara as a character but also integral to so many pieces of the plot. If she hadn’t realized she could heal scars, she wouldn’t have offered to try healing Zuko’s in The Crossroads of Destiny. The chess pieces are constantly being set up in Book 1 in strategic and deliberate ways. I’m all for headcanons and fan concepts, but not when they dismantle the plot and characters for, frankly, sexist reasons.

Onto Aang. 

There is absolutely zero indication that Aang did not suffer the consequences from burning Katara. He is immediately remorseful. He is so incredibly guilty that he swears off firebending for good. He is attacked by Sokka, and is probably reeling over the idea that his best friends and the only people he has in this world might never forgive him for his mistake.

But Katara does forgive him, way faster than he forgives himself, as we see him struggle with memory of hurting her well into Book 3. 

Zuko burns Toph accidentally, but absolutely no one chastises him for this or holds him to the standards they hold Aang. And sure, you could argue Zuko makes his mistake as an act of self-defense while Aang is just goofing around, but Aang is literally twelve when this happened. Don’t tell me that you never unintentionally hurt yourself or others when you were messing around as a preteen. Sokka lists an array of injuries he’s sustained at the end of The Deserter, and while I’m sure most of them were self-inflicted, I can’t imagine that Katara wasn’t involved in any of those instances. They’re kids - all of them, and Aang is the youngest of the bunch, so of course he still has lessons to learn. That doesn’t mean he should have to suffer the ramifications of his adolescent mistakes forever.

His impatience to learn firebending also stems from the fact that he only has until summer’s end to do so. It’s not an excuse for him not taking Jeong Jeong’s warnings seriously, but it is an explanation. And he learns from it. The way we see him handle fire and the responsibility of bending fire in The Firebending Masters proves that he’s matured. 

Aang, Book 1: Jeong Jeong tried to tell me that I wasn't ready. I wouldn't listen.

Aang, Book 3:  All this time, I thought firebending was destruction. Since I hurt Katara, I've been too afraid and hesitant. But now I know what it really is ... it's energy, and life.

The audacity, the gall, the absolute nerve that it takes to say that Aang, a survivor of genocide who lost all of his family and friends and entire culture, “gets let off easy too much” is appalling to me. I’m not sure how many times I have to say that Aang honoring his culture and people and going against the tide - fighting back against the notion that he can’t preserve the traditions and beliefs of his people while being the Avatar at the same time - is not, by any stretch of the imagination, easy.

I don’t know how many times have to say that a child does not deserve to live with the trauma of killing someone, but I’m going to say it again. A CHILD DOES NOT DESERVE TO LIVE WITH THE TRAUMA OF KILLING SOMEONE.

If you truly still believe that the lion turtle/energybending is an easy fix, just read this meta because they explain perfectly why it is not.

And to the last point about Aang ‘getting to be with Katara’ as some kind of “reward” for winning the war, Aang never views Katara as a prize. Need I remind you that he completely drops any type of romantic expression towards her after she rejects his advances in The Ember Island Players? He lets her make the decision as to whether or not she wants to be with him. They get together because the timing is finally right for them - there is no more confusion or violence to prevent them from being together, and Katara no longer has to worry about losing someone she loves. 

[siimjaeyun]

blue bag- jay park

genre: fluff, angst, bad boy au

tw: street violence, mentions of gangs

-------

Jay's reputation at Belift wasn't exactly a secret to most people. The loose uniform with the leather jacket, covered bruises, and exposed tattoos were noticeable to anyone who bothered to pay attention.

Most people would like to assume to not judge him by his appearance, but his character matched it to a tea. He never bothered to give anyone the time of the day, much less even look in their direction. The only people who received such privileges were his closest six friends.

Or anyone who dared to cross his path- including the slight punches he's thrown at the occasional classmate.

But people couldn't see behind his intentions. Like the time he almost beat one of uppers to a pulp when they tried picking on jungwon his first year. All good intentions.

On this fateful day, the teacher had thought a slight change would mix things up. Instead of placing Jay in the back by himself like usual, he placed him right beside you.

"Hi Jay!" Your warm welcome startled him to say the least. Sure, he was used to love letters by other girls, but you didn't really look at him that way.

He stayed silent and placed his head back onto the desk. At the end of class, you bid him goodbye and walked out with your friends who seemed to tattle over him almost immediately.

-------

After yet again another argument with the rivaling gang leader, he finds himself cornered in the back of an alley way. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to think you could fight five men at once.

Tired, and out of breath, he's barely holding onto himself before there's a final blow to his lower stomach, collapsing onto the ground before him.

The men are about to approach him, this time, aiming towards his back, but retreat at the sounds of a siren.

"Here, hurry! They might come back." He looks up and finds it's you, carrying a bag in one hand and reaching out towards him with the other.

"Get lost." Jay, who is too stubborn to ask for help, attempts to get up before his knees give up on him.

"You can't walk. Stop being a bitch and let me help you." You swing his arm over your shoulder, and pull him up, guiding him towards the exit of alley way. At the closest convenience store, you rest him on a bench, bringing a towel to his face to wipe off the blood from his brow and lip.

"How did you see me?" He barely manages to ask.

"I didn't know it was you until I saw your face, which is very beat up by the way." He observes quietly and patiently waits for you retreat the towel from his face, slowly admiring the way you move your eyebrows while humming a small beat. 

“I’m done. I’ll call a taxi to take you home so you can finish up. I’m going to assume this isn’t the first time you get beat up.” Jay, snapping back to reality, stands up quickly and blocks your view of the street. 

“I can manage. Now go home.” He nods towards the direction of the grand city. 

“You can barely walk. Either I take you home, or text someone to come pick you up.” Jay immediately takes the second option, and searches quickly for his phone before realizing he must of left at it home. 

“Go ahead, call the taxi.” He mutters under his breath. The bright lights signal to him that he has arrived, and in silence, you drop him off, and leave, not letting Jay even look back and say a quick ‘thank you.’ 

----- 

If Jay didn’t know any better, it’s almost as if nothing had occurred yesterday. He’s still wearing his black mask to cover up his bruises, but you walked in with a smile and the same welcome from the past two weeks. 

Usually, he would turn the other way or not even bother to look at you, but his slight nod was reassurance enough. 

At the end of class, he was almost the last to leave, given that he had woken up from napping the entire class. Rather than seeing the empty room he was used to waking up in, he saw you again in front of him, holding a blue bag. 

“Here. Eat well okay?” You left the bag onto his desk and walked out again before he could respond. He stuffed the bag into his backpack and went towards the lunch room he was used to meeting his friends in. 

“Jay’s late and beat up. What a surprise.” Sunoo’s snarky comment doesn’t catch him off guard, and instead pulls out the blue bag from his backpack and rests it on the table. 

“Oh? Jay brought lunch? Quick, let’s rate his cooking skills.” Before Jay can react, Heeseung had already snatched it from the table, pulling out a Tupperware with a sticky note on top. 

“Who’s y/n? And why did she call you a loser?” Heeseung asks, opening the container to a bento box. 

“No one, now give it back.” Jay takes back the container, almost admiring the contents inside. 

It was the first time his heart began to take notice of you. 

----- 

Everyone was quickly suspicious about Jay’s relationship with you. It all started with him publicly going to you and thanking you for the food. Then it was the constant good mornings when you would welcome him at the beginning of class. Then it was the morning coffee, and walking you to class in the morning. He was practically stuck to you when he wasn’t with his friends. 

“You know, I think Jay likes you.” One of your friends mentioned casually, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Stop taking those rumors too seriously, he’s just paying back a favor.”

Yet, your friends weren’t the only ones who were beginning to notice. Most noticeably, Jay’s very own friends. 

“Sunghoon, I don’t like her, so can you shut up?” Jay, almost irritated by the constant confusion of emotions. 

“So, you wouldn’t mind her being so close with Sunoo?” Jake points at your direction. You laughing and trying to hold yourself together while punching Sunoo in the arm. 

“No. Of course not." Yet, he still finds himself burning holes into Sunoo's skull as he sees you wrap an arm around his neck to pull him into a head lock.

It seemed as if that was the last straw because in the next moment, Sunghoon was attempting to prevent Jay's next big mess.

"Get your hands off him." Jay commands, catching not only your attention, but those around him as well.

"Relax Jay, she's just playing around." Sunoo gets himself out of the head lock, and looks at your face who's been cleared of any laughter.

"I'll see you later Sunoo." You can't even look at Jay in the eyes before walking off with another friend.

"What's wrong with you? You know she wasn't hurting me!"

"Don't talk to me right now Sunoo." Jay storms off in the opposite direction while Sunoo turns his head to the side at Sunghoon.

"Am I going to die?"

"Not yet anyway. I think if you stay off y/n, maybe it'll extend your life line." Sunghoon states honestly.

"What do you think would happen if I told him she's my cousin?"

"I don't know but I've never seen Jay so..like this. Its a good look on him."

However, Jay is his full fledged rage, begins to shove everyone in his way including a poor freshman who happens to fall in front of your locker.

"Jay what the fuck!? Are you okay?" You crouch down and reach your hand out, giving Jay a bitter feeling.

"Is this how you catch men? You pretend to be the good guy?"

"Excuse me?" You repeat, shocked at Jay's sudden attitude.

"Nevermind just stay away from me? Got it?" You don't even process the words before he dashes off, ignoring his friends who are attempting to catch his attention.

"Sunghoon, what's his issue ?" Sunghoon only let's out a heavy sigh before shrugging his shoulders.

"It's not my business, but I can assure you that anger won't end well."

-----

And it just so happens that Sunghoon's response was quiet accurate considering Jay's familiar situation. He's been long enough member of his gang to know what territories they're not exactly welcomed.

Yet, he doesn't care and does so anyway because anything is better than having to imagine you with some one else.

"Haven't seen you in a while Jay, must have been busy hmm." The leader mocks him, but it only infuriates the pent up anger within him causing him to land a punch at his gut.

"Don't test me." And as if history repeats itself, he finds himself once more cornered in the back of an alley way. With the collection of bruises forming on his stomach, one could tell he was a kick or two away from a good surgery.

"Jay! Stop!" He curses himself mentally when he watches you run towards him.

"You better leave pretty one...I mean unless..." He approaches you, reaching for your chin to tilt it sidewards, leading to Jay using his last strength to push him off you.

"Don't touch her." Jay grits his teeth, earning a smirk that quickly turns into a frown at hearing the sound of police sirens.

"You got lucky this time." He flees the scene leaving you again with a bloodied up Jay.

"You promised me to not fight anymore!" Jay chooses to ignore you and limps away to a nearby post.

"And I told you to stay away from me y/n. I don't need people like you to worry about me because they pity me" He responds.

"How am I not supposed to worry when you left so suddenly? One moment we're good and the next you're mad at Sunoo and everyone?" You place him on the stair case while getting your first aid kit ready.

"How am I supposed to stay away when you worry me? Do you have any idea how fast I ran here with this when Jake told me you weren't at your house?" You continue to apply a bit of alcohol on his open cuts.

"I'm sorry, I was upset. I saw you with Sunoo earlier and I don't know what came over me. Sunoo is so darn perfect, and what about me? I was afraid you'd leave me." Jay mumbles the last part quietly, but you manage to hear it well.

Without much hesitancy, you press a light kiss onto his bruised and swollen lips. He gasps slightly but manages to wrap his arms around your waist.

"I'm not leaving okay, I'm here to stay if you want me to." Jay grabs you and pulls you in for a hug, resting his face in the crook of your neck.

"Please stay." He mumbles, letting his grip on you get stronger. He stays there for a while, before looking at the blue bag in your hand.

"What's this?"

"I brought some dinner because I figured you would be too lazy to do it yourself and end up eating frozen nuggets again." He smiles slightly before admiring your features.

"I really like you y/n.." Jay confesses, still in the position of hugging you.

"I like you too Jay...I really do." A grin forms on his face and he drops another kiss on your cheek before leading the way out.

Perhaps Jay wasn't exactly perfect, but you always knew he was more than ready to love and learn by your side.

------

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts haha, but I figured we could all use a little fluff with everything going on :( <3

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Thirteen

⚠WARNING: Emotional hurt, mention of previous character's death

• ────── ✾ ────── •

Your nose is running and your breath hitches as you weave through other strangers on the sidewalk. A few glance at you, a college-student nearly sobbing on her walk. But to your relief no one stops to talk to you.

It’s almost what you want. You’re desperate to get back to your apartment, lock the door and burrow into your sheets to fully process the events from tonight alone.

Oikawa selfishly spilling your secret, the deepest secret you hold, in a fit of childish rage. And yes, your argument with him didn’t help but you didn’t think he’d stoop that low.

Your phone has been ringing nonstop since you’ve left but you haven’t bothered to pull it out to check the messages or voicemails. You know it’s Oikawa who’s bombarding you with calls and voicemails. And it’s Makki and Mattsun who are sending the texts.

But you don’t want to talk to them.

You acquiesce as you wait for a stoplight to change so you can continue your sad, pathetic walk home. You glance over your shoulder, paranoid that your friends are coming after you to talk. In between the glances you grab your phone and open it up.

You ignore the incoming call from Oikawa and unlock your phone. You see notifications coming into your message app and tap it open. You briefly watch the ever growing number coming from Oikawa’s chat with you before you open the texts from Makki and Mattsun.

You slip your phone back in your pocket without replying. You just want to be alone.

Well, not really. The only person you can imagine talking to about this right now is dead. And that fact kills you.

You can’t tell him how embarrassed you are that Makki and Mattsun know your pathetic secret. You figured that they suspected something was happening between you two in high school because you had such a different relationship with Hajime compared to the others. You’d harbored the idea of finally confessing and actually being with Hajime but you’d shelved it until you were ready.

But then he died. He was taken from you way too soon, and now you’re left with your confusing mess of emotions and thoughts and what if’s.

Having to live with these feelings is unbearable. Having your friends know that you live with these feelings, and the circumstances surrounding them, is even worse.

Fresh tears fill your eyes and you wipe them away.

You round the corner and see your apartment building in sight. You reach into your pocket to get your keys so you’re ready to get inside and lock behind your door.

Except you don’t find your keys in your pocket. Not the right one, not the left. Not in your bag, not in your pockets even after checking - you don’t have your keys.

You let out a whine. Fuck, you do not need this right now.

You think for a second, retracing your steps and trying to remember where you went today. You can cancel a few spots but there are others that could be where your keys are.

You pull out your phone to send a message, starting easy.

The short feeling of victory you felt at finding your keys is erased when you realize you have to walk to Osamu’s apartment. It isn’t far…but you’ve had a long day.

A long day, long week, long couple of months. A long time stuck in this hell of constantly bickering with Oikawa, studying and working your ass off in your classes, navigating life without your best friend.

Is this your life now? Is waking up every day, crying, dragging yourself out of bed to be a civilized member of society, coming back home to cry and then sleep - is that your destiny?

The harrowing thought settles around your shoulders and you feel yourself sink further into the black tar pit you’ve been trapped in for months.

Osamu’s apartment looms above you, and the idea of putting on a friendly mask, even for someone who you want to be friendly with, exhausts you. Hopefully you can get your keys and leave.

You need to be alone, you are alone. Your friends are worrying about you, concerned for you. You are a burden. For all you know your friendship with Oikawa is shattered. You don’t deserve his friendship.

The dark thoughts pick up speed, spinning around and around and around. You feel yourself getting lost in them.

Hajime would know how to help. He would always bring you into the light. He is your light.

Standing in front of Osamu’s door (how did I get here?) you use an embarrassing amount of energy to lift your hand and knock. It doesn’t take long for Osamu to open the door. His calm look is quickly replaced with genuine concern.

Fuck, now he’s worried about you.

“Sorry, I’ll just get my keys.” Your voice warbles, much to your humiliation and shame.

Osamu holds open the door wordlessly and you walk back into the apartment. You spot your keys on the counter. You walk in front of them and stop.

They’re your keys - the black heart keychain is heavy and “able to do serious damage,” as Hajime once said. He got it for you, back in the summer after high school.

He was always creative with the gifts he gave you. Even with something as small as a keychain you knew he put in time and effort and love into them.

If there was one person who you could depend on, it was Hajime.

Tears well in your eyes. You don’t ever seem to be in short supply of them.

Is this my life? You wonder. Am I ever going to feel normal again? Am I ever going to be okay?

You tell yourself to lift your arm, grab your keys, and leave. Leave Osamu alone, don’t burden him with your mess of feelings and your thoughts.

“Y/N?” Through the screaming swirl of thoughts in your head you hear Osamu call your name, and through the watery film in your eyes you see Osamu looking at you.

Leave, you have to leave now.

“I should-” you croak out. You can’t finish your sentence, you don’t know how to finish your sentence. Your brain is malfunctioning, error codes flashing like a broken computer.

Processing error, malfunctioning error, human error.

Error, error, broken, broken.

Only Hajime could fix you.

And he’s dead.

You stare at Osamu, and burst into tears.

Like a damn bursting, the sobs fall from your mouth, unrelenting. You curl into yourself, trying to ebb the flow. It’s pointless, as you are broken. You cannot be fixed.

It hurts, it hurts so much.

Harsh cries rattle your body, rip through your throat and spill out into the serenity of Osamu’s apartment.

Hajime, I miss you.

The ache in your heart flares white hot. It burns and hurts and just adds to your growing pile of misery.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re embarrassed that you’re having this intense emotional release in Osamu’s apartment - it's not the first time you’ve cried like this but it is the first time doing it in front of a friend. But you can’t gather yourself to apologize or try to escape. You’re stuck, standing in the apartment crying.

A hand comes to rest on your back. Your turn, finding Osamu standing next to you. He rubs his hand on your back in a soothing, comforting motion. His eyes are full of concern but also something akin to reassurance.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs gently. His hand is rubbing up and down, and you feel subdued by the unseen motion. You feel your aching pain diminish with every stroke down your back, but the tears are relentless.

There must be something wrong with you that you can’t even be comforted properly. If the tears won’t stop when someone says “it’s okay” what does that say about you?

Broken, broken.

You turn into Osamu, seeking comfort that is wasted on you. Your head finds relief on his shoulder. You feel him guiding you to the couch and gently sitting you down. Your hands stay clutched in his shirt and you sob into his shoulder. Once sitting you feel the hand on your back drift to your shoulders, while his hand gently guides your head to the crook of his neck.

“It’s alright,” he says softly. “‘M here, it’s okay.”

His gentleness just makes you cry harder and you can’t help but lean further into him. He lets you sit against him, crying through the piercing pain stabbing at your heart, howling against the constant misery in your soul. He lets you come undone and offers you words of comfort and a shoulder to cry on.

“‘M here,” Osamu murmurs into your ear. “It’s okay.”

It’s such a loaded phrase - it’s okay. Everyone and their grandmother tried telling you that when Hajime died. It’s okay. You wanted to ask ‘what’s okay? NOTHING about this is okay.’

Your face scrunches up as you cry, knowing you are so far from okay that it would take a miracle to get back.

“It’s okay Y/N, it’s alright.”

It’s funny, hearing this reassurance from Osamu. Because he knows, more than the average person, how not okay everything is. For him and for you. And yet, it seems to be his go-to phrase right now.

“It’s okay.”

He’s not telling you “it’s okay so you should feel better.” His reminder allows you to grieve, to feel how not okay everything is. And feeling that pain is okay.

So you cry and cry, leaning on Osamu as you fall apart.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: Congratulations, you've made it through one of the heaviest chapters in the entire story. :( Y/N is going through extraordinary times right now, the cumulation of the past weeks' events finally catching up. I hope if anyone reading this is going through any similar situations you can find someone like Osamu to help you through them. 💖

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Okay, lover boy”

For @bfharry boyfriendathon!!! A trip to Paris with your loving boyfriend Harry!

this gif bc sweetie! but also bc this is the coat he’s wearing :)

We’ve got fluff, (a little) angst, and smut for y’all and music always. I love Paris, was actually there this time last year so I was feeling nostalgic! Also Harry in Europe is always A+++ Hope y’all enjoy and feedback is ALWAYS appreciateddd

Word Count: 5.2k | Warnings: some self-doubt, oral!male receiving, mentions of sex, language? 

-

Summer in Paris. The most romantic place in the world with the loveliest weather. Except, the weather wasn’t exactly lovely. But it was quite romantic and that’s what you decided to focus on. Harry and you had flown off to get away from the world by living in the South of France for the Summer. First, you had begged Harry to spend a good three days in Paris before heading to the countryside. He had obviously agreed. Today was your second day.

“Love, wake up,” Harry cooed softly in your ear.

You stirred in the plush bed and slowly sat up in the mess of sheets. You rubbed at your eyes and when you blinked them open you saw Harry standing before you. He was already dressed in striped trousers and a striped shirt under a sweater vest and seemed to have run out to bring you coffee in bed. He crossed to perch on the bed and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. Your body leaned in to receive the sweet peck of his soft lips.

“Good morning, love, y’look ravishing” he sighed sweetly as he pulled back from your face. You rolled your eyes and scratched at your disheveled hair.

Moving your head in a circle around your neck, you laughed breathily at all of his sweet words, “I look a mess, but thanks, H.”

“You don’t,” he protested, sliding his hands around your shoulders and moving to lay on top of you on the bed.

You giggled and wriggled in the sheets as he began to pepper kisses along your face, neck and collarbones. “You’re absolutely stunning. Like always.”

The pair of you rolled around in the bed, exchanging kisses and caressing each other tenderly. Then you heard the rain and sat up.

“Har...is it still raining?”

He sighed and sat up with you, pushing his mused curls out of his face with one hand while his other was wrapped around your waist. “Sadly, yes. But we can still go out and explore. I know how excited you were to finally be back in Paris...”

Your head turned to rest in the crook of his neck, sighing softly, “It’s alright. I love the rain, can’t get me down.”

“Yeah, we can just take umbrellas and have fun with it.”

“No, no umbrellas. Want to run from awning to awning. Get stuck in the rain and be drenched. With you.”

Your lips had curved up into a smile as you spoke. Resting your head on Harry’s warm body, you imagined the day that the two of you were about to set off on. It wouldn’t be perfect and that would be okay. It was going to be what the two of you make of it therefore you wanted to make it magical. You sat up to meet Harry’s eyes as he cradled you in his arms. His face held a soft expression, one filled with love as he looked down at the woman he had grown to love more than anything. It wasn’t fleeting, it was constant. He loved you.

“Alright, let’s get goin’ then,” he laughed and shifted along the bed, sitting you up more. The hint of teasing in his voice was exciting and made you want to listen to him.

You pushed out of his arms and bounced up, your shirt sliding to cover the top bits of your thighs. “Alright!”

-

“Okay, maybe one umbrella would have been a good idea!” Laughing in disbelief, you duck beneath the awning of the cafe across the street from your hotel.

“It’s really coming down...but you said,” Harry grins down at you and swipes at a strand of your hair that was already drenched from the rain. You swat at his chest, his yellow knit sweater vest dry as he removes his large blue coat. “Hush.”

The cafe plays a love song in French and you hum along softly as you seat yourselves. Harry’s hand instinctively envelopes yours as your other free hands begin to leaf through the menu. His hand is warm and soft as it entangles itself with your own, which squeezes his in response to the brushing of his thumb over your skin. After placing your order, you watch the rain hitting the pavement and the light city traffic before you. Harry only has eyes for you, his gaze never leaving your figure. He takes you in, the way you’ve done your hair, the necklace you picked out - the one you always wear, the way you decided to wear no makeup since you planned on getting wet in the rain.

Bringing him out of his adoration, the waitress brings your drinks and he watches you say something sweet in french before he also says a ‘merci’. You sigh in contentment and shift in your seat after taking a sip of your espresso. Your eyes meet with Harry’s over the top of your small cup and you giggle at how extremely small the same cup looks in his hand. His dimples appear as he mirrors your expression. Then at the opening chords of the new song beginning to play, you perk up, immediately recognizing “Aline”, a clichely French song, but a favorite of yours nonetheless. You place your cup down and begin to sing along. Harry watches on, sipping his espresso and allowing you to swing your intertwined hands back and forth to the rhythm. You tip your head back and mock scream out the words, your french accent changing how your voice normally sounds.

“Is that a love song?” Harry asks at the finish of the song. He never bothered to learn French, despite having a couple of girlfriends who had been able to speak it.

You wet your lips, dried from singing, and shake your head slightly. “No, not really. It’s about heartbreak... Aline - the girl - is gone, I guess, and he’s drawn an image of her in the sand. But rain washes that away as well and now he’s twice as sad”

“That could still be considered a love song. He still loves her, right?”

“I guess.”

“Why do you like it so much?”

You hum, pondering the question, never thinking about what made her like the song so much to consider it a favorite. Harry stares intently, he loved talking to you about music. It was two of his favorite things put together.

“You won’t take ‘I just like shouting Aline’ will you?” Harry shakes his head, and you continue, “I guess I like it because it’s so tragic...and a little pathetic. Like, that sounds harsh, but this guy, he’s so in love with someone who’s already gone that he cries over her image washing away. He says he’s aching he’s so distraught and it’s just, it’s so relatable.” Harry stares at you, eyes soft, knowing you have more to say. Sitting so that your back is straight, you work to put your thoughts into words. “He’s calling out her name ‘Aline’ in hopes she will return to him and it’s just like you never want to feel that way in your entire life. But there are times that you do and you’re the pathetic guy crying over sand and watching it wash away into the ocean.”

“I will never make you feel like that, love,” Harry shifts your hands and brings them onto the table, leaning closer, a somewhat pleading look in his eyes.

“You never would on purpose, I know that. But that feeling it’s human insecurity, that’s the little fears I keep tucked away in the back of my mind, it’s how I’d feel if I ever lost you.”

“You’re never going to lose me,” he leans fully forward to bring his lips to yours. His lips easily brushed over yours, connecting perfectly as they always did. Your hand rescinds from his grasp and you place it on his chest, pushing him back slightly, “I know. Now enough with the mushy. Sights to be seen, clothes to be soaked!”

Laughing together, Harry settles the bill as you gather your things. You help Harry put his heavy coat back on after he finishes with the money, your lips pecking his as you fix the lapel. His lips curve into a smile against yours and his eyelashes flutter in excitement, never getting tired of the feeling of you.

-

You had finally arrived at the grass in front of the Eiffel Tower, where you had been meandering through the city to all day. Before you had arrived Harry and you had stopped in a chocolatier, a perfumerie, and another cafe - pair of you appreciated good coffee. Harry had begged to stop at a boulangerie to pick up bread, but you had insisted that you could stop at one on the way back to the hotel later, otherwise the bread would get all soggy. Eventually, Harry had agreed even though his argument was that he would eat it before it got soggy.

Running around with a canvas tote on your shoulder filled with the goodies you two had picked up was exciting and you spun around on the grass, your head tilted to the rain and your arms and bag flying out around you. Harry grabbed your waist and then slipped a hand up to cradle your wet hair. His hand carded through the tendrils and you tilted your face to look at him. His own wet chestnut hair flopped onto his forehead as he smiled down at you. You threw your arms up to hang on his shoulders. It was only you two out in the rain and you laughed as you watched a single droplet run the length of Harry’s nose. Craning your neck, you kissed the tip of his nose before it could fall.

“I love you,” Harry says only for you, completely unprompted.

“I love you, Harry,” you respond, lovingly.

“No, Y/N, I love you,” He repeats. Your wrists drop as your arms retract and your hands rest on his strong shoulders. You lean back slightly, confused. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” He starts to shout and picks you up by the waist, spinning you around in circles, slightly off the ground now.

“Harry!” You squeal, incredulous at his behavior. You loved it, but he wasn’t usually like this in public. Hand holding and short hugs, usually. Small pecks, at most. Shouting declarations of love, never - until now.

“Ok! I get it, lover boy,” You roll your eyes as he sets you down, placing kisses all over your rain soaked face. You tuck your head into your chest, feeling heat rise to your cheeks from his words and actions despite the cooling effect of the rain.

He smiles and leads the pair of you towards the Eiffel Tower. Halfway there he stops and snaps a few photos of you grinning, drenched in front of the site. Then you make him pose as well. He smiles for a few and then pretends to lean against it, which makes you roll your eyes again while you move to the perfect spot to make it look realistic.

You begin to move to head towards the tower again, but his hand snakes around your wrist, stopping you from moving. The rain was at a soft patter now, but you still were getting tired of being in it. Your brows raised expectantly at your boyfriend who was smiling adorably at you.

“Selfie.” He said simply.

“Harry...”

“C’mon. It’s romantic. Not like there’s anyone around to take it for us.”

You shrug and fold into his chest as he slips out his phone. His other hand slips around your waist, pulling you even closer. Your head rests on the upper part of his chest as one of your hands slips underneath his coat and the other goes to rest on his sternum. Your entire body is pressed against him, as he adjusts his phone trying to get both your faces in it along with a good portion of the Eiffel Tower. You both smile at your reflections that are beginning to smudge with raindrops and you ruffle your hair trying to look slightly disheveled after a few snaps. Then, Harry groans sadly, “These aren’t working.”

“I actually have an idea,” you say excitedly as the rain slows to a complete stop, “You okay with your phone possibly getting some water damage?” Harry nods, unsure, as you pluck the phone from his hands. You stroll a few feet away from Harry and pluck two of the boxes of chocolate out of your bag. Mumbling to yourself, you set up the boxes like a makeshift stand, “Please don’t get ruined, mes bonbons.” Then you swipe to the video choice in the phone’s camera and turn it on. You place it gently against the two boxes, so that the image contains Harry and the Eiffel Tower behind him. Then you race back to Harry, your sneakers splashing the puddles as you move.

“You’re brilliant!” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and sways you back and forth. “Smile at the camera, lover,” you pull from his strong grasp and wrap a single arm beneath his coat again, fingers pulling at the warm fabric of the sweater vest beneath it. He smiles down at you before turning his focus to the phone a little ways off. He tightens his arm around your shoulder and pulls you off your feet slightly, causing one of your legs to kick out slightly. This video is going to be so weird, you think to yourself and laugh as you straighten back up. You turn your face to Harry and scrunch it up at him. He smirks back at you and then leans down to kiss your cheek.

After you mess around a bit in front of the camera, forgetting for a minute that you're recording and having a small makeout session, you run back to your set up and gather your things. Harry comes with you this time and hugs your waist from behind you. He smiles at the camera one last time before you press the red button to end the video; the last clip being his face smiling brightly while you’re laughing breathlessly at him, both sets of eyes filled with love and joy.

-

There’s a restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower. It’s really beautiful and classy, perfectly French. Harry decides it’s the perfect place to have dinner, despite its upscale interior and your complete dishevelment from the rain and lack of preparedness in your outfit choices. As well as, the fact that it’s really early and the French don’t eat until much later in the evening so you’re the only ones there. Harry knocks on the door still and the pair of you are seated after he tells them who he is.

You comb lightly through your wet hair and you shuffle your vans together, uncomfortably. Harry, while dressed down still manages to look effortlessly chic, his trousers and yellow sweater vest with a striped dress shirt underneath is still passable as nice, especially if you ignore his own vans. In your haste you had dressed cute, but not necessarily upscale enough to where you felt like you fit in in that moment. Your wet hair wasn’t helping to calm your nerves as the well dressed waiters moved around you, placing things at your table. Your nervous hands smoothed over the plaid skirt and frumpy brown sweater you had beneath your navy trench coat that almost mirrored Harry’s only missing the colorful bobbles.

“Hey,” Harry notices your fidgeting and reaches out across the table, motioning you to place your hand in his outstretched one. You oblige reluctantly, shifting in your seat. Money has never been a problem for Harry since the pair of you began to date which wasn’t a bad thing. You had a job that allowed you to live a comfortable lifestyle, as well, just not quite to the extreme that Harry was able to. Normally, it didn’t bother you, but right now you felt very out of place, feeling unwelcome in Harry’s life. Harry can read exactly what you’re thinking as all these negative thoughts race through your mind. The odd sense of fear that the pair of you had talked about creeping in, the thought of losing him because you couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle. Like you had told him earlier, as well, you hope to never feel that way, but sometimes it’s there. And right now was one of those sometimes.

His finger traces the familiar pattern over the back of your hand as he holds it tight. “You deserve to be here just as much as the next person. You look lovely.” He smiles at you, trying to convey just how sincere he is being. You release a breath and try to relax at his words, knowing ultimately that he was right. He always knew exactly what to say and you smiled at him and whispered a small ‘thank you.’

-

“If I Fell” begins to play in the restaurant and John and Paul begin to serenade the empty room. The host had placed you in the furthest back room by the windows, allowing you and Harry to stare out at the city as you enjoyed the food and leaving you completely alone except for when the waiter would come and check in. The two of you had just finished the third course and were watching the clouds shift along the skyline.

Harry sighed contentedly and leaned back against his chair, straining his neck to the side, the tendon on his neck straining, causing your eyes to flicker up and watch the way he clenched and unclenched his strong jaw. You were in awe. “How did I get so lucky?” You say suddenly, your voice wistful, eyes a moment away from misty. Harry hums, jade eyes flitting back to your face, lips curving into a curious smile. “To be loved by someone like you, by you. How’d I get so lucky?”

Harry blushes at your words, the smile growing larger, overtaking his features. “Love, if I could list all the reasons I love you...God, we’d never leave this restaurant. Let’s just say I’m the one who’s lucky.” You pouted at his words, feeling cliche but also, totally and completely in love, so much so that you didn’t care about what you looked like as you stood up and leaned over the table, crashing your lips to Harry’s. He leaned up quickly to meet your lips over the small table. One of his hands flew to your soft cheek and held you close as your lips locked, tasting sweet from the champagne the two of you had been enjoying.

-

“Today was perfect, H.”

You glanced up to look at Harry’s face as he held you in his arms, walking slowly down the street. He walked slightly behind you as he braced himself around you, he couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t touch enough, feel enough, breathe enough, where he would feel satisfied.

His eyes flitted down to meet yours, the jade of them sparkling under the cloudy sky save for the moon that had pushed its light through finally. “Yeah it was.”

Reaching the hotel, the two of you scampered up to your room and threw everything down the minute you got inside. The rain had mostly dried from your clothes, but you still couldn’t wait to take them off and get into something clean and warm.

“Do you want to shower?” Harry calls to you as he unpacks your bag, separating all of the items the pair of you had bought today - including the baguette he had finally gotten on your way home. Your head appeared from beneath your sweater as you pulled it from your body, leaving you standing in your bra and skirt.

“Together?” Your voice was calm since Harry and you occasionally showered together and were capable of keeping it tame, but there was a hint of excitement too after spending the whole day constantly within each other’s grasp.

“Sure, why not? Then we can get in bed and try the chocolates we bought today sooner,” he shrugs, making his way towards you, tossing a box of chocolates on the bed for later. He licks his lips and smirks down at you. “I like the way you think...but no funny business, lover boy,” you tease and run a finger down the center of his chest, only his dress shirt covering the toned body beneath. Your eyes have a glint of mischief in them as your words come out rather jokingly. “No promises,” he breathes before placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

In the bathroom now, Harry closes the door despite the lack of need for privacy. For some reason your heart is beating extremely fast, nerves springing forward at the urgent prospect of intimacy. Your heart always beats a little faster whenever Harry and you are together like this, but right now it’s going especially fast. The love you have for him, the passion, it’s never faded. Everytime is like the first time, maybe even better than the first time if you really think about it because now he knows you and you know him. It’s not about the novelty or the exploration, it’s about the adoration and the feeling each other’s touch ignites within you. So, right now, as the pair of you undress each other before you shower together, your heart is beating so fast because this isn’t lust or fleeting passion it’s eternal intimacy and deep devotion.

His fingers softly and nimbly release the clasp of your bra and then reach around to slip the straps down. It slides down your arms and falls to the ground and Harry watches you as you now move to undo the last few buttons of his shirt. You’re pressing close to him, feeling cold and slightly vulnerable despite being safe in Harry’s presence. The movements are tender, only the sound of your breathing and the rain that started up again bringing any noise to your interaction. Your hands flit down to the buttons on his trousers, your fingers shaking only slightly from the chill. Harry’s toned arms rise up to rub your upper arms, noticing your shivering as you undo the buttons and zipper. After his zipper is undone, you move your hands down to your side, where your own zipper is located, but Harry pushes your hands away, silently telling you he could do it. Sighing, you turn from him and turn the shower on, hoping that it will warm up quickly. Harry follows and presses up against you, his large arms encircling your frame, warming you instantly. He kisses the tip of your left shoulder tenderly and then rests his chin in the dip between your shoulder and neck. He breathes you in, taking in the moment, committing it to memory. Your hands rest over his gently and you feel yourself tilting your head back and basking in his embrace.

“We should probably get in,” Harry whispers after you had been standing there for far too long, simply holding each other. “Yeah,” you respond wistfully. Stepping in, you instantly place a kiss on Harry’s neck once he’s in. He looks at you questioningly, “I thought you said-” “I couldn’t help myself, you look like an angel.” He tucks his head at your words and then looks at you with love filled eyes, “Giving me a toothache with how sweet you are to me.”

He takes the bottle of shampoo the pair of you had brought and begins to massage it into your wet hair. You close your eyes in contentment at his actions, you loved how gentle Harry was and how he always insisted on washing your hair when you showered together. As he works on the hair you take the bar of soap and begin to rub it across his prominent pectorals, the suds show up and glisten across his tan skin. You smile to yourself as you pass over the two swallows and then travel down the center of his chest and bring the soap over the butterfly. Harry lets out a breathy laugh and you mutter, “Always so ticklish…” But you don’t mind. You rub some of the soap on your hands and then rub back over the same places on his body, spreading out the suds, while Harry moves to wash his own hair. This time your hands travel further down his body, your soapy fingers massaging Harry’s bare hips, rubbing soothing circles over the tense muscles from walking all day. Harry releases a heavy sigh, your movements releasing a pressure he hadn’t realized was there.

Your hands travel inwards and dance over his two fern tattoos causing Harry to shudder again. This time you say nothing, focussed on tracing the patterns and being so close to your lover. Finally, you remove your hands from his body and rinse them of the soap, grabbing a washcloth, you finish cleaning his arms, neck, and torso. Moving slowly, you drop the washcloth and Harry’s breath hitches, knowing what you’re intending to do. Harry starts, “You don’t-” but now his voice is completely caught in his throat when you put your hands on his length.

He’s already semi-hard, and it stiffens immediately in your embrace. He has to actively think about not getting hard whenever you’re naked around him, especially when you bathe together. He thinks you’re sexy, of course, but the intimate touches you share under the water is what really does it for him. However, he knows it’s not a sexual moment usually and doesn’t want to press himself upon you. Today, though, you want to take care of him. “Hush, I want to,” you say as you pump your hand languidly, blood rushing to his tip instantly. He groans as you stare deeply into his jade eyes. You were beautiful and wonderful to him. He didn’t know how he had found you, but he was happy that he had.

Then you slip down to your knees, legs folding perfectly as you continue to stare up at Harry. His eyes widen, realizing only now that you intended to use your mouth. One hand flies to your freshly cleaned hair and the other trails down the side of your face, taking in your beautiful face that is now in front of his hard member. Slowly, you bring your tongue to lick over the now angry red tip of his dick. Harry hisses as you open your mouth fully and begin to bring him completely inside. Your eyes never leave his as you descend until he hits the back of your throat. He’s big, really big, but after all this time you know how much you can take and you sit there for a moment. You let his weight rest in your mouth, he’s warm and you enjoy holding him this close.

Harry groans, “Please,” and you begin to move, seeing the strained look on his face.

Bobbing your head, you take him in and out of your mouth with ease, sometimes taking extra care over his head sucking specifically there. Your movements make Harry moan out and grasp at your hair, keeping it from your face as you work him over. His hips buck into your mouth the faster you take him in your mouth, but he tries to remain still, wanting you to be in control. One of your hands grasps his thigh, over his tiger tattoo, while the other runs over the parts of his dick you can’t take into your mouth. Harry is always vocal, but right now he’s at a loss for words. He feels so loved and cared for in that moment, it’s quick to his release. Your hand on his thigh feels him beginning to shake a bit more and his hips are stuttering more erratically.

He whines out, “I’m close,” and you pull back until your lips are only over his head.

Your tongue flattens over the slit of it and then swirls around it. You suction your lips around his head and suck hard, your hand pumping quickly, your eyes still never leaving Harry’s face. He had closed his eyes a while ago, but opens them up slightly right at his moment of release. He bucks his hips one last time as you moan around him at the feeling of him inside your mouth. His orgasm wracks through him and you continue to suck, trying to take up every last bit.

“Oh fuck,” Harry whimpers, chest heaving and head hanging low as he stares down at you.

The water is still running in the shower over your erotic image. You swallow and pull off of him, placing a gentle kiss to his head before standing up, whispering something inaudible to just Harry’s dick. Harry takes your hands in his and kisses you hungrily as you stand up. The taste of himself still on your lips. His arms are wrapped around your waist and one of his hands cups your ass cheek needily.

Against your lips, he growls, his voice deep and accent thick, “Let me take care of you now.”

You giggle and place your hands on his wet chest. “You don’t need to. I just really wanted to make you feel good.”

“But making you feel good will make me feel good, too,” He whines, pressing you into him more.

“Oh, I know,” you laugh, “But we’re really wasting water now and I want to try the chocolates we bought. You can make me feel good in our bed, this porcelain really isn’t the most comfortable.” You’re completely enjoying Harry’s eagerness to give to you after he had just received, but you were starting to prune from the water and wanted to lie in bed with fluffy robes with him.

He huffs but nods. He kisses your lips a final time and begins to climb out of the shower. “Fine, but I know none of those chocolates can possibly taste as good as what I really want for dessert.”

“You can have your dessert soon enough...Okay, lover boy?”

-

Wrapped up in Harry’s warm embrace, you fall asleep under the Parisian sky. His lips ghost over your collarbones as his head is tucked into you. You sigh in contentment as his hands draw a familiar pattern over your skin on top of your hip. Your mind flits over the moments of today and settles on this one right now. Harry wrapped around you, your legs entangled, warmth surrounding you. It’s peaceful. You’re blissed out from the chocolates and love Harry made to you.

Your eyes flutter open for a moment to look at Harry. His curls and the side of his face are all you can make out in the dim lit room, the moon’s light peaking through the sheer curtains. The slope of his nose is prominent, as well as the stubble beginning to grow on his jaw and cheek. His little moles decorating his otherwise smooth skin. He nuzzles further into you and you feel his stubble rubbing slightly against you, scratching lovingly onto your skin. It feels nice as your eyes close once again beginning to drift off to sleep. But you know no dream could possibly be better than the feeling you have right now, with Harry.

-

💛 love y’all (also I really didn’t proofread so like I maybe contradict some shit I say bc I wrote this over weeks lmao)