#because there is nothing i enjoy more than pointing out tiny details that are entertaining to no one besides me

[sapphorror]

Short Moderate Length List of Small(ish) Things I Appreciate About The Wettening

Dib being conspicuously absent from the opening pan of the classroom, only to cartoon-teleport into existence at Zim’s desk the second Zim starts expressing mild apprehension at the sight of unfamiliar weather. This kid spends his time just hanging around staring at Zim, waiting for him to show the slightest sign of discomfort, confusion, or unease in order to immediately taunt him about it—and the surrounding chaos, if anything, is just an opportunity to come watch even more closely. We all already knew this, but it still kills me to see it in action.

Also, he’s animated popping up from below, and like… were we meant to interpret this as him just chilling underneath Zim’s desk? No, absolutely not—but is it funny (and, to add to the hilarity, miraculously somehow not completely unbelievable within the context of the show) to imagine that he was? Yes. Yes it is.

Zim confidently walking out into a downpour he has already confirmed to be acidic just because Dib implicitly dared him to—no one’s looking, Dib hasn’t even said anything or made a claim against his humanity, Zim just can’t stand to give Dib the satisfaction of seeing him vulnerable or afraid of something (which backfires pretty spectacularly, since I’m pretty sure ‘writhing on the ground shrieking in indescribable agony’ is a significantly worse look in terms of appearing vulnerable, but all’s well that ends in Victory For Zim, I guess).

Also Zim's little baffled gesture right beforehand like he's silently asking Dib to confirm he's not hallucinating the rain dance (he does not receive an answer)

Gaz presumably seeing Zim sneaking up behind her brother, saying nothing and making no reaction that’ll tip Dib off… only to immediately be made to regret her choices when she gets caught in another splash. Shows her for trusting Zim to be at least a little bit cool about tormenting Dib (honestly, we see her exact fitting justice on Dib at the end of the episode, but I cannot imagine she wasn't still planning to do something equally petty to Zim).

The faucet drip scene and the underlying awareness that this is just what Zim and Dib do to each other during class. Every day. It is, in fact, probably one of the least disruptive forms their constant warfare takes on a routine basis. Suddenly I understand a little bit of why their entire class hates them.

Also Dib’s happy face while he's terrorizing Zim into a shell-shocked stupor is absurdly cute and heartwarming. If I cropped that picture no one would ever guess what he's smiling about. This kid? A sadist? Impossible.

“I don’t even feel good about winning this one,” and it's said with his hands clasped together, practically vibrating with glee, his expression vaguely reminiscent of a teenager in the throes of hormonal infatuation (the hypothetical object in this case not so much being Zim himself as a personified abstraction of Zim’s suffering). If someone hit him with the Return of Keef happy goo in this exact moment, I am completely certain it would kill him. His statement is only true insofar that a more accurate term for his current state of being would probably be euphoric.  I take back everything I’ve ever said about Zim being unreasonable in this episode—he was merciful.

Also this face the moment Zim gets up and starts threatening him. Zim still isn't even all that intimidating at the moment, but Dib knows he just fucked up. Maybe he's getting flashbacks to Dark Harvest.

Dib’s ridiculous water balloon device. Seriously. I feel like it gets (reasonably) overshadowed by the sheer absurdity of Zim’s entire operation, but it really is so amazingly stupid and pointless in a way that is… not dissimilar to the ultimate Irken water balloon. Not only is it really not necessary for the task it's meant to accomplish, it's actively detrimental in that it slows Dib down, blatantly telegraphs his attacks, and reduces accuracy by a significant degree. The only actual benefits I can think of would be the exponential increase in force and range and the instant accessibility of a water supply—the former of which is totally unnecessary in this scenario and the latter being possible to accomplish with a much simpler device (or even just… a water tank). To summarize, it is an incredibly impressive feat of both skill and creativity in design that is also completely and utterly useless! Which is just the perfect demonstration of what I mean when I say Dib really does share nearly all of Zim’s flaws, just to a less obviously ridiculous degree—he comes off just calm and clever enough to pass as moderately reasonable  at a glance, and in some ways, that makes him more of a potential flight risk than Zim. At least that's a lunatic you see coming. 

Irkens are collapsible, apparently

[galexis-void]

"The Thrill of the Chase" (Ratmeat)

A/N: This one took me a while, I kinda just made it up as I went. This was more self-indulgent than anything (I'm hyperfixated as heck right now) but I hope anyone who reads still enjoys it.

Also I did use Google Translate for a few lines because I don't know Latin, so if it's wrong I'm sorry.

Summary: Dexter has a way to swap between doll form and human form, but neither of those will spare them from Bob's ler mood.

Trigger warnings: None that I can think of

Reminder: These stories are not built on logic. They're made to entertain, not to make sense. Also, be prepared if the characters here are out of character completely (again, the intention is not to be perfect).

Credit goes to @eunchancorner and their anonymous askers for the idea!

(fic below the cut)

     Dexterfella absently fiddled with the pendant around their neck. It still hadn’t completely sunk in that they were in possession of a powerful tool. According to the person who had procured the charm for them, it would allow them to swap between the Happy Fella doll their disembodied soul had taken up residence in, and a temporary reconstruction of their original body.

     In somewhat shorter form, Dexterfella could become Dexter Erotoph whenever they chose, for a limited time, but as many times as they wanted.

     As Dexterfella grasped the pendant, they paused to admire the intricate details. The charm was a brass-colored pendulum with a ring of tiny opals set around the center. Various symbols and phrases written in an unidentified language decorated the rest. There were no English characters, nor were there any recognizable foreign characters.

     Dexterfella closed their eyes, and quietly hummed a low “A” note to themself. After five seconds, they muttered the phrase the charmgiver had instructed them to use.

     Ad te voco, vim fortiorem vita ipsa. Ego me restituo.

     A sharp tingle shot up their back, and their hands began to quiver. The wooden floor seemed to fall away from them, and some kind of haze began to cloud their peripherals. No matter how many times they did this, they would never get used to it.

     After about forty five seconds or so, the haze receded, and the ground had stopped moving. They placed their hands on the ground to steady themself, and was relieved to feel the cold hardwood beneath their palms. Just to be certain, they rose to their feet from their crouched position, and noted that the floor was much further away. Feeling along their face yielded a more rectangular jawline, and a pair of glasses resting on their forehead that hadn’t previously been there. The ritual was complete.

     Dexter flexed a hand, eyes scanning over their fingers to make sure nothing had changed. Even though this body had always been theirs, it still felt odd to return to. After everything, while they didn’t necessarily prefer the doll form, it felt more familiar to them at this point than their own body did. Really went to show how long they’d been displaced, they thought.

     The sound of footsteps didn’t deter them from glancing in the wall mirror, though they were just oblivious enough to jump at Bob’s voice. “Wh- oh. Didn’t expect to see ya like this today.”

     Dexter ran a hand through their hair, hoping that Bob wouldn’t notice what a rat nest it was. “Yeah, I’m still not used to it either.”

     “Don’t worry about your hair. You’re still handsome.”

     Dexter couldn’t even respond to that without sounding ridiculous. They could already feel their face burning. Subconsciously they hugged themself, glancing off to the side so they wouldn’t have to see Bob’s smug grin. “Shut up.”

     As soon as those words left their mouth, they knew they’d screwed up big time. And Bob’s falsely offended gasp sealed their fate.

     “What did you just say to me?” he questioned, his tone quiet but lethal. Even though he was only playing around, it was still kind of scary.

     “N-nothing! I didn’t say anything-” that was all Dexter could sputter out before the wind whooshed out of them. They’d been so focused on trying to remedy their mistake that they hadn’t noticed Bob approaching.

     And now they were on the floor, with a very large and very smug man sitting beside them.

     “You seem a little on edge,” Bob teased, his eyes boring directly into Dexter’s. “I think I can help with that…”

     Dexter held their breath.

     “Tell me, did you know that being tickled reduces stress?”

     And he attacked, viciously sinking his claws into Dexter’s sides, eliciting a loud shriek from his victim, which quickly devolved into squealing laughs.

     “This’ll teach ya to talk to me that way,” Bob chuckled, and dug his fingers into Dexter’s belly. “Coochie coo~”

     The baby talk only embarrassed Dexter more. “S-SHUHUHUT-”

     “Are ya tellin’ me to shut up again?” Bob questioned, leaning over so his face was directly above Dexter’s. “Clearly I’m bein’ too lenient… I’m gonna have to up my game.”

     Apparently “upping his game” entailed scooping his flustered partner from the floor and holding them against himself while he went ham on the poor exterminator’s ribs and smothered their neck with kisses and light nibbles.

     “NOOOHAHAHA! *snort* I-IHAHAHA! *snort* A-ACCIPE ME!”

     And suddenly Dexter transformed, shrinking and folding in on themself until they settled back into doll form, enabling them to easily slip out of Bob’s grip. Dexterfella hit the ground running, daring to yell “Catch me if you can!” at Bob, who was still trying to figure out what had just happened.

     It took Bob a second, but he slowly rose to his feet, his bemused expression contorting into a borderline predatory grin. “So it’s a chase ya want, eh?” he said, mostly to himself. “Well then, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

     Dexterfella had to admit, they really hadn’t thought this through. Did they really just back themselves into a game of cat and mouse with a serial killer? Yeah, real smart. They remembered that Bob would tell them stories of his rookie days, when he’d played chase with his victims. He spoke highly of these memories, reliving every gory detail with great excitement.

     That only reinforced the fact that this was a complete and utter mistake.

     Dexterfella ducked under an end table to consider their options. If they kept running, maybe Bob would tire out. Hiding would be a mistake. No, it was better to run. In doll form they’d have no lack of stamina, and they could only hope that Bob wouldn’t outlast them.

     They heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps, and they knew Bob was hot on their heels. They counted to five, then tore off at a sprint. They didn’t look back, they just kept their gaze ahead.

     Which quickly proved to be their third mistake of the day, as they were quickly scooped up from behind.

     They squeaked in surprise, automatically glancing over their shoulder. There was Bob’s smug face, grinning down at them. “I thought ya knew better than to underestimate me. You’ve really done it this time.”

     Dexterfella tried to squirm out of his grasp. “Let go of me!!”

     “Hmmm. Nah, I don’t think I will. And since you were so rude to me today, I’m gonna make sure ya get what ya deserve.”

     Bob shifted his grip, now holding the doll with both hands. There was a beat of silence as they locked eyes, before Bob made his move. He nestled his face into the other’s plush belly, occasionally pausing to nibble a random spot. All the while, poor Dexterfella was overcome with hysterical squealing and very exaggerated snorts. “GAHAHAHAHAHH! *snrk* N-NNOOOOO! *snort* THIS IS SUHUHUCH BULLSH- *snrk* HEHEHEHE!!”

     “Good god, after all this ya still won’t watch your mouth!” Bob chided lightheartedly. “No matter. Just gives me a chance to tickle ya more. Not that I need an excuse~”

     Dexterfella knew resistance was pointless. Not only did Bob have the size and strength advantage, but any willpower they had completely died once the tickles started. They could deal with a lot of stuff, but they were completely useless against tickles.

     For all of three seconds, Dexterfella was given a chance to catch their breath, but their relief quickly turned to panic when they realized why - Bob had briefly withdrawn to take a very exaggerated inhale. They tried to brace themself, but no amount of premeditation could stop them from almost screaming as Bob blew a very loud and obnoxious raspberry into their stomach. BBBBBTTTTT!

     Unfortunately for Dexterfella, they were so small in this form that the raspberry affected more than just the targeted area - their whole body shook with ticklish jolts as they struggled to breathe. “AAAAIIIIEEEE! NO MORE! NO MOHOHOHORE! MERCYYY! I GIVE! UNCLE!!”

     Possibly sensing their fatigue, this time Bob relented. His evil smirk had changed to a considerably softer one, as he pulled the doll against his chest. “Alright, alright, I think you’ve had enough. But if you’re ever rude to me again…”

     Dexterfella got the point, gratefully sinking into Bob’s embrace. Before, they’d been very averse to being held or touched, but being transfigured into a child’s toy seemed to change that. Now it was one of their favorite comforts. “I get it, I get it. *huff* Was the raspberry *wheeze* necessary?”

     “‘Course it was! Ya really thought I was just gonna pass up that opportunity?”

     The day was finally catching up with Dexter, and it showed. They no longer had the energy to argue with Bob, which was rare. Instead they leaned into his embrace, resting their head under his chin and beginning to slowly drift off. They heard a low chuckle as Bob said something to them quietly. They couldn’t hear what it was, but that was okay.

     Even though they hadn’t expected to end up here today, they wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

-END-

[checkitoutmikey]

Through the Window

The boys stumble upon an interesting scene

Pairing: Michael x reader, Dwayne x Paul

Warning: SMUT, voyeurism, dumbification? (look Michael is fucked dumb, ok?), no beta we die like hoes

Author’s note: You wanna hear something embarrassing? I’m so deep in the tlb mindset that the whole ‘yeah they are brothers, but they are also a pack/coven and vampires and they are also in poly realitionship’... I didn’t even realise I’m writting actual incest until halfway through the fic. The reader was written as Michael’s actual sister and I didn’t realise it. Kill me. Now.  Not that I’m strict anti-incest in fanfiction. You do you boo. It’s just the fact it didn’t register for so long that fucks me up XD

- The boys are hovering in the air right next to Emerson resident. Crowns of the tall trees hiding their figures. They are huddled close together so they can see every little detail through the window of Michael‘s room. They’ve drroped by to just check on Michael, see how he‘s dealing with the transition to the other side but found something much more interesting. There is no way they can leave now.

- They are stunned. Completely speechless. Paul’s jaw pretty much dislodged at some point.

- Michael is laying on his back, hand on your hips. Both of you are breathing heavily. Shivering. You lean down to give him a sweet kiss that makes him whimper.

- Soft „please, please, please“ escape him. He looks desperate.

- You hadn’t taken him inside yet. Just letting hic cock slip through your wet folds. Back and forth, again and again. Nice and gentle.

- To be honest the boys are more stunned by the fact you seem to fucking Michael and not the other way around. You are such a sweet innocent looking thing. Aren’t you supposed to be the good girl? It looks like you have Michael pretty tight by the balls. He doesn’t even attempt to rush you or push you into hurrying. All he can manage is that pathetic pleading and sad puppy eyes.

- „Fuck,“ Paul almost plummets to the ground when he sees Michael’s cock glistening with your slick and precome. Dwayne has to pull him close, back to chest so he won’t actually drop from the air.

- Dwayne puts his large hands around the blondes waist and hurries to open his pants. Why not right? By the smell of lust coming from the others they are in for a night of passion so why not start now. He slowly strokes Paul‘s already rock hard cock.

- „Please, please,“��whimpers Michael, repeating your name like a prayer.

- You brace yourself above him, hands next to either side of his head. „We don’t have a condom,“ you say.

- Paul grabs a pack of condoms from his pocket and is about to go inside and offer it to you so the show can go on. He doesn’t even care there’s a hand around his own cock. Dwayne has to grab him by the collar to keep him back.

- David is aware of his brother’s struggles but couldn’t care less. The alluring smell of lust and sex is surrounding them like a warm blanket, suffocating their senses. He doesn’t care if his coat is hiding the prominent bulge underneath. He shall not be ashamed of his arousal when his brothers are already acting like a bunch of hormonal rabbits.

- Marko’s pulls his jeans just low enough to put his hand inside. His eyes pinned to the two sweat covered bodies.  

- Even Dwayne who is clutching Paul in his arms is lost in his need. His hips are rubbing against Paul’s backside while he’s jerking off his friend.

- High pitched whine slices through the heavy air as you roll your hips again with much more force this time. Michael has to grip the sheets beneath him because he doesn’t want to leave bruises on you. Every little slide of skin on skin forces broken noises from him. He’s getting really desperate.

- „He’s lame,“ spits Marko. „She’s not even in operating temperature, hot and bothered and he’s about to blow.“ That doesn’t stop the smallest vampire from enjoying the show none. He’s roughly rubbing himself with a slightly demented smirk on his face. That pup’s inexperienced, unlikely to get any girl off in timely manner but it’s certainly entertaining to watch him be basically dommed by a tiny thing like you.

- „Play with her nips or something,“ growls Marko under his breath.

- ,,Eat her out, man. Please,“ whines Paul. He’s almost there. If Dwayne would just speed up a little bit. Be a little rougher. „I wanna eat her out.“

- „We know,“ Marko rolls his eyes because everybody knows Paul has oral fixation of ungodly proportions.

- „I can do it better than you.“

- „Keep dreaming.“

- „Fuck, Dwayne, harder.“

- „Shut up, dude.“

- „I could finish her in 10 seconds flat.“

- „Paul, you fly a step closer and I will put you in a cage.“

-… „kinky.“

- Loud moan cuts off their banter. You finally give the boy what he wants and gently guide him inside. He claws at the sheets, trying to restraint himself from bucking into your slick tight heat. You support yourself with hands on his stomach. As you slowly rise up and slide down again you can feel the hard muscles under your fingers moving. Sweat covers your skin as you work on riding him. There’s no rush but that means nothing to Michael because he’s about to come undone in matter of seconds. The poor boy was so pent-up thanks to your thorough foreplay he couldn’t possibly hold on any longer.

- With choked cry he slips out of you, ropes of white cum land on his own chest. He’s trembling in his post orgasm bliss. Barely conscious as it is.

- You get off the bed to clean yourself and bring a wet washcloth to take care of your lover too.

-„Um, hey… sorry…“ he stutters shamefully.

- Dwayne’s pressing his cum covered hand to Marko’s mouth to silence the string of profanities directed at Michael. He has no brain when he comes.

- „I can… you know…“ It’s easy to see Michael really isn’t used to not delivering in bed. His cheeks are stained crimson with embarrassment. He grabs your wrist as you are about to clean the last of the mess on his skin. You smile at him kindly.

- „No need. Actually I should be on my wa. It looks like I’m in a world of trouble already,“ you say as you look out of the window.

- David smirks. „That you are kitten.“

[watchmegetobsessed]

TO LOVE AND BELOVED - Part Five (Harry Styles)

a/n: ahh idk why but writing this part took me forever! but its finally here and i can’t wait to see your thoughts on it! i was debating for a long time if part 5 should be the last one, but then i decided to add another part, bc there are two more things i want to include in the story and i couldn’t squeeze them into this part, it’s already the longest so far, so we have one more part left of the story! also, a little warning that part 6 might take a little longer than the prev parts bc im a little behind with my schedule but it’ll try my best!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce, sexual content

word count: 12k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

You’ve been feeling like a teenager sneaking around her parents these past weeks. Only that you’re an adult and the parent you are trying to keep your secret romance hidden from is a four year old little girl.

Your birthday was a turning point in your evolving relationship with Harry. Like a wall has been brought down and he finally started reaching out to you. It feels like with every passing day you’re getting closer to him and you can see the progress he’s been making thanks to his therapy sessions and how much he is trying to make a change himself as well.

Stolen kisses and tiny touches have been a usual in your every days whenever Izzy was out of sight for the shortest second. You’ve realized that Harry is an affectionate person, he likes to keep you close and he never fails to bring passion into the tiniest kisses.

With Izzy around 24/7 it’s been hard to find time when it’s just the two of you, but you’ve been waking up early in the morning just to spend that twenty minutes alone with Harry while he drinks his coffee. Sometimes you just sit in silence, trying to wake up for the day ahead of you but sometimes he talks your ears off about anything and everything. In the evening, when Izzy is already sleeping the two of you usually wind off together in the living room or watch a movie in the entertainment room, just enjoying some alone time. It’s not much, but more than nothing and you’ve grown very fond of these little moments with him.

Nothing more has happened than just kissing. Despite the progress Harry has made so far you can tell he still has quite a few conflicts buried deep inside him and you definitely don’t want to rush him into anything he is not ready for. Some cuddling on the couch or short but passionate make out sessions in a corner while Izzy is not paying attention, you haven’t gone further than this.

Now it’s the last day before Izzy leaves to Harry’s mum for the week. He is dropping her off Sunday afternoon and it will leave the two of you alone for seven full days. Well, Harry still has to work during the day, but from the moment he’ll get home, it’s just gonna be you and him.

You had to make a few phone calls so you’ve been locked in your room for a while now. When you come down you find your favorite father-daughter duo on the couch, some kind of Barbie movie playing on the TV, but Izzy is busy with something else. She’s got her water based flooring pens scattered around her, Harry’s tattooed arm laying across her lap as she is coloring the patterns as if it was her favorite coloring book. Before they could notice you, you run back to your room and grab your polaroid camera and returning you snap a picture of the adorable scene. The shutter of the camera makes Harry’s head snap in your way, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Hey,” he softly greets you. You put the camera and the photo aside to the cupboard near you before joining them on the couch.

“Hi Y/N! Look!” Izzy beams happily, pointing at Harry’s ship tattoo that is now fully colored with yellows, pinks and blues.

“It looks better this way,” you smirk down at her before your eyes meet with Harry’s over her head, smiling at you softly.

Making yourself comfortable next to them, you watch Izzy work on more of his tattoos and you find it such a heartwarming scene, you want to remember it forever. Harry Styles, such an influential, successful and serious businessman, sitting on the couch in his loungewear while his daughter is using his tattooed skin as her personal coloring book. He really is a wonderful human being and the best dad to his daughter.

“Y/N, do you have any tattoos?” Izzy asks, turning to you with curious eyes.

“I actually do,” you answer and you see Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“You really do?” he asks, his head resting on the back of the couch, turned to face you.

“Yeah,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

“Where?” Izzy asks perking up at the new information.

“Um, it’s right here,” you tell her pointing at the side of your hips, covered with your sweatpants.

“Can I color them?” she asks innocently, but Harry is quick to react.

“Izzy, you’re being a little too nosy,” he warns her as always, and she looks at you with a pouty look.

“It’s fine. Um, yeah, you can color it,” you nod.

Sliding lower on the couch you roll down the waistband of your pants until the tattoo is revealed on the side. You catch Harry’s eyes wander over the skin you are now showing and you can see a slight blush tinting his cheeks. He hasn’t seen this part of your body uncovered yet, he hasn’t even seen you in a bathing suit so far so it’s quite the new thing.

(reference for the tattoo)

The tattoo on your side is a simple yet meaningful one, dedicated to the special bond you and Trevor share. It’s a minimalistic yet beautiful piece of two koi fishes swimming in a circle, one is left blank as while the other one is black so their formation resembles the yin-yang symbol. You got it when you turned twenty, when Trevor was just in middle school, but he promised you he would get the same design when he turns eighteen that will happen in the fall.

“That looks beautiful,” Harry breathes out with a shy smile and you notice how he doesn’t ask about the meaning behind it. Not because he is not curious but because he is insanely respectful and he doesn’t want to ask something that’s too personal.

“Thanks,” you smile at him as Izzy grabs her pens and starts coloring the blank fish.

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully, Harry is clearly trying to spend as much time with Izzy as possible before her week with his mother, but you also notice that he seems to be keeping something away from you, like he is trying to bring up something but he is not entirely sure how to start the conversation.

It’s not until Izzy is put to bed that he joins you on the couch, turning to you with a serious expression on his handsome face.

“What’s up?” you ask with a soft chuckle.

“I was thinking…”

“I could see that,” you tease him, giving his knee a playful squeeze. “I’m listening.”

“Actually there are two things I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not sure which one to ask first.” He purses his lips before sighing and moving his eyes to meet your curious gaze. “So we’re gonna be alone for the next week.”

“Mhm.”

“And I thought that… if you want to, but we don’t have to, it was just an idea—so feel free to—“

“Harry,” you cut his stuttering off, moving closer with a reassuring smile. You caress the side of his face and you notice how you lean into your touch, breathing out through his nose. “Don’t be nervous, alright? Just tell me what’s been on your mind.”

“Would you go out on a date with me?” he then asks and it’s the purest thing you’ve ever seen and heard from him. The hopeful but still nervous look in his eyes makes him appear like a little boy who is asking out his first crush in middle school, afraid of rejection, when that’s the last thing he has to think about when it comes to you, but it’s still cute.

“I would love to,” you smile at him and leaning closer you peck his lips softly. “And what’s the other thing you wanted to ask?”

“Well, I’m driving Izzy over to my mum’s early in the morning and I’m staying for lunch and… if you don’t feel like it’s too much, you could… maybe come with us.”

“You want me to meet your mum?” you ask surprised.

“Well, she wants to meet you as well, but I want you to meet her, yes,” he admits with a nervous chuckle. “Gemma has told her about you and my sister likes to be nosy so she might have added a little spice into the story about us when nothing was really going on.”

“Oh my, what does she think?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry,” he assures you quickly. “She just made it seem like we are… dating and all,” he adds with a nervous smile. “But I told her that it’s… I mean that we are not there… yet.”

“Oh, okay. Well, if you really want me there, I would love to go with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Would love to meet your mum.”

“I was afraid you’d find it a little early for this,” he admits truthfully and you can see that rationality in his thought. “We haven’t really… discussed what we are and I didn’t want to put the pressure on you.”

“Well, do you want to talk about us?” you ask softly, giving him the chance to decline if he feels like the conversation might be a little too much for him.

“I do, but I’m not sure… what to say,” he hums, knitting his eyebrows together. Last time I had this talk I was in my early twenties and I don’t even know how to start,” he chuckles shaking his head.

��Okay, then let’s just agree on some things,” you suggest and he eyes you curiously. “Neither of us is seeing anyone else, right?”

“Is that even a question in my situation?” he snorts, making a joke out of his issues clearly and you’re happy he is able to take it so lighthearted.

“Just clearing the air,” you chuckle. “So we are…exclusive.”

“Seems like it,” he nods.

“And you just asked me out on a date,” you point another detail out.

“I did. And you said yes,” he smiles, an excited shine in his eyes glimmering through his green irises.

“Yeah. So we can say we are dating? Seeing each other?” Harry chews on the terms you offered, tastes them before nodding slowly.

“I guess we could say that.”

“Okay. So… that’s what we are,” you smile at him, giving his knee another squeeze. This time, his hand finds yours and he runs his thumb across your knuckles.

“I think… I’m okay with that,” he breathes out and though it’s seemingly such an insignificant thing, you know how huge steps he has just taken forward.

“I liked the blue one better. With the white sweater,” Heather hums, watching you through the video call. You have your phone propped up on your dresser as you’re trying to figure out what to wear today.

Though you seemed completely unbothered last night when Harry invited you along with them, but now you can feel the slight panic. It’s not even because you and Harry are a thing now, you’d feel this way if you met his mother just as Izzy’s nanny. Grandmothers can be so protective over their grandchildren, you’ve met with quite a few problematic ones while you were working at the daycare and you just want Anne to like you, to trust you with Izzy as much as Harry does.

“Okay, blue it is then,” you sigh, pulling the yellow sundress off of yourself before putting the blue one back with a white sweater.

“So you guys are now official?” Heather grins at you through the screen. “Meeting his mother and all that?”

“Define being official,” you chuckle softly.

“Like, boyfriend-girlfriend?”

“Not yet. But we agreed to be exclusively dating.”

“I still can’t fucking believe that you’re scoring the hottest dad I’ve ever seen. You lucky bitch,” she sighs, sipping on her morning coffee.

“Me neither,” you scoff.

“I’m pretty sure if the mothers who got you fired knew, they would explode. Basically every woman was in love with the man and now you are the lucky woman actually getting him.”

“I guess this is karma for what they did,” you chuckle shrugging. “Alright, I gotta go, because we are leaving soon, but I’ll talk to you soon.”

“You better be! I want a detailed essay about how it went!” she grins, kissing the camera.

“Alright, bye!” you smile before ending the call.

When you get downstairs, Harry and Izzy are already down there, Harry is zipping up her bag while she is dancing around humming to herself.

“Baby, your backpack is still in your room. Can you please get it?” Harry asks her, Izzy nods and runs towards you, stopping in front of you.

“Hi Y/N! I like your dress!” she beams at you.

“Hi! Well thank you!” you smile at her before she runs past you up the stairs. “Hey,” you greet Harry and his eyes snap up to you, his pink lips stretching into a warm smile as he leans closer and kisses your cheek sweetly.

“Hi. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. So, any tips for meeting your mum for the first time?” you ask, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. Harry reaches out and takes your hands between his so he stops the motion.

“You don’t need tips. I know my mum will like you, she is already so excited to meet you, so don’t worry.”

“If you say so,” you breathe out.

Harry puts Izzy’s stuff in the Rover and soon buckles her into her seat before the three of you hit the road. Harry has a whole playlist for Izzy’s favorite songs so you obviously listen to that along with Izzy’s performance of all the songs, filled with misheard lyrics, but that’s what makes it even better. The car ride is about three hours, which is not that horrible. You need just one bathroom break sometime in the middle and Izzy sleeps through the last hour in the car, allowing the two of you to finally listen to music that’s not from a kids’ show.

“Do you have a song request?” you smile over at him, scrolling through his phone since it’s the one connected to the car, but he has given you permission to play whatever you like.

“Not really.”

“You don’t have songs you like to listen to in the car?”

“Not specifically. Do you?”

“Oh, I have a whole playlist for songs to blast in the car,” you chuckle.

“Really? And what songs are on it?”

“Well, I can just show you.”

You search up your user on Spotify and find the playlist in talk before putting it on shuffle. As the first song starts to play, you peek over at him to see his reaction and you spot the smirk on his lips.

“Black Eyed Peas?” he asks glancing at you shortly.

“Yeah, you don’t like them?” you smirk at him.

“I do, I just didn’t think you listen to them,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Are you kidding me? They give me the biggest nostalgia! I listened to them so much as a teenager.”

“So teenage Y/N gave a concert in her bedroom, singing I Gotta Feeling?” he teases you grinning.

“Not just a concert, a whole world tour.”

There’s a short silence, just the two of you listening to the song, you watch the trees and fields rush by you as you drive down the country road. The song changes to another one and you’ve already forgotten about what you talked about, but apparently not Harry.

“What were you like as a teenager?” he asks. You turn to face him and your eyes meet for a second.

“Um, like a normal teenager,” you shrug, not sure what to say.

“There’s no such thing as a normal teenager,” Harry smiles. “What did you do, what were your favorite things?”

“I was… pretty plain, if I might say. I wasn’t a rebel or too much of a geek either. I had like three good friends, we used to hang out a lot by the little lake near our neighborhood, that was like our spot. I liked going on hikes and I watched a lot of documentaries,” you admit with a small smile.

“What kind?”

“I don’t know, anything that was on,” you shrug. “My mom had this phase where she was trying to act like she was just like all the other mom’s from my school, but they were all at least a decade older than her. She was trying to prove that she was this mature, very serious woman who had her shit together and all that.”

“And she didn’t?” Harry asks peeking at you shortly.

“I mean, she did. She turned thirty when I was twelve. Most women barely just got married and started their family at that age but she had been married for eight years and had a middle schooler and a baby already. She really was mature but I could tell that she felt like she lost her twenties because of… me.”

Sighing you think back to the years when you often felt like a burden to your mom. She gave up a lot of things just to give you the life she imagined for you. She worked her ass off to raise you and later Trevor as well, have a career and do all the works around the house. Your dad was working a lot of night shifts, there were entire weeks when you barely even saw him. You don’t blame him, he was trying to provide for his family, but it’s pretty clear he and your mother grew cold over the years and it had a huge part in it.

“Do you… blame yourself for it?” Harry asks softly.

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not like I had anything to do with being born,” you chuckle. “I just didn’t like seeing my mom struggle so much. So when Trevor was born I was trying to take over a lot of tasks around the house and with him as well. I babysat him a lot, took care of him in the mornings, I picked him up from daycare and later from school… I tried to make it easier for my parents.”

“So this is why you grew so close with him?”

“I guess so,” you nod. “I mean, I surely spent the most time with him,” you add with a short chuckle.

“And do you think this is why you’re so good with kids?”

“What is this, a therapy session?” you ask arching an eyebrow at him, but he just rolls his eyes.

“Just… trying to get to know you. Is that a problem?”

“No, I just… I’m not used to talking about myself so much. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve been in this… talking stage,” you admit with a sigh. “But to answer your question, it might have had some impact on me. I mean, I loved taking care of Trevor. It’s like I had my own baby doll, only that it wasn’t just a toy, it was a real baby I could play with.”

“Did you play dress up with him?” Harry smirks at you.

“I did,” you admit laughing. “I used to dress him as a princess a lot and he seemed to like it! My dad wasn’t really a fan of it.”

For the rest of the ride you listen to your playlist and talk about not just your but Harry’s past too. He tells you about his friends, what he was like in school and the mischiefs he did growing up, that drove his mum crazy sometimes. As you get to his hometown and he points out different places he used to go to when he was younger, you feel so much closer to him, like you’ve just gotten to see another piece of him that was hidden before.

He pulls up to the driveway of a simple townhouse and as you get out of the car you see the front door open and a woman rushes out, squealing in excitement as she runs up to Harry and hugs him tightly.

“Finally! I was starting to get worried!” she breathes out, rocking the two of them to left and right.

“Mum, don’t be dramatic. I texted you when we left and we got here perfectly in time,” Harry chuckles, holding his mum tight.

“You barely just arrived and you’re already picking on me? Typical,” Anne rolls her eyes, letting go of him. You round the car, feeling nervous to meet her. When her eyes finally fall on you, her smile grows even wider as she takes a step closer to you. “And you must be Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you!” she beams, pulling you into a warm hug as well.

“Nice to meet you too,” you chuckle, hugging her back.

“I’m Anne, but I listen to all versions of mum and grandma,” she tells you chuckling.

“Alright, noted,” you nod smiling.

Harry opens the car door of the backseat and unbuckles Izzy who has already woken up from her little nap and the moment her feet are on the ground she runs up to Anne.

“Grams!” She giggles before throwing herself into Anne’s arms who picks her up happily.

“Hi baby, you grew so much! I missed you!” she sighs as the little girl cuddles into her neck.

“Missed you too, Grams. I brought my new toys, do you want to play with them?”

“Of course! We’ll have all the time to play this week,” Anne smiles down at her. “Alright, come on in. Lunch is almost ready.”

Harry grabs Izzy’s things from the car and you all head inside. The house smells good from the cooking food in the kitchen and it’s such a cozy home, you can definitely see Harry growing up here. Above the fireplace in the living room there are a bunch of photos framed on the wall, most of them are from Harry and Gemma, but there are some more of other relatives as well, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. It seems like Harry has a big family.

Harry unpacks Izzy’s stuff in her room that used to be Gemma’s apparently, he is telling Anne all about everything she needs to know about Izzy’s routines and she is listening patiently, though you’re sure she is more than capable of taking care of her. After all, she raised two amazing children already.

While Izzy shows Anne all her toys she’s brought with herself, Harry takes your hand and pulls you out of the room just to go into another one. Walking in you immediately realize that it must have been his once upon a time.

“You know, I can see your younger version in here, the one I saw in the photos downstairs,” you smirk at him, looking around. There are some old posters and pictures still littering the walls, stickers are covering the side of his wardrobe and dresser, some of them are partially ripped off already, he probably tried to get rid of them once he got older, but miserably failed.

“Yeah? I was pretty cute, right?” he smirks, so full of himself.

“I liked the curly Justin Bieber hairstyle,” you tease him and he gives you an “are you for real?!” look to which you just start laughing.

“Justin Bieber had nothing on me.”

“Yeah, sure,” you laugh before he grabs your hand and pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. “Your mum is in the next room,” you whisper against his lips as he leans down, teasing you with them just lingering on yours.

“So what? You never sneaked around your parents before?” he smirks down at you.

“I did,” you admit.

“Oh, nasty,” he comments before finally kissing you. However it doesn’t last long, because you hear footsteps coming from outside so you’re quick to move away from each other, just in time when Anne walks in.

“Lunch will be ready in a few, would you two mind setting the table?” she smiles, oblivious what was happening just a moment ago.

“Sure,” Harry nods, rubbing his nose as his other hand finds your waist and he ushers you out of the room.

Izzy helps Anne in the kitchen while you and Harry take care of the table. When everything is done you all sit down and start the feast Anne was so kind to make for you. It doesn’t take long to see the snickering but loving dynamic between Harry and his mother. Anne likes to pick on her son, call him out for basically anything and though Harry talks back, he mostly just lets her tear him to pieces. With love, of course.

“Izzy, please don’t get whipped cream all over the place!” Harry sighs when it’s time for dessert. Anne has made apple pie, one of Izzy’s favorites and she is going generous with the cream on top of her slice.

“You didn’t have problem getting cream all over you when we were making cupcakes, daddy!” Izzy sasses back, making both you and Harry drop your jaws while Anne starts laughing at her boldness.

“That was an entirely different situation, Izzy,” Harry shakes his head as he helps her with the scream before passing it over to you.

“Grams, you should have been there! Daddy, Y/N and I made a mess in the kitchen, but daddy started it!” Izzy giggles, digging into the pie.

“Is that so?” Anne smirks.

“We were just… playing,” Harry explains.

“Oh, I know how you can get when you’re just playing,” Anne chuckles. “Y/N, how do you put up with two kids in the house?”

“I used to deal with fifteen at the same time, so two is not a trouble,” you smirk at Harry who just rolls his eyes, but you see the hiding little smile on his lips.

After lunch Izzy insists on showing you the dollhouse Anne has set up for her in the backyard while Harry helps his mum with the cleaning up.

“We both know your sister likes to exaggerate stories, so I didn’t believe everything she said about you and Y/N,” Anne speaks up as she is washing the dishes and Harry is on drying duty.

“I’m glad you don’t fall for Gemma’s vivid imagination.”

“But there’s one thing she got right.”

“And what would that be?” Anne turns the tap off as she faces Harry, sighing in relief as she smiles at him.

“That you look happy.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but then just closes it. He does feel happy, even if he is still struggling to accept it. Anne dries her hands and reaching up she cups Harry’s face in her palms.

“Baby, I haven’t seen you like this for a long time. And I know you think you don’t deserve to feel this way, but you do. And Y/N makes you happy, clearly.”

“Mum…”

“No, honey, just… listen to me, okay?” she asks and he nods, giving all his attention to his mother. “It broke my heart to see you so… lost after what happened to Maggie. And I know that it was the hardest thing you ever had to go through, but you need to move on. She would want you to do the same thing.”

“How do you know, mum? You didn’t even like Maggie when I first brought her home,” Harry points out mumbling under his breath.

“That doesn’t change the way you felt about her. I know you loved her and I would have never wanted anything to happen to her. She made you happy and that’s all that mattered to me,” she smiles with a tired sigh. “And I just want you to be happy again. Whatever you two have going on… don’t let go of it, alright? She is making you happy and you deserve that.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say so he just nods before Anne pulls him into a tight, motherly hug that he returns gladly.

“I’m trying, mum. I’m trying,” he whispers into her hair, giving her a squeeze before letting go of her.

You stay a little longer, Anne makes you tea and Harry soaks in the last minutes with Izzy before he is forced to be away from her. You know he is looking forward to spending some time away from his daddy duties, but it’s clear that he’ll miss her terribly too.

“Alright, baby. Be good and I’ll call Grams to talk to you every day, okay?” Harry tells her, giving her one last hug. Izzy wraps her arms around his neck tightly, her face squished into his neck.

“Okay, daddy. I love you,” she mumbles with a pouty look.

“I love you too. Have a good time with Grams.”

“Thank you for everything, Anne,” you tell her, giving her a quick hug.

“Oh, you’re welcome. It was so nice to meet you,” she smiles, feeling a little touched by the goodbye. “Come back soon!”

“I will, thank you.” “Bye mum, call me if anything comes up,” Harry tells her, hugging her as well.

“We’ll be alright, don’t worry. Tell Mitch and Sarah that I wish them the best!” Anne smiles as you and Harry head out the door.

“I will! Bye!”

Izzy stands at the front door with Anne, waving after you as Harry backs out of the driveway and eventually, they are out of your sight.

Harry falls silent and you don’t have to be a genius to know that he is already missing Izzy. You can imagine what it feels like to not see her every day like he always does, when he is so used to having her around all the time.

“You alright?” you softly ask, giving his arm a short squeeze.

“Yeah, it’s just… It’s the third time I’m doing this, but it never gets easier. The first year we did it I ended up driving up here four times that week,” he admits with a chuckle.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. It’s normal to miss her.”

“I know, it just makes me emotional,” he admits, flashing you a short smile before he turns his gaze back at the road ahead of him.

The drive back home is a lot quieter than the way to Anne’s. You play some music again and Harry hums to it sometimes, but he is mostly just deep in his thoughts and you don’t want to bother him, knowing well he probably needs some time to settle with the thought of an entire week without Izzy.

You get some takeout for dinner before arriving home and eat together before putting on a movie to watch in the entertainment room. One movie turns into another and before you could realize it, you’re dosed off on the comfy couch, cuddled to Harry’s side near midnight.

When you wake up something entirely different is playing on the screen since the original movie has ended long ago. Harry is passed out, his head resting against the back of the couch, one arm curled around your shoulders while the other is resting on his stomach. Rubbing your eyes you check the time and decide it’s better if you both just go to bed before you end up spending the night on the couch.

“Hey… H,” you softly caress his cheek before you brush his unruly curls back from his forehead. He scrunches his nose adorably before his eyes flutter open, taking in his surroundings. “We fell asleep. Why don’t we call it a night?” you ask in a soft whisper. Harry sighs, nodding his head, squeezing you to his side before his arm falls from around your shoulders. You peck his cheek before pushing yourself up from the couch. He shuts the TV off and the two of you head upstairs. For your surprise, his hand finds yours on the way up the stairs, lacing his fingers together with yours.

You pad your way up to the second floor and walking past Izzy’s room Harry stops for just a heartbeat before he follows you down the hallway. When you’re about to let go of his hand to head into your own bedroom, Harry pulls you back gently, making you look at him with slight confusion.

“Do you… Maybe you could… sleep at mine, if you want to? Just a thought…” he breathes out, clearly nervous to speak what’s been on his mind.

“I would love to, but only if you’re sure about it.”

“I’m sure. It would be nice to… wake up next to you,” he adds with a shy smile and you notice how he didn’t say waking up next to anyone, he wants you to be there.

“Alright. Why don’t we both just go and shower separately and then I’ll come back to yours?” you offer, giving his hand a squeeze. Harry nods and leaning down he places a chaste kiss to your lips before letting go of your hand, going your separate ways.

After doing your usual nighttime routine you put on a pair of soft pajama pants and a simple shirt before heading back to Harry’s bedroom. The door is slightly open, the lights are still on. You knock on the door before pushing it open carefully. You’ve only been in here a handful of times and it’s strange to come here with the intention of staying.

Harry is standing by his dresser in a pair of sweatpants and a white shirt, his hair is slightly damp from his shower. As his eyes fall on your figure a small smile tugs on his lips before he glances towards the bed.

“Which… which side do you like sleeping on?” he asks and you can’t hold back a chuckle as you walk to the side that’s clearly not used by him usually.

Harry huffs with a smile before going to his side. You put your phone to the nightstand before getting under the covers, making yourself comfortable in Harry’s silky sheets. He sits to the edge of the bed, checks something on his phone before dropping it to his nightstand and he then joins you under the covers.

It’s a tiny bit awkward at first, neither of you really finding your place in such a new situation, so at first you just lie on your sides facing each other. Harry is clearly about to say something, he is just looking for the right words, so you give him all the time he needs.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he softly speaks up. “Not just because… I would be awfully lonely now without Izzy,” he adds with a cheeky chuckle. “I meant it generally. I’m really happy that you’re here.”

“I’m happy to be here too. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you smile at him. Breathing out through his nose he closes his eyes for a few seconds before his green irises meet yours again. Leaning closer he kisses you softly, just another way to tell you the same thing he just said with his words a moment ago. Pulling back he settles his head on the pillow and he pulls you into his arms, making you cuddle to his side similar to the way you fell asleep on the couch earlier.

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Good night, Harry,” you hum back, nuzzling your face into his shoulder, making yourself comfortable in his strong arms.

Harry grumbles lowly when his phone’s alarm goes off in the morning. He might be off from his daddy duties this week, but he is still the CEO of his company and work is calling his name. Sometime during the night the two of you got tangled up in each other. Unlike last night, now Harry is the one snuggled up to you, his heavy arm lying across your stomach, his legs mingled with yours under the sheets as you gently scratch his scalp with one hand, running the other up and down his arm across your stomach. You’re not gonna lie, waking up in a bed with Harry is far more blissful and satisfying than you imagined. Even early in the morning he has such an aura that sweeps you off your feet, the man was surely crafted by the gods.

“You’re gonna be late,” you hum, eyes still closed when he hits the snooze button and snuggles back to you.

“It’s set to when I have to get Izzy ready. We still have some time,” he mumbles against the fabric of your shirt.

You stay in bed a little longer until it really is time to get up. Harry’s morning form is so soft yet still breathtaking, even with his hair tousled and his puffy eyes, he still looks gorgeous and you find it slightly unfair how little effort the man needs to be this perfect.

Harry heads to take a shower and in the meantime you decide to start making breakfast while the coffee is brewing.

“Oh you shouldn’t have,” Harry breathes out with a thankful smile when he arrives downstairs and sees the almost ready breakfast and the smell of coffee hits his nose.

“I have all the time in the world this week,” you chuckle as you fill a plate with eggs and veggies before you slide it over to him on the kitchen island. You fix a plate for yourself as well and join him on the stool beside him.

“So… are you still up for the date?” Harry asks shyly, glancing over at you.

“Didn’t really change my mind since yesterday,” you chuckle.

“Would you be up to do it today?”

“So, eager, huh?” you tease him, nudging him with your shoulder and he just shyly shrugs, trying to push down his smile. “Today works fine for me. What do you have in mind?”

“I’m not ruining the surprise,” he smirks at you, sipping on his coffee.

“Alright, then just tell me the dress code.”

“Wear that lilac dress you wore to that birthday party the other week.”

You know exactly what dress he is talking about, but it stuns you that he actually remembers what you wore two weeks ago. He only saw you for a few minutes before you left, yet he still remembered the dress.

“Alright,” you smile to yourself before turning back to your breakfast.

Though you have a few extra sessions booked for the week, your Monday stayed empty and without Izzy roaming around the house you have to realize that you can easily get bored without her. You got so used to being with her all day long that now being home on your own is so weird.

You spend the first half of the day lounging at the pool, something you’ve been dying to do, but you were too busy with a certain little girl. Then you have a nice lunch and after reading the book you’ve been putting away for weeks, you realize that you’ve run out of things to do. So you text Trevor if he wants a ride home after school and of course he does, so after fixing yourself up you drive down to his school.

“Hi there, how was your day?” you ask when he sits into the car, throwing his backpack to the backseat before he buckles himself up as you back out of the parking spot.

“Fantastic, as always!” he fake cheers, making you laugh.

“Want to get ice-cream?”

“You know I always want ice-cream,” he snorts smirking at you.

You haven’t met Trevor ever since things become kind of… romantic between you and Harry, and you didn’t want to tell him over the phone, so now is the perfect time to break him the news. When the two of you are sitting on the terrace of your favorite ice-cream place, your paper cup filled with chocolate and strawberry ice-cream while he chose mango and cookie dough, you finally start the conversation.

“So, I have news for you.”

“Oh my God,” he breathes out, closing his eyes for a second. “Are you leaving the country?”

“What? No! Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know, but last time you said you had news for me you moved out from home. Figured it might be something similar,” he shrugs, returning to his ice-cream.

“Well, no, I’m not leaving the country.”

“Okay, then what is it?”

“I’m kind of… dating Harry. You know, my boss.” You have no idea why you felt the need to add the last part when he has already met him, but you feel a bit nervous. Trevor is like your best friend and he had a bad feeling about Keith when you started dating him, but you ignored it. If he has a similar feeling about Harry now, you are definitely considering them this time.

“Oh!” his eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean kind of?”

“Well, we haven’t had our first date yet, it’s happening tonight, but things have… changed.”

“So you slept with him?”

“No, I haven’t,” you chuckle nervously. “We kissed. A few times and… we talked about where it’s heading and we both think it’s going to turn into something… more serious.”

“That’s great!” he smiles at you and it seems completely genuine. “See, I told you it’s gonna happen sooner or later,” he smirks coyly, before he licks his spoon off.

“You were just drawing random assumptions because of his looks and wealth, Trevor. But it’s not about that.”

“Oh, I know you’re not a gold digger,” he teases you, making you roll your eyes at him. “So your first date is tonight? What are you guys doing?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t tell me,” you shrug with a small smile.

“Mysterious,” Trevor wiggles his eyebrows at you. “So he is finally ready to get back on the dating scene, huh?”

“Um, he is working on it. It’s a little hard for him, but he’s been changing for the better.” “That’s great. I’m happy for you,” he smiles at you. “Really, you deserve it after that asshole.”

“Yeah, I hope it’ll go well,” you smile back at him with a sigh before you return to your ice-cream.

After dropping Trevor off at one of his friends you head back home. For your surprise, Harry’s car is already parked on the driveway with another one that doesn’t belong to him when you pull up and walking in you find him with Niall in the kitchen.

“Oh, hi boys!” you greet them.

“Y/N! You are stunning as always!” Niall beams, pulling you into a tight hug right away.

“Thanks,” you chuckle patting his back. “What are you guys up to?”

They share a look and it tells you right away you are not supposed to know whatever they were talking about so you just nod smiling.

“Alright, got it,” you chuckle.

“How was your day?” Harry asks, hoping to change the subject smoothly.

“Great! Met with Trevor, just dropped him off.”

“Oh, how is he doing?”

“He is fine, struggling a little with math lately, but he is doing great,” you chuckle.

“So you have a brother. Do you happen to have a sister, maybe?” Niall asks with a coy smile and while Harry just rolls his eyes at his friend, you can’t help but laugh.

“Sorry, no,” you tell him the bad news. “But… I have a good friend and I think you’d like her.”

“A friend? Do you have a picture of her?” Niall beams, already excited about it. Pulling your phone out you show him a picture of you and Heather so he can have a good look at her. You actually think that Heather and Niall would be a good match, she might even be the girl Niall would give up his bachelor life finally.

“When are we having a double date?” he simply asks, making you and Harry laugh at the same time.

“I’ll see what I can do for you.” You let the boys finish whatever they were doing before you arrived so you go to your room, unwinding a little before you have to start getting ready for the date. Around five there’s a soft knock on your door and as you call out, Harry pops his head inside.

“Hi,” he smiles nervously as the rest of his body walks into your sight.

“Hi!” you smile back, putting your book to the side.

“I just realized I never told you the time when you should be ready tonight,” he chuckles nervously. “Is six good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s great.”

“Alright. Then… see you soon, I guess,” he smiles nodding before he walks out of your room. You can’t help a small chuckle at how nervous he seems about tonight, as if he wasn’t still sure about your feelings for him, when you’ve made it clearer than daylight.

You get the best kind of jitters while getting ready for the date. It’s like you’re in high school again and your crush has finally asked you out so you want to look your best. Since Harry already suggested you what to wear, you don’t have to spend an hour standing in your closet, trying to find the right choice. For the makeup you go for a little smokey look and you do a loose bun styles for your hair, remembering the words your mother always told you when you were a teenager.

“A woman’s greatest and most secret weapon is her neck. Men go crazy if you show them your neck and they don’t even realize it!”

You spray some perfume on yourself and put on a pair of nude heels before packing your necessities into a purse that matches your outfit. You finish with everything just in time, a soft knock signaling that Harry has returned. Checking yourself one last time in the mirror you open the door and reveal him standing at the door, wearing a pair of fitted purple dress pants with a crispy shirt on, matching your dress perfectly. And the cherry on top is the bouquet of red roses in his hands.

“Hi,” he breathes out with a nervous smile and his gaze travels down your figure, a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Hi!”

“You look… beautiful,” he smiles shyly and your heart is fluttering in your chest. It’s really happening, you are going on a date with Harry!

“Thank you,” you chuckle softly.

“These are for you. I know it’s weird that I’m picking you up from your bedroom and I’m not giving you this at the front door, but…” he chuckles as he hands you the flowers.

“It’s really nice, thank you,” you smile, taking the flowers before moving into the bedroom to put them in a vase quickly. Harry takes just about two steps into the room and stops with his hands hidden in his pockets as he eyes every movement of yours before you finish with the flowers and let him know that you’re ready to do. He holds out his hand and you take it gladly as you head out of the house.

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going, not even when you try to annoy him and bully him into finally hinting something, but you should have known that he wouldn’t break. He has a four year old daughter who is constantly bugging him, he has endless patience.

When he parks down in front of a modern apartment complex you kind of get really confused, because nothing around seems like the location you’d choose for a date.

“Are you gonna kidnap me and keep me hostage in one of the apartments here?” you ask him with narrowed eyes as the two of you head inside, taking the elevator up.

“It’s not kidnapping, you came willingly,” he smirks down at you.

“That I did.”

When you’re at one of the apartments you are really lost about what he had planned and he finally breaks your suffering and tells you what’s gonna happen as he keys the two of you into the apartment.

“This is Niall’s place, he let us use it tonight. My mum always says that cooking together is a good first date, because food brings people together and you can easily get to know each other,” he explains as you walk into the modern, but definitely very manly home. “I didn’t want to do it at home, because we are always there, so… Niall was nice enough to lend us his place for our date.”

You see that there are two full grocery bags on the kitchen counter and the table is already set for two, you wonder if Harry was here earlier, or Niall did the work for him. Either way, it’s such a thoughtful gesture and a perfect first date.

“Where is he tonight?” you ask with a small smile.

“He is visiting his mother, for a change,” Harry chuckles, knowing well you thought he would be out with a woman probably. “He said he won’t be back until later tomorrow so we can even sleep here, but I thought it would be better if we went home.”

“So what are we making?” you ask curiously as you peek into one of the grocery bags.

“We are going to attempt to make gnocchi with some killer tomato sauce. And brownies for dessert,” he adds with a small smile.

“That sounds great, what can I help with?”

“Let me just quickly pack everything out and then we have to peel the potatoes, yeah?”

“Alright,” you nod, your gaze wandering over to the spacious living room. “Can I look around?”

“Sure,” he nods while he is already elbows deep in one of the bags.

Niall’s place looks like it came right off the pages of an interior design magazine, the furnishing is modern and more on the dark color range, but not too much to make it appear depressing. Right next to his huge TV there’s a floor to ceiling bookcase filled with books mostly about music and art and you realize you don’t even know what Niall does for a living. It just never came up between his heavy flirting sessions.

“I never asked, but what does Niall do?” you ask calling out to Harry.

“Oh, he is a freelancer music producer. Tried to offer him a permanent spot at my company, but he prefers his freedom, like with everything else in his life,” he chuckles. “But he is a good one, we used to make music together when we were younger.”

Just as he says that, you spot a picture of the two of them on the shelves and your lips part in a bit of a shock when you realize that Harry used to have long hair. Leaning closer you inspect the photo better and you feel like you’re looking at two entirely different people. Niall’s hair was bleached blonde which is already enough to make him like another version of himself, but Harry is definitely the biggest shocker. He was rocking some loose shirt with the top buttons left undone, his necklace with the cross pendant peeking out and though the photo ends somewhere above his knees, you can tell that he is wearing skinny jeans, something you never thought you would ever see him in.

“You had long hair?” you ask joining him in the kitchen. Harry’s eyes shoot up to him, then he looks in the direction of the living room, a smile tugging on his lips as he probably remembers what photo you must have just seen.

“Uh, yeah. Yes I did, when I was about 21 or 22.”

“I could hardly believe that was you in the picture, with the long locks and the skinny jeans,” you tease him.

“Yeah, I was a lot different then, but after all, it’s been an entire decade since then,” he sniggles.

“Why did you cut it?”

“Um, I was pretty new in the business back then and had a few assholes telling me that it’s not too masculine and all that. It was a time when I cared more about others’ opinion than I should have so I kind of gave in and cut it.”

“I’m sorry they ruined it for you. But I’m glad you don’t care about others that much now,” you smile at him softly. Harry’s eyes flicker down to his painted nails and ring-clad fingers and you just know what he is about to ask before he even speaks up.

“Does it… bother you? That I paint my nails and stuff?”

“No,” you shake your head confidently. “Not at all. I mean, I never saw you without them, but at this point I think it wouldn’t even feel right,” you add with a small laugh that brings Harry’s smile back as well. Stepping closer you kiss his shoulder softly before turning your focus on the food in front of you. “So, let’s peel these bad boys!”

It’s the first time you and Harry actually work together in the kitchen for more than just five minutes. He is always in control at home, taking over everything with Izzy and you know it’s a good bonding time for them, so you never even tried to push your way into it without their invitation. But now the bonding is all about you and him and so far you’ve been a great team. The cutest thing is that he brought you matching aprons to protect your clothes and you look like you are in some cooking show for sure.

You keep asking questions from each other while working on the food, Harry asks you some more about your childhood and teenage years and he shares stories from college where he had this friend group of five. Niall was part of the group as well and he said he is still in touch with the other boys, but they all do very different things now, the other three are already fathers themselves and live far away, so they don’t get to see each other that much.

You are making the little dumplings while Harry is on duty for cooking them, relentlessly fishing them out of the boiling water once they swim up to the top. When that’s done, Harry starts making the sauce while you take care of the brownies. It all works out well, everything gets done easily and while the dessert is in the oven you start eating what you just created.

“Mm, this sauce is really good!” you hum when you take the first bite.

“It’s my mum’s recipe,” he smiles proudly.

At the beginning of the evening you could tell that he felt nervous, not essentially about being with you, but probably because of the thought of going on a date in general. But as time passed by and he got more and more comfortable in the situation, you could see him loosen up and calm his nerves, so now that you are eating the dinner you made together and drinking a glass of fine wine, talking about anything and everything, you feel like he is actually enjoying something he was probably terrified from before.

When the brownies are done the two of you take advantage of the nice evening weather and Niall’s amazing balcony, moving out to the lounge chairs, munching on the dessert with the skyline of the city in front of you. At one point you start playing a game of would you rather, and after a while you ask each other the most random things, cracking each other up continuously. You don’t even realize and it’s already past ten, you completely talked the evening away, but you don’t regret any of it.

You clean up Niall’s place, leaving it just the way you got it, putting some leftovers into his fridge for him as a thank you for lending you his place before you head out.

Harry keeps a hand on you at all times on the way home, he is either holding your hand over the console, or rests his palm on your thigh above your knee, but either way, he just keeps the physical touch up always. Not that you mind, you are doing kind of the same, enjoying his closeness.

Arriving home you can feel a kind of tension growing, but not a bad kind. You want him. Your desire to go further than just kissing has grown immensely tonight, but you have no idea how he feels about taking it further and you don’t want to push him past his boundaries.

“Want to… sleep with me again?” he shyly asks when you’re going up the stairs.

“Yeah, I would love that,” you smile at him, giving him a quick peck on his cheek.

When you part ways in the hallway he probably expects you to do your night time routine, but you have other plans. Grabbing your polaroid camera you pad your way over to his room, knocking on the door, hoping he is not in the shower yet. When he calls out for you, he is standing at his dresser, the first few buttons of his shirt are already undone, but he is still dressed.

“I just thought that… we could snap a picture as a nice memento of our first date,” you shyly explain to him, holding the camera up.

“Oh, yeah! Okay, how do you... how should we…?” he looks around the room and you step to his dresser, placing the camera to the top of it.

“It’s got a timer,” you explain as you set it up and tell him where to stand so you can check if he is in the frame. When it’s all set, you glance back at him. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he nods shyly. You push the button and step back to him. “What should we…” he starts, but you already know what you want the picture to be like.

Cupping his face in your hands you pull him down and kiss him sweetly, for the first time tonight. You’ve noticed he hasn’t tried to kiss you all night, being a gentleman, but you’ve been craving it since he showed up at your door with the roses.

He hesitates for a moment, but eventually curls his arms around you, kissing you back softly. The timer goes off and the flash indicates that the photo has been taken. Pulling back you smile at him before taking the photo from the camera, setting it to the side to develop. Harry steps behind you, his arms coming to curl around your waist and you turn in his hold to face him.

“Hi,” you smile at him giddily. “Thanks for today.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he answers softly, making your heart flutter. You press your lips at his, kissing him hard and passionate, like you wanted all evening. He is quick to return the kiss with just as much passion as you put into it, his hands finding your waist as he slowly pulls you with him until the back of his legs hit the bed. He sits down and pulls you with him so you sit on his lap straddling him, never breaking the kiss as you settle in his arms, his hands roaming up and down your back.

Your kisses move from his delicious lips to his chiseled jawline and down his neck, your fingers working on the buttons of his dress shirt. You want him, you need him, he is all you can think about and the taste of his skin on your tongue is making you lose your mind.

His hands move up your thighs right to your bum, giving it a good squeeze, making you moan against the crook of his neck.

“Fuck,” he growls, throwing the two of you to the bed, getting on top of you before his lips attack yours, kissing you with a demand heatedly. His lips move smoothly against yours, devouring you with every suck and lick, making you dizzy in the head with such little effort.

He starts kissing down your neck, through your collarbone and whatever is showing in your dress on your chest. Your fingers lace through his messy curls, keeping him close to you as you try to control your moans and gasps. His fingers hook under the thin straps of your dress and he is about to pull them down when he stops, breathing heavily against your skin.

Harry lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he is panting through his parted lips and you cup his cheeks in your hands.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” you tell him softly, knowing well his mind is probably racing right now.

“I just…” he starts quietly. “I haven’t been with anyone since… Maggie,” he admits in a whisper and your gaze softens on him.

“And I haven’t been with anyone since Keith,” you admit truthfully. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I’m fine with just sleeping if that’s all you want to do.”

“No, I want to… I want to do things, I just… I’m not used to it, I guess,” he breathes out as you run your fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay. We can take it slow. Whatever you feel comfortable with,” you assure him pecking his lips softly.

“Is it… Is it okay if we just… touch?” He is clearly feeling a bit embarrassed to ask, but you will not make him feel bad for asking for whatever he wants. Pulling him down for another kiss you smile up at him.

“Touching is perfect. It’s all up to you,” you tell him and see the gratitude in his eyes right away.

Removing yourself off of his lap you climb back on the bed, pulling him with you until he is holding himself up above you. Your eyes meet for a second again before leaning down he kisses you slowly, taking his time with you. He is holding himself up on one arm while his other hand finds your hip, gently squeezing it when his tongue slides into your mouth through the kiss. Your hands move down his chest and you start unbuttoning his shirt until it falls open and he shimmies it off with a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get rid of the dress too,” you breathe out, reaching down for the hem of your dress, pulling it up until it’s off, leaving you in only your underwear. You’re wearing a matching set with a strapless bra and as you lie back on the bed Harry’s eyes basically devour you, his gaze running up and down your body several times.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he breathes out before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand cupping your side before wandering over to your stomach and up to your chest. He runs his hand over your chest, gently squeezing it, making you moan into the kiss.

“And you’re wearing too much clothes,” you grin as you reach down and start undoing his purple pants you ogled him quite often tonight. Harry chuckles as he holds himself up for you to work the button and the zipper on his pants before he takes over the task and gets rid of them himself, leaving him in only his boxer briefs and you have to hold yourself back from gasping when you see the growing bulge between his legs.

You don’t get to eye him for too long, because he is back to kissing you, his body pressing up against yours as you let your hands roam his strong back, his skin burning under your touch. His lips travel down the line of your neck to your chest and his hand snakes behind your back, but he stops before he could do anything with the clasp of your bra. Glancing up at you he gives you a questioning glare, asking for your permission.

“You can take it off,” you softly tell him nodding. His fingers are quick to undo it and a moment later you’re lying with a bare chest underneath him. His hand moves to your chest again and he kneads your breast again, this time with nothing between your skin and his palm. You whimper under his touch, you’ve been so starved to be touched this way and now that it’s happening, it’s hard to control yourself, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind seeing you react to what he is doing.

His lips return to your mouth and while he kisses you with so much passion, he slowly lays himself down next to you, so you’re facing each other sideways on the bed. He pulls you closer to him until you’re flushed against his hard chest and while your hand roams around his shoulders and back, his palm slides down your spine, over your waist until he calms bum, pushing you even closer to him. His clothed erection presses against your thigh and you can’t help but whimper his name at the feeling.

His kisses slow down and his touch loosens on you until he pulls back, seemingly just for air, but you can tell his head is starting to race again, spiraling thoughts taking over his mind.

“Do you want me to take over control?” you softly ask him, pushing his unruly curls out of his forehead. His gaze softens and he nods shortly with gratefulness lacing through his look.

He watches you intently as you push yourself up into a sitting position, he rolls to his back and keeps his gaze on you as you hook your fingers into your panties, getting rid of them before doing the same for him with his boxers. He lifts his hips up as you pull down the elastic material, revealing his hard cock to your greedy eyes. You want nothing more than to taste him, but he said he just wants to touch so you don’t try to overstep his limits, leaving this desire of yours to another time. Instead, you lean down, capturing his lips in a sweet, reassuring kiss that everything is going fine to calm his nerves as much as you can, while you place your palm to his lower stomach, moving down slowly until you find his hard cock, wrapping your hand around his length and giving it a few gentle stroke.

“Fuck,” he breathes out against your parted lips and you can’t push a smile down.

You kiss his lips, his cheeks, his jawline, everywhere around his face while you keep pumping him, spreading some of his precum down his length to help your hand move smoother. Your actions awaken something in him, he grabs your face in both his hands, kissing you hard before he pushes you to your back, becoming the one on top. He parts your legs with pushing a knee between your thighs and while you keep up with your motions, he gets down to action as well. One of his large palms runs down your abdomen, stroking your lower belly gently before it moves to your inner thigh, spreading you even more for him before you feel his touch on your heated and dripping wet core. First, he just teasingly runs two fingers through your folds, testing how wet you are and when he realizes that you are more than ready to whatever he has planned, he moves his thumb to your sensitive clit, drawing circles with the pad of his finger, sending a wave of pleasure up your spine immediately.

“Harry!” you moan his name, running your thumb over the head of his cock that makes him gasp and stop his motions for a moment before he returns to pleasuring you.

He buckles his hips into your touch while his fingers move down from your clit until he is teasing your entrance, just circling around it but not pushing into you. Rolling your hips you signal him that you want the teasing to end and he luckily gets the hint, slowly sliding two fingers inside you, curling them gently and it makes your eyes roll back immediately. He rests his forehead on your shoulder as he starts moving his fingers in and out of you while you try your best to keep up your pumping motion as well, moving your other hand to his balls to give him some of that extra pleasure and he seems to be liking what you’re doing, because your name keeps falling from his lips as keeps fingering you, curling his digits just the right way inside you from time to time.

“Fuck, Y/N, I won’t last long,” he pants, his lips brushing against your neck before he kisses the soft skin above your collarbone.

“It’s alright. Just want you to feel good, H,” you assure him, though you’re getting closer to your release as well.

“Are you close?” he asks out of breath, still holding himself up above you, leaning onto his other arm next to your head.

“Yeah, don’t stop,” you nod, turning your head so your lips could meet for a kiss again.

You can tell he is trying hard to hold himself back, to stretch it out as long as he can. A torturous look tugs on his face and you kiss his temple, wanting nothing more than to see him finally reach the peak.

“Let go, H. It’s alright,” you whisper against his skin and he whines at your words before you feel his cock jerk in your hand and he cums under your touch.

You keep stroking him as he rides his high, gasping and panting your name while he spills his semen onto your naked stomach. His fingers stopped moving inside you as he found his relief, but as soon as you feel him recovering from his orgasm, he goes right back to where he left it, desperately wanting to pleasure you as well.

“Harry!” you moan when he hits a specific spot inside you, tingling your nerves just right, your hands come to clasp onto his broad shoulders.

“Cum for me, babe. Let me see you feel good,” he whispers before his lips occupy your mouth again, kissing you with so much passion and vigor, your senses are starting to overload.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you gasp feeling your toes curl and Harry picks his pace up, his thumb coming in contact with your clit as he tries to make you reach your high.

And then it finally happens. You stop breathing for a moment, the intensity of it washing over your whole body. It’s been so long since you felt this good with anyone, and just the thought of doing this with Harry probably adds a lot to the equation.

He slows his fingers down, but makes sure to curl them inside you every time he pumps them in, and you repeat his name over and over again until you finally catch your breath. Your gaze meets his, and you see a happy and satisfied shine in his green irises as he leans down and kisses you sweetly, pulling his fingers out of you gently.

“M’gonna get a towel,” he murmurs, pecking your lips one last time before he gets up from the bed and walks into the bathroom while you lie on his bed, totally gone and worn out from your orgasm. Harry comes back with a damp washcloth and cleans up the mess he made on you before gently moving to between your legs, taking such good care of you. He drops the cloth to the floor, not wanting to leave the bed again as he pulls the covers over your bodies, pulling you into his arms.

“How are you feeling?” you softly ask, pecking his toned chest.

“I’m good.”

Lifting your head you search for his eyes, wanting to make sure he didn’t regret any of it, but he seems calm and rested for a change. Smiling up at him you push yourself up a little so you can connect your lips before you snuggle back to his side and let yourself slowly drift off to sleep, listening to his steady heartbeat under your face.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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[pretendingboyfriends]

A/N: hello baes!! this is a little piece for @tbslenthusiast ‘s dadathon!!! i decided to take a tiny little break from writing dwm to make this, but i hope u enjoy!<3

Warnings: smut, semi public sex, heavy sexual tension, fluffy cute new dad harry, an appearance from anne 

Word count: 4.7k+

Summary: You and Harry are new parents and you finally get a few days alone in the mountains.

“Is she asleep?” You whisper through a yawn as Harry steps through your bedroom door and shuts it quietly behind him.

“I think so,” He sighs, walking over to where you rest on the bed with an open book in your hands. He leans down to press his lips to yours in a brief peck whilst he tugs his large rings off and tosses them onto the bedside table. “M’Surprised it took her so long to tire herself out with all that crying.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “She has a lot of power in that tiny body.”

He nods in agreement as he begins to undress at the edge of the bed and you allow your gaze to wander over his figure. He sits himself at the end of the bed with his back facing you as he tugs his shirt off and tosses it onto the floor below. His broad shoulders maneuver and stretch with his movements and you’re tempted to crawl up behind him and wrap your arms around him while pressing your lips to the curve of his jaw. It’s been so long since the two of you were able to have a lasting moment alone and you’re desperate for him. Since the birth of your beloved baby girl nearly three months ago, there’s been no time to do anything but tend to her every need at nearly every moment of every day. Whether she’s crying because she’s hungry, crying because she needs to be changed, or crying because she’s tired, your hands are full. 

You place a bookmark into the spine of your book before closing it and setting it on the bedside table. Through the silence, a heavy blanket of sexual tension fell over the two of you and both of you are itching to lunge at each other. Harry finally pulls the last item of clothing from his body, leaving him in his tight boxer briefs before he’s climbing back onto the bed. He slides beneath the comforter with you and rolls onto his side to face you, propping his head up on his arm.

“Hi,” You hum, turning over to face him as he gazes at you.

He smiles and leans forward, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you against him. “Hi.” 

Your own arm loops around his neck as he rolls you onto your back so that he can lean over you, pressing his lips to yours in a much longer kiss than before. His lips move against yours slowly and passionately, leaving you breathless and desperate for him. Your fingers bury themselves into his mop of curls, tugging and gripping at the handfuls of tendrils and causing a low moan to emit from the back of his throat. 

“Missed you so much,” You breathe between kisses.

“Darling,” He groans. “You have no idea.”

His hands wander your frame as he kisses you, gripping every plush curve with a gentle but passionate fervor. Your fingernails bury themselves into the muscles of his bare back and his hand slides down to grip your thigh and tug it over his hip so that he can slot himself between your legs. His hand begins to slowly inch towards the elastic of your shorts, building the suspense of his touch. Just as his fingertips tug at the cloth wrapped around your hips, the crackling static of the baby monitor sitting on the bedside table erupts into the silence and slices through the heated moment. Isla’s cries can be heard through the buzzing static and both of you pull away from each other reluctantly. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Harry mutters, dropping his head to rest against your sternum as he catches his breath. 

You drag your hands down your face with a long sigh, moving from beneath his body and pushing yourself off of the mattress. “I’ll be right back.”

You saunter out into the hallway towards Isla’s bedroom, her cries growing louder with every step you take. As soon as you step into her bedroom, you begin to coo and shush her soothingly, quickly padding over to her crib. She kicks her chubby little legs, hiccupping through her tears as you reach into the crib, scooping her into your arms. 

“Shhhh, it’s alright,” You coo, rocking the small child side to side in your arms. You reach into the crib to find her pacifier tangled beneath her blanket. “Is this what’s got you all fussy, hm?” You ask, turning the rubber nipple over in your hand to make sure there isn’t any lint or fluff on it before gently coaxing it back into her mouth. Her pathetic cries simmer to a few shaky breaths and hiccups as she suckles on the pacifier and you sigh contendedly. 

“Quite the cockblock, isn’t she?” Harry hums quietly from the doorway behind you and you turn your head to look at him with a tired smile. He shuffles over to where you’re standing, gently placing his hand against the small of your back as he gazes over your shoulder at the tiny child in your arms. As you rock her from side to side, her eyelids begin to grow heavier and heavier, sinking into a deep sleep from the warmth of your body. Harry rests his chin against your shoulder and you both watch her drift off to sleep. 

Eventually, you return her back to her crib, making sure not to wake her as the two of you creep back out into the hallway. 

You step back into your bedroom, shutting the door behind the two of you.“I think we should get away.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think we should rent a place out of town and get away for a few days. Just the two of us.”

He frowns a little. “What would we do about bubs?”

“Anne could take her,” You shrug, walking back towards the bed. “I think she would be thrilled to have a few days with her grandbaby.”

“That’s true,” He nods, plopping himself onto the edge of the bed, pulling you to stand in front of him. “We’ve never left her for more than a few hours, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” You sigh. “But I need this–we need this.”

“You’re right,” He chuckles, his large hand coming to caress your bare thigh as you stand in front of him, hands resting on his broad shoulders. “M’surprised we haven’t gone insane by now. Haven’t touched you properly in so long…” He trails off quietly, glancing back up into your eyes.

Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you make eye contact with him. There’s a lick of fire behind his green eyes for a moment, but it vanishes quickly as he composes himself, clearing his throat quietly and letting his hand fall from your skin. “Where should we go?” 

You stop for a moment, mulling over the possibilities of where the two of you could get away to that wouldn’t cause too much of an uproar. “The mountains?” You suggest as you crawl back into your side of the bed across from him. “I bet we could rent a house out there for a few nights.”

He nods, “S’a good place to get away from the paps,”

You hum in agreement, watching as he moves onto his side of the bed beside you and lies back on his pillow. “It’s also a good place to be as loud as we want…” 

He smirks at you, sliding his arms around your waist and tugging you against his chest, “It’s settled, then. We’ll start looking at places to rent tomorrow.” 

*

Turns out, finding a place to rent in the mountains is a lot easier than you thought it would be and nearly 3 days after your initial conversation, you’re already packed and ready to go, dropping Isla off at her grandmother’s house.

“Alright, we have her diaper bag here-” You pull the bag from your shoulder, handing it to Anne, “and that has all her clothes and toys in it as well. Then this bag has all her milk-” You take the other bag from Harry, handing it over to Anne. “I pumped enough for a few days, but if you run out, there’s some formula in there.” You sigh, glancing around you to make sure you had given her everything. “I think that’s it!” 

Anne smiles, setting the bags to the side. “We’re going to have so much fun, right darling?” She crouches down a little to be face to face with your daughter while she sits on your hip, bringing her hands up to tickle her. Isla giggles animatedly, babbling to her grandmother happily as she tickles her. You smile at the two of them, bouncing the child up and down on your hip to entertain her further. 

A few moments pass as you give Anne a few last minute details and then you’re finally passing Isla over into her arms. You can see the panic in her eyes as she realizes what’s happening and Harry leans in, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek, “We’ll be back before you know it, bubs, don’t worry.” 

You lean in to give her a kiss as well, pressing one to each cheek, “Be good for mommy, okay?” (of course, Isla has no perception of speech yet, but for your own peace of mind, you speak to her like she can understand every word)

The two of you hug her and Anne one last time before sneaking out the door to ensure Isla doesn’t see you leaving, and then you’re off to the mountains. 

*

The drive to the mountain isn’t too long and the weather is beautiful, so you’re able to drive with all the windows down, blasting your favorite tunes. The majority of the trip is spent that way, blasting music and making humorous conversation as the cool breeze sift through the windows. It’s nice to be alone with him for once. Three months of longing eyes and lingering fingers; nothing more than a few stolen kisses with wandering hands. Being together like this, with the anticipation of what’s to come in the moment you’re truly alone with each other, is killing you. The niggling feeling at the back of your mind–the sexual itch that’s aching to be scratched–is building by the second and you can feel it building for Harry, too.

For a while, his hand is resting on his own thigh–fingers mindlessly tapping against his knee as he drives, but at some point during the trip, it migrates to yours. The heat of his hand against your thigh, burning through the fabric of your jeans, causes you to squirm uncomfortably, so you slide your hand beneath his, lacing your fingers between his own and letting both your hands rest in your lap. He glances at you for a moment, a hint of confusion behind his eyes, but he doesn’t question you verbally. You take a deep breath, brushing your thumb over his cross tattoo gently as you cross one of your legs over the other. The air is growing thicker and thicker, despite the windows being ajar, and you’re finding it harder to breathe.

Finally, after hours of trying to contain your breathing and a short trip to a nearby grocery store, you’re pulling into the steep driveway of the mountain house, slowly creeping up the narrow, cement path to the front of the house. It’s a quaint little house; you can tell it’s nearly 20 years old, but, from what you can see, the owners have repainted the exterior and added quite a few decorations.

As you enter the house, a feeling of comfort washes over you. The interior is also refinished with seemingly brand new furniture, a fresh coat of paint, and minimalistic (but homey) decorations and despite its new smell, it seems like home. 

You scramble into the kitchen after taking a moment to admire the living room, dropping the grocery bags onto the marble countertop that you’d carried inside from the car. Harry is following close behind you with your luggage, carrying both of your bags to the bedroom in the corner of the living room as you stand in the kitchen. 

“How’s the bedroom look?” You call out to him, pulling the refrigerated items from the bags and placing them into the empty fridge. 

“It’s great,” He responds, “There’s a king sized bed and a jacuzzi!” He steps around the corner, entering the kitchen with a smile.

“Sounds great.” You hum, smiling back at him as he approaches you and begins to help unload the rest of the groceries. 

The two of you unload everything within a matter of minutes before wandering out to the balcony. As soon as you step through the sliding glass door, you’re overwhelmed with the breathtaking view of the mountains. They’re so large and tall that their blue tips touch the clouds gently.

“Oh, wow,” You sigh, stepping towards the wooden railing and folding your arms against it.

Harry chuckles in amazement, coming up behind you as you lean against the railing, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing himself against you. You relax into him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut in content. The chill, fall breeze rustles the leaves on the trees that frame the balcony, causing goosebumps to arise along your exposed skin.

The two of you sit there, soaking in one another’s company for what feels like hours before Harry’s thick voice vibrates against you from behind.

“What should we do for dinner tonight?”

Your eyes flicker back open at the sound of his voice,“What do you feel like doing?” 

He sighs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’m fine with anything.”

You turn your head to look at him, puckering your lips for a quick kiss that he immediately grants you. He pecks your lips a few more times before finally pulling away and you sigh. “Don’t really feel like making anything tonight,”

He hums, tilting his head to press his hot, plush lips along your neck. “Y’wanna order in?”

Your breathing grows heavier and heavier as your heart rate increases with each press of his lips against your skin. You shake your head, “Don’t think anyone delivers this far out,”

“Mm,” He grunts in response, lips continuing to trail along your jaw. “That’s too bad.”

You turn your body to face him slowly, allowing his arms to rest against the edge of the countertop and cage you in. “M’not really that hungry, anyways.” You breathe, taking his face between both of your hands and messily pressing your lips against his.

His arms snake around your waist, tightening to pull your body into his as close as possible and it feels like you’re finally gasping for air after being held just beneath the surface. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers tangling into his soft curls and tugging gently to coax a low growl from the depths of his throat. His fingers dig into your plush skin from beneath your knitted sweater, grasping every curve and scraping his dull fingernails along your hips. He sinks his teeth into your plump bottom lip, tugging it for a moment as he pulls away and makes eye contact with you again with his forehead resting against yours. 

“God, I’ve missed having you all to myself,” He grunts, pressing you impossibly close to his body. One of your hands drops to his chest, the other arm slung around his neck as the two of you heave from the lack of oxygen. You smirk at him seductively, sliding the hand that’s been resting against his chest down to massage him through his white linen trousers. His cock has already plumped beneath the cloth significantly just from kissing you and a low, boiling groan bubbles up from his throat at the contact. You lean in to kiss his jaw, lips trailing further up towards his ear to nip and suckle at it.

“Want you in my mouth,” You breathe right into his ear and you can feel the shutter that wracks his body as he tightens his grip on you. “Haven’t tasted you in so long…” You trail off, continuing to rub him through his trousers. 

“Y’want me down your throat, hm?” He mutters, pulling away to make eye contact with you again. You bite your lip, gazing at him through hooded eyes with a nod before you slowly sink to your knees in front of him. His hands fall to lean against the railing as he watches you, his breathing heavy and unmeasured with every movement you make.

You begin to unbutton his trousers slowly, pressing your lips against his bulge until you’ve tugged both his trousers and his briefs down his thighs, his thick shaft standing tall in front of you. He hisses at the contact of the chilled breeze on his hot skin and you lean forward, pressing your lips to his tip once, pulling back for a moment and then leaning back in to litter slow, gentle kisses from his head down to his base.

“Fuck me,” He groans, hands grasping the railing until his knuckles are white as you slowly take his head between your plush lips, suckling the warm, pulsing skin. You pop off of him for a moment, spitting on his tip and spreading the slickness down his shaft with your hand, stroking him up and down. You glance up to see him leaning over you with his eyes squeezed shut and his curls flopping gracefully over his face as you stroke him. 

Once he’s slick enough to your liking, you take his head back between your lips, pressing further down his shaft this time and preparing to take him down your throat. Harry is unbelievably hard and he’s finding it difficult not to thrust his hips into your mouth without warning, but he knows it’s been awhile and that you need to take your time. 

Finally, after a bit of stroking him whilst you slowly work him into your mouth, your nose is pressed against his pelvic bone, cock fully sheathed in your throat. He’s choking on a moan, hips thrusting forward at their own accord before you pull your head back and allow him to slide from your mouth for a moment. 

“You alright?” He breathes, dropping a hand from the railing to stroke your hair back. You nod, smiling up at him as you lean forward to take him again without struggling this time.  

Eventually, you’ve set a steady, bobbing pace taking him down your throat over and over again with small, wet gagging sounds that drive him absolutely mad. Your hands are gripping the backs of his thighs as you take him and you can feel the warm dampness building between your kneeling legs that grows with each grunt that leaves his lips. 

It doesn’t take long for Harry to breathe out a struggled warning to let you know he’s close to bursting and that only coaxes you to take him sloppier and faster, despite the tears streaming down your cheeks and spit dripping down your chin. His grunts grow deeper, one hand dropping to rest on the back of your head as you take him. 

Three more sloppy thrusts of his hips and he’s choking out a moan, releasing his thick, hot load right into your mouth. His head falls back on his shoulders and you pull your mouth from him completely, wiping your lips with the sleeve of your sweater before smiling up at him. 

“How was that?”

He chuckles in amazement, pushing his hand through his sweaty curls. “Fuckin’ amazing.”

He helps you up from the ground after you tuck him back into his trousers, immediately wrapping his meaty arms around your waist and pressing you into his body for a kiss. The two of you stay like that for a moment, basking in each other’s embraces before you pull away. 

“Bedroom,” You breathe, pushing him back towards the door. He quickly leads you inside, helping you tug your sweater off and toss it elsewhere as you walk to the bedroom (taking a quick moment to rinse your face and neck). Your back hits the mattress, your hair splayed out beneath you elegantly whilst you help Harry remove your jeans, leaving you in just a pair of panties since you had foregone the bra earlier this morning. His hands are all over you, calloused fingers dancing over every inch of your skin effortlessly. 

You’re reminded of that night, just slightly over a year before; the night your daughter was conceived. It had been gentle and loving, but utterly filthy all the same. He’d laid you out on your bed and taken you in the most passionate way you’d ever experienced. It was the first time the two of you had gone completely bare, hoping to start a family, and you were lucky enough to succeed on the first try, bearing a healthy baby girl just nine months later. Now, as he undresses himself and slots himself between your legs, lips pressed against your own, you feel that same overwhelming passion you’d felt that night. 

You allow him a moment to work himself up again, watching him tug at his cock between your legs with your bottom lip wedged between your teeth. It doesn’t take long for him to be fully hard again and then he’s looking up at you, muttering: “Turn over f’me.”

Smirking, you roll over onto your stomach wagging your ass at him teasingly and coaxing a chuckle from the depths of his throat. He grips your hip with one of his hands, pressing you into the mattress as he tugs your panties off and positions himself against your dripping folds. Your hands grip the crisp, white duvet tightly when he finally pushes into you and bottoms out with a low grunt. 

“Oh, fuck,” You mutter under your breath, dropping your head onto the bed when his hips press against your ass.

“S’that good?” He whispers into your ear, nipping at the lobe gently and you nod, reaching back to thread your fingers between the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He begins thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, drawing low, breathless moans from your throat as his fingers grip your hips tightly. His agonizing pace is short-lived due to his inability to hold back and soon he’s pounding into you like he has nothing to lose. 

One of his hands moves from your hip, lacing his fingers between yours as he leans over you and gains better leverage, mumbling expletives under his breath at the difference. Your moans are loud and unrelenting with every drill of his hips, the head of his cock slamming directly against your g-spot over and over again. 

“Fuck, Harry- right there,” You whimper, burying your face into the duvet as you push your ass back into him to create more friction. 

He grunts quietly, pressing a large hand onto the small of your back. “S’that it, hm? S’that the spot?” 

You nod weakly through another moan, the sound of his voice sending sparks directly between your legs, which only builds the pooling warmth in your lower belly. His pace is utterly unrelenting and you know you could come undone within moments, but you want to hold off for a little bit longer. 

“Let me on top,” you mutter, turning your head so that he can hear you better. He stops his thrusts as soon as he hears you, smirking and pulling out of you to plop himself onto his back. You shuffle onto your knees, moving to straddle him quickly. His hands immediately fall to your hips as you hover over him, taking his cock into your hand and stroking him before aligning him with your entrance again. Both of you breathe out sighs of relief and pleasure as you bottom out, sitting at his hips for a moment to allow yourself to adjust to the position. 

Soon, you’re lifting your hips to build a steady rhythm against him, gasping his name as your fingernails bury themselves into the skin of his chest. 

“God, you’re so tight like this,” He nearly chokes, hands grasping your hips tightly to pull you down onto him faster. 

The pleasure bubbling in your tummy is building with every slap of skin that can be heard clearly throughout the bedroom and Harry can already feel you start to squeeze and spasm around him, so he drops his hand from your waist to brush his thumb against your clit frantically. Almost immediately after his finger comes in contact with your clit, you begin to climax around him, crying out one last time before collapsing against his body.

He flips the two of you over so your back is against the mattress and continues to fuck into you sloppily, chasing his second climax of the evening as you mutter words of encouragement to him. Then, he’s suddenly bursting inside of you with a sudden, guttural groan of your name laced with a few scattered expletives before he’s relaxing against you and burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

The two of you lie there, catching your breath for what feels like decades, pressing warm lips into sweaty skin, mumbling words of endearment as fingers lace between fingers. There isn’t a moment better than this, wrapped in the warm embrace of your husband, the love of your life, with not a single bit of worry or anxiety. Just you and him.

Eventually, after groans of ‘one more minute’ and ‘just gimme one more kiss’, Harry allows you to pry yourself from his arms and stumble into the bathroom connected to the bedroom so that you can clean yourself up.

*

Nearly an hour later, after a quick shower and change of clothes, the two of you find yourselves in the kitchen preparing a frozen pizza for you to share as Harry’s ‘60s/70s Favorites’ playlist plays quietly in the background.

“Let’s FaceTime Anne,” You suggest, casually tugging his body into yours and wrapping your arms around his waist as you lean against the counter. “I wanna see how bubs is doing.”

He smiles, reaching across the countertop for his phone, swiping and tapping around on it for all of 10 seconds before turning the phone so both of you can see the screen. Within moments, Anne’s face lights up the screen as she smiles and greets the two of you happily. 

“Hi darlings! How’s the mountain house? Did you get there alright?”

You chuckle, leaning your head against Harry’s shoulder, “The house is really nice and the drive was great! How’s Isla doing?”

“Oh, she’s such an angel, hasn’t cried once-” She’s interrupted by the happy babble of your child and you smile. 

“Well, it sounds like she’s having a lot of fun,”

Anne returns to the phone screen that’s propped up on her kitchen counter with Isla in her arms, “Oh, yes! She’s been playing with her toys and crawling around the place like a maniac. Isn’t that right?” She coos, bouncing the small child in her arms.

You glance up at Harry as he chuckles, watching him smile and gaze at her through the screen with sparkling eyes. 

“I guess she’s just been dying to get away from us,” He sighs sarcastically, “She’s been throwin’ fits all week.”

“I guess she just loves Grandma more than us.” You say to him with a feigned sadness and the three of you laugh in unison. 

Eventually, Anne brings the phone in front of Isla so that she can see the two of you and, of course, she’s beyond confused. Grasping clumsily at the phone, accidentally pressing buttons with her clammy little hands, she’s just like her father. 

Suddenly, the oven makes an alarming beep to announce the pizza being done cooking and you step away to pull it from the oven. Focused on not burning yourself, you’re unaware of the little conversation going on between your husband and daughter until you turn around to see him making faces at the phone, little giggles and babbles coming from the speaker. Unbeknownst to him, you’re utterly endeared by him as you watch the interaction, love-filled tears brimming in your eyes. 

It’s perfect. He’s perfect. And you truly believe that in that moment, you’re the luckiest girl alive. 

-

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[eliemo]

Little Talks

Summary: As Logan starts spending more time with the Duke in an effort to keep him under control, Remus has to come to terms with the fact that the way he treated Logan may have caused lasting damage after all.

TWs: RSD, violent thoughts, strong language, blood mention (it's Remus, what did you expect)

Pairings: Developing friendship. Can be seen as platonic or romantic Intrulogical

Notes: Thank you to @cheshirevalentine for helping me create and edit this. They're amazing and I love them dearly. Their AO3 is here!

Having Logan in his room was… weird.

Remus had known it was going to be happening. Logan had made the offer to stop by Remus’s room and let the Duke bounce his ideas off of someone. He’d let Remus ramble, listen to the flood of intrusive thoughts and gory, outrageous ideas, all so that Thomas wouldn’t have to.

Remus had cheerfully referred to Logic as his “test subject” the first time he’d come in, laughing outright at the way Logan’s face had screwed up in indignation.

He didn’t really plan on actually doing anything to Logan, despite the incredibly dangerous position the light side had put himself into. He mostly just talked, reciting each and every thought that came to his head in detail, watching to see if he could get an entertaining reaction out of the ever-stoic Logan Sanders.

It didn’t really work. Logan was stupidly boring with his stuffy clothes and perfect schedule and condescending eyebrow raises. He didn’t say much the first few times he stopped by, their “talks” only lasting ten-to-fifteen minutes at most, but after a week he seemed to warm up to the idea of talking to Remus a little.

He’d ask questions- ask where Remus had gotten an idea, or ask him to expand on a particularly disturbing thought- and while Remus didn’t always have an answer, it was nice to not be completely shoved aside and ignored for once. Besides, Remus always thought of the best answers to those sorts of things on the spot. He liked the challenge of having to think on his feet.

It was still weird, though. But Logan kept showing up, day after day, and Remus could almost pretend he wasn’t the only one enjoying their talks.

He knew that Logan didn’t want to be here, of course. Their meetings were on his calendar, so it was obviously an obligation. He was doing it so Thomas could get some sleep, and Remus could be a little less of a burden. Of course.

Remus had only only expected it to last a few days, if he was honest. A week at most. He knew he was a lot to deal with, especially alone, and he knew it would only be a matter of time until Logan decided it was all too much and forgot all about their little “arrangement”.

But Logan came back the next week, and the week after that, and soon fifteen minutes turned into twenty, then thirty, and some days he even stayed almost a whole hour.

Remus found he actually felt a little less agitated after Logan left, his head just a tiny bit more quiet. Tormenting Thomas was the closest thing he’d ever had to talking things out, and it was a little discouraging when the reactions were either horrified screams, insults, or pretending he didn’t exist.

Logan actually listened. He listened and engaged.

Remus loved Janus. And Deceit did what he could, but he didn’t have the same tolerance as Logan did for some of the gross things Remus came up with.

Maybe Logic would be open to dissecting something with him sometime…?

-

He should have known it wouldn’t last. Nobody stuck around Remus very long. He always did something to fuck it up.

He really should have known the way he’d treated Logan when he’d first made his appearance would be a problem. Logic separated himself from the Imagination, the side grounded deeply in reality, but a lack of lasting damage didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.

Remus had still hurt Logan to prove a point. And then had promptly moved on and forgotten about it until the next time it was brought up. Sometimes object permanence- or lack thereof- was a pain in the ass.

Remus had been ranting as usual, pacing around his room while Logan watched from the chair. He honestly couldn’t even remember what he was talking about, his mouth moving without much thought as it tended to do.

Whatever it was, he’d gotten worked up and excited, pacing the room, waving and flapping his arms as he talked, smile bright and mischievous and he whirled back to face Logan and-

And Logan flinched back, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands clutched the arm of his chair, shoulders hunched protectively.

It only lasted a second, Logan quickly pulling himself together and compulsively smoothing his tie once again. He seemed to do that when he was trying to pretend he was collected, Remus had noticed. His shoulders uncurled as he leaned forward again, but he wouldn’t quite look Remus in the eyes.

“Continue,” Logan said, when he realized Remus had stopped talking. “You were rambling about...something objectively disgusting.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Remus said, crossing his arms and ignoring the stupid, pointless hurt that blossomed in his chest when Logan couldn’t even recall what Remus had been saying. “I saw that.”

Logan blinked, staring at the Duke blankly. “Saw what?”

“You flinched.”

Logan scoffed, adjusting his glasses to avoid meeting Remus’s eyes. Again. “I did no such thing.”

“No, you did. I saw it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said, jumping right back into that emotionless facade he was so obsessed with. “Are you going to continue?”

Remus couldn’t even remember what he’d been talking about, his head flooded with images of Logan flinching away, eyes wide in terror, scrambling to get away.

Logan with a throwing star embedded in his forehead, with his mouth full of blood, crimson dripping down his forehead and chin, seeping into his pristine clothes and staining his tie. The thoughts seemed to dip into that spiral they always went down, swirling down the metaphorical drain pipe into his metaphorical pit-of-sewage excuse for a brain.

“No,” Remus said, shaking the thoughts away for the moment. Like stirring the cesspool a little so all the muck settled to the bottom. Metaphorically. “I’m good.”

Logan sighed, and Remus stepped away as the logical side stood up from his chair. “Then we’re done for the day.”

“Bye then.”

If there was one thing Remus was good at, it was pretending not to be bothered by the little things, by the way everyone perceived him. He was a terror and a burden, and he enjoyed it. It was funny! He didn’t care if he was liked, intrusive thoughts were never liked.

Remus flopped down on his bed, watching Logan’s back as he left. He was moving quickly, almost panicked, slipping out the door and closing it shut behind him.

Remus didn’t care if the stupid light sides liked him. He never had. But Logan… Logan was scared. Of him.

Scaring people was never the goal. Making Logan flinch like Remus was going to hurt him was never the goal.

Logan would deny it to his grave, of course. He was stupidly stubborn like that, somehow more stubborn than even Remus at times.

He’d insist that Logic had never felt a revolting feeling like fear in his life. He had no feelings on the matter, and Remus couldn’t frighten him because Logan had no feelings at all. Not enjoyment, not dislike, and not fear. Remus was another obligation on his schedule. Something to attend to. Nothing more.

And while Remus knew all of that was true… he also knew Logan was full of shit. He had feelings. His feelings might even be stronger than Patton’s or Roman’s. (Though it was doubtful. Weepy bitches they were- far too emotional for Remus’s tastes.)

And he was afraid of Remus. He’d made that perfectly clear today.

He… didn’t know how to fix that. His job wasn’t to fix problems. He made the problems. It’s better to start now than to never start at all, he supposed.

Well, obviously he had to start by finding a new coping mechanism. Logan was helpful, and possibly the healthiest outlet Remus had ever had, but he wouldn’t force someone who was terrified of him to come sit in his room and listen to him talk about guts and gore for an hour. He would have to find something to do in place of their talks.

A part of him doubted Logan would even come back again. Remus had caught him flinching, and with Remus’s reputation he wouldn’t be surprised if Logan assumed he would use the fear to his advantage.

And yeah, maybe under different circumstances he would have. Scaring people was fun but… not like this.

But that was fine, he could readjust to being alone. He’d done it before. He could lock himself in the Imagination, annoy Janus until he finally snapped and drove him away, maybe even pay Thomas another visit if he really got desperate.

He wasn’t disappointed. He’d gone his whole life without Logan’s company, he had no reason to miss it. It wasn’t fair to miss something he had barely begun to get used to. Logan was annoying and boring and stuck up, and Remus didn’t know why he enjoyed his company in the first place.

Not that he enjoyed it. He didn’t. He didn’t care.

He spent all night feeding himself those repeating lies, preparing to entertain himself all on his own tomorrow, so he was almost more annoyed than surprised when Logan walked right into his room the next day, same time as always.

Remus sat up in bed, watching in disbelief as Logan made his way to the chair and set his notebook on the table, settling in like nothing had changed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Logan looked up at him, hands folded neatly in his lap. “I said I would make an effort to see you everyday. I put it in my schedule. If I’m not going to be able to make it, I will inform you the day before.”

“Oh,” Remus said, not bothering to move from the bed. “Well, that’s boring and predictable.”

“I prefer to have a schedule rather than do things on a whim. And I’m here now.”

“Yes,” Remus said, shifting to stare blankly at the wall beside Logan’s head. He bet he could spit that far if he really tried. “You are.”

There was a beat of silence that didn’t often exist in Remus’s room. Usually he would start talking right away about whatever late night thoughts he’d been plagued with, chatting on excitedly until Logan cut in to add something dumb and nerdy.

Remus didn’t plan on breaking the silence this time, choosing to sit and quietly dwell on his thoughts on his own, smirking at the utterly baffled look on Logan’s face.

Logan cleared his throat, frowning slightly. “What’s on your mind?”

“Lot’s of things!”

“Are you going to talk about them?” Logan asked. “That is why I’m here.”

“Nah.” He hated this, hated the way Logan was pretending to care, like he didn’t want to get up right now and run as far away from Remus as possible. Just like everyone else. “Intrusive thoughts aren’t always words, Nerdy Wolverine.”

He saw Logan shift uncomfortably, eyes darting briefly to the door, and Remus realized that might not have been the best way to phrase things.

“Ah,” Logan said, sitting back like he wasn’t terrified. “You can always show me instead. That is what I’m here for.”

“I’m good,” Remus said, doing his best to sound uncaring. “It’s gross.”

“Yes, I’m aware it probably is.” Another beat of silence and Logan sighed, standing from his chair. “Remus. The point of me being here is to keep Thomas’s intrusive thoughts under control. We’ve discussed this.”

And Remus knew Logan didn’t actually enjoy Remus’s company, he’d known that from the beginning, but it still hurt to hear. It hurt something fierce, a deep, sharp slash in his chest that he would swear he could feel, that he was just something to “keep under control”.

He pushed the feeling down, flashing Logan a toothy grin that he knew looked ridiculously fake. “Okay.”

Logan sighed again, pushing up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Remus wondered if he could frustrate Logic into storming out. “I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You do,” Logan argued, like he had any idea. “Surely talking to someone is better than being alone with your thoughts,”

Remus scowled, shoving himself off the bed and stalking past Logan, moving towards one of the various piles of rubble and bones scattered around his room. He bet Logan hated how cluttered it was in here.

“At least my thoughts don’t pretend to care about me.”

Remus kicked idly at something that looked a bit like a spine, staring blankly at the floor as he let his words settle.

“What?” Logan sounded genuinely confused for the first time. “What does that mean?”

“Hm?” Remus glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “What did I say?”

Logan stepped forward, shoes clicking against the floor, echoing against the now silent room. “I do not understand why you’re suddenly being difficult.”

“Suddenly?”

“Yes, suddenly,” Logan said, and Remus turned away again with an eye roll. “We had an arrangement.”

“Did we?”

“Yes.” Logan touched his arm, and Remus yanked away so fast he thought he might have pulled something. “This is beneficial for everyone.”

“Right,” Remus scoffed. “For everyone.”

Logan actually had the audacity to look taken aback, brow drawing in further confusion. “Yes? You have an outlet, and Thomas gets a break.”

“I don’t need it. I can bash skulls in the Imagination.”

“Which is significantly more unhealthy.”

Remus shrugged, kicking another bone until it slammed into the wall. “It’s easy and fun.”

“We were doing fine,” Logan said, trying to move around him so Remus would meet his gaze. “I thought coming in to talk to you was helping.”

“You don’t care,” Remus snapped. “And you don’t want to listen.”

“I want to,” Logan said. “That is why I’m here.”

“Right.”

“I am incredibly busy, Remus,” Logan said, and Remus felt like he was being lectured. “I would not be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“Then get gone!” Remus spun around gesturing to the door. “Just fucking leave already!”

“I think I’d prefer to stay.”

“You said you’re busy,” Remus snarled. “If you’re so busy you don’t need to carve out time for me.”

“I chose to.”

“Thomas can live with intrusive thoughts,” Remus said. “He’ll be fine. Patton and Virgil will ease up eventually. You should be focused on them.”

“I have been.” Logan was still staring at him, and at this point Remus was considering storming out of his own room. “I have time for you.”

“I thought you were busy,” Remus argued, back to being difficult on purpose. “Which is it? Are you busy or do you have time?”

Logan sighed, and now Remus felt like a child throwing a tantrum. “I’ve made time. I’m making time for you.”

“Right.”

“I don’t understand what changed,” Logan said. “I thought you were getting some enjoyment out of our talks.”

“Yeah, I was,” Remus admitted because despite everything, that was the truth. “But you aren’t.”

It took a moment for Logan to respond, no less confused than before. “I am perfectly content.”

“Yeah?” Remus finally turned around to face him, looking the logical side right in the eyes. “Then why did you flinch?”

Logan blinked, shoulders tense, a mix of panic and understanding flickering in his eyes. “I...did not flinch.”

“Yes, you did. Don’t lie.”

It was Logan’s turn to scoff, like Remus was being ridiculous and dramatic. And he often was, but he was serious this time. “I don’t see how one involuntary movement has become such a big deal.”

Remus didn’t look away, even as Logan’s eyes began to wander. “You’re afraid of me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said. “I do not feel fear.”

“Yes you do.” Remus stepped closer, taking in the way Logan’s jaw clenched. “You have feelings.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do.”

“You’re figuratively jumping to conclusions,” Logan said, quickly changing the subject. “I am perfectly content spending time with you.”

“I’m not jumping to anything,” Remus said. “You’re scared.”

Logan rolled his eyes, hands lifting to brush over his tie before crossing his arms across his chest. Compulsory comfort action.

“You think you saw me flinch once and now you believe that I’m afraid of you, when there is no logical reason to be. You cannot cause any lasting damage to me, so I—”

Remus lifted a hand without warning, fast and sudden like he was going to strike Logan, keeping it frozen in the air as he took in the reaction before him.

Logan flinched back as soon as Remus moved, his own hands moving to protect his face, eyes glued to Remus’s raised arm, widening in genuine fear and shock.

Remus sighed, slowly lowering his hand as he watched Logan struggle to compose himself. “You’re afraid of me.”

“No,” Logan still had the audacity to argue. “I am not.”

“You flinched.”

Logan fixed his tie again. Remus knew it was some kind of nervous tic. “You startled me.”

“I lifted my hand.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “Unexpectedly.”

Remus sighed and stepped back out of Logan’s space, too tired to keep arguing.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He winced at his own words, images flashing in his mind of Logan stumbling backwards with wide eyes, of Logan covered in blood, of Patton screaming. “Not again, anyway.”

“Well,” Logan said, carefully clearing his throat. “You can understand that I wasn’t exactly…sure. That does not mean I dislike you. Or that I’m frightened of you.”

Remus found himself looking at his shoes, trying and failing to get images of Logan hurt, Logan dying, out of his stupid cesspool sewage pipe head.

He wondered if this was what guilt felt like. If it was, maybe he should start being nicer to Patton. This sucked dick and balls.

“I won’t.”

“And I appreciate that,” Logan said. “But you could not cause any lasting damage to me anyway.”

“So? It still, like… hurt you. I’m not gonna do it again.”

“Well then, I have no reason to be afraid.” Logan straightened, smiling at Remus like that had just solved everything. “Which I wasn’t in the first place.”

Remus’s eyes narrowed. “You flinched.”

“Yes I did,” Logan admitted. “I apologize for that. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

Remus didn’t move, staring at Logan in disbelief, at a loss for words for the first time in his life. He hoped the exhaustion on his face resembled a glare at least a little bit.

“I don’t… understand,” Logan said, and Remus couldn't even stay mad at him. “Was an apology not what you wanted?”

“No, Logan. I don’t want anything.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, brow furrowed, and Remus could practically see the gears turning as he looked Remus over. “You’re still upset.”

“Why’re you still here?” Remus finally demanded, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “If you’re afraid of me why don’t you just leave?”

Logan blinked, seemingly unfazed. “Because I enjoy talking to you.”

Logic may as well have just punched him right in the chest, the air leaving his lungs in a rush as he took a step back, choking out a shocked laugh. “That can’t be it.”

Logan frowned. “Why not?”

“Nobody enjoys talking to me.”

“Well,” Logan said slowly, and it was like Remus could see some of his walls coming down. “If it helps, no one particularly enjoys talking to me, either.”

Remus wasn’t entirely convinced that was true, but he figured he wasn’t the right one to give Logan a talk on self esteem.

“I like talking to you,” he said instead. “I just think you’re kinda stuffy.”

“I enjoy talking to you as well,” Logan said, and it really did sound like he meant it. “I would just prefer if your more violent thoughts were not physically manifested.”

“Oh.” Remus swallowed, absolutely refusing to show Logic how much this meant to him. He wasn’t going to cry. “Yeah, I can...do that. Sure.”

“Then I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” Logan said, right back to the stiff, professional persona Remus was learning to see right through. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Remus nodded, and realized he was actually starting to believe him this time. “Yeah. Ok. That’s good.”

Logan stepped back out of Remus’s space and Remus quickly did the same, the two of them standing on opposite sides of the Duke’s now painfully silent bedroom.

“I can leave,” Logan said after a moment. “If you’d still like me to.”

Remus hesitated, fighting to keep acting like he didn’t care. “Do you want to leave?”

“Not particularly,” Logan said, and Remus hadn’t expected to feel so relieved. “But it’s your room. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not.” Remus moved back to his bed, dropping himself unceremoniously onto his back. “Don’t leave if you don’t want to. I don’t care.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

Logan pulled up his usual chair, leaning back comfortably as he picked his notebook back up and began flipping idly through it. He looked content and relaxed when Remus risked a glance in his direction, and he smiled to himself.

“You can talk if you like,” Logan said, glancing up from the pages. “I’m listening.”

Remus did eventually start talking, dumping his latest ideas on Logan like he usually did, diving into last night’s fantasy of setting an office building on fire in the middle of the week.

Logan had added on, and Remus had listened intently as he’d recited statistics and calculations, the likelihood of survival, and the two of them eventually decided it would be a waste of time, the fire likely to be put out before even causing any real damage to the building.

That was a talent Logan had. He could get Remus to let go of a thought that typically wouldn’t have left him alone for weeks.

It wasn’t until Logan had stood up to leave for dinner, promising he’d be back at the same time tomorrow, that Remus realized Logan had stayed twice as long as he usually did.

Huh.

Weird.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OHSHC: Mitsukuni (Honey) x Fem!Reader Fluff

A/N: Okay so this was something I wrote WAY back in 2013 when I was obsessed with Ouran Highschool Host Club. So I did make a bunch of revisions (like fixing typos and changing up some of the events that occur).

But if you wanna read the original check it out on my DeviantArt!

Welp, hope ya'll enjoy this!

It was a lovely Friday afternoon. School was out and most students were eager to go home. 

But you, on the other hand, decided to visit the Host Club for a few hours. You always looked forward going to it everyday after school, though not just because you desperately wanted to be swooned by handsome men.

You just liked to observe the hosts indulging in their element, be it Tamaki’s flamboyant acts or the Hitachiin twins’ performances. All the while, you drank tea and ate delicious pastries whilst chatting with other ladies who babbled about their crushes.

Most had their eyes on Tamaki, for obvious reasons, but for you there was a different host that stole your heart every time, without fail:

Mitsukuni, or “Honey” as everyone liked to call him. 

You did have a slight crush on him, considering you both shared classes and hung-out quite often on the weekends. But even after all the years you’ve known him, you never actually acted on this crush, not wanting to take away his duties as a host.

Besides he might treat you extra “sweetly”, but you assumed he was like this with all the other girls.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Honey didn't see you the same way as he saw them. To him you weren't just another visitor to entertain.

He saw you as something, well, more.

........

'Okay this wasn't...what I expected. But I guess I'll have to stay for a little while longer..' You sighed as you looked down at the blonde who was now laying on your lap.

Honey must've had a sugar crash, since he fell asleep on the same sofa you so-happened to be on, even though the club meeting had ended fifteen minutes ago.

'Poor guy must be tired, running around and entertaining..he deserves at least this.' Relaxing back against the sofa, you gently stroked his hair with one hand, and kept Usa-chan wrapped around your free arm. You were sure he wouldn't mind it, given that he's let you hold it before.

All the while, you hummed a gentle song, taking note of the tiny smile that adorned his sleeping face. You knew very well that you shouldn't move, but you didn't mind it. 

Being able to get this close to him made it worthwhile.

Haruhi, Mori, and Kyoya would glance over every so often while they were cleaning up, smiling at the scene. Meanwhile, Tamaki and the twins were hiding behind a nearby couch, looking at you with comically-wide eyes. They wondered how you've managed to not wake up Honey at all, and how you were so calm.

You looked over and gave them a bemused smile, waving politely. Honestly you didn't know what their deal was. They were staring at you like you were about to invoke the wrath of god.

Or in this case the wrath of the loli-shota.

"H-How does [y/n] do that?" The frenchman stammered as he gazed at the twins.

""It must be Nekozawa's sleeping magic. Maybe she's in cahoots with him."" The brothers replied, trembling too.

"You guys are acting insane." Haruhi sighed as she walked past the three with a porcelain tray in her hands. "She’s known Honey-senpai for years, so..it's obvious they're close. Doesn’t take a genius to know why she’s not afraid of him.”

"But why does she keep choosing him every time she visits?!! A-Am I somehow unworthy?!!" Tamaki cried out, already tearing up. "It makes no sense!! Mommy!! What do you make of this?!!" He swung his head to the already-annoyed Kyoya.

"Tamaki..our job here at the club is to make every girl happy, right? That includes Miss [L/n]-"

"B-But-But..she could at least give me a cha--!!"

"If you'll let me finish..." The black-haired male huffed. "Like every girl here, she has the right to choose whichever host she desires. You don't get to make that decision for her. So I suggest you keep it down, lest you wake up Honey-senpai." Fixing his glasses, he turned back to his laptop, ending the conversation.

Tamaki pouted in defeat and got up from his hiding spot. The twins followed him to where you sat and crouched down, now more curious than fearful.

"Gentlemen." You sighed quietly, waiting for them to get to the point so they could leave you alone.

"How are you able to keep so calm??" Hikaru hissed.

"We told you how he acts when his nap is disturbed.” Kaoru added. “You’re taking a big risk-”

“You’re overreacting a bit.” Finding it hard not to chuckle at their bewildered expressions, you kept your gaze on Honey instead. "I see no reason to be terrified of him waking up from a nap. People get cranky after naps all the time. But they eventually get over it, don't they?"

Then you glanced back up at the three, smiling reassuringly. "I do believe that little “horror story” you told me. But don't worry, if anything happens I'll protect you guys, okay? Nothing bad will happen to anyone here...especially not Honey.” You patted the sleeping blonde’s head.

The twins were relieved--moved, even--by your response, but Tamaki on the other hand seemed a bit freaked out by your promise to protect them. He tried grabbing your shoulders to yell about how “guys should protect girls, not the other way around”, though the duo managed to restrain him.

"B-Boss!! Cut it out!"

"You're gonna wake him!!!"

Unfortunately, the commotion they were making was exactly what stirred Honey from his rest. The three hosts immediately retreated back to their hiding place, expecting their fellow club member to awaken in rage.

But all he did was open his eyes and rub them tiredly. 

"Morning, Hon." You chuckled, ruffling his hair lightly.

As he realized you were still in the same spot as before, he smiled up at you. "Did I really sleep all night, [y/n]-chan?"

"No, only for a little while." You allowed him to sit up, and you handed him Usa-chan. "Have any good dreams?"

"Hmm..yeah, I did." Honey took his rabbit plushie, legs swinging as he tried to recall the details. "I..we were at a fair with lots of cake and ice cream! Then I...o-on the ferris wheel I might've..." He hugged the rabbit closer, to the point of hiding his blushing face.

You tilted your head in curiosity. "Might've what?"

"A-Asked you out and..and k-kissed you."

His response stunned you, and you could feel your heart skip several beats. In truth you've had similar dreams, although you never did get to the kissing part--instead you'd wake up with disappointment, never knowing if he accepted your confession.

"You know I dreamed of that, too. But..I never knew what your answer would be." You sighed despondently. "No matter how much I try to fall back asleep..I can't finish that dream. It's a shame.."

He shyly looked up at you, and he set down Usa-chan before taking your hands into his own. You gazed at him with surprise, wondering what he was going to do. "Honey? What-?"

His face inched closer to yours, and before you knew it, he kissed you perfectly on the lips.

Yep! Right here and right now he was kissing you!

The kiss tasted sweet, much like his personality and all those desserts he's had throughout the day. And you were in shock that this was really happening, but you smiled into the kiss, wanting to return it before he got the wrong idea.

When you both broke apart, Honey's eyes were large and tearful. But they were happy tears. "Y-You really do like me? But..I-I thought...I was too-"

"Honey, there's nothing about you that I don't love." You chuckled. "You're a good-hearted, smart, strong, and kind man. And that's all I could ever ask for. We've been great friends for a while and...the fact we share the same dreams must mean something."

"Something like...u-us being a couple, right?"

"Exactly, and right now..I wanna make those dreams a reality. Will you help me make them so?"

He was so overjoyed that he embraced you tightly, nearly crushing your spine. But you hugged him back, resting your chin on top of his head. You could feel his vigorous nod and knew that this is what he wanted for so long.

Of course he was probably still worried about his position as a host, so you looked to the others in question. "A-Ah..I meant to ask-"

"I see no issue with this," Kyoka smiled lightly. "I trust that this newly-blossoming relationship will not interfere with club activities."

""We knew you two were gonna get together eventually."" The twins spoke in unison once more, although they were just glad that Honey didn't snap at anyone this time.

Haruhi and Mori only flashed smiles at you two, the latter happy about his cousin finally confessing to the one he loved. He’s known about it longer than anyone at the club.

Once you let go of Honey, he jumped up and grabbed your hands, pulling you to your feet. "Takashi!! Can [y/n] come over for the weekend??"

"Sure, why not?" The tall male nodded.

"Yaaaay--huh? Tama-chan?" Honey blinked as he noticed the only one who didn't react positively was the club leader himself, who was sulking in the corner. "Aren't you gonna say anything?"

"Yes..I'd say we're all done here," he sighed in an exasperated tone. "If [y/n]'s happiness lies with Honey-senpai then...that's how it is, I guess. The host club is dismissed. You’re all free to leave now."

Of course, that wasn't the kind of send-off anyone expected. But the other hosts left, figuring Tamaki would eventually get over it. Though you told Honey to wait outside for a moment, not wanting to end this day on a sour note.

You reentered the now empty music room, seeing the princely-type staring out the window solemnly. Part of you felt guilty for not spending more time with him, even though he was often a nuisance trying to steal your attention.

"Hey, Tamaki-senpai..I have a feeling I somehow offended you by choosing Honey over you. And I'm sorry-"

"Nonsense." He glanced back at you, the brightness returning to his violet eyes. "I'm so obsessed with trying to charm every lady that it turned me into a blind fool. Until now I never realized that, in the end, it's what makes you happy, not me. I won't get in the way of your relationship with Honey-senpai. Cross my heart."

He made a gesture to seal that promise, smiling softly. "I mean it. I'm very happy for you two and I wish you all the best."

Knowing that he wasn't angry or upset anymore, you smiled and rewarded the "king" with a peck on the cheek. He gasped lightly and stared at you, touching the spot where you kissed him.

"Thank you. It's because of you and this club that I got to know Honey even more so...I owe you at least this. Have a good weekend." You winked before you turned on your heel and ran after your new boyfriend, leaving an incredibly flustered Tamaki alone in the room.

'Ahaha..her heart may belong to another, but she took the time to repair mine.’

[notnctu]

when the snow falls | j.jh

jung jaehyun x reader genre - angst first, fluff later details - childhood best friends!au, ghost!au, platonic relationship, genderneutral!reader, ft. boyfriend johnny warnings - grieving/mourning, mentions of death, lots of crying, explicit language (swearing) word count - 8.3k inspiration - A Christmas Carol synopsis - Jaehyun visits you every holiday season since his death to bring you out of your self isolation and hatred for the one season you both once loved.

a/n - this is for my first collab ever: a taste of winter collab hosted by @dearyongs​​​ & @pastelsicheng​​​ ! again, thank you for letting me participate and i hope this fic brings more warmth for everyone during the winter!! happy holidays everyone & i hope you can check out the rest of the fics in the collab as i will be, they’re written by such amazing writers! :)))

An iridescent frost covers the tall windows of the apartment and a bright white sky greets you this morning. The fallen sheets expose your bare shoulders to the bitter crisp cold air and goosebumps rise to remind you to wear a fucking sweater for once. However, the cold isn’t what bothers you this horrid day as you’re leaping out of bed to glance out at the world. It’s the first thing that you lay eyes on: it covers the streets, it’s falling from the blanket of grey sky, it’s others’ joy when it’s your trauma. What Mother Nature has brought upon this winter season, as she always does this time of the year, is snow. 

The first sign of snowfall marks the first day of your self isolation period until the holidays pass. It marks the anniversary of your best friend’s death and an agonizingly long winter, but in spite of that, it also means the appearance of a rather special guest. A guest that is only visible to you and though resembles much of your passed friend, does not share the same memories as you do. 

“The snow is just so comforting, isn’t it?” Though you live alone, a sudden voice erupts from behind you and has you turning rather quickly to face the truth of this season. Your greatest treasure, yet haunting demise. “Hello, y/n. How has your year been?” Jaehyun stands with a lean at your door frame, his arms crossed at his chest and hair full of fluff. 

“Hello, Jaehyun’s spirit. I happen to hate the snow, if you have forgotten.” Your hip presses against the cold glass and you’re no longer afraid of being half naked in front of what this form of imagination possesses itself to be. 

“Remind me why again.” Jaehyun casually sits on your unmade bed, looking as about your age now. There is a brief silence as you examine how he’s grown with you, you’d imagine this is how he’d look if he was still alive and well.

It would be his third year in college, same as you, possibly studying engineering due to his past fascination with the mechanics of roller coasters. With such a strong jawline and a definite lean built, girls would be running all over him. Not to mention, his dimples remain one of his charms.

Kicking off the icy window, you walk carefully and slowly up to Jaehyun. A hand reaches to caress his cheek, but it goes right through him and leaves your hand to hang in mid-air. This happens every time you see him again, wondering if you can get one last touch of his dewy complexion, and you simply can’t. Despite his ability to touch you, there is no possibility for your senses to travel through to the other side of the supernatural dimension. 

Jaehyun gently rests your hand back to your side and repeats his request, “remind me again why you hate the snow.”

“It’s how you died.” A small croak gets caught in the back of your throat and tears well up to blur your vision. “So when the snow falls, it brings me back to the dreadful memory of me losing you, of you leaving me.” 

“I died from snow? That is so lame.” Jaehyun grumbles and rolls his eyes. 

You chuckle, but the tears roll down your cheeks as if they know no happiness. “You died from a car accident in the snow. Your tires slid, you couldn’t brake … and so, you crashed. Full trauma to the head, an instant death.” 

“Where was I going?” He wasn’t this curious last winter, and so you’re unaware if it’s your mind playing sick tricks on you or if his unrest spirit is this forgetful. You wish it was the latter. 

Choking on your tears, the droplets hit the hardwood floors below you. An overwhelming feeling of melancholy overtakes your chest and you’re suffocating underneath an unknown pressure. Your throat is drier than your mother’s gingerbread cookies, but you swallow the frigid air around you. 

You’re so choked up by your sobbing that it’s too difficult to speak. Any words you say feel like thin ice, ready to crack at the lightest touch. “O-On the way to … my house. You were coming over to tell me a secret.”

“And I never got to tell you.” 

“No, Jaehyun. I’ll never know what you wanted to tell me that day.” 

when the snow falls. 

There has never been a time before Jaehyun and all that you knew, all the memories that fill your brain, every growing pain you could possibly share, was with him and all until it wasn’t. Had there been a time after Jaehyun, you would not have expected it to come as soon as it did.

For the months following his death, you were in denial of his missing presence because every. single. thing. reminded you of him. Jaehyun remained in his assigned seat in school, although it was clearly empty. He lived through others’ mourning stories, where they spoke of fond memories that they shared and things he liked. The worst of them all, you still texted him every day in hopes to see the tiny three dots pop up that he was typing. And the warped reality in your head, the first stage of grief flooding every possible corner, was that he has always just been slow at replying back.

Then, his funeral rolled around and his parents asked you to share one happy memory of him. There were so many, how could you possibly have chosen just one? And so you didn’t. The moment the frame of the church entered your view, your legs stuck to the ground and refused to enter. There was going to be a point when you entered the building filled with crying people and a gripping, horrid smell of death and you wouldn’t be able to forget it. That scary thought, not only frightened you, but angered you. 

The large attendance of people walked past you as teary eyes blinked up at the dark wooden frame of the door, but every one of them had never visited him for more than once when he was alive. His older cousins that had forgotten about him when they flew away for college, his acquaintances from piano lessons who never bothered to remember his full name, his old friends from primary school that he had lost connection with after graduation, they were all here.

And you can’t help, but fester a fueling frustration in the pit of your stomach and as it grew into your chest in the matter of seconds, you wondered the single thought that picked up your feet to run home: where were they when he was alive? 

After a year and the appearance of Jaehyun’s ghost became less of a shock during winter, you were stuck in an odd and uneasy place of what if’s. Talking to him once a year was never enough, texting his old number was never enough. It was just never enough.

Missing him grew into a dark sense of yearning, longing, bargaining. Long nights of twisting and tossing in your bed, many thoughts and endless possibilities ran through your unhealthy thoughts. The description and police report of his accident played like a reel in darkest contemplations. 

The first year of college had to be the hardest to go through without him and thus, aiding in your regrets of not cherishing him enough when he was around. A rabbit hole of universe paths drove you wild, wishing and hoping that you could turn back time and stop him from coming over in the middle of a blizzard. And the one lasting thought still haunts you to your present: if only you hadn’t encouraged him that night, he wouldn’t have died. 

The saddest part has barely been acknowledged, even by yourself. That this one tragedy tainted the one holiday you two loved the most --- Christmas. Every year since his passing, you locked yourself in your room for two weeks before the holiday and waited through it all. Truthfully, there was nothing in the universe that was going to allow you to enjoy the holiday when it wasn’t with him. Even his ghost, who very randomly popped up on a December day and cluelessly never brings much comfort as the live him did during this season.

Jolly holiday music lost their joyous sound and became awfully low tempo. The bright red and green signature colors of Christmas became dull and rather grey; the long strings of colorful lights that hang from houses and around large trees were absolutely drained of their color. The warmth of the fireplace went cold. The cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies no longer entertained and lost their spark.

The Christmas themed decorations that covered the windows of shops, the city, your own house, became an overwhelming sore sight to look at. The love from your loved ones… you couldn’t feel anything remotely close to love anymore, just meaningless affection. The one gift that the Earth blessed your region with, snow, became the one petrifying thing that it had to offer. And your favoritism for the holiday, the so-called ‘Christmas Spirit’, slowly died out, along with Jaehyun. 

Now that it’s been three years since his passing, you’re here spending your third lonely holiday season inside your apartment discussing your yearly recap with your ghostly best friend. 

“That ridiculous final exam lowered my grade and I walked out of that class retaining none of the information. When will I ever need to know about pirates in the 1800’s?” The chocolate wrapper crinkles in your fist as you finish your overly passionate recollection of the most useless class you could have taken this whole year.

Jaehyun sits by your side, facing you as he hugs his knees close to his chest. A small grin dots the dimple on his left cheek when you peer over at the huddled boy and the sad reminiscent glisten in your eye does not go unnoticed. “You used to love pirates. Dressed up like one for Halloween and went up to every house yelling,” Jaehyun clears his throat and perks up, ready to perform.

A balled fist in the air, paired with a look of utter gusto and passion, Jaehyun speaks in an attempt to horribly reenact your once embarrassing pirate impression. “Argh! You scoundrel, give me all the treasures in your possession… preferably chocolate sweets.” He holds his stomach as he bursts into a fit of his baritone laughter. His wide mouth grows into such a big, open smile that his eyelashes dance on his glowing cheeks. 

“For a ghost, you sure look like someone who’s very much alive.” Naturally, you’d swat lightly at his knee or arm whenever he would joke around. However, the pain of your hand passing right through him breaks this habit and you’re left scoffing at the way Jaehyun is consumed with laughter.

“You know, for someone who is alive… you sure look a bit … lifeless. When was the last time you were happy, y/n?” Jaehyun finally settles down and gently nudges at your elbow. 

His question hits you like a wall of bricks. Unexpected and completely straightforward, but that’s just always been the way he is. “This past weekend when I turned in my last assignment for the semester.” 

“No. The last time you were genuinely happy, not relieved. You mentioned a boyfriend, right?” 

Rolling your eyes, you grow a bit silent and annoyed at his comment. “Listen, hopeless romantic. Not every relationship is perfect sunrays and gushy unconditional love.” Perhaps, your gaze drops down to your hands and the wrinkled wrapper between your fingers has worn out from your fidgeting. 

Johnny Suh. If you could move mountains for this man, you would. It all started due to an accidental happenstance of you abruptly walking into your campus’ coffee shop to seek shelter from the rain and him, the attractive barista behind the counter, chasing after you in a stained apron and an immensely strong aroma of coffee beans. Jaehyun practically swooned over hearing how you two met, hearts in his pupils and a dreamy grin resting fondly as he attentively listened. 

Jaehyun has always wanted a relationship, though he did have many admirers in high school, he never had the opportunity to experience one true love and to play out every sappy romantic thing rom-coms taught him. Hearing about your love life is the closest thing he can get to it, unfortunate for him, but fortunate that his best friend still has some romance in them.

Nevertheless, it’s only been a few months together. Though Johnny has seen intimate parts of you, he’s never experienced a winter with you and frankly, he won’t ever experience one with you if you keep this up. 

“Johnny doesn’t make you happy, then why are you with him?” Jaehyun knows Johnny makes you feel something that is hard for you to put into words. He also knows the type of person you are, pushing your buttons to get you to defend something you love. Boldly. Loudly. Strongly. He knows how to get you to spit out words of truth, even when they’re difficult.

“My partner is the literal definition of happiness, okay?” The defensiveness drives your assertiveness further. “The last time I was happy was when…” your eyes are frantically examining the floor for any source of focus as a highlight reel of this whole year flashes through your mind.

“... On my birthday, he planned me a picnic. Bought me roses, the whole grand scheme of romance. I started to cry, out of happiness… it was the first time in a while that the reason behind my tears was something good.” There’s somewhat of an epiphany when you finish your sentence. Your voice gets lost in your train of thought as the blissful scene plays out. 

“Why were you crying?” Jaehyun snatches the distracting wrapper from your fingers, it being unrecognizable from the wear and tear. It causes you to meet Jaehyun’s round eyes: empty, but not sad. They’re lost, yet filled with purpose.

Jaehyun has always been able to open up the darkest parts of your heart. “Because it reminded me of the time when you and I walked up that steep hill over on Fifth Street… and we forgot the picnic blanket. But it didn’t matter because after the strenuous journey, all we wanted was to sit down and enjoy some fucking sandwiches, along with some hot chocolate your mom packed us.” 

“y/n, you cried over the memory of sandwiches and exercise? That’s so---”

“Before you insult me by calling me lame,” you bring your finger to stop him mid-way and narrow your eyes, “I was so happy to be able to share our same experience with someone else. Even though you’re gone, I can still have these happy moments with other people.” 

Then, Jaehyun gathers both of your hands to hold and brings them to his soft lips. Everything about him feels cold, like a harsh chill that bites at your skin. In spite of it all, his delicate kiss on your knuckles somehow feel warm and slightly comforting. Jaehyun peers up with kind eyes, “you’re almost there. I will do everything I can to get you there.” 

Blinking at him with confusion, your expression asks the questions for you. When he sets your hands in his lap, a soft pat on the back of your hand reassures you. “Can we bake Christmas cookies?” 

Rolling your eyes, you tear your hands away from him. He leaves you with unspoken words and an oddly comforting feeling, but it’s not enough to dissipate your deeply rooted dislike for this particular holiday. “You ask this every year.” Getting up, you walk towards your bedroom to get away from feeling too vulnerable.

Jaehyun watches your back intently as you’re stumbling over your feet. He whispers to himself, “and I think this year is going to be the last year I’ll ask for it.” And a hopeful smile appears joyously as he anticipates the storm before reaching still waters. 

The sound of the doorbell awakens you and Jaehyun is nowhere to be seen. He comes and goes as he wishes, however, he’d usually accompany you during the mornings. You’re particularly sluggish, finding it difficult to adjust to the blinding white sky outside as snow continues to drift upon the city. 

“Good morning, gumdrop.” Your boyfriend is rather chirpy today. Johnny engulfs your fragile body in his long arms and you’re lost in his scent of peppermint bark. 

“This was unexpected.” His shirt muffles your tiny voice and Johnny is setting down bags of groceries on your kitchen countertop. 

“I texted you last night that I was coming over to do some grocery shopping for you. Did you sleep early?” Your very helpful boyfriend starts unloading all the parcels of fresh produce and your favorite snacks. However, there is a slight tinge of annoyance and possibly it’s due to the fact you weren’t expecting to see anyone during your isolation. Johnny couldn’t have known though.

A deep sigh escapes your lips and you walk over to stop his movements. A hand holds his arm and the other intertwines with his own, but you stand under him with the sweetest smile you could wear during the holiday season. “How is it that your mom invited me to your family holiday party, but tells me that you’re not going to be there?” 

Your smile automatically falls from your lips and a hand retracts from his warmth. It’s the sudden truth that you must face, the confession of your sadness that you’ll eventually need to tell your partner. Wondering how he’s going to take the news, your mom probably gave him a brief breakdown about how you’ve been this way for the past few years now. 

Nonetheless, Johnny has always been bold with his statements and though you’ve adjusted to his abruptness, this one is hard to give a quick answer back to. So as you’re racking how to present your dark narrative, Johnny sets you down on the couch with the utmost gentleness. You don’t even feel the cushion underneath you when the million different answers streamline their way into your brain.

Johnny notices your frantic eyes and unfocused gaze, growing a bit concerned at how cold your skin feels at his touch. Taking off his sweatshirt, he carefully slips it over your shaking figure. When the softness of the polyester cotton blend brushes upon your bare arms, you’re snapped back facing a worried expression.

And you say the one thing on your mind, the only thing you can think of in your scattered brain. “Jaehyun died during this time of year, so it just makes me very emotionally unstable to… participate in any festive events. I’d rather be alone, the whole holiday season.” 

Johnny nods, but his face remains with his eyebrows together and lips pressed into a tight line. He’s well aware of who Jaehyun was and means to you. Though you don’t talk much about him, your eyes light up with a bright twinkle whenever you do. It’s like the world spins ‘round and everything feels restored. Johnny knows enough about your good friend to deduct how hard it must be for you during the winters. 

“Can I help you in any way?” Johnny peers over at you with a small smile, and you wish there is something in your decaying heart to keep it up forever. 

“I hate to say it, but please just leave me alone for the winter.” Flopping on his lap, you’re burying your face in your hands to cower away from seeing your sunshine hurt. There are no more sugar coated kind words for you to pick and choose from.

While Johnny can understand how difficult it must be for you, he still holds onto a sliver of hope that you’ll come around. “Come on, don’t be such a Grinch. No one should be alone for Christmas.” 

Groaning, you sit up and roll your eyes at the familiar references. “Listen, Cindy Lou Who. Don’t call me that.”

“It’s still a cute nickname, you don’t think?” Johnny snickers lightly, but your expression turns rather grim and serious. A faint overcast of melancholy washes over your expression as you’re staring off into your memories again.

In a faint voice, your voice is barely above a whisper, “that used to be one of Jaehyun’s favorite movies.” Your arms drop from your puffed up chest, but Johnny catches your hand and kisses your fingertips.

“What was yours?” Johnny keeps the atmosphere as light and playful while he still can. 

“The Nightmare Before Christmas.” Ironically fitting and that’s one of the sole reasons you don’t watch holiday movies anymore. There have been too many parallels with your life and the wrenched holiday. As twisted as the joke may seem, you’ve lived your own nightmare before Christmas, except you never got the happy ending to it all. It’s like a nightmare that continues and you can’t escape it. 

Having said, Johnny pulls you up to stand and draws you into the biggest hug. “I can’t leave you alone, even if I tried my very best. I still get butterflies every time you smile at me, so you think I wouldn’t be addicted to that feeling?” 

“Johnny…” This man is in love with you until the ends of this Earth, until the horizon stretches so far that it’s unimaginable to see where it stops. 

“I’ll respect your wishes as much as I can, but know that it’s not the best form of healing.” The final word causes a chill to run down your spine. It implies that you’re still hurting, although he’s not wrong, it’s rather disheartening to hear someone else speak it aloud. “I’ll come around less.” 

“If I’m grumpy, then you’ll know why. And don’t try to shove the whole Christmas spirit act on me, I don’t want to hear a single thing about it! I can’t spend a Christmas without Jaehyun.” Johnny squeezes your shoulders at your bold declaration.

“You can’t or you won’t?” A painful tick at your heart leaves you speechless at his question. 

For as long as you could remember, every Christmas was spent with Jaehyun. Picking out a tree for both of your families and getting lost together between the evergreens brought laughter and excitement. Baking cookies and drawing the ugliest faces in tacky colorful frosting always happened a few days before the holiday. Drinking hot chocolate by his family’s fireplace and watching Christmas movies were one of your favorite activities. Christmas Eve was always so special, where you and Jaehyun made it tradition to open your gifts from each other right when the clock struck midnight. 

Then everything simply stopped. And when you tried to participate in those same activities, selfishness and guilt preoccupied your heart. What do any of those things mean without Jaehyun? Jaehyun was the reason you loved Christmas as much as you did. Then, his death became the reason you hated it as much as you do.

“I think that’s enough for today.” Johnny knows he’s hit a nerve, he can see it in your glossy eyes and subtle drop in the corners of your mouth. There is no protest from the taller man when he accepts his sweatshirt without a complaint. The bitter cold air bites at your bare shoulders again and you’re practically existing in its lack of warmth. Gathering the rest of his belongings, you two bid a kiss goodbye and shut the door.

It’s almost a relief that he’s gone and the tear runs down your cheek when your back hits the door. Suddenly, Jaehyun appears across the living room leaning on the door frame to your bedroom. “He seems like a nice guy.” 

“He is.” There is a hang at the end of your sentence and Jaehyun walks toward you. A few sniffs fill the empty apartment, but you’re rubbing away any sign of sadness from your face.

“But?” 

“But, he’s so optimistic about… everything. He lives by the sun and every waking day, he just lives it to the fullest. There’s nothing in the world for this man to possibly understand how sad I feel.” It’s the heaviness in your voice that has your heart sinking to the pit of your stomach. 

Jaehyun’s freezing hands graze your chin and as he lets go, his stare doesn’t leave yours. “Learn from him.” Your best friend’s ghastly voice reminds you that he’s not real. He’s a ghost. He’s very much gone and not for a split second, should you be wanting to cave into his embrace or else, you’ll hit the floor hard. Nevertheless, you’re entirely vulnerable and the next few words that leave Jaehyun’s mouth causes your throat to close up.

“Keep him close. y/n, he is the sun.” It’s a moment you thought you’d never witness, your best friend complimenting your significant partner. Moreover, it hurts to think about how great of friends Jaehyun and Johnny could have been. “To be very honest, you need some heat this winter.”

“Then, what were you?” It’s the curiosity that nips at your tongue as it leaves no space for a pause. The thumping of your heart being so loud in the dead silence, but you know Jaehyun doesn’t have a heart to beat recklessly as yours. 

Jaehyun smirks and chuckles fondly, despite how desperate and serious you may have sounded. “I was a pain in the ass.”

Scoffing, you break the immensely intense eye contact. “You still are. This whole haunting thing is very creepy.” Gesturing his entire being in front of you, he just looks so alive and breathing. Before Jaehyun, you always thought ghosts were floating entities with a white transparency. But your best friend stands before you, well aged and all together. 

It still tosses you into shambles as to why Jaehyun exists, but you’ve given up on figuring out his purpose. He could be a form of your own imagination for all you care, perhaps you’ve grown so sad that you started to seek things. 

Companionship from the one person you wish was still alive?

Like before, you’ve always spent Christmas with Jaehyun… alive or in ghost form.

It’s another one of those long days that seem to never end. The bright white sky seems unchanging, stark with a dusty and imminent endless overcast of snow. It’s blinding and you’re regretting the moment you overlooked the curtain blinds at the department store.  

Your phone has already been lost somewhere underneath your bed and there isn’t a single desire to reach for it. Missed calls pile up, voicemails clutter your inbox, texts flood your messages, and your social media notifications fill your screen. Despite everyone’s effort to contact you, there is no sense of joyous cordial nature to even glance at them.

Jaehyun has been appearing more frequently and staying for longer periods of time. The conversations bring an empty comfort, most of the times you feel the need to remind yourself that you’re not actually talking to someone, are you?

“What’s that sad look in your eyes?” He startles you when you’re off looking vacantly out the window. Your mind has been completely distracted lately by meaningless thoughts and the sweetest reels of Jaehyun that have turned blue.

The more you wrap yourself in your white sheets, the less you can feel any source of warmth. And perhaps you haven’t realized that you no longer felt any heat the past few days, that you’re at a freezing point and it’s made you numb.

“Not sure what you mean.” Your voice remains dull and monotone, lifeless almost. Jaehyun takes a seat against the window and for the first time, you can see right through him.

“It’s not your fault, y/n.” Is he a mind reader too? The thought that always circles your mind when Christmas draws near is not only that Jaehyun is gone forever, but how you could have prevented it all. The guilt eats you up and no matter how hard you’re searching for acceptance, it slips away from you before you have a chance.

When you don’t answer, Jaehyun heads over to your bed and he’s alarmed at how cold your hands are. “It was never your fault.” Your best friend pulls you into a hug, but it can barely be felt. What kind of hug can’t be felt?

“I never said it was.”

“No, but you thought about it.” The chilly draft causes you to shiver and it’s hard for you to concentrate on anything else besides the night of his death.

“I should have stopped you from coming over.” Although you’ve confessed this many times to him before, it never gets easier to say. Jaehyun sighs and ultimately frowns at your tears slipping from your eyes again. Like the snow that drifts from the heavens, your tears know no end to their downfall. It’s become too natural for them to appear. The closer it gets to Christmas, the harder it is to stop from crying.

“It’s hard for me to speak about it since we don’t remember much of the same moments---”

“Jaehyun! I remember that night as clear as it was just yesterday that it happened.” There’s no reason to yell, but a strong sense of pain erupts from your chest.

He’s so calm at your sudden outburst, turning his head to face you with a deadpan expression. “You weren’t there, y/n. You were home, safe and sound as you should have been. I’m more than grateful that you’re the one alive.”

“I’m not!” But when the confession leaves your lips, you’re shaking and fearful. The entire room is stiff and silent. You couldn’t even believe what you had just said, wondering if that is anything close to truth. You look up at Jaehyun, who blinks at you with furrowed eyebrows and wide eyes. “I mean,” you clear your throat in the midst of the tense atmosphere. “I could have saved you.”

“You’re not a hero and I didn’t need saving when I was already gone.” He taps his temples lightly, “full trauma to the head. It was just my time to go.”

“The secret. I wanted to know so bad that I didn’t stop you from coming in a snowstorm!” Jaehyun pats your head in an attempt to soothe your aching heart.

“And I wanted to tell you just as bad that I didn’t care about the snowstorm. y/n, stop blaming yourself for something that happened to me. The universe is much more complex than that, give it some credit.”

“You’re even philosophical as a ghost? Give me a fucking break.” Groaning, you pull the sheets over your head to somehow run away from the conversation.

Jaehyun lies down next to you, smiling cheekily to himself and glancing over at the lump that you had become underneath the blankets. “Do you remember the time I taught you how to ride a bike?”

“I thought it was your dad who taught me.” You grumble, tossing away the sheets to glance over at him. It always puzzled you how Jaehyun never remembered the same memories as you do, and even if you did, one of you remembered it differently.

“He was probably there as supervision. I was the one who helped you take off your training wheels and strap on your impressively thick knee pads.” You’re lying on your elbows now, fists pressing into your cheeks and a fond attentive gaze upon Jaehyun’s resting figure. He’s staring up at the ceiling that protects you two above, yet can cave in at any moment.

Dimples dip into his round supple cheeks as his toothy smile comes into view, reliving the happy memory. “You rang your little bell so many times that day.”

“Because I was scared!” You protest, muttering something incoherent. “Didn’t we go downhill when I said I wasn’t ready?”

“We went downhill because you said you were ready.” His hair ruffles in your sheets when he turns to face you, and he just takes your breath away. It’s the stars in his dark eyes that sweep you off your feet, like the gleaming star on top of a tree. The color that oozes from his smile, like Christmas lights that line a rooftop, make it hard not to stare. Jaehyun looks just like Christmas, the most wonderful thing of the year. In someway, he resembled an angel or the soft sheet of snow ready to fall right through.

You’re encompassed by overwhelming effervescent emotions from listening and watching Jaehyun glow and gleam. “Then, what?”

Jaehyun’s low chuckle illuminates the room, dazzling the boring grey interior. “Little ol’ you, hurt yourself real bad that day, scrapes and wounds you thought you’d never heal from. You didn’t talk to me for a week, but you ended up learning how to ride a bike.”

“Is that right?”

Jaehyun rests on his side now, only an elbow supporting his body and he’s leaning in close to your face, you’re almost too sure you could feel a breath on your lips. “No matter how painful it gets, I’m always here to push you through it all.”

When your heart beats sporadically at his proximity, you didn’t realize that you are holding in a breath, being quite afraid that if you let it out, it would simply blow him away for the night. And you’re not ready for him to leave you again.

Christmas Eve;

It had to be a miracle that anyone got a hold of you this week when Johnny comes practically banging at your door. Though you are so close to ignoring his loud thumping, the sound of your boyfriend’s soft sniffles alarms you greatly.

“y/n, holy shit!” It’s deja vu when you’re in his arms again, a horribly warped version of it when the smell of peppermint bark tickles your nostrils disgustingly. “I thought something happened to you. You weren’t answering my calls or texts.”

“My one wish for Christmas was to be left alone and I meant it.” The attitude in your voice becomes jarringly evident and Johnny blinks back at you with a new found annoyance as well.

“Can you at least think of the other people around you?” He holds your shoulders lightly, but staring into his eyes seems to be harder to do lately. Jaehyun appears on the couch, lying flat on his stomach and a hand resting underneath his chin. This is no longer a private conversation, but you learned long ago that no one else can see him.

“Who are you talking about? My family? Because they’ve all given up on me.” This is the first time Johnny has seen you act so cold and distant, yet entirely vulnerable. You’re stripped of everything that you usually hide in --- oversized clothes, happy smiles, and a beaming warmth.

All Johnny ever wants is for you to be loved, not only by him, but by the world. And interestingly enough, he loved you for your vulnerability and your rawness. This is until he realizes, in this moment, that it stems from your trauma of losing Jaehyun.

“What about me, y/n? I’m still here.” Johnny is frantic, and by all means, hurt by your aloofness. Brushing off his hands from your body, you’re taking several steps away from him.

“And why are you still here when I kept telling you to leave me alone? Whenever I was upset, Jaehyun always gave me space! Haven’t ever thought about how that is something I need?” You’re saying nonsensical statements that are fueled by anger and annoyance.

He’s pushing your limits and for once, you’re pushing him away. But this isn’t new to you, in fact, you’ve pushed so many people away just like this and that’s why they’ve decided to just let you be.

Johnny is taken aback, “you know, I feel like I’m competing with Jaehyun and I’ve never even met him.”

You scoff and throw your arms in the air, visibly in disbelief at what your boyfriend is saying to you. May you lose your temper, you’re unsure about the future of this relationship. Yet, something in your cruel and painful heart no longer cared, snapping your wits and patience at your beloved.

“What are you saying?” You’re pacing back and forth, fuming with an inexplicable infuriation. Jaehyun catches your eye, and for a brief moment, you’re holding eye contact with him instead. “Jaehyun is dead,” facing Johnny now, you say words that jumble in your chest, regardless of their true meanings, “and even if he was alive, there would be no competition.”

“Because you were always going to choose him over everyone else in your life, is that right? Exactly like how you do now.” Johnny’s words sting like daggers at your skin, worse than the layer of frost that bites at you for the past two weeks.

“Please, don’t attack me for hurting.” With that, your voice breaks and cracks all over. Your tears hit the ground without you feeling them run down your cheeks.

Johnny is quick to wipe them away, not minding that his hands will now be wet from your salty droplets. He instantly regrets it all, the unwarranted questions, the fighting, the barging in unexpectedly. It pains him more to see you like this.

“I apologize. I’m sorry that I’m not saying the kindest words to you when you need to hear them the most.” Your partner is frowning, a true rare sight to see. “But, you’re still grieving and there is going to have to be a time that you move on.”

It’s one of those tip of the iceberg moments or when the ball finally hits the ground and a rush of cathartic enthusiasm washes over you. However, you’re not happy. You’re not even remotely close to happiness. You’re fucking sad, you’re aching with a pain so deeply rooted that it isolates you, that it rips apart anything that used to bring you joy.

And this causes you to scream your lungs out, sobs that choke you up. “I can’t! You don’t understand, no one understands! I just fucking can’t. He was my best friend and that night… he was going to tell me something.” Jaehyun can’t bear to hear your piercing wails, as he’s disappeared completely from the setting. When you’re panicked and searching for him, you only see Johnny staring back at you with a very concerned expression.

“And I will never know what he wanted to tell me.” Your tone grows soft and rather delicate, like a sad realization at the possibility that the secret died with Jaehyun that night.

“Some things are better left unknown. Do you really think you’ll feel better knowing?”

“Listen to him, y/n.” Jaehyun randomly appears next to Johnny’s stature. He stands a few inches shorter than him, but the sight of them together has you blinking in awe.

You’re darting between the two of them, “I don’t know what will make me feel better.”

“Come, tonight. Your whole family wants to see you for the one holiday that brings people together.” But when Johnny steps forward, you’re taking a step back.

“Please, just go.” With an assertive point to the door, your head does not lift up to watch your boyfriend leave. Despite every person you’ve done this to, Johnny’s hurts the most. His flame dies out tonight, providing no sense of security or heat. And with a toss of his arms of exasperation, he shuts your front door and leaves without a goodbye, without wishing you a merry Christmas.

Jaehyun calls your name, but you’re rushing to your bedroom and slamming the door shut. “Don’t you dare travel through the wall.”

Your apartment has grown so dark due to the shorten winter days. It’s pitch black all around you and the sky is no longer a deafening white. It’s the first time you notice the dark blue scattered clouds and the intricate snowflakes that drift carefully down to the streets. And, you’re all alone in the quietness. You truly are isolated every Christmas.

“y/n, let’s talk.” Jaehyun is beyond fed up with your behavior, that has to be the last straw. This is the first year since his death that he’s seen the evident spark in your eye, the hope that is hiding behind your depression. He sees it in the way Johnny looks at you, like you’re the greatest present he could receive in life. In your proclamation, as hard as it was to witness, is a spirit that wishes to be freed. There was a chance this year. There still is one.

“Jaehyun, you left me! You left all alone, and no matter how hard I try to stop thinking about you, it never works. In the end, no one is here for me like how you were.” Hands in your hair, you’re losing yourself at a rapid rate. It hurts to keep your eyes open, tears sting as they well up around the rims.

“Find a part of me in the people around you.” The door to your bedroom swings open and Jaehyun takes note of you by the window again. You want to leave, you want to be out there and he knows, before you can actually realize it yourself. You’re turning to face him and in the dark, he looks solid. He looks so real and whole.

“How do I do that?” It’s a genuine question that you’ve pondered before, but never feeling like you had the strength to do so. You’re always dwelling on your past with Jaehyun, indulging in the sacred memories only you two shared.

“What are things that you associate me with?” He is found leaning against your door frame again, hands are shoved into the pockets of his faded jeans.

You say the first thing on your mind, “snow.” When the words hit the air, your ceiling light flickers briefly. Jaehyun doesn’t flinch, however, still focused on your crying figure. Snow, the first sign of snowfall is when he appears for the winter.

“What else?” He encourages.

“Familiarity.” The light flashes again, for a mere second longer this time before it resumes darkness. Familiarity, for he grew up by your side for as long as you could remember.

There is an odd feeling that enters the room and you’re fearful of the unknown. But, Jaehyun’s cadence doesn’t falter, he’s not distracted by the random spurts of light. And if anything, it all could be his doing. “Keep going.”

“Comfort.” Flicker. “Warmth. Love. Excitement.” With each word, the light builds stronger and stronger. You’re speaking memories into existence now, “making snow angels until it got dark, laughing until our stomachs hurt, watching movies until the clock struck midnight, dancing until our legs gave out!”

Streams run down your face and you’re yelling until your throat feels raw, but you don’t wish to stop as the light glows brighter and brighter with each spoken word.

As you listen to every listed attribute and memory, you recognize a central theme in all of them and one thing that Jaehyun embodies, the one thing he’s always been associated with.

“Christmas.” A shaky breath exhales and a loud spark pierces your ears. The light illuminates intensely all around you, lighting up the darkest corners of your room and blinding you more than the sky has been lately.

“Jaehyun?” Closing your eyes, you can see the brightness through your eyelids and you’re beyond confused as to what is happening. When you mindlessly reach for his hand, you actually feel it and your heart is soaring due to strange unquestionable physics.

Jaehyun intertwines your hand in his own and caresses your face gently. For once, he doesn’t feel cold. He’s blazing hot, melting away the long days of isolation. “Open your eyes, y/n.”

What lies before you is an incredible, marvelous sight. Snow dusts the roof of your family’s house as green, red, yellow bulbs light the frame of it. Your parents really went all out; round snowmen sit perfectly together on your lawn. A decorative wreath hangs at the front door and a distinct chuckle catches your attention.

From the window that looks into your kitchen, your mother rolls a sheet of dough on the counter as clouds of flour erupt around her. Your father is preoccupied at the stove, with the silliest gimmicks for decorating the feast they’re about to hold. Silver tinsel line the dinner table with a festive table cloth draped upon it. The remarkable tree shines in the center of the living room, a glimmering star on top. 

“I know we probably won’t see y/n again this Christmas…” The sound of your mother’s voice rings a bell in your yearning heart and Jaehyun is gazing at you with a wondrous look in his eyes. The grip on his hand is tight, your breath enters the night in puffs of smoke, and regardless of this all being real or imaginary, you’re so immersed in this reality that he knows you’re anticipating what your family has to say.

“... but something about this year really makes me miss them.” Your mother puts the rolling pin off to the side and rests her hand on the kitchen counter, trying to hold back any form of her own tears from falling.

“May Jaehyun watch over them tonight, our little angel doesn’t deserve to be alone.”

Your dad walks over to embrace your mother in a long hug, kissing the top of her head gently. “Merry Christmas, y/n.” Your father speaks into the air, without the knowledge of you outside, he’s thinking of you.

Something in your heart shatters, but it’s entirely different from the pain you’ve felt over the years following Jaehyun’s death. It’s a warm, bubbly feeling that spreads across your chest and you’re covering your mouth out of pure shock at the sight of your parents.

Your parents, who you’ve neglected every holiday season, still think of you. You recognize the ingredients that scatter the table, they make your favorite dish every year in hopes you’ll come join them. 

Jaehyun whispers, “y/n, know that I’m always going to be here. I may physically be gone, but I live in your heart and the joyous memories we’ve shared together. I live through the many people who love you now, through Christmas. This spirit is also very much alive in the other people around you.”

When you peel your eyes from the scene of your parents, the vision suddenly disappears and you’re facing Jaehyun right back in your cold, empty, dark apartment. But you wish the moment lasted a little longer. For the first time in a long time, you wish to be with your loved ones. You wish to celebrate Christmas with the people who still care about you, the ones that are still alive and well.

“What if I’m not ready?”

“This signifies my final push down the hill. You’re all strapped up in your knee pads, y/n. You’re never truly going to be ready, but that shouldn’t stop you from trying.” Jaehyun pats your head lovingly and mimics the motions of securing a helmet on your head.

You’re letting go of his hand, running around quickly in search for the appropriate outerwear for the snow. It’s like a switch went off in your heart and a cathartic feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

Every Christmas since his passing, you thought it was best to be alone. You thought it was selfish to live your favorite holiday season without your best friend, that you lost the spirit of Christmas.

However, this entire time… Jaehyun’s ghost has been a reminder that the Christmas spirit has always been alive. It’s not about the enthusiastic festive events or the cheerful themed activities or the distinct colorful decorations, it’s about the appreciation and love you have for the people who have made your year so special. You’ve associated the holiday so much with your best friend, that you’ve lost sight of it in your family, your current friends, your own boyfriend.

When you’re rushing out the door, you stop in your tracks and peer back at Jaehyun leaning against your door frame, just as he appeared a few weeks ago. He has the warmest, brightest smile on his face, “y/n, I think I finally remember the secret I wanted to tell you.” You’re afraid of the answer and the outside world, but your hand doesn’t slip from the door handle. Could it really be? The long anticipated secret that has been gnawing at your conscience since his death?

Nevertheless, he’s giggling and holding his stomach slightly from the immense amount of joyous laughter. “I wanted to tell you that I... finally learned how to shave.”  

At first, you’re stunned at the simplicity of the beheld secret. All this time, you thought it had been something so meaningful, something so mind blowing, that needing to know practically destroyed your mental state. Then, a wholehearted and genuine laugh erupts from inside of you and you’re lighting up the darkest parts of yourself. Jaehyun looks at you fondly, like a beauty that he hasn’t seen in awhile. 

“That’s fucking it? You came out in the middle of a blizzard to tell me you learned how to shave? How lame.”

Jaehyun chuckles, “when did I ever need an extremely valid reason to see you?” The laughter falls short at his confession and in the midst of all this enthusiasm, you bid him the softest smile. His purpose has been fulfilled, as the best version of you he’s always known and loved stands before him at last. 

“I guess... you’re right. What’s going to happen to you now?”

“I’ll always be here for Christmas, even when you’re old and grey surrounded by the warmth of your loved ones in front of a large, extravagant Christmas tree. When the snow falls, I’ll be here.” Jaehyun’s dimple smile is the lasting image you see, the one you’ve always hoped to remember him by.  

“Merry Christmas, Jung Jaehyun… I--”

“Love you too, y/n. Merry Christmas.” He ushers you out the door with a small kiss on your knuckles.

That is the last time you ever see him again. Now, when the snow falls, it marks the anniversary of your long awaited healing, the journey to acceptance, and the beloved memory of your best friend. May you never lose the spirit of Christmas and the warmth from your loved ones.

[boredompaw]

Jayvik fanfic recs, but make them all sad

(major character death sad)

"Time was never kind to him, but now, it had stopped his labor on what couldn’t be looked at...and started attacking what everybody was seeing, carving his traits, adding fine lines on his face as if he was a sculpture, painting his hair, tinting them with white as if it was a canvas, making art out of his damaged body, a walking oeuvre for the world to see."

Sorry for the long quote, I had a very hard time trying to pick a quote from this fic because I absolutely ADORE everything about it, every single line. The author is Silekim, and while they state that english is not their first langauge it's honestly better than anything I could produce with english as a first language. The premise of the fic is an aged up Viktor (45 in here I believe) who is reflecting on his life so far, especially through the lens of his battle with his terminal illness. Full disclosure, all the fics I have on here either suggest character death or have character death. So. Yeah. It's all hurt/no comfort. I like that kind of thing. The writing style of the piece is lovely, where each sentence has this really delicate cadence and flow to the sentences, where they just bleed into one another. The author really manages to set a very lonely melancholic atmosphere. It makes me think of locking yourself in a room with a window and seeing the sky slowly fade from dusk into night as you contemplate your own mortality. I also think the author really managed to capture Viktor and Jayce's distinct personalities through the narration and also through the brief bits of dialogue. It's quite potent and portrays the pain and nostalgia of a time far gone really really well. Anyways you should definitely check this one out if nothing else. You won't regret it, and if you like sad things like me, you'll probably enjoy it. I'm also in the process of drafting a comic spread for this fic because I love it so much hehe maybe look out for it some time in the future. Maybe not too soon because college app deadlines be rolling around but whatever.

"Viktor is gone, they tell him. Viktor is gone and you were not enough to stop it. Their voices sound, a dead man’s chorus. It’s only gotten worse since he’s stepped inside."

Neon_Sunset's fic is written from Jayce's POV as he has to sort through Viktor's things, and discovers a set of unsent letters. The reason for this? Viktor is dead. It's a quick snapshot of fresh grief, made worse by being surrounded by the possessions of a lost loved one. While the writing itself does not read as lyrically as the fic above, it's still a wonderfully heartwrenching read. It's about 2k words, so it's a fast one as well, but it still packs a punch.

In the letters Viktor leaves behind, they're addressed to three different characters, each with their own perspective. The insights are brief and leave a hunger for more-- that's what makes them hurt: the words left unsaid and never to be known again, things words could never truly convey to those left behind.

The author's writing also conveys a strong sense of Viktor, despite him not being there. That's the point of the setting, which takes place mostly in Viktor's apartment. The descriptions of the setting are laced with tiny little details of personality which aren't much by themselves, but through Jayce's lens and the reader's knowledge of the backstory, it creates a portrait of Viktor, albeit without him actually there.

If you're looking for something to make you feel something, but not tear your heart out completely, I'd say this is good choice for 3-5 minutes of painful entertainment! Go read it and give the author some love~

"'Please,...please. Let it be on my own terms. Not—not hooked up to machines in some hospital room. If you love me, at least allow me this one dignity. Do this for me.'"

Alright, here me out. I've already plugged this one like twice already, but a) it's great and deserves more love and b) I want a list of these in one place, one post, so suck it.

Moving on, I want to say I've reread it too many times and love the shit out of this fic. It's not too long, but one aspect I love about it was how the author chose to intersperse the paragraphs with "letters" from physicians and otherwise. It's hard to describe, you kind of have to check out the link, and not on mobile. It doesn't show up properly formatted on mobile :/ The letters add a certain elegance to the fic, where it conveys the passage of time and changes to Viktor's health through the view of a third party without detracting from the focus of the piece: Jayce and Viktor's relationship.

We get to see how in the background, the pair of them search with mounting desperation and declining hope for a cure to Viktor's illness. The letters' impersonal remarks and recommendations for Viktor serve to highlight the brief snapshots of interactions we get to see of the two. You can tangibly feel the pain Jayce feels as he watches his partner waste away, lose his dignity, and everything he's worked for, while Jayce is incapable of doing anything to ease Viktor's suffering.

It's something that's all too easy to relate to and feel within your core, especially if you've been there to experience parents/grandparents or family members who have gone through the same kind of ordeal.

Coming back to the fic, fear not! While it's one of those hurt/no comfort, the ending is also a beautiful little thing, wrapping up the fic to end on a slightly hopeful note. Overall a great quick read, 100/10 would recommend! This and "time was never kind" are my favs hehe

i mean i would also try to draw this out in comic form but break's closing and while they say a picture paints a thousand words, i honestly feel this one's better conveyed in words, and my art skills are definitely not up to par for drawing faces with different emotions than "neutral pout"

"Nothing, nothing but the stench of sick-sweat and blood, harsh and acidic and stinging eyes, his nose. Nothing but the cold skin beneath his fingertips, still as the grave, hours dead"

A very very very quick fic about an emotionally charged moment. One that passes as fast as it comes-- although the grief is sure to linger. While there's not much in terms of plot, I thought the little descriptions were heart wrenching and atmospheric. It's made especially real since it's written based loosely off the author's own personal experience. Give them a little love and condolences~

WOOhoo finished after a whole day of grinding jesus. I need to do my work but I couldn't start until now because I need to appease the monkey brain that screams for arcane content every day before I can start being productive.

[lightns881]

DTeam Tumblr Demographics Survey Results (Part 1):

The Gifted Child Syndrome is Real with this One...

*Rubs hands together in preparation for some juicy data and in-depth analysis of the typical member of the DTeam Tumblr community*

Ooooooooh boy! Here we go!

I want to start of by thanking you guys for over 400 responses to the demographics survey! Y’all have no idea how much I appreciate it! We have so much to cover, so I’m going to divide up different sections of the survey into several posts to make it more digestable and do justice to each topic explored in the form! We’re going to start of with, you guessed it, personality types!

Strap yourself in because we’re about to thoroughly dissect your sub-conscious innerworkings and find out how the typical DTeam Tumblr Fan thinks! (And judging by the majority personality types, you guys will probably enjoy it)

The Delicious Data

From the 449 responses we received, this is a pie chart displaying the personality types of all respondents.

Image Description: INFP (40.5%), INTP (15.1%), INFJ (8.9%), INTJ (8.9%), ISFP (6.9%), ENFP (4.2%), ISTP (4.0%), ENTP (3.8%), ESFP (1.6%), ISFJ (1.6%), ENTJ (1.3%), ENFJ (1.3%), ISTJ (1.1%), ESTP (0.4%), ESFJ (0.2%), ESTJ (0%)

In comparison, this is a pie chart displaying the personality type percentages of the population as a whole according to the MBTI website.

Image Description: ISTP (14%), ESFJ (12%), ISTJ (12%), ISFP (9%), ESTJ (9%), ESFP (8%) ENFP (8%), ISTP (5%), INFP (4%), ESTP (4%), INTP (3%), ENTP (3%), ENFJ (2%), INTJ (2%), ENTJ (2%), INFJ (1%)

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing a tiny difference here... Oh, right!

INxx’s on the Loose!

It’s funny. When I first found one of the 18+ DTeam fan servers through Tumblr, I asked everyone what their personality type was. I was pleasantly surprised when a lot of them told me they were INFPs like me!

It actually reminded me of MatPat’s (Game Theory) survey for one of his Life Is Strange theories that found the majority personality there was also INFP...

Funny enough, can you guess what the second leading personality on that survey was? The third? The fourth?

You probably guessed it right. MatPat found that out of the fans who responded, the leading majority was INFP while INTPs came in second, INFJs came in third, and INTJs came in fourth. The exact order for the personality types in DTeam Tumblr.

But why is it that some of the rarer personalities of the world are dominating DTeam Tumblr or Game Theory’s fanbase? What is it about these communities that attract the rare introverted Intuitive Perceivers (INxP) and Intuitive Judgers (INxJ) of the world like magnets?

The Gifted Kid Syndrome

To answer this question, first we have to examine our leading personalities. As we can see from the data, INFPs and INTPs make up 55.6% and INFJs and INTJs make up 17.8% of the total respondents. That’s nearly 3/4′s of the DTeam Tumblr population made up of INxx types!

Now, here’s me calling y’all out.

A lot of you probably relate to the quiet kid sitting at the back of the classroom who’s put into some type of TAG, gifted program, or some authority figure has probably called you smart and/or “gifted” at some point in your life. Academics probably came easy to you at one point, maybe they still do.

You’ve probably felt your chest swell up at the shower of compliments about your intelligence and at another... you’ve probably felt like people put you in a pedestal and overrate you so you’re stuck with this inherent fear of failure, and it causes you to completely shut down when the things that came easy to you at one point no longer do so. 

It’s gifted kid syndrome hitting you like a brick to the face. And if it hasn’t yet, oh you’re in for a surprise, honey.

And I’m sure many of you have come across funny, relatable posts like this:

And you want to know why most of you relate?

Image Description: INTP, INTJ, INFP, anf INFJ’s rate the highest in a giftedness per MBTI Type chart

No. You’re not hallucinating. It’s not even a joke at this point. It feels true because it probably is true.

(Granted, the study that captured similar results to this graph is long lost to the internet, but the best source I found with it was a reddit post I will be citing in the reblog.)

Now, my next point is where we find a split.

INFPs and INTPs and their Need to Question Everything (even if it’s about one sentence [insert creator here] said that one time during a 4-hour long stream)

The strongest connection I found between the two leading personalities of DTeam Tumblr is they share Extraverted Intuiting (Ne) as their auxiliary cognitive function.

I’ll use a quote that explains Ne better than I could ever explain it in my own words:

“Extraverted intuition or Ne is very much focused on patterns and making connections from information they gather... Ne dominant users enjoy being able to explore things in a much more open manner, not wanting to feel closed off to the possibilities around them... They are also highly imaginative people, who enjoy being able to come up with unique hobbies and experiences... They are not afraid of imagining things which seem almost impossible to others... [For INFPs,] Ne is what creates this detailed and incredible thoughts process which keeps them busy for long periods of time.”

And another:

“Auxiliary Ne manifests in people constantly questioning the world around them, but unlike ENxPs, they can be more pick and choose about this. But generally, they don’t take people, things and events at face value.“

Now, think about the community you’re in right now. Think about the post you’re reading at the moment.

DTeam Tumblr is full of over-analysis posts, whether about Dream and George’s secret love for each other or about the inherent problems with Dream’s shipbait and gay jokes or theories about what’s going to happen next in the dream SMP lore and the dramatic betrayals and creator’s descend into madness and more theories about sexuality and charts depicting creator’s personalities and what they’d be likely to do in different scenarios and... ooof, I’m out of breath here. You get my point.

DTeam Tumblr is literally a group of ex-gifted or gifted introverted people who love to read or write analysis, theory, and discussion posts about sweaty Minecraft Youtubers because they’re probably too overwhelmed by real life and find joy in obsessing over “dumb” things.

That’s it. That’s literally the post. I might as well end there.

But I won’t. 

Because obsessions is exactly what I want to focus on next.

The Inherent Nature of the INFP and their “Micro-Obsessions”

This is me having a one-to-one conversation with all my INFPs reading this.

Do you sometimes just set your mind on a goal--like, let’s say, writing a book--and you spend so much time obsessing over it to the point where you burn out and suddenly it never sees the light of day because you move onto your next goal or obsession because now you’re getting ready to launch your freelance website so you can start a business on [insert new hobby here]?

Or do you just suddenly find a fandom or a show or a channel you really enjoy and you spend the next few months doing nothing but engaging with it and reading fanfiction and drawing fan art or making dumb analysis posts on your main Tumblr account where suddenly you get an influx of followers from that community and now people are expecting you to just post about MCYT!?

Oh, sorry, I got a little carried away at the end there...

Anyhow, my point is, do you ever develop an obsession over something all the sudden only for it to just disappear when you find something new or just fall into the deep crevices of your mind only for it to maybe reemerge a few years later after you get a deep sense of nostalgia remembering it?

I call them micro-obsessions. And I recently found out, I’m not the only one who does this!

Here’s another quote for you: 

“According to Carl Jung’s theory of cognitive functions, when an INFP makes a decision, Ne comes in second to another process known as Introverted Feeling (Fi). Fi does not use logic to make a decision. It uses how we feel about the decision according to our values. In other words, it asks, “Which choice feels right for me?”

Ne, on the other hand, craves new ideas and experiences to explore, which causes INFPs to always be on the lookout for something novel.

Unfortunately, INFPs can get stuck in a loop, going back and forth between their Ne and Fi. They search to understand their values by constantly trying new things. They ask themselves, “Does this feel right?” then throw it over their shoulder as they move on to something else.”

So, you’re probably asking right about now, Light, how the heck does any of this have anything to do with the Dream Team and MCYT!?

Well, my friend, it has EVERYTHING to do with the Dream Team and MCYT and DTeam Tumblr as a whole.

Because INxx’s are predisposed to end up in places like this--fandoms on Tumblr, channels that speculate whether Mario is evil, watching dramatic Minecraft smp wars and elections as opposed to looking at the news that depicts Murphy’s Law as 2020′s new favorite epigram. 

The introvert in them causes them to prefer socializing in small communities online where they’re not forced to engage in conversations if they don’t want to or put into uncomfortable situations where they have to talk to that one friend of their friend who wants to make meaningless small chat.

Their Intuition causes them to wonder into places like Tumblr where they can engage in deep discussions about their newest obsessions, and they won’t be judged for writing a 500+ word post about why Dream’s shipbait tactics are a genius algorithm strat or simping over sweaty Minecraft boys.

DTeam Tumblr is a safe haven for INFPs and INTPs who might be placed in the “other” category or marked as weird for being interested in “childish” entertainment or being different from the general population overall, whether that’d be sexuality, point of view, age, gender, etc. A place where you can fully be yourself and not have to worry about disappointing people.

INFPs are predisposed for drowning themselves in their micro-obsessions to avoid all of the madness in the world--even if that means giggling like a little girl while reading memes about your favorite Minecraft YouTube creators.

That is a deep-dive into the mind of a typical DTeam Tumblr user. What do you think? Is it accurate at all? Is it completely off? Let me know in the comments!

And with that, I digress. I’m not sure whether I’ll be covering general demographics next week or diving into the topic of ships (could be a mix of both), but I will be posting about it eventually, so make sure to hit the follow if you got to the end of this post and enjoyed it or learned something new from it!

Friendly reminder that this survey and post is in no way supposed to be taken 100% seriously. These are just the ramblings of a math major INFP with too much time on her hands and way too big of an obsession for MCYT. My asks are always open for literally anything, whether if you want to ask me about this or any DNF related subject, my own opinions, or just criticize the whole of this post and tell me it’s complete trash! I’ll answer as long as it’s appropriate!

And, again, thank you everyone who filled out the survey. Without y’all, this post wouldn’t be possible. I really enjoyed writing it! Adios!

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #123

AN: @flamingbluepanda always says they love Joe and Nicky and how Nicky loves Joe and Joe loves Nicky. They’re wise words, so I wrote this. I used @sunshineandchemistry art for Joe painting. 

There are many things Nicky doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how information travels from the device in his hand to somebody else’s on the other half of the world. He doesn’t understand why his body always insists on pressing the mental-mute button from 1-4 every afternoon or how Booker’s neck doesn’t ache every single morning. He definitely doesn’t understand why his heart is suddenly pounding in his chest, spreading nervous-like jitters from his tongue to his toes that reminds him of those early years, when just peeking at Joe, Yusuf, from the corner of his eyes would have the words tangling in his mouth, making him come across as a total fool. 

It’s strange; he isn’t that boy anymore. He grew up. He married that man who brought out all the emotions in him. Several times. 42 times, to be exact. He’s had centuries more experience than the boy clutching the cross around his neck, whispering prayers to the stars. He’s not that kid anymore. 

His body begs to differ. 

Joe’s painting. He’s in nothing but his plaid-striped pajama pants that cling to his hips and stretch across his ass in an obscene manner that Nicky loves. They’re still playing the game where they both pretend he didn’t re-stitch the pants before gifting them to Joe a year ago. Nicky suspects the only reason Joe hasn’t given in is because he enjoys the ego boost whenever he walks in-front of Nicky in those pants. It’s a good enough reason for Nicky. 

But as tantalizing his husband’s beautiful ass is, it’s not what’s currently messing Nicky up. 

Well, not entirely. 

What’s currently messing Nicky up is Joe is painting shirtless. Joe never paints shirtless. Joe likes to wear over-sized t-shirts under jackets under an apron and his “lucky” pants when he paints. Not to mention socks under boots. Nicky has heard the ‘Paint is a bitch to scrub off of toes’ rant so many times, he could recite it in a coma by now. 

The point is, when Joe paints, he has more layers than The Grand Canyon; meaning that whatever muse crawled into his dreams last night must have bit hard for Joe to even consider skipping the sock drawer. 

“Morning,” Joe says. Nicky blinks. He’s been standing in the doorway of Joe’s studio for at least two minutes and 34 seconds if Joe has noticed and verbally acknowledged him. Did he really just spend two and a half-minutes staring at his husband? He doesn’t even remember thinking anything besides Yusuf since laying eyes on his shirtless husband. 

Nicky clears his parched throat, follows the smooth flick of Joe’s wrist to his paint splattered fingers and says, “Good.” He feels like there’s something missing in that sentence, like it’s only half-spoken and for the life of him, he cannot remember what goes next. Not when Joe tilts his head to the right, catching the first rays of the rising sun with the gentle slope of his cheek.

He looks like a god: all warm skin over defined muscles.

Nicky could worship him forever. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there. Watching Joe paint is its own form of art that could entertain Nicky for hours. When working on small details, Joe grips the brush practically by the bristles, nose occasionally skimming the canvas. Nicky’s half-convinced he does this because the fumes stimulate creativity. It’s a theory Joe vehemently denies. When Joe isn’t working on the smaller details, he’s two feet away, right arm outstretched with a paintbrush in a more comfortable and higher-up grip, left leg a step behind. He’s on the balls of his feet today, something he would never do if he had his paint boots on. 

The jitters fade into a manageable swirl of emotions inside his stomach with every stroke on the canvas. No more does he feel like the boy stealing glances. Instead, he feels like the boy who stared at Yusuf, bursting with love and adoration. As for his pounding heart? Nicky doesn’t think his heart rate will go back down until Joe showers and puts some regular clothes on. Maybe not even then. It’s fine. He’s not going to complain about the way the muscles in Joe’s back ripple every time he picks up more paint with his brush. Or the way streaks of blue paint have slowly accumulated on Joe’s torso. 

When the sun begins to hit Nicky, Joe sets down his paint palette on the table and paint brush in a cup of cloudy black water and picks up the canvas he’s been working on all morning. He flips it and...

It’s him. 

It’s his eyes staring back at him in the soft tones of watercolor. It’s his mouth, quirked up at the corners. It’s his nose, standing out on the flat canvas. It’s his mole being the only splash of gray amongst the blue. It’s him. 

Joe, Mr. 11 AM-is-the-same-as-6 AM, stumbled out of bed at 4:30 AM today, skipping the sock drawer, the boots, the shirt, the apron, the “lucky” pants, because he had to paint this, paint him. 

Suddenly, he’s that boy hearing ‘I love you’ from Yusuf for the first time. He’s the boy with tears welling and blurring the world. He’s the boy tripping over a simple ‘I love you too’. 

He’s acting like a fool. He needs to swallow the lump in his throat, blink away the tears and form the easiest words in the world; the truest words in the world because he’s not that dumb boy anymore. 

He is. 

He sniffs, wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and reaches out for Joe because words are failing him and he doesn’t know how to tell Joe that he loves him too. At least, not verbally. 

He tells Joe that he loves him by wrapping his arms around his husband and burying his face in his neck. He tells Joe he loves him by squeezing tight and dropping small kisses in-between his tiny gasps. He tells Joe he loves him with small nuzzles and both hands splayed over ribs. 

And Joe, his perfect and wonderful husband, whispers the words backs. 

There are a lot of things Nicky doesn’t understand. Some are worth pursuing to uncover the mystery — like why pizza rolls keep on appearing in the freezer or how to use fiber lasers to engrave his and Joe’s swords. His body occasionally reacting to Joe like a boy discovering love? Nicky’s perfectly okay with never understanding that. 

[narrators-journal]

A threat appears

So! This one I actually changed the title of this part, but otherwise, not much is different.

Cw: Illumi murders someone, I go into a bit of detail with it. Enjoy!

Previous part: here

First part: here

(f/n) was much more social than you, much more social. Which was a bit annoying to Illumi. Despite having achieved a potential wife...possibly...he wasn't sure, he still didn't like being pulled into a party (f/n) had gone to. But they weren't like you, helpfully isolated and reclusive. No, according to Milluki's research, they lived in a college dorm, so at least one person was around at night, which was the best time for hits so their room mate was quite the annoyance already, and during the day they regularly had friends around or were in class, in public, or otherwise surrounded by students and people of all sorts. Witnesses. So, the man had to once again slip into a social gathering and blend in to get to the person he wanted to kill. It brought back horrible memories of the hit he'd run into you on.

That's why he stood in some strangers living room, dressed in a baggy (college) sweater and some sweat pants, his long, black hair pulled up into a ponytail while faux sipping on a cup of cheap beer and watching while (f/n) danced to some random song he didn't know.

These rare moments where he actually needed to worm his way into social circles like this at least gave him a reason to dip into the small collection of 'casual' clothes he had, but that fact did little to actually make Illumi enjoy the need to listen to annoyingly loud drunk women, or sometimes assure an overly drunk college student that no, just because his hair was long and he wasn't built like some Dorito that did not mean he was a female or a lesser male. But, this was a nuisance he had to deal with. (f/n) had to learn that they couldn't set you up on dates, after all, you were far too reclusive to go on a date yourself, or go dragging you off to distant areas where the assassin couldn't protect you. You couldn't entertain him if you weren't somewhere he could watch you, now could you?

Luckily, Illumi being in sweatpants and a sweatshirt didn't kill the predatory charm he had, in fact, it seemed to increase his draw, judging by the fair number of party girls who tried to talk to him and lure him back to their dorms. (f/n) especially seemed prone to his charms, sauntering over, slightly tipsy, to flirt with him when they'd spotted the tall, handsome assassin standing against the wall.

They chatted for a while over the loud music while people around them danced, came and went from the house, or made out in the corner, then Illumi made his move,             "you want to maybe talk somewhere a bit quieter?" he suggested, letting his voice gain a tiny bit of suggestion to spark their interest. Of course, with the alcohol and abundance of lust coursing through their veins, they took the bait easily, nodding and grabbing his wrist to pull him outside to a more private, quiet part of the yard behind a small shed or whatever the host had in their yard.             "there anything you want to talk about in particular?" (f/n) asked, their own voice full of suggestion and flirtation.             "Nothing really, just wanted to do this," he hummed, swooping in and kissed them, making your friend squeak, but they didn't really hesitate to kiss back.

While Illumi struggled with love, empathy, compassion, so on, he did take some pride in the fact that he wasn't bad in the plainly intimate areas, (f/n) however he couldn't say was outright bad, but definitely not the best he'd had. their mouth tasted of beer and chewing gum, and their kisses were sloppy and uncoordinated, but he could compare and contrast the quality later, right now his main priority was breathing. He pulled away and gave a charming grin to (f/n) when they giggled,            "y'know, maybe we should head off to my dorm~" they hummed, twirling a finger in Illumi's long, silky hair. He hummed and made a show of thinking about it, in reality he knew instantly to agree, than nodded. (F/n) smiled at that and didn't hesitate to drag him back to their dorm. As he was dragged in, Illumi swiftly noticed that your friends room mate was gone. This situation couldn't be any more perfect, could it? And the assassin was happy to take advantage of the rare situation. Illumi kissed (f/n) again, letting them drag him onto their dorm bed and cling to him eagerly. He ignored how their fingers tangled in his hair, instead using the time to mull over how this situation wasn't awakening that primal need to breed that seemed to kick in over simply glimpsing your bare skin. Though, while his thoughts weren't super focused on the act he was partaking in, he still went through the basic motions with practiced ease, running his hands up and down their sides, kissing a trail down their neck, and than pulling their top over their head. Though he didn't toss it away. Instead, before (f/n) could strip his clothes off, he wrapped it around their throat and tightened it until your friends eyes widened and they gasped weakly. He knew better than to use his hands,  that risked getting him scratches on his hands, and leave DNA, so he was extra careful as he stared down at the person coldly. (f/n)'s eyes filled with a primal terror he'd seen many times before when he started strangling them, but Illumi was a trained murderer, (f/n) was a normal college student. When they started writhing and trying to claw at his arms it was easy for him to ignore the meager amounts of pain. Maybe they have a point though. he thought about his current victim's insistence to socialize you, simultaneously moving to straddle his victim better so they couldn't kick him or get free, Dates seem to be a far better option for learning about someone, and it'd be easier on my back than hiding in trees and shrubbery and sitting so still for long periods. He hummed absentmindedly, keeping (f/n)'s shirt tightly around their throat when they went still and tried to fake death to get free,                 "Smart move, but I know how long it takes to die of asphixiation." he told them calmly, which brought another struggle, this one far more primal and desperate, but he smoothly avoided all of their attempts to scratch his face, and his clothes kept them from clawing any DNA from his arms or legs, so despite their best efforts, even such vicious attacks didn't get them free. Eventually, they did truly suffocate, Illumi made sure by keeping the shirt taut for another full minute before loosening the fabric. After that, he simply disposed of the body in a nearby lake and went home. The next month was bland on your front. He couldn't really blame you completely for being so upset, you didn't know he was around to give you company, and your meager friend pool had shrunk by one, so he supposed your mental health was a bit at risk. It surely didn't help that Illumi had also made your date disappear like your friend, but he could help you through depression, and the lonelier you were, the better chances he had when he swept in and dated you. All he had to do was wait for the perfect time. Which was honestly boring.

[shesawriter39049]

|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA  FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos! 

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there. 

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.  

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?”  Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.  

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-”  Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink,  and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end,  your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwyncien part 5 (last part)

Thank you to all who supported this short little story! It really kept me motivated. This is the last part. I’m gonna be honest this part is not as edited at the other parts but I finished it and wanted to get it out to all of you so thank you!

Warning: the smallest amount possible of smut at the end.

Gwyn's body jolted as they hit the ground. Lucien let out an annoyed huff while straightening out his jacket. The wards around the House of Wind truly made winnowing in unfavorable. As soon as she stabled herself though, she felt a rush of happiness.

Home.

It was her only thought. She missed this place- the smell, the comfort, the people. She started to buzz with excitement at the thought of Nesta and Emerie.

"You made sure someone brought Emerie here?" Gwyn double checked with Lucien. He simply nodded while giving her a sad smile. The moment was bitter sweet. She was happy to be reunited with her sisters, but she would miss her newest friend. She threw her arms around him in a tight hug. He returned it just as fiercely.

"Thank you for all that you did for me. It means more than I could ever express." She buried her head in his hair and took a deep breath. He smelled of roasted chestnuts and a summers day. She would miss it.

"I know a way you could make it up to me." He said as he pulled away. Gwyn looked at him expectantly.

"Promise me I will see you again soon." A soft smile graced Gwyn's face.

"I promise." She wanted to show her sisters the Band of Exiles castle anyways. They would love it. Lucien smiled broadly before dropping a kiss on her forehead next to her invoking stone.

She finally decided to wear it as all the priestesses do. Lucien took her to Sangravah to see Catrin's grave. She had been so sad and angry that she almost destroyed the stone right then and there. She did not deserve the stone while her sister's body lay cold in a grave. But then Lucien took her to meet the priestesses and children that had rebuilt the temple. The children that Gwyn had saved. They all remembered her and flattered her in compliments and hugs. The called her their hero and said that they were petitioning to make that dreadful anniversary known as Berdara day. In honor of the twins who sacrificed so much to protect those children. Gwyn cried for a week straight after that. Once her emotions leveled out though, she began to wear the stone. The children had been a distant memory that she forgot about while grieving for her sister. Seeing them, happy and healthy, reminded her that the sacrifice was not in vein. She may have failed Catrin but she did not fail those children. It was one more thing that made her grateful for Lucien.

Gwyn took one last look at Lucien before he winnowed away. She turned back towards the door, took a deep breath, and headed straight for the personal library. She was so excited she thought she might throw up. She wished she had kept her composure to walk the entire way there, but as she came closer and closer to the library, her feet began moving faster and faster until she was practically running. The moment she burst through the doors she scanned the room for the two females. She found them sitting side by side, each with a book in their hands. It made Gwyn smile broadly. They both whipped their heads up at the same time- startled. Nesta reacted first, practically throwing herself at Gwyn. Emerie was close behind, and then they were crushing Gwyn in a hug.

"Gwyn!" Nesta cried. Emerie just squeezed her tighter.

Home.

Gwyn felt completely at ease now that she was reunited with her sisters. She had missed them so unbearably that she almost forced Lucien to bring her back several different times. She was afraid that if she came back, she would not have left again. After a very lengthy hug, the girls pulled apart. Nesta was subtly trying to wipe tears away which only served in making Gwyn start to cry herself.

"We missed you." Emerie said softly while running her hand over Gwyn's hair. It was such a comforting gesture that Gwyn forced another hug from the Illyrian female.

"I missed you two more than anything." Gwyn pulled back from Emerie so that she could grab both of their hands. She pulled them over to the couch and forced them to sit down next to her.

"You better explain why you ran off with Lucien and you better do it right now because I am angry with you so I want a good explanation before I start yelling." Nesta warned with a hardened expression. Gwyn squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile.

"Lucien helped me with some things." Gwyn did not even know how to start explaining everything that had happened. She knew Lucien did not want her telling anyone of their ancestry, but Emerie and Nesta did not count. At least in Gwyn's mind they didn't.

"Things we could not help you with?" Emerie asked. Gwyn could hear the touch of hurt in her voice and suddenly felt very guilty. She never imagined they would blame themselves. She should have known better though, especially with Nesta.

"You cannot repeat what I am about to tell you to anyone." She gave them both a pointed look but it got a snort from Nesta.

"Who would I possibly tell other than Cassian?" She rolled her eyes with a slight laugh. Gwyn continued to give her a serious look.

"You cannot tell Cassian or Mor either. They will feel obligated to tell Rhys. This information is dangerous for me and I need to know before I tell you that it will stay between us three." She squeezed both their hands again. Nesta and Emerie shared a look before giving her a concerned one.

"We promise. We would never do anything to endanger you, Gwyn." Emerie insisted as Nesta nodded in agreement. Gwyn took a deep breath before explaining.

"Lucien's my grandfather. After the autumn court high lord killed Lucien's lover, him and a brother hid my mother at Sangravah." Emerie's eyes widened comically while Nesta took this in with a straight face.

"Holy shit. That makes you the only living heir to the day court." Emerie muttered. Gwyn's brows furrowed in confusion.

"The day court?" Nesta inquired on the same topic that Gwyn was confused about. The winged female gave them a sheepish look.

"Shit. I wasn't supposed to say anything." She gave a deep sigh. "Mor told me that Helion is Lucien's real father and that would make Lucien the only known offspring of Helion." Gwyn wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Does this mean you'll get a real Pegasus?" Nesta pondered. It made Gwyn smile thinking of the tiny Pegasus the house conjured for them.

"I would demand weekends with it if so." Emerie added while leaning back on the side of the couch to fully face the other two females.

"Well anyways, Lucien helped me with some things regarding Sangravah." Gwyn directed the conversation back on topic. She did not want to think about being the future heir to some random court. "I did not ask for your help because I did not want to be dependent on you two. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it on my own. Trust me, it had nothing to do with not wanting your help. There were so many times I almost forced Lucien to bring me back." Nesta looked at the priestess and a smile finally graced her face.

"You are wearing your invoking stone." Gwyn blushed and looked down at her hands. Nesta was one of the only people she had confided in about why she never wore it and she had only done that because she knew that Nesta would understand.

"I am."

"Are you happy?" Nesta asked wearily. The blunt female was not a fan of Lucien's for some reason.

"I am now that I am home. I have so much to tell you, but I might still need to process some of it before then." Gwyn warned. She may not be ready to give them all the answers that they needed or wanted. Gwyn put both her arms around both the females shoulders, tugging them in closer to her.

"You know just by the way, you could have given Az a heads up about your departure. I had to convince him that Papa Lucien did not kidnap you for nefarious revenge plans." Nesta responded after awhile of comfortable silence. Gwyn cringed while Emerie cackled over Lucien's new nickname.

"I figured his shadows told him." She shrugged. It's not her fault if he was being a bad spy master. He should have known Lucien did not kidnap her. Nesta gave a small smirk while nestling her head into the crook of Gwyn's neck. Emerie mimicked the gestured and suddenly all three of them were cuddling on the couch. It made the priestess feel safe.

"Mor said he finally confronted her about their situation." Nesta's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. Gwyn was just as surprised. The Shadowsinger practically ran screaming from emotions.

"How did that go?" The red headed female asked incredulously. She also had no idea why he would chose now when he was finally with Elain to have that conversation.

"Good? I did not get a lot of details but Mor seemed happy." They all sat in another comfortable silence again. There was so much to say on both sides. Gwyn was sure she had missed out on a lot, but they all knew they just wanted to enjoy each other's presence for a bit.

"Hey Nes-" Cassian stopped mid-sentence when he saw the priestess as he strode into the library. A huge smile broke out on his face. "Gwyn!"

"Hey Cas." She gave a small wave as all three girls sat upright on the couch. They all moved over some so Cassian could sit next to Nesta. It was a tight squeeze especially with his wings but they made it work.

"Shit, I have missed you, Berdara. Training is not the same without you. Please tell me you have kept up with it." He berated her like the good trainer he was.

Gwyn gave a short laugh. If only he knew what she had been doing to keep up with her training. She knew he would approve though. She truly had missed Cassian. Nesta and his bickering was a high quality form of entertainment for both Gwyn and Emerie. She also missed his quite encouragement and lame jokes, she would never admit to the latter, though.

"I have missed you as well." He gave Nesta a peck on the cheek which caused a smile to bloom on her face. They were sickeningly adorable.

"Are you coming tonight?" He asked.

"What's tonight?" He obviously did not know that Gwyn just arrived back. They had no time to discuss anything other than her trip.

"Oh I forgot to mention. Remember Balthazar? The guy that helped Emerie and I in the blood rite? Well Feyre and Rhys are throwing him a party in windhaven for not killing us." Nesta rolled her eyes. Clearly, she did not feel that was worth celebrating

"Seems kind of like the bare minimum." Emerie muttered the same thing that Nesta must be thinking. "No need to throw a party for letting us live." Emerie mimicked Nesta with an eye roll of her own.

"Sounds fun.” Gwyn could not stop the sarcasm that flooded her voice. “But I will go anyways.” She relented.

"Really?" Cassian was clearly surprised as he looked at her with raised eyebrows. Gwyn watched as he subtly set his hand on Nesta’s shoulder and rubbed his thumb back and forth. Part of Gwyn felt jealous. She wanted to experience that type of intimacy with someone- with Az. She let out a sigh.

"Yeah. I have had a very enlightening five months. I think I am ready to brave windhaven in a showy dress while everyone schmoozes the high lord and lady." Emerie and Nesta both cheered at that while Cassian gave her his biggest smile. It made her laugh.

"Azriel is at the River house. Want me to take you there?" Cassian suddenly changed the topic. Gwyn narrowed her eyes at him. She most definitely did not want to see the Shadowsinger right now. Besides, she still had so much to discuss with her sisters.

"I can only take so many reunions at once. Perhaps his could wait."

+

Gwyn had never felt this confident. Her normal anxieties were still there, but it was not nearly as overwhelming as it once had been. She felt a little guilty for crashing Balthazar's "thank you for not killing my sister in the blood rite" party, however, she knew the male would not care much. She glanced at herself one last time in the mirror- only to feel that a stranger was looking back at her. For the first time in front of her friends, she wore her invoking stone atop her head. The color matched her dress very well. It was quite a scandalous dress by her standards even if Nesta had said it had nothing on a few of Feyre's court of nightmare dresses. The neckline went up relatively high while the back dipped down low enough to barely reach her tailbone. It left her entire back exposed. There were very few scars there which made her much more comfortable than some of the dresses with low cut necklines. The waistline came in tight enough for Gwyn to struggle to breathe. Luckily, the skirt was flowy with a slit in the side that showed off one of her legs as well as her dagger which was sheathed to her thigh. It was very unlike Gwyn. She would not wear it again, but once for a grand entrance seemed like as good of a time as ever. Lucien bought the dress for her before realizing how scandalous it really was. He saw the color and was reminded of her eyes which she apparently got from Jesminda. She tried it on once for him which resulted in him stumbling over his words in a very un-Lucien manner. He told her he would return it at once and then begged for forgiveness. It was a bit of an overreaction that had her giggling for a decent amount of time. She told him she would keep it and wear it when she was ready. She knew she would be ready when she could walk out of the door without changing. She allowed herself five more minutes of staring before heading upstairs to the House of Wind. Cassian, Nesta, Emerie, and Mor would all be waiting for her up there. She did not quite expect the reaction she received. All four of them stared at her, wide-eyed, for longer than socially acceptable. Gwyn almost asked if she should change, but then Nesta and Emerie were gushing over the dress, Mor was demanding to know where she got it from, and Cassian gave her a shy compliment. The anxiety released her chest as everyone went back to discussing their original conversation.

It appeared the high lord and lady did not spare a single expense for this party. Food and alcohol was everywhere, music played loudly, and everyone was dancing. The dances were different than the ones Gwyn was used to, but Emerie showed her a few of the steps. She had gotten so good at one of them that a crowd formed around the three sisters as they held hands and danced around in a circle, adding in different kicks and twirls on beat. Gwyn had laughed more tonight than she had since Catrin’s death. Perhaps everything was finally falling into place for Gwyn to live her life unafraid. Exhaustion pulled Gwyn from the dance floor and back onto the dais where the high lord and lady stood- deep in discussion. Gwyn did not interrupt them, instead opting to stand by herself for a moment in order to catch her breathe. She chugged her cup of water that was much harder to find than it should have been. She was not alone long before a male approached her.

She recognized the red-haired fae. She was trying to remember how she knew him, but it just barely kept slipping her mind. Based on his looks, he was from the autumn court which made Gwyn wonder why he was even here in the first place. To Rhysand and Feyre's surprise, the male asked to dance with her. Before she could accept or decline though, her high lord interrupted.

"No." Gwyn's eyebrows raised to her hairline. He did not speak for her. Now or ever.

"Rhys," Feyre began, shifting her eyes from her mate to the quickly angering priestess. "I do believe Gwyn has a voice of her own." The couple shared a look before turning to her. The red haired male looked as annoyed as Gwyn felt.

"Gwyneth, I apologize for speaking on your behalf, but he is not to be trusted. He is dangerous." He continued to dig himself further into a hole. Gwyn was the last person to openly trust a strange male, but she could handle her own. Especially against him.

"And here I thought we were allies." The strange male rolled his eyes with his sarcastic comment. All three of them ignored him.

"Do you see me warning you away from every female in this room?" It was a rhetorical question, but her point was made. "How would you like me to throw Amarantha in your face every chance I got under the guise of protection? If I want your opinion on a dancing partner, I will ask." She was a blunt person, but she was not typically so harsh. The overwhelming pity that Rhysand sent her way brought the ugliness out of her in a way that many others have not been able to do. She could see the guilt on his face. She also saw the flinch when she uttered Amarantha's name and she wished more than anything that she could take it back. Just because he reminded her of Sangravah every chance he got did not mean she had to stoop to his level.

"I apologize. Obviously, you may dance with whomever you chose." He bowed his head to her and flourished an arm towards the waiting male. Feyre was too busy watching Rhysand to add anything more. Gwyn supposed they were having an internal conversation. She stepped down from the dais to follow the male onto the dancing floor. She did not want to dance with him in particular. Truly, she only wanted to dance with Azriel who had yet to make an appearance, but she was curious. That nagging feeling at the back of her mind said that she knew him. He grabbed one of her hands to hold and placed his other at her hip. The placement at her hip was odd. Typically, that was reserved for more intimate dances between couples, but that was not why he did it. Her back was completely exposed due to the dress. He must have figured this would be better for her. She narrowed her eyes at him. He must know Lucien and therefore who she is to him.

"Eris Vanserra." He finally announced as they began their dance. "Pleasure to officially meet you." Gwyn met his stare. It was surprisingly soft. Lucien's brother she realized. This could be good or bad depending on which brother he is she contemplated. She had only heard wicked things about all his brothers except when Lucien was discussing her mother. He mentioned a brother helped him hide her mother.

"We have met before." She said it as a statement of fact, but in truth it was a question. He gave her a wicked grin before twirling her.

"We have."

"Where?" He twirled her once more before glancing over his shoulder at Rhysand. He must be listening in.

"Sangravah." Was all he said. It was all she needed to remember. He came to the services Sangravah held on Sunday's. It was not every Sunday, but enough of them to recognize him. He sat in a pew in the back and watched. He never participated. Catrin complained one time that she felt he was watching her. Gwyn had brushed it off as mere paranoia- she knew better now though. She wanted to respond with a million different questions; however, she was expected to be vague with prying ears around.

"Why?" Was all she could muster. If Lucien was not willing to risk a visit, then why was he? She was searching his eyes for any clues only to discover a hint of sadness that was quickly covered up.

"To remind myself that it was worth it." The music stopped as the dance came to an end, so he moved his mouth to her ear to continue. It would have seemed an intimate moment to anyone watching. Truly, it was only an uncle speaking a secret to his great niece. "That all I had become to save her was worth it."

Before she could respond she felt a sharp tug on her mate bond, a whisper of a shadow on her wrist, and then Azriel launched himself at Eris.

"For fucks sake." Cassian could be heard muttering as a brawl ensued between the pair. Gwyn couldn't help but agree. Punches were thrown back and forth, but once truth teller had been drawn, Gwyn did the only thing she could think of. She lightly scraped her nails on the back of Azriel's wings. Almost immediately he wrenched himself away from Eris to give her a startled look- his wings tucking in tight. Luckily, Cassian chose that time to insert himself into the fight and hold Eris back.

"Do not do that again." Azriel gave her an intimidating look, but she did not balk from him. Not now.

"Do not give me that attitude, Shadowsinger." She returned his stare with such intensity that he finally looked away.

She turned to Eris who now looked much worse than her mate. He was wiping blood from his nose with the end of his sleeve. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and gave a tight squeeze. He barely had time to return the hug before she pulled away. Everyone was clearly shocked, but it mattered little to Gwyn. This dangerous and cruel male had gone against his abusive father to save her mother. He had risked his future as high lord by visiting her and Catrin. It was not all that long ago that Gwyn thought she had no family. Then she met Nesta and Emerie and now she had a grandfather who loved her despite knowing little of her and a great uncle who cared for her enough to risk all he had tried to achieve. It made her feel a little less alone in this world.

"Thank you." Was all she uttered before turning back to her mate who had the audacity to be glaring daggers at Eris. She narrowed her eyes at him before grabbing him by his hand and tugging him all the way to the exit. She could see him about to speak so she stopped him.

"No. No speaking. Show me to a private room so I can scream at you for a solid five minutes and then I shall allow you to speak." She was fuming mad at the arrogance of this male. He was in a completely committed relationship with another female and he had the audacity to attack her dance partner. He took her down a long hallway, his shadows twirling around him in chaos. His wings were tense even as his face gave off an air of cool indifference. He took a sharp turn and then they were in an empty bedroom.

"I have been back for a total of six hours and before I can even utter a word to you, you have gone and fought Eris Vanserra of all people? Really Azriel I am starting to get whiplash from you. One second you are proclaiming your love for Elain Archeron and the next you are attempting murder on my dance partner. What would you like from me? Because I was hoping we could start off with a pleasant conversation but I suppose that is too much to ask for?" She was glaring him down which was not something anyone else had ever done. While he was beautiful, his icy cruelty laid right beneath the surface. It was enough for everyone to walk on eggshells around him. Even some of his closest friends. Gwyn had never done that though and she would not start now. He looked down at his feet as his shadows went still. Perhaps they also realized they were in trouble.

"You are wearing your invoking stone." He peeked at the stone that lay across her forehead before glancing out the window. She huffed in frustration.

"This is the first you have seen of me in five months and that's all you have to say?" Her glare turned more incredulous.

"You never wore it before." He paused to glance up at her before continuing. "You look beautiful." Gwyn groaned in frustration. This male would be the death of her. She sat at the edge of the bed in the middle of the room. After a moments pause, he followed suit and sat next to her with a small gap in between them. It was silent for another moment.

"I am sorry Gwyneth. My shadows refuse to tell me anything about you and I assumed the worse when I saw Eris whispering into your ear. The mate bond has become harder to control the longer you have been gone as well." She could agree with that. Her own mate bond had become more and more incessant the longer she had been gone. It was like a buzzing in her mind that would not stop. She wondered how Elain managed.

"Lucien, and I suppose now Eris, are important to me Azriel. I cannot explain why quite yet, but it is important to me that you try to be polite specifically with Lucien. Okay?" It was probably more information than she should give. She wanted to be clear with him. He gave her a curious look. He wanted to ask more that was for sure.

"Okay." He whispered. They both looked down at their hands. His were laid loosely on his thighs while hers were clasped tightly together in her lap. "Elain and I decided it would be best if we stopped..." he trailed off at the end, braving a glimpse at her. She was surprised by this. Perhaps Elain's visit to the Band of Exile's was not to reject Lucien. Almost two weeks ago, Gwyn had bumped into Elain in the castle. Their conversation was awkward and brief, but Gwyn thought for sure that the beautiful female had come to reject the mating bond with Lucien.

"Why?" Was all Gwyn could muster. She suddenly felt so tired.

"After our kiss," he started. His hands ran up and down his thighs and she realized he was nervous. She grabbed one of his hands with her own and squeezed. "Nothing had ever lived up to that. I had been chasing what Elain represented that I forgot what I was missing out on. I don't want Elain now and maybe I never truly did. I know I don't deserve it, but I would like a chance to be with you Gwyn. We can go as slow as you like." His sudden proclamation was hurting her head. It was like sensory overload.

"What makes me different from Elain?" She didn't want him to make this decision solely because they were mated. She wanted this to be different. She squeezed his hand tighter.

"You see me for who I am and you aren't phased. You have never hesitated before grabbing my hands. You didn't even so much as blink at my shadows the first time you saw them. You understand why I hold myself to such high standards and you aren't scared of me." He looked directly into her eyes to make sure she understood that every word was true. He wanted her to see him be vulnerable. His stare was so intense that she had to look away before responding.

"I missed you." She gave him a small smile. "But I have been missing you for much longer than I have been gone. I miss my friend. You were so much more to me than just my mate when it snapped into place and I feel like we lost that along the way. This has nothing to do with what you deserve, Azriel. I want you to know that. But right now I would really love my friend back. We can see where the future leads us later." It was not the speech she planned to give him when she thought he was still with Elain, but it was true. They both still had so much to deal with even now. She wanted to deal with it with her friend by her side though. His shoulders slumped slightly which had the mate bond clenching tightly in her chest. After a moment though, his head lifted and he gave her a brilliant smile. One she had never seen from him before and she realized she would do just about anything to see it again.

"I would love to be your friend, Gwyneth Berdara." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She let out a content sigh as she put her arms around his neck. Her head rest on his shoulder as his head lay atop hers. His shadows were moving languidly as though they were also happy.

"Can I ask a favor of you though?" He mumbled against her hair. She nodded slightly.

"Can I ask that you not touch my wings in public again?" His tone was almost pleading. She quickly looked up at him putting a couple inches between them.

"Oh gods! I'm sorry. Did it hurt? Nesta mentioned that they were sensitive once and I figured it would be the easiest way to stop you from killing Eris." She didn't mean to be too rough, but she also wasn't familiar with Illyrian wings. He gave her a sheepish look. A slight blush gracing his cheeks.

"Um, that's not what she meant by sensitive." He glanced at her before laying his head on top of hers again to avoid eye contact. "It's just not something that one does with Illyrian wings in public." There was heavy insinuation in his voice, but Gwyn could not figure out why. What could she possibly be missing?

"Well we aren't in public now? Could I do it now?" If he wouldn't outright tell her, perhaps she could threaten it out of him. She brought her hand up to his wing only for him to quickly grab it and push her away. She started to laugh as his face grew even redder. "Az, just tell me. Are you ticklish?" It was just too easy to tease him. He held both of her wrists between his hands to keep her at bay.

"Gwyn, I am begging you, which I never do if I must add, please do not touch them unless you would like to act out a scene from one of your romance novels." He truly was begging. She smiled until his words finally caught up to her. Now it was her that was blushing like crazy. Nesta was going to get an earful for being woefully stubborn with details.

"Sorry!" Was all she could splutter out like a fool. She quickly shoved her hands in her lap. Azriel began laughing very loudly as realization of what she almost did hit her. Oh, how the tables have turned she thought. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her closer, dropping a kiss on her head.

"I truly have missed you, Gwyn. Tell me everything."

+

Sometime in the future

Gwyn felt a tickle on her bare back. She tried to ignore it and go back to sleep by burying her head further into her pillow. Another tickle brushed against her. She swatted at her back which was more difficult than she wanted to admit considering she was laying on her stomach. One last tickle had her groaning as she finally popped her eyes open. She immediately gave the Shadowsinger a glare.

"I was trying to sleep." She mumbled, her voice still sleep laced. He gave her a charming smile back.

"Keep sleeping. I was just rubbing your back for you." He had the look of innocence perfected, but Gwyn new better.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he looked like that though. She moved closer to him while he laid on his side. She wrapped her arms and legs around him until she pushed him onto his back with her on top. An ornery grin graced his face as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. He began to run his hands up and down her bare thighs. It made her shutter. The warmth from his chest stopped her bare chest from being chilled by the temperature of the room. She loved waking up this way with her mate. She quickly discovered that neither of them slept too often- nightmares always finding them in their sleep. They stayed up most nights playing chess or singing or training or...doing other things. Gwyn was always curious about the scenes she read from Nesta and Emerie's romance books. Azriel was certainly willing to demonstrate for her. After one particular, evening session Gwyn profusely apologized for touching Azriel's wings in public all that time ago. It made her embarrass to know exactly how close she had been to bringing Azriel to his knees in front of all those people. She thought she might never live it down if it had happened.

"What are you thinking about?" Azriel asked while playing with Gwyn's hair. His shadows were wrapping all around her in a way that made her feel safe especially when they were being this intimate.

"You." She immediately answered with a grin while dropping a quick kiss on to his chin.

"I would hope so." He gave her one last devilish smile before leaning up to kiss her. Right as she began to grind though, Az pulled away.

"Sorry, Carynthian. That is not why I woke you." He teased. Gwyn rolled her eyes at the nickname. He loved to call her that simply to remind her of all she had accomplished. She felt he was bragging about her just a little too much.

"Well then why did you wake me?" She lifted a singular eyebrow but he only laughed her off. He sat up with her still in his lap and started to carry her towards their bathroom.

"Nyx's party will be starting soon." He set her down on the counter before getting the bath water ready. Gwyn lifted one of her legs, so that her foot could rest on the counter as well. If he was going to tease her, well then two could play at that game. Even during times like these, both of their competitive streaks came out. It was always a game to see who could get who to cave first. The look Az gave her when he turned around told her that she won this round. Before dropping to his knees in front of her though, he grabbed her face and pressed a harsh kiss to her lips.

"I love you, Gwyneth Berdara." And then she was screaming her love for Azriel, over and over again.

They were both late to the party. Neither of them cared.

The end

[mostlycompetentwriter]

The Dreamz

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Seo Changbin

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Language, Smut

Genre: Established Relationship

Summary: It’s your first Christmas with your boyfriend, Changbin. You want to make it memorable and surprise him, but maybe it’s Changbin who’s determined to make it unforgettable for you.

A/N: This was written for @clandestine-lixie​‘s Smutmas Collab!!!

You were a sentimental person at heart, and the people closest to you had always entertained your tendencies to take things to the extreme, especially when they involved your firsts.

For example, when you were barely seven-years-old, you were over-the-moon excited for your first dance recital, and you planned well in-advance for the event. You put on a pre-show for your family members exclusively in the living room of your childhood home, and you demanded that everyone dress-up for the occasion (even though it wasn’t required); and after the show, you forced your mother to take you out for dinner where you ate far too many cookies while indulging a very sugary milkshake.

And this tendency for the extreme persisted well into your older age, illuminating some of the finer memories you had of your most special moments. Like moving in with your boyfriend for the first time when you threw an impromptu party that very same evening despite Changbin wanting nothing more than to collapse on the new king-sized mattress in your bedroom. 

 But at this point, the two of you had been living together for close to six months, and since this was your first Christmas together with Changbin in the brand new apartment you had leased together, you were determined to make it memorable.

Too bad Changbin was making things far more difficult than they needed to be, and you would think the man would know the finer details of Christmas tree decorating.

“No, Bin,” you sighed. “You can’t just put all the ornaments in the same area! They have to be spread out.”

Changbin chuckled when you snatched away the adorable BB8 ornament he had been attempting to perch next to the other droid. 

“Maybe you should do it instead,” Changbin suggested, and he was clearly amused at your frazzled attempts to decorate the Christmas tree.

“We should do it together,” you insisted, taking a step back to scrutinize the work you had completed thus far. “It’s important to make our first Christmas memorable.”

“Oh, I can make it memorable,” Changbin said with a cheeky wink, and he sat down behind you on one of the loveseats surrounding the fireplace. “We should start a new tradition,” Changbin continued, and he waited until you had adjusted a few more ornaments in place before giving him your undivided attention.

“What kind of tradition?”

“Let’s open one present tonight, babe,” Changbin said, and he was next to you in a second, reaching for one of the packages from the back. “Unwrap this.”

“Oh?” you huffed, accepting the present from him. “It sounds like you were already planning for this to happen.”

“Well?” Changbin shrugged. “We used to do this when I was a kid, so I thought you might like it...”

You sighed, feeling an insurmountable weakness for Changbin’s pout. “Fine,” you agreed, and you surveyed the pile of presents you had purchased for Changbin conglomerated together. “Open this one,” you said, locating a familiar package.

“You first,” Changbin said, and he pulled you down onto his lap with his present discarded next to him; clearly, this was meant for him to enjoy just as much as you.

“Eager tonight?” you teased him.

“This gives me reason to be,” Changbin said with eyes that were literally sparkling with mischief, and you were careful with the wrapping paper while finding yourself thoroughly amused by Changbin’s excitement.

“What is it, anyway?” you questioned aloud, reaching the small black box that had previously been hidden by the bright red paper. 

“You should find out,” Changbin suggested, even though he was already a step ahead of you in removing the tape holding the edges in place.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” you asked, feigning annoyance as you sorted through the tissue paper, feeling yourself start to frown when your fingertips touched what felt like the most delicate satin that you had ever encountered.

But the texture of the gift wasn’t enough to keep you from over-reacting to the scandalous revelation of what had been waiting inside the gift wrap. “Changbin!” you screeched, tossing aside the lingerie like it had physically burned you.

“Hey!” Changbin protested. “That was expensive!”

“You bought me lingerie!” you hissed, flinching away when he dangled the very tiny pair of black panties in front of your eyes. 

“You’ll look sexy in this,” Changbin purred, and he encouraged you to take it from him. “Will you try it on for me?”

“Try it on?” you repeated, hesitantly accepting the thin piece of fabric that might as well have been nonexistent.

“It’s a matching set,” Changbin said, and he reached over for the strapless bra that happened to be lined with a very delicate lace pattern. “I had a store associate help me find it.”

“You went shopping around a lingerie store with an associate?” you questioned, feeling a spike of unjustified jealousy. “She didn’t model it for you, did she?”

Changbin snorted. “No, my model is right here,” he said, taking your hand to fold the other barely-there piece of intimate fabric into your hand. “Please, baby?”

Had you already pointed out your weakness for his pout?

“Alright,” you agreed, whining at Changbin’s outlandish enthusiasm to see you practically naked in your living room. 

Ten minutes later, you found yourself fidgeting nervously in front of the floor-length mirror in your bedroom, tugging at the straps of Changbin’s gracious gift for you.

“Is it supposed to be this small?” you wondered because the panties barely covered your ass and the lacy top did little to protect your cleavage from practically spilling over the top.

“Y/N!” Changbin sing-songed from the living room. “Are you ready?”

“Give me a second,” you called out, huffing under your breath at the absurdity of the circumstances. “This ‘gift’ of yours isn’t very practical,” you continued once you left the bedroom and made the short walk to the living room where Changbin was waiting.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Changbin said, and his eyes were already glossed over as they remained glued to your form.

“Hey! It doesn’t even fit right,” you complained, but you could tell the comment wasn’t even registering in Changbin’s lust--addled brain as he looked you over with a dark, studious gaze.

“You’re gorgeous,” Changbin eventually remarked, pulling you closer in spite of your protests.

You found yourself standing in between his thighs, trying not to shiver at the touch of his hands on your waist even though the fire was burning right behind you. “It doesn’t cover much,” you said, resisting the urge to wrap your arms around your torso.

“Exactly,” Changbin exhaled, and you rolled your eyes at the little things that impressed him. “Your tits look amazing.”

“Changbin!” you whined again, but this time he laughed and encouraged you to straddle his lap. “Is this really a gift for me?”

“Of course!” Changbin insisted, even as he maintained the appearance of someone who had just won the lottery, running his hands across your ass and up your waist to cup your breasts. “Come here,” he whispered, urging you to connect your lips with his in a heated kiss that betrayed the extent of the damage that your little show had done to Changbin’s arousal. 

“You’re hard,” you said against the taste of him, rolling your hips against his own just to feel the friction of his clothed erection against your clit.

“Can’t help it,” Changbin said, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair with a growl, pulling you lower so that he could speak directly into your ear. “Bend over the couch for me.”

You whimpered at the request, but you forced your legs to work in an effort to lift yourself from Changbin’s lap. It was hard to focus, feeling more and more wetness gather between your legs at his intense stare following you while you positioned yourself for him. “Like this?” you asked in a hushed tone, resting your hips against the arm of the couch and spreading your legs even further apart.

“Yeah,” Changbin agreed, and you could feel yourself growing excited when you heard his footsteps nearing you, hands rough as they gripped your hips in a vice-like hold. “Such a good girl for me.”

You nodded your head - it was the only thing you could do when Changbin was in this kind of mood. Because his desire for you promised all sorts of erotic temptations, and you could barely contain yourself when he started to roll your panties down your legs, fingertips following a sensual trail that left goosebumps in their wake. His actions were sultry and smooth, but there was a degree of hurried anticipation that had you swallowing hard when two of his fingers found their way inside of your already dripping cunt. 

“Fuck,” Changbin cursed, and you could only agree while cherishing the glide of his fingers against the walls of your pussy, stretching you out for him in just the way you liked. Because it made you feel full and desperate, and you were rolling your hips back against his shallow penetrations, allowing you to do most of the work while he no doubt watched from above with the same dark eyes that had reduced you to a moaning mess. 

“Changbin,” you managed around a groan. “Please fuck me.”

“Can I?” Changbin asked, but you knew the question was meant to tease you - a test to see just how fast you could thrust back on his fingers, crying out when he curled them just right to brush against your sweet spot. “Are you ready for my cock?” 

“Yes!” you sobbed, and Changbin was generous enough to have mercy on you in this pathetic state, pushing down his sweatpants just enough to free his erection, rubbing the tip against your entrance.

“I’m gonna ruin this pussy,” Changbin promised with a rough growl that was followed by the sudden slam of his cock deep inside, and he didn’t bother to wait for you to adjust to his generous girth, pulling back out before settling into a powerful and non-relenting pace that had you already seeing stars.

It was sudden, but generous, and you couldn’t help but think that his cock was made for you, stretching your tender pussy so well, accommodating his length and girth as your walls hugged his erection in a desperate attempt to keep him inside forever. Because it was where he belonged, and you were certain that there was no better situation than the one you found yourself in - splitting in half around Changbin’s cock as he pummeled his hips against your own, bruising your delicate waist and ass with his overzealous touches.

“We’re definitely keeping this set,” Changbin said, ignoring your whimper of pain when he snapped the band of your panties into place, toying with the lace around the edges. 

“Changbin,” you said. “I’m close.”

“Me too, baby,” Changbin said, but it was hard to tell since he hadn’t let up once in his brutal thrusts - like he was determined to reach as far as possible, touching places that he had never felt before, stuffing your pussy full of his cock while grunting with the effort of his movements. 

It was all a masterful trap to reduce you to nothing but tears, and you soon found yourself teetering on the precipice, sensing your orgasm just out of reach, until Changbin maneuvered his hand down between the couch where you both remained connected, flicking his thumb across your clit in a series of measured strokes that lit the flame of arousal threatening to burn you alive from the inside.

You cried out when your orgasm hit, reaching out to support yourself against the cushions while Changbin continued to chase his own high, stimulating you just right while you rode out the waves of pleasure before crashing against the shore - feeling utterly exhausted while he started to move you on his own, and there was a renewed strength as he moved you up and down his cock, faster and faster until you thought you might cum again from the effort.

But then Changbin’s hips stuttered against yours, and you could feel the evidence of his release as it warmed your insides. “Y/N,” Changbin gasped, and you took some personal triumph in the fact that he sounded out of breath, even after visiting the gym that morning. 

“Binnie,” you said with a mischievous smirk, collecting your breath and thoughts while he recovered from behind you. “Are there anymore lingerie sets under our tree?”

You knew it was a dangerous question, capable of setting him off once more, but Changbin merely collected you against his chest with a strong arm around your waist, lips brushing against the side of your neck. “Baby, I can promise you that you won’t be able to walk if I have one more go at this pussy.”

You moaned when his hand reached down to cup your heat over the very thin fabric of your new panties, sending you a very obvious message because Changbin never broke his promises. “Should we call it an early night?” you asked, turning around his arms to connect your lips. “The faster we go to sleep, the sooner it’ll be Christmas.”

“Shower and bed?” Changbin asked, holding you close while brushing his fingers through your hair. 

“Just your average Christmas Eve,” you said, and you could feel his smirk against your lips as he kissed you with the remnants of the passion from your earlier coupling, solidifying the fact that your first Christmas with Changbin was, indeed, nothing short of memorable.

[magalidragon]

So this is in response to a prompt ask I got awhile back from @freesoulladyaic— they requested beauty underneath and I am not sure exactly what but I think there was a mixup for which prompt list and number was requested so I went with the one I thought made most sense I hope you don’t mind and so sorry it has been so long! Enjoy!

Prompt: “I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too.”

"Fuck!"

"Language."

Jon looked up from where he'd stabbed his thumb with a pin, a series of them stuck between his lips.  He made a face at his wife, who was on the other side of the room, working on another dress form.  He lifted up the yards of shades of red soft organza and tulle, which he'd been alternating in a macrame styling on the bodice of the gown.  He'd been pinning them to the waist, already marked on the form.  It was giving it a very ethereal look, but with the deep colors, indicative of the Targaryen crest, the overlay looked equal parts ash and fire.

He finished off the bodice, taking the remaining pins from his mouth, and turned the form, frowning at the back, where he wanted to make the two straps criss-crossing from shoulder to waist thicker, both in black.  The red was just the detailing.  He pursed his lips, contemplating how best to achieve this, and felt eyes on him.  He lifted his, meeting Dany's gaze across the studio.  He smirked.  "What?"

"You're so focused, so intense."  She licked her lips, arching her brow teasingly. She purred, "You know what that does to me."

"Keep it in your pants, we've got dresses to finish."

"Hmm, the auteur himself, Jon Snow, working on his creation."  She sauntered over, in her long black housecoat, which she wore when working, her feet bare on the hardwood and jeans rolled at the cuffs.  Her hair was bound up in a scarf, kept from her eyes while she worked.  It was a decidedly unsexy look, measuring tape over her shoulder, pincushion strapped to her wrist and her pockets heavy with thread and a little set of scissors tucked into a brace on her other wrist, like she was some sort of sewing superhero.

He smirked up at her, the stool he was on swiveling over to her.  "Well I promised the client that I would have my best men on it."  He puffed his chest.  "And that happens to be me."

"Funny, I thought I was the client."

"You are, what do you think so far?"  He chewed his bottom lip, studying her face as she perused the fabric draped and pinned to the form.  He pretended like her opinion meant nothing to him, but in reality it was the only one that mattered.  If there was even a hint of dislike, he'd destroy the entire thing and start again.  It worked both ways.

She trailed a finger along the macrame detailing, the straps across the back, and lifted up the tulle strewn along the floor.  On the table he had sketches of the design, fabric samples pinned to a board on an easel, and at least one of the leather leggings he'd been sewing to go underneath.  While she studied everything, he got up, too nervous to watch her, and went into the adjoining office, picking up his vape.

Clamping his lips around it, he puffed, holding it in his mouth like a 'binkie' as Dany teased him, and picked up some sales reports, flicking through the assessments from their CFO.  They'd poached Willas Tyrell from his grandmother, mostly because he was bored with the steadiness of the established company and wanted something new.  He was brilliant, had taken their sales higher than even Jon had imagined-- and that was pretty far.

Dragonwolf had become the most sought after couture house in Westeros, while he transitioned L.Stark into an upscale ready-to-wear line, headed by Sansa.  Dany still maintained her CEO position over Dracarys, but Missandei had taken over as creative director.  It afforded him more time, he'd discovered, to do the things he really enjoyed doing.

Hanging out with Ghost, coming up with new creations, and Dany, not necessarily in that order.

He sucked down the fake smoke from the vape, tricking his brain it was actually a real cigarette, the action habitual and relaxing his nerves.  He sank into his chair, glancing at the photo of his mother he kept on the edge of the desk, smiling briefly at the image of her laughing, arms around him as he was wrapped up in fabric from playing in her studio.  His gaze darted to the image right beside it, of Dany in the same pose, hugging him after she had wrapped him up in fabric too.  It was in the same place, the same location he'd just come from, their private studio in the old townhome in Winterfell.

The vape still between his lips, he moved to the window, cranking it open and blowing smoke into the nighttime air, glancing towards the castle up on the hill.  The dresses were for the annual Winter's Eve Gala event, something of a who's who in the zoo of the Westerosi peerage and entertainment industry.  It was a chance for the Starks to show off the castle, everyone to arrive dripping in icy couture and jewels, and pretend like they gave a shit about the lesser people among them. There would be a famous silent auction, fundraising for the Lyanna Stark Memorial Fund-- which was incredibly important to his heart-- along with an award that would honor someone who had contributed significantly to Lyanna's chosen cause-- orphaned children.

But the thing people seemed to care most about was what everyone would be wearing.

He was making Dany's dress and she was making a dress for a new young actress as well as the young cousin of her friend Ser Jorah Mormont.  Lyanna Mormont was a Lady, technically, but you wouldn't know it.  She was a pistol.  This would be her first big event after her first movie had hit the scene, garnering her immediate raves and attention.  It was a big deal for her to be getting a chance to wear a Dracarys creation, especially handmade by Dany herself, but it was the least Dany said she could do for the young girl who made her smile and laugh every single time she encountered her.

Jon finished his vape, returning to the studio, and found Dany back to work on Lyanna's dress.  There were no notes left for him, so he continued to work, both of them silent.  He kept at it, accepting her kiss and murmured "don't stay up too late" with a distracted nod, remaining at his station into the night.  He pinned and draped and sewed, every stitch even, like his mother taught him.

Around two in the morning, his eyes burned, but he leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk, and Ghost under his legs, fast asleep.  He was working on the leggings, finding hand-sewing leather to actually be a relaxing task.  It was soft in his hands, buttery almost, and he likened it to his mother, watching her work on making her own riding clothes.  He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, and pulled on thread, slipping it in and out, until his eyes drooped further and further, until he was fast asleep.

--

The suit he'd chosen to wear was one of Dany's. The irony of L.Stark by Jon Snow, award winning and bestselling couture men's designer wearing a suit from anyone but his own line, especially Dracarys.  It was something he never would have thought possible two years ago when they were at the height of their hatred for each other.  Nay, he corrected himself, it wasn't hating, it was unresolved tension, best resolved by the explosion most everyone witnessed at the MET gala.

He adjusted his tie in the mirror, smoothing the velvet brocade over his chest, eyeing Ghost, who looked like he wanted to run up to him.  He pointed his finger, warning.  "No way. This is black velvet.  I'll never get your fur out."

Ghost wagged his tail, thankfully staying put on the bed.

Indeed, it was an incredibly comfortable and finely detailed suit, black silk tie with matching black velvet brocade along it-- if you got close enough you could see it was wolves and dragons running and tangling throughout, swirls of flames and snow following them.  That was a hallmark of Dany-- her ability to tell stories with her designs and the intricacies of her attention to detail.

He left their room, knowing she was elsewhere in the suite at Winterfell, where they'd deigned to stay that evening to prepare for the event.  He thought it a little silly; they would have to pretend to "leave" just to "arrive" at the same location and walk up the icy blue carpet with photographers.

Price they paid, he supposed, for business.

He left the suite, taking his time down the set of stone stairs spiraling down from their sitting and bedroom areas, into a receiving hall.  Davos was already waiting, their constant taskmaster, and he had Satin floating about somewhere.  "Where's Arya?" he asked.

"I believe she said and I quote 'fuck this shit, I'm not going.'"

He snorted, fixing his cufflinks.  "Sounds about right."

Davos checked his watch.  "I'll go check on the car."

"Stupid Davos, this is stupid."

"It's just a whip around the block."  Davos nodded, signing, resigned.  "Although aye, it is stupid."

"What's stupid?"

Jon heard Dany's voice before he saw her, and turned, looking up the stairs to where she was at the top, waiting for him.  He gaped, mute, and jaw dropping the moment his eyes rested on her form.  It took his brain a second to catch up with his body, which was already responding in kind, and another second for his voice to return.

He choked, watching her smirk at him, knowing exactly how she appeared and what she was doing.  Especially with the slow descent she took, every step tiny, allowing the full effect of her appearance to settle.  He could not believe it.

It was one thing to see a dress on paper, another in progress, and even the final version on the form or on a model down the runway.

It was another when it was on the person who inspired it, who it was meant for, from the first sketch to the final stitch.

Dany floated down the stairs, the dress whispering around her, the crimson and black rippling through the soft tulle.  It gave her a fairy-like appearance, but it was the black macrame, the black strappy heels on her feet, and her black fingernails, leather leggings, and crimson lips that warned eveyrone she was no simpering little thing.  She would burn you alive.

The skirt floated about her and she had topped it off with the see-through tulle gloves he'd made at the last minute.  Her silver tresses were spun in a complicated braided style, mountains of them criss-crossing and tangling in a crown about her head.

Someone asked her once why she always wore her hair in such intricate braids-- it had become her trademark.  "When I was growing up I learned a lot about the Dothraki tradition of a braid for a victory," she explained.  She had smirked.  "I grew up with the Dothraki.  They were my family.  I have never been defeated.  The braids show that."

Jon couldn't believe how gorgeous she was.

Or how lucky he happened to be.

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, found his voice.  "You know, I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too."

Dany beamed, her smile beatific.  She offered her elbow to him, to take and lead her away to their car, but instead he lifted her hand delicately, even though that had was stronger than anyone would have thought at first look.  Eyes on hers, unblinking, he dragged his fingertips up the tulle, delighting in her breathy hiss.

He dipped under the top of the glove, above her elbow, and began to peel it down, agonizingly slow.  Her pupils dilated and mouth fell, her tongue darting out to nervously wet her lips.  He plucked at fingers, removing the glove.  With her skin bared, he stroked her forearm and then lifted her knuckles to his lips, brushing over them.

"Jon," she gasped, brows arching.  "We're going to be late."

"Do you think I care?"

"It took forever to get into this dress and look like this."

He spun her into his arms, tossing the glove down, and nosed at her neck, whispering along her racing pulse.  "I made the dress, I'll be careful."

"Not a word in your vocabulary."

He didn't acknowledge that, because he was kissing her.  After a moment, he lifted her under her knees, hurrying her back towards the stairs, to her delighted giggles.

Occupational hazard, he thought, later when they were late, racing down the carpet instead of allowing photos taken.  He made her the dresses, even though honestly, she looked good in anything.  Or nothing, as the case may be.

"Dany, who are you wearing?" someone called out.

Dany shouted back.  "Who do you think?"

He laughed, racing after her and not even bothering to answer the same question directed at him.