#great thing about this mask is that i sized it to fit over my glasses :)

[asuiru]

2 steps into making an okami gijinka cosplay

[thatsnotmygunflash]

Why oh why am I obsessed with the idea of Len meeting Henry in prison and hearing stories about little Barry Allen. Thinking about how terrible it must be to have such a loving father locked up for the murder of his own wife. To have him build respect and a friendship with Henry, maybe even offer him a get-out-of-jail-free card when Len plans to break out. Henry says no, of course, because only guilty men run and he couldn't do that to his son. They part as friends and Len always has Henry Allen aka the best father to ever walk the earth in the back of his mind.

So its like a knife to the gut to hear the name of the boy Henry talked about so proudly fall from Cisco's trembling lips.

He almost killed Doc's son. He almost killed Doc's son.

He let Cisco and his brother go while he tried to figure out his next move. Going up against the Flash was thrilling, intoxicating, everything he had ever dreamed of and more, but knowing sweet little Barry Allen was under the mask had him rethinking everything he knew.

Barry Allen, who took on bullies twice his size for other helpless kids. Who loved dinosaurs and singing with his mom in the car. Who held the key to the only happiness Henry had left. He felt sick. He's heard every story Henry could find the time to tell about this boy, this boy who lost his mother in the worst way possible, who spent every day of his life fighting for his father's freedom.

When Mick and Lisa ask what the plan is, when they demand to know the Flash’s identity, Len froze. Stuck between being another heartless villain in an innocent kid's life or being a silent hero and keeping the Doc's kid safe from the likes of himself and his family.

In the end, it's the start of his undoing. Choosing the role of silent hero in that moment, keeping Barry safe and alive, agreeing to their deal, playing his part all while making sure nothing happened to this broken boy.

When his chance to be a real hero comes along, he doesn't go see Barry or Lisa. He headed to a little cabin in the middle of nowhere and knocked on the door with a bottle of scotch in one hand.

Henry looked different on the outside, his face lighter, tanner. The prison jumpsuit Len had become familiar with was replaced by loose jeans and a flannel shirt.

"Long time no see Doc, mind if I come in?" Len offered out the bottle, stepping over the threshold when Henry accepted it with a small nod.

"As long as you leave any weapons at the door, you'll always be welcome here, Leonard."

"Even after I shot your son?" Len questioned, tilting his head when Henry let out a deep sigh at his words.

"So you do know." Henry muttered, setting the bottle down on the kitchen table and pushing a chair out for Len to have a seat before he headed to the cabinet for two glasses.

"He didn't tell you?" Len asked as he took a seat at the small wooden table pushed against the kitchen wall.

"There's a lot of things my son doesn't tell me about his other job, for my own protection." Henry said as he joined him at the table, pouring them each a generous portion of the scotch.

"That why you moved all the way out here? All you ever talked about was getting to spend time with your son again, Doc. Why aren't you?" Len palmed his glass as he awaited Henry's answer, sliding a finger over the smooth surface of the rim. Henry took a slow drink, his eyes growing sad and distant as he stared down into the honey-colored liquor.

"Barry has a life, a great life that he does a lot of good in. I don't really think I fit into that life."

"Maybe not this time around, but what if I told you I could change that?"

Henry looked up at Len's cryptic words, searching eyes dancing and a thoughtful frown pulling on his mouth.

"Why are you here, Leonard?"

"I've been offered an exciting opportunity, one where I can make some real changes in the world." If he played his cards right he could change things to play in both of their favors. "I believe you and I deserve more than the hand we were dealt. I think Barry deserves to have his father in his life, I think I deserve not to."

"Leonard, why are you here?" Henry asked again.

"To say goodbye." Len paused, thinking about why exactly he was sitting here. "To thank you, I guess."

"For what?"

"Too much, so let's just keep it at a thank you."

"Leonard-"

"I'll see you around Doc, take care of yourself." Len knocked his knuckles against the surface of the table as he stood, heading towards the door with Henry following close at his heels.

"Leonard, what are you going to do?"

Len is already at the door, one hand on the doorknob and a secretive smirk dancing on his lips.

"Nothing you need to worry about Doc, and if you see your son, tell him...tell him I'm taking his advice."

"Advise about what?"

Len pulled the door open, casting a small, hopeful smile back at his old friend.

"See you in the next life, Henry."

[ask-paradox-and-friends]

Okay so I've been seeing several videos about the arts of and representation of diffrent fighting styles I decided to throw my hat into the ring about fighters. So I'll set up some fighting game fighter concepts and yall can give me name though asks! Also yes there's a tournament so far all I have is a massively illegal anything goes tournament with a massive cash prize finally becomes public after 50 years and so people from over the world set out to get the money.

A large bulky and fat somewhat muscular woman wearing tucked in Jeans thick boots suspenders and a tucked in shirt that says in a mixture of Japanese and American simply says 'if lost please return to SISTER' her story and reason for fighting is simple her sister is a Gajin with a love for Japanese culture and history to the point she's living in Japan as a history teacher and English language tutor in Tosa but she wanted to be a respected wrestler in Japan but due to regulations and traditions combined with her high metabolism she was unable to gain the weight or size needed to succeed in any sport so her simple and rather thick skinned loving younger sister set out to learn Sumo through recordings of national fights and wrestling from her retired uncle in Texas she took her sister's stage name and wandered around participating in all street fights she can to make her sister proud.

A Local drunk one day durning a massive dui gets arrested and loses his license after a year in jail and getting evicted he sold all his possessions to try and drown his sorrows over the fact that while getting into prison riots he was beaten so many times he was suffering severe self confidence issues he one day gets super plastered he gets ran over by a limo and gets dragged to a church and cared for by a nun and her group of children she watches over. After 6 years of recovering growing stronger by showing the children the things he learned in jail to let the children defend themselves he soon hears about the tournament while getting drunk again and getting into a massive bar brawl he in a brilliant move he steals a limo and a passport to get to the tournament. His goal? 'Win the tournament and give all the money to the people who took him in.'

An unknown person wearing a thick metal mask that only showed what seemed to be a flash of yellowed teeth. This individual is wearing white pants stained with mud a white shirt covered in patches of brown and black a large tattered purple cloak and worn gloves that showed scared callous knuckles showing improperly healed fingers. Noone who they are. Noone knows why they're here. All anyone hears from this being is odd rasps and growing snarls.

A high-school boy still wearing his uniform looming too pale and skinny to look threatening with clearly dyed hair that was a deep cyan in color with broken glasses held together by tape bandaid cracked lenses and the arms being replaced with ropes that were mixed with thick and strong steel woven rope. Missing at least 3 teeth this troubled teen who despite his nerdy look is full of aggression and a drive with fire in his eyes. He wants the victory he believes he deserves for a quote 'reason' he seems to have geekish hobbies.

A very tall very skinny elongated geezer wearing a very loose fitting pair of trousers and flowing shirt only held on his body through a series of belts the old man has no lips and always has a smile on his face. Prone to random bouts of laughter he has used face paint to make his face for a reason he says makes sense. His hair is matted and unkempt with his teeth being long and sharp as he also has claw like long fingernails. He is oddly flexible despite his age. He is prone to shrieking if in great pain.

A model who was well loved for their androgynous appearance and the ability to look like any kind of man or woman with the right make up and clothes. After being the poster child of body dysmorphyia after being falsely accused of things they would never do they had gone down a downwards spiral after finding the ones who falsely acused them and got them to confess the world and media that once defended the accuser soon tried to find the accused only to find the years of bullying and ridicule drove them to extreme body modification and large spiraling tattoos. The tattoos looking like a massive Canavas of artwork only boosted by the piercings and their body modifications now taking an oddly unknown and unnatural angle or grace and beauty in their own way. They are in the tournament as one last final PR move to show the world who they created.

[atlasphoebus]

MOURNING JEWELLERY - GARY THE CAT

We knew for a while that our family cat, Gary's days were numbered as he started to deteriorate about a year ago. Within a few weeks it became so much worse to the point where we finally had to decide to put him down. I knew that this would be a great opportunity to be able to do something to not only be able to memorialise him forever, but also to be able to make him a part of my work. I collected some of his fur and ordered a variety of sizes of glass cabochons. I chose the 2mm oval size as I thought it was a good size for a pendant that is large enough to have details visible but small enough that it isn't cumbersome to wear. I began sculpting the little claw feet/lions paws and made the setting for the cabochon to go into. The paws are based off of the lion's paw claw footed bathtubs, something I grew up with and has a design that is so regal that it was only appropriate to give Gary the status of a luxurious lion. I did have to experiment with the heating of the NSP clay, however, as it needs to be microwaved before it's soft enough to use for fine sculpting, to make sure that it wasn't so soft that it was a paste. Eventually I found that 40 seconds was enough, coupled with the heat of the afternoon sun on my desk. Making this pendant was the first time in quite a few years that I had used NSP clay again to use so it's quite refreshing to be using a different type of clay to the usual polymer clay. Each clay comes with their own personalities and qualities that is part of the learning process, something I am having to relearn about this clay in particular. After using polymer clay for so long, it's easy to forget its plastic consistency, where the NSP clay has much more stickiness and oiliness when it's warmer, so the temperature of the clay is essential in it's sculpting and smoothing process. I wove the hair by arranging small tufted strands and wetting them to keep them individual, and then laying them out on a piece of masking tape to hold them in place. I did the same on another piece of masking tape, totalling 9 strands on the vertical weave and 5 on the horizontal weave. Very slowly and carefully, I used one of my long pointed sculpting tools to pick up the strands and weave them together, keeping the entire thing wet during the process so they would slide smoothly over each other and not get stuck or tangled. I wove them until the cabochon fit over top. I then stuck some masking tape on the back and glue in between and waited for it to dry before cutting it to the shape of the cabochon. After fitting it all together, the sculpt of the pendant was ready to be molded and cast.

[ramp-it-up]

The Fit and The Feel

Day 13 of #RampItUp1Kinktober

​​Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader (“Penny”)

Summary: You are Chris’s tailor on set. Are you tailor made for him?

1Kinktober Kink: Size Kink

Word Count 4.1K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. SMUT! Read at your own risk, pining, innuendo, workplace relationships, size difference, bratty behavior, dirty talk, flirting, size kink, fingering, oral (m/f receiving) pleasurable pain during sex, crying kink, creampie, Daddy kink. Unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!) Not Beta’d. All errors my own. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

A/N: This is for the 13th DAY of #rampitup1Kinktober! TYSM for following me! 🧡

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

“Um… this is too. Small. Doesn’t fit.”

Chris was standing just inside the door of your trailer with the genital guard in his hand. He was beet red. He looked down and rubbed his hand over his buzz cut head.

“Breathe,” You had to tell yourself as you were about to let out a squeak. Damn, he was cute.

You were the tailor/wardrobe manager on set, and Rita, the head designer, had sent him to you.

Normally, Chris would have his own personal costumer and tailor, but this was a low budget film.

Chris still loved to make those.

You flushed when you saw what was in his hand. This was awkward. You waved at him. Like an idiot.

“Ummm. Hi, Mr. Evans..I’m…”

Chris cut you off.

“I know your name, we met on the first day.” He smiled at you.

“But I haven’t spoken to you again and now I’m here to tell you…”

“…That your cock sock doesn’t fit.”

You both laughed nervously.

Then you went into work mode.

You tried to remain professional as you held the appliance up. It was 10 inches long. You looked back at Chris, trying to mask the expression on your face.

“I’m sorry Mr. Evans, but it’s made of silk for maximum slip because of the scene. The fabric doesn’t have any give. This is the standard size.”

That and the white tailor’s pencils in your braid bun and your reading glasses, you looked cute as fuck to Chris.

He’d admired your skill and your professionalism on set since the first day he saw you. It didn’t hurt that your ass was great, too.

You seemed to be a good person, you got along with everyone, and were sweet and funny. You were a highly skilled colleague, and he needed to be a professional.

But Chris was lowkey checking for you, and you had no idea. You are a tiny little thing, barely 5 feet to his 6, and for some reason that turned him the fuck on. Professionalism aside, he wanted you.

He’d planned on asking for your number after filming was wrapped since it was such a short shoot. 28 days. Looks like he just blew the remaining 14.

“How much more room do you need?”

Chris looked down and rubbed the back of his neck.

“About two inches.”

“Okay.”

You fought to hide a smirk.

“And about two inches in width.”

You coughed to cover a surprised exclamation.

“Really?”

You could not hide it anymore.

Chris looked up to see your face, mouth open. He blushed and smiled a little, eyebrow shooting up.

“You see, it’s the way it hangs…”

Your face was priceless. The smile grew; Chris liked making you uncomfortable.

“You wanna measure me?”

He took a step toward you and reached for the button on his jeans. You held your hand up.

“No need, Mr. Evans.”

You did outright stare at his crotch. Hey, it was your job. You looked back up at him, and bit your lip. Buzz cut, beard, and a big dick. Heaven help you.

“Can I just…?”

You moved toward him, holding out the genital guard toward his crotch.

“Oh. Yes. Sure.”

You held it up in front of the bulge in his jeans, a look of concentration on your face. You were very close to him and looking at his junk. And when you looked back up at him… breathe, damnit.

“I’m sorry, I need to…”

Chris caught your meaning, and straightened up.

“No worries. It’s your job, right?”

You looked back up at the deeper timbre and tone of his voice. That look. Whew.

“Yes. And for me, it’s all about the fit and the feel.”

Chris raised his eyebrow at you as you got down on your knees and pressed the appliance up against his bulge. Chris had to concentrate very hard and not look down at you on your knees in front of him.

But then you asked him a question.

“Is this how it’s normally… situated?”

You pursed your lips instead of biting your bottom one.

Chris looked down and chuckled as you felt him up. His blue eyes were twinkling.

“Are you asking me if this is how it hangs?”

“Well…”

He looked back up and spoke to the air.

“It hangs differently without anything on of course. Do you need…”

“I can extrapolate, thanks.”

You started to get up and Chris offered you his hand. You stared at it for a split second, and then took it. You stood up and noticed that it took a while for him to drop your hand.

You backed up. And he released it.

“So… I’ll fix this and have it back to you…”

You looked up in the air.

“… by lunchtime? I’ll make sure it fits.”

Chris paused at the image. “Cool.”

“Ok. Bye Mr. Evans.”

Chris nodded and turned to leave.

“You should probably call me Chris. Since… you know.”

You laughed. “Right. Bye Chris.”

He left and you shook it off, compartmentalizing to get your work done. You got it done and had a PA deliver it. You were not about to be sidetracked.

Two days later, you were called to the set for wardrobe. Chris was sitting in his chair studying his script. It was the infamous cock sock scene.

“Mr…Chris.”

You remembered his request when those blue eyes regarded you and that eyebrow shot up.

Did he have makeup on? Since when we’re his lips so red, his lashes so long? Fuck. You needed to get your head in the game

“I’m here to check…”

“How it’s hanging?”

“The fit and the feel.”

You grinned at him as he stood up and opened his robe. Chris felt like a flasher as your eyes slid from his face down his body. Damn he was hot.

Your eyes widened as you saw the majesty of what he was working with. You twisted your head to the side

You cleared your throat and remembered to breathe.

“I see what you meant.”

Your eyes flicked up to his and back down again. He was huge and thick and… bent a little bit. That must be an interesting ride.

“Looks good. Does it fit? How does it feel?”

Chris shifted and coughed.

“Good. It feels good.”

“Do you think will stay on? It’s a pretty rough scene.”

“Yeah, I think it will.” Chris was smiling at you. You tried to maintain composure. “You did good work.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at Chris and he smiled back as he re-tied his robe.

“5 minutes everyone! Places!” the AD called out.

You went around and checked in with the other actors about their appliances. This would be one doozy of an orgy scene.

When you were done, Chris motioned to his chair. You noticed how big his hand was. Of course.

“Have a seat. See how your handiwork holds up.”

You smiled and climbed onto his seat, feeling special.

You knew from experience that sex scenes weren’t sexy to film, but you found yourself jealous of he actors working Chris on this one.

You and Chris developed a friendship after that, talking and getting to know each other on set, on the verge of flirting, but not quite. One big thing you learned was that he was a giant goofball.

That didn’t deter you from having erotic dreams about what was under the appliance. The sheer size of it made you thirsty as hell. And now that master cock was attached to a pretty neat person.

You were doomed.

Chris fantasized about having you on your knees again. He jerked off at night to the memory of you looking up at him, but he was friendly and professional on set. He couldn’t wait for production to end.

Two weeks later at the wrap party, you walked into the venue looking fly in a form fitting top and leather skirt that you designed yourself.

Your braids were loose and swinging down to your ass, and you felt electric. You wanted to look good for… yourself.

You sat at the bar and ordered a beer, and turned around to see Chris heading straight for you. You smiled at him and he stopped. Then you frowned.

Chris was bowled over. He forgot to breathe. You looked amazing. He remembered how to walk and continued toward you.

“So. How’s it hanging Evans?”

Chris ordered a beer and rolled his eyes.

“You’ve been waiting 14 days to say that, haven’t you?”

“You know it.”

You laughed and toasted up when his drink came.

Chris checked you out, openly now.

“Did you make this?”

Chris’s finger on the hand that held the bottle traced the seam on your skirt. You shivered as you took another drink.

You perked up, sitting up straighter.

“Yep! Cost just $12.95. Plus tax for the old leather pants at the thrift store.“

You smoothed the top down over your torso and Chris watched appreciatively.

“You had me until you added the tax. Not worth it.”

He laughed, downed his beer and motioned for another.

You hit his arm and laughed too.

“Fuck You!”

He raised his eyebrow at you.

“No but for real. It’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Thanks! I love tailoring clothes for my self. The fit is perfect.”

You ran your hands down your skirt to your thighs.

“And the feel is sublime.”

Chris took another drink while his eyes scanned your body.

“I bet it is.”

You and Chris held each other’s gaze until you hopped off the barstool. And you both held your breath.

Late 90’s and 2000’s R&B music had started playing for a whole set according to the dj.

You grabbed his hand and started to try and drag his big, lanky ass. He was resisting, just sitting there like you were a fly on his hand as he lounged and drank his beer. You were pulling with all of your strength but it didn’t phase him.

“Let’s dance!”

Chris finished his second beer and grinned at you, finally getting up and allowing you to pull him to the dance floor.

He started moving and you could tell he was into it. But it just didn’t look good.

“Hold up hold up. Wait wait wait!”

You listened for your favorite part of the song where the artist tells the audience to clap.

“Now clap, Christopher. No. ON BEAT!”

You were rolling laughing at his goofy ass.

“I thought you were a tap dancer? You have to have some rhythm in there somewhere! ”

Chris was leaving in close to hear what you were saying. Very close. His lips were almost on your neck. Then he leaned back.

“I AM a tap dancer.”

“Then tap. I wanna see something.”

He rolled his eyes. “I normally don’t do it in demand, but you’re cute.”

He started tapping to the beat and he was pretty good.

“You’re getting it. See how that feels? Now just stay in rhythm with your legs, but not so much and add your upper body.”

Chris commenced to flailing around. You cracked up. He was a giant dork. And that made you like him even more. You just turned around and started to whine on him, feeling more of what what’s underneath the cock sock.

He could handle that.

“See. We fit together. You feel so good against me.”

Chris in your ear was everything.

30 minutes later you were slow dancing, and looking up into his impossible blue eyes.

Chris leaned down to your ear.

“Everyone is watching us. I feel like we’re sticking out. Let’s go someplace more private. Where we fit in”

It was a cliche, but you went with it.

The cast hotel was not far from the bar, and much nicer that where the crew was put up.

You walked hand in hand with Chris the few blocks and talked about your plans to design your own clothing line. Chris was such a good listener.

You stopped at the hotel entrance.

“You sure you wanna come up?”

Chris was so earnest. And so cute.

You nodded your head and beamed up at him.

“Yeah.”

He grinned back down at you, and then led you into the lobby and straight to the elevator.

You stood on opposite sides and just stared and smiled. You blushed first and then looked down at your feet, concentrating on breathing.

Chris walked over to you and tipped your chin up to give you a sweet first kiss on the lips. You smiled up at him and then jumped on him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You weren’t too heavy, it just surprised him and staggered him against the wall of the elevator, as he laughed in between you putting your tongue down his throat.

The elevator doors opened and he didn’t put you down, just carried you down the hallway, hands full of your ass. He propped you against the wall next to a door, kissed you again and then fished his key out of his pocket and opened it.

He finally deposited you on the floor.

“Want something to drink? We can crack the mini bar…or order room service? You hungry?”

“Not for food.”

A sexy smile crept over his face.

“Oh yea? What are you hungry for?”

You just smiled and walked toward him. You grabbed his jeans and unbuttoned them, sliding the zipper down. Chris leaned back against the wall; your forwardness was getting him hard. He’d wanted this for weeks.

“Do you mean I’m finally going to get some after pining for over a month?Jacking off to visions of you left me unfulfilled.”

You raised your eyebrow at him.

“It’s ironic that you haven’t gotten any ass, especially since you just wrapped a film where you played a sex addict.”

That damn brow was up again.

“I say we make up for that. Tonight. And maybe tomorrow. And the next day.”

Chris was a dork, but a charming one.

His smile slipped as you reached inside his pants. Then he grinned again as he saw your wide eyes.

“Before we have the official unveiling, I want to peel you out of that skirt. Been torturing me all night.”

He pushed you ahead of him and motioned for you to walk to the bed portion of his mini suite. Behind you, he was licking his lips at you in the leather.

“Just wanna smell that pussy.”

He leaned forward and smacked your ass. You helped and suddenly you were being handled as Chris fumbled or the zipper on the side of the top. He found it and carefully removed it, and was found licking his lips as you emerged from beneath it.

“You’re so pretty. Your skin, your breasts,”

Chris was tracing your shoulders down to your chest with his fingernails, reaching your nipples and pulling them both at the same time.

He yanked you toward him forcefully by the waistband of your skirt, so much so that you lost your breath. You were made wet instantly by his determination and when you looked up at his jaw clenching as he undid you. You whimpered and looked into his eyes.

“What’s wrong? You scared?”

You shook your head no. Chris’s eyes darkened with lust.

“Well, you should be. I’m going to take you apart and put you back together again.”

“Fuck!” you squeaked as Chris leaned down and devoured your mouth, pulling off your skirt and picking you up with his hands your palming your ass again.

He was licking your nipples with his rough wide tongue and biting your chest as he lay you down on the bed. He took your thighs and pushed them open, thumbs near your cunt.

“I knew you were perfect.”

The hungry look in his eyes was unmistakable as he sank to his knees and pulled your ass so that it was at the edge of the bed. All you could see was his long eyelashes against his cheeks as he looked down on you.

“You’re so tiny.”

He said it to your cunt as he watched it clench and dribble wetness. He laughed a little to himself and then looked at you, blue eyes piercing your soul.

“I don’t know if I will be able to fit in there.”

He licked two fingers and slid them up your folds, starting at the base of your pelvis. You arched your back and moaned as he circled your clit.

“I want you to fucking try. I believe in you, Chris.”

You said it in breathy moans that got him so hard.

He brought his fingers down to your hole, and tried them both. He was right, it was a tight fit. He slowly plunged deeper inside you, eyes rolling back at how snug you were around his fingers.

“Holy fuck… you’re so… fuck... gotta get you ready.”

He leaned down and slowly sucked your clit between his teeth while looking up at you leaning up to see this.

You felt so fucking full just with his fingers. You wanted his cock.

You watched as long as you could, but when he started shaking his head and taking your clit with him, you collapsed back on the bed and rubbed his buzzed head as his beard and lips and tongue made you see stars. This beard burn would be worth it.

“Shit! Chris!”

He pried your thighs from around his ears as you started to cum, holding them wide so you’d have to take what he was doing to you. You creamed on his face when you came, making him open his mouth and lap you up.

“Yes, that’s that shit I like. Gonna need to get you as slick as possible.”

Chris looked down, beard glistening as he concentrated and inserted his fingers again, scissoring them to make you even looser.

“Now that you’ve made me cum all over your face, can I see what we’re working with?”

Chris looked up at you, eyes blue fire, bad boy pout on fleek.

“You don’t have any idea? You know what it feels like, you haven’t imagined how it would look? How it would fit inside you, how you would feel when I’m splitting you in two?”

You were sitting up and leaning back on your hands as you watched Chris stand up and take off his shirt, flex a little bit (your eyes sure did appreciate the muscles, the form, the v-cut, not that you hadn’t before) and then pull his jeans down. You got ready when he put his thumbs in the waistband.

He pulled down his black boxer briefs, and before he could get them down his legs, you grabbed for it, your hot little hands barely able to grasp it. It was so big and so heavy, and you knew it’s imperfections were going to feel like heaven.

Chris smiled down at your inspection, as you smoothed your hands up and down, your thumb circling around the tip. You made him weak and want to take you roughly right now. But he didn’t want to hurt you.

Too much.

You looked up and smiled at him, licking your lips.

“I love mushrooms.”

And you opened your mouth and descended on the tip of his dick, rotating your mouth around and sucking. His knees buckled.

“Fuck. Do that again!”

You’d made Chris out of breath and his voice was doing it for you. You did it a couple more times and then switched places with him on the bed, making him sit down as you kneeled before him and worshiped that cock.

“So fucking huge. You’re right, I don’t know how I’m gonna fit this inside me.”

You gave him an innocent look and tried to take as much of him as you could in your mouth, jacking what you couldn’t fit with the rest of your hand.

“I”m gonna need you to fucking try. I believe in you.”

And Chris put his hands on your head and pressed you down so that his cock slid into your throat and you were gagging around him.

“Ssssss ahhhh, yes. Mouth so fucking good!”

He let you up to breathe and gathered your braids in one hand as you sucked him off some more.

“C’mon! You can take more than that!”

He goaded you on and you took him up on the challenge.

“Looks and feels so fucking good, you’re trying to get me to forget about that fucking pussy, arent you.”

He pulled your hair so that you looked up at him, gasping with saliva running down your chin. You grinned at him.

“No. I haven’t forgotten about it, look…”

You leaned back to show him that you were playing in your pussy.

Chris went feral, leaning down and grabbing you and throwing you back on the bed. You crawled up like a crab back toward the headboard.

“Don’t run from this dick. C’mere.”

He pulled you down toward him by you legs and spread you wide again. He plunged three fingers inside you this time while he jacked his cock. He was stretching you good.

“I should just cum all over you like this. I don’t think you can take it.”

You actually growled.

“No! Give it to me, please!”

Chris leaned down on you, arm on one side of your head while he swiped his bulbous head through your folds.

“You want it?”

“PLEEEESE!”

Chris grunted as you begged and stopped to breach your hole. Just the tip slipping in had you grasping the sheets and whining. He stopped.

“You good?”

Chris was asking as if he would stop, but he didn’t think the momentum could be changed. He was going to fuck you and there was no way out of it. He kissed you ferocuously.

“I will be, when you give it all to me.”

Chris chuckled. “Big talk. Take this big dick.”

And he slid inside you, even with your natural lubrication there was still some difficulty.

Your eyes stuttered close and someone was screaming as you felt a stretch that you never had before. It was you, because it felt like Chris was fucking you with a pole and hell, it hurt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Chris looked back up at you, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“You’re like a fucking vice. Are you good? Does it fit?”

He was having regrets now, because your eyes were wide open, as if in shock.

You finally spoke, in a whispering whimper. You looked like you were about to cry, tears welling in your eyes as you looked up at him. Fuck, it made him even harder. You looked like you wanted him to hurt you.

And you did.

“Hnnnh. Daddy.”

Tears of pain and pleasure rolled down your cheeks. That fucked him up. I’m a good way.

“Fuck me Daddy. Move please.”

“Oh shit. How does it feel?”

Chris fought to hold himself back as he started moving, your cream seeping out around his cock as he pistoned slowly.

“Feels….goood….” you began to whisper in his ear as it began to feel like heaven.

“Feels so… fucking… goooooodddddd. Daddy. Ahhhhh.”

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…”

Chris was groaning in your ear, lost in the joy of your tight pussy.

“You want me to be your Daddy?”

Chris was losing control. And that hadn’t happened in a long time.

“Shit… you ARE my Daddy. I’m… I’m… claiming you.”

“Fuck!”

Chris took your legs in his hands to open them wide as he fucked you fully now, watching you rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. He checked your face. It was fully fucked out and in bliss.

“Fuck me fuck me fuck me Daddy.”

You were in the zone, pussy fluttering at the fullness and sensation. He was the best dick you ever had.

Chris’s hips stuttered.

“I wanna….fuck I don’t want to ever leave this pussy….can I….fuck fuck fuck… can I cum inside?”

Chris’s eyes were pleading with you. He was in the seventh heaven, fucking you harder and faster. You were taking it now like a champ.

“My Daddy can cum inside me anytime he wants.”

“Holy fuccckkkkk”

Chris’s rhythm became erratic and he started to spurt forcefully inside you as you opened your mouth wide, searching for breath.

It felt like he spent ropes and ropes of cum inside you, and then collapsed.

“Mmmmmmmm.”

You liked this feeling. Full of and surrounded by Chris. You wiggled and felt the fullness inside you. You were going to be sore tomorrow.

“Chris! Fuck...I….”

You were panting again as you felt him swell inside you.

Chris shifted around and pulled you up on your knees like a ragdoll. Cum was dripping down his dick and down your legs, but he didn’t care as he pushed back inside you from behind.

“Let’s check the fit and the feel from this angle.”

“Oh Daddy, “ you whimpered as he stretched you out again.

This one got away from me. Hope it’s ok. 😬

Tags:

@olyvoyl @summerofsnowflakes @riiyy @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @theselilwonders @chattykathysquietsister @nikole-witha-k @nissameta1782 @afriendlyblackhottie @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @donutloverxo @marvelfansworld  @london-grunge @ximaginexx @fofisstilinski @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @chesca-791 @calimoi @fangirlfree @bbaengtan @aliceforbes @insertpithyusername @photmath  @anacrcarvalho @iconicshit @chaoticsteverogers @txtsfromyourex @sadthotsonlylove @ikatieebabyy @nerdymugsharkempath @maroonsunrise83 @partypoison00 @curlyhairclub @spookyparadisesheep @keepingitlokiii @denisemarieangelina @harrysthiccthighss @simpinforu @sunshinexsin @celestialbeingz @the-1900 @geminixevans @denisemarieangelina @fanfictionwr1tin @breezykpop @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @peaceinourtime82 @hisgirlfriday439 @nik2write @deepintothenature

[adrianasunderworld]

Do you think you could talk a little more about White Ash? I really like this school you created especially Cristaleria

Sure!

Admittedly I have not fully figured out the dorm situation, like names, crest, etc. But so far the thought I've had is each dorm is based/inspired by a Disney Fairy. So Flora, Fauna, Merryweather, Tinkerbell, The Blue Fairy, etc.

The school was founded centuries ago by the Fairy Godmother, who is Clara aka Headmage Cristalerías grandmother. She passed the title and her wand to Clara when she was ready to finally retire almost 200 years ago, Clara has been Headmage ever since. The school was founded to give girls from any social status an education. Most arcane academies at the time mostly taught children of the elite, and we know the Fairy Godmother would not stand for that. So she founded The White Ash Institute. There isn't much to the name other than White-in reference to Snow White. Ash being another word for Cinder, as in Cinderella.

While Night Raven College selection is, for the most part, the dark mirror seeking out students with magic potential and sending a coffin and carriage for them. The Fairy Godmothers wand does much the same. A few weeks before the school year starts, Clara casts a spell with the wand to seek out the next round of first year students. "By my command, find every eligible maiden in this land" The wand seeks girls with magic who would be good potential students, and a pair of glass slippers is left on the girls doorstep with a letter of acceptance/invitation to attend the school. There is no faking entry or stealing someone's letter. The glass slipper is meant to only fit the girl it was intended for. Even if they're the same size, the shoe is magic and will not let anyone else put it on no matter what. The slippers are part of the ceremonial outfit and must be worn at orientation. (don't worry they're quite comfortable and it's pretty much impossible to trip in them.) A carriage is always sent to collect students who accept admission. While the dark mirror can be used as a portal, White Ash has magic pumpkin carriage's that take you wherever you want to go.

The school is not on the Isle of Sages, but it is across the bay from it. as the three closest arcane academies, NRC, RSA, and WAI have a few traditional events held every year. Including the famous Midnight Ball. White Ash usually hosts this event, it's a giant masquerade ball. In the spirit of the famous princess that inspired it, the idea is to not know who your dance partners are. That is until it ends at midnight. There is a spell over the castle to keep your mask on until the stroke of twelve where the spell is lifted and you may reveal yourself. Or leave and keep the mystery alive.

NRC has historic apple trees, while White Ash has a famous pumpkin patch on school grounds. It's very popular in the fall. The school hosts carriage rides and everything. While NRC has many ghosts to work as staff, White Ash hires pixies that do such things like cook, clean, and keep the grounds. There is also a great deal of mice that scurry around school grounds to assist students. Like showing them where to find library books or deliver messages. And of course, report back to Headmage Cristalería if something is afoot. The safety of her students is, after all, her upmost priority.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Eunoia - Harry Styles

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write a piece filled with just fluffy, domestic moments through a relationship, and that’s when i created Flora in my mind. wrote it with an OC bc i had very specific traits and stuff in my mind about her and it didn’t feel right to write it with y/n but feel free to read however you’d like it! but i think Flora is a delightful girl, she is a teacher and a free spirit, i think you’ll like her!

pairing: Harry x OC (Floortje ‘Flora’ Hoven)

word count: 9.5k

masterlist

Eunoia (n.) Beautiful thinking: a well mind.

Harry is always looking forward to times when his days aren’t filled from morning to midnight, traveling all around the world, meeting dozens of new people at various new meetings. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the buzz his life comes with, but one can drive this lifestyle only for a while before getting tired. He now appreciates his calm periods, when he is not living out of his suitcase, he has the time to drop by a café and enjoy his morning coffee sitting down instead of grabbing it in a go-to cup and chugging it down in his car. When he can just take a walk when the weather is nice enough and his favorite is when he has the time to just look at things without a rush and appreciate them.

He has built up a habit of going to the same coffee place since he got off tour and jumped right into his well-deserved months off filled with meditation, resting and focusing on himself after giving so much for the world. It’s just two corners down his place, falling perfectly into his way to the gym and now he even has a favorite table in the corner, because it gives him a great view of the place but the vines hanging from the ceiling masks his presence enough that people don’t often notice him there, providing some privacy for his morning coffee.

It was his third day here when he first noticed her. She was sitting at the table by the window, near the door, deep in a book, another pile waiting for her on the free seat next to her as she intensely made notes of her reading. She had her wild, curly hair in a puffy bun on the top of her head, clearly just thrown into it haphazardly when she started working. Her ivory frame glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose and thy seemed a bit too big for her face, but they overall fit perfectly with her knitted sweater and dungarees. And Harry couldn’t look over the fact that she had little sunflowers painted on her nails. That instantly made him smile as he adorned her from afar.

As the days passed and Harry spent almost all his morning at the same spot, he started seeing or more like noticing her more often. She always sat at the same table and Harry figured it was because of the natural lighting coming through the windows that came in handy, because she was always either reading and making notes, or doing something crafty, mostly origami, he noticed. She often had her laptop open with tutorials on different origami works that she was trying to make herself, not always succeeding, but she got it right most of the time, a triumphant smile plastering across her face every time she finished a piece, her dimples digging deep into her round cheeks. Harry couldn’t stop herself from smiling whenever she held up the finished work and adorned what she just created. He often wondered what happened to the little creations afterwards, but she just usually shoved them into her backpack before leaving.

By the fifth or sixth time he has seen her, he already knew her order. Vanilla latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Large sized, of course, so she has something to sip on while she typed away on her laptop or finished reading another book.

Harry caught himself looking for her on mornings when he didn’t see her, which were usually Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, but one Wednesday, when he had an early meeting for a change with his team, he arrived before 8 am into the place and for his biggest surprise, there she was, sitting at her usual table, drinking the same drink as always. Later, Harry found himself coming earlier on those days just to find her there yet again and he figured her work schedule must start earlier on those days.

As the days went by Harry started to play with the thought of walking up to her. He wondered if she has noticed him as well, but it seemed like even if she did, his presence didn’t impress or bother her at all which just irked his curiosity about her even more. But every time he thought about finally talking to her, he decided against it, feeling like he would just be an intruder in her morning sessions. Until one day, the chance was handed to him on a silver plate.

She is doing origami once again on this particular day, making little cranes, one after the other, using different colored papers to make them form out a mess rainbow on her table. It’s a quiet morning, only a few more people sitting around at place. It’s been quite windy the past couple of days and today seems to be the worst, the trees are being tossed around by the howling winds outside, but it just makes it even cozier to sit inside in the warmth, enjoying a nice hot drink.

Harry finds himself watching her intently as her delicate fingers work on the paper, one crane following the other, she is starting to have a whole army of them.

An older man walks into the café and as he opens the door wide, the wind is quick to run into the place, knocking over everything that’s not heavy enough to stay still and the paper cranes are the first ones to start flying off the table.

“No! Darn it!” she gasps, her hands grabbing after them, saving just a few, but most end up on the floor, somersaulting away from her table. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and come to her rescue, lending her a pair of helping hands as she gathers her creations. “Oh, thank you!” she breathes out softly, her eyes meeting his and for his biggest surprise… she doesn’t seem to be stunned or even surprised by him, as if she doesn’t know who he is.

Maybe she doesn’t, it’s a possibility, he tells himself, smiling at her as he collects the cranes from the floor.

“Guess they wanted to be free,” he jokes, setting them on the table with the rest.

“It wasn’t my brightest idea to do it on such a windy day near the door,” she chuckles, looking over the bunch she’s been working on for the past thirty minutes.

“May I ask why you need so many paper cranes?” Harry inquires, leaving out the part that he’s been watching her do her origami for weeks now.

“Oh, I want to make decorations out of them, hang them up in my classroom. I’m a teacher,” she adds smiling.

That’s the most fitting job he could ever imagine for her, she is definitely the cool and adored teacher every kid is obsessed with.

“Wow, and how many do you need?” he asks, the stack of paper at the edge of the table looks quite a lot and he wonders if she wants to use them all for the cranes.

“Well, as many as I can make before my fingers fall off,” she jokes. Harry notices her freckles from up close that have been hidden behind her glasses until now. Her hair is in two space buns today and she is wearing a striped shirt with light-washed jeans and colorful sneakers. The sunflowers are gone from her nails, replaced by tiny daisies, but Harry likes them just as much as the previous flowers. They fit her well.

“Do you… I would love to help, if you want,” he finds himself offering, not even thinking about the question before it slips his mouth.

“You sure?” she asks, seemingly surprised but she definitely doesn’t find it weird that he just offered to help her.

“Yeah. Looks really calming and I haven’t made one in so long. Want to see if I still remember the steps,” he smiles.

“Take a seat then,” she nods, returning his smile. Harry goes back to his table to grab his stuff and join her.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduces himself as he takes the empty chair at her table, holding out his hand for her that she gladly takes.

“Floortje, but everyone just calls me Flora,” she smiles.

“Never heard that name, what’s the origin of it?”

“It’s Dutch. My dad is Dutch, he came up with the name as well and my mother liked it. It means little flower, nothing grandiose,” she chuckles, reaching for another paper to start her next crane.

“Do you have a Dutch last name as well?” he asks, but then realizes she might not feel comfortable sharing her full name just yet. “You don’t have to tell me your last name though, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” she chuckles. “It’s Hoven, which is Dutch, but you pronounce it pretty much the same as you’d if it was a simple English word, just with a softer V in the middle,” she explains, her fingers working easily and fast on the thin paper, the crane is already starting to form. Harry reaches for a paper himself and tries to recollect his memory of the steps.

“Were you born in the Netherlands too?”

“Yes, I was born in Eindhoven, but we moved here when I was five. But my Dutch is still just fine, luckily. My dad refused to talk to me in English when we moved, he said he won’t have his daughter forget her mother tongue just because he is getting paid more here,” she explains with a soft chuckle as she finishes up the crane, putting it to the pile.

“I always envied bilingual people. Must be great to speak two languages that easily,” Harry wonders, eyes fixed on the paper as he is trying his best with the crane. It’s slowly coming together, though it’s not as pretty as Flora’s.

“It’s not that fun when I suddenly forget a word in one of the languages and then spend twenty minutes trying to remember when I know for a fact I know the words, it’s just stuck on my tongue.”

Harry laughs, finishing up his creation, holding it up and Flora looks at it as well. It’s a little crooked and one of its wings is longer than the other, but overall, it’s a decent first one.

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” he chuckles, putting it to the others.

“What are you talking about? It looks great!” she smiles, taking it into her hand, looking at it from all angles, smiling widely as she places it back to its peers. “It’s a nice one, and after all, it’s not your job to make cranes, so you’re fine,” she jokes.

Harry reaches for another paper as he thinks about if she knows him. Does she know what his job really is? Not that he expects everyone to know him, but she seems his age and it’s been quite impossible for him to meet someone close in age to him and not know a thing about him.

“Yeah, origami is definitely not my job,” he hums and then adds: “You… know what my job is?”

Flora glances up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Is this your way of trying to find out if I know you or not?” she smirks, tilting her head to the side, and it’s already a giveaway that she is very much aware of who she is sitting at a table with.

“I know, it was lame,” he huffs awkwardly.

“No, it was alright. And to answer your question, I do know what your job is, Harry Styles,” she replies.

“Sorry for asking around about it, you just seemed so casual and unbothered when you saw me, I thought you have no idea who I am.”

“I’m a teacher, my job is to treat everyone the same, I take equality very seriously. I don’t want my kids to think I put any of them above the rest, but I do the same outside of school too. Or do you want me to gasp and stutter now that you are sitting here?” she teases him making him laugh.

“That’s not needed at all.”

They work on their cranes in a comfortable silence and just as Harry thought, it’s quite relaxing, his thoughts slowly clear out, only focusing on the little birds he is creating. Then he glances up at Flora and suddenly his thoughts are filled with her once again. Now is his chance with her, he doesn’t want to leave this café without at least asking for her number even when he knows that he will surely see her around, just like always.

“Can I ask you something?” he speaks up as they both keep folding the colorful papers.

“Of course.”

“I hope I won’t sound creepy or something, but I’ve seen you around a lot and noticed how much you read. Is that just your hobby or…?”

“First of all it’s not creepy that you have noticed me, it’s flattering, because I have noticed you as well,” she smiles, paying him a quick glance.

“Really? I had a feeling you haven’t even seen me.”

“I did, but I thought you come here for the same reason as I do; to have some peace for yourself.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry nods.

“But to answer your question, I’m working on my second degree.”

“Oh, what’s that about?”

“Special education, speech therapy to be exact,” she tells him and Harry is even more stunned by her. Education is already a field not many can handle and then there is Flora, who didn’t just take up on it, she jumped right into it, pursuing a second degree in special education, a hard and challenging part of this job.

“Any particular reason why you chose it?”

“I have a younger brother, he is ten years younger than me, so he was already born here, but he was taught Dutch too. However, it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for me to speak two languages at the same time and he has developed some speech errors. Nothing major, but it was enough for him to be bullied in school. I saw his face every day when he came home and lied to our parents that everything is fine but then he cried to me in my room when they weren’t around. I don’t want any other kids to go through that, I’d love to be the one to not just help them come over their speech errors but also make sure they are treated the same way as everyone else.”

Harry hasn’t even noticed that he stopped working on his crane, he is now staring at her in awe, completely stunned by her. The more he learns about her the more he thinks she is a literal angel sent from above and that he can’t let her slip from his hands.

Flora looks up at him and finds him staring, a blush appearing on her full cheeks.

“Sorry for staring, but I just… this is so beautiful. Your passion about education is just one of a kind, truly. And the way how you made it your whole career and everything, I’m just… blown away,” he admits.

“Well, you made a career out of your passion too, didn’t you?” she chuckles softly.

“I did, but your story is just a little more touching,” he smirks. “Flora, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been meaning to come up to you for a while and now that we officially met, I just—I would love to take you out on a date and get to know you better.”

She blushes again and Harry notes how well the pinky shade fits her even if she probably wishes she could control it more.

“That would be lovely,” she smiles shyly and grabbing a crane from her pile she grabs a pen from her bag and writes her number to the wing of it before handing it over to Harry.

He loves that she could have easily just typed it into his phone, yet she chose to do it this way. He smiles down at the crane and puts it into his bag, securing it as if it was his biggest treasure.

When Flora opens her door for Harry she is still wearing her apron that’s filled with tulips, a pair of simple jeans underneath it with a bright yellow shirt. Harry smiles as he leans down and greets her with a soft kiss. Ever since their first kiss he has been obsessed with stealing one whenever he has the chance. Their first one was nothing grandiose, such a simple and mundane moment but for him, it was perfect. They were visiting a gallery, he chose the exhibition hoping she’ll be a fan of it since the theme was botany, all paintings connected to flowers, gardens and plants and he was right. Flora was stunned, fascinated by each painting as they stopped at one after the other, taking their time to adore the works. They were looking at a painted garden filled with colorful wildflowers around a small cottage in the distance. Flora’s eyes wandered over all the tiny details as Harry stood close to her. She then leaned closer to point out her favorite flower and once they realized just how close their faces were, he just easily closed the gap and kissed her softly, surrounded with art, but he was convinced she was his favorite masterpiece he has ever seen.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a little late, dinner is not ready yet,” she huffs letting him inside. “Had to stay at the school a little longer than expected.”

“Don’t worry. Can I help with anything?” he asks following her into the kitchen, putting the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge to keep it cool until dinner.

“No, it’s fine. I just need about fifteen minutes to finish up the veggies,” she smiles at him and tiptoeing she steals a quick kiss. Harry hasn’t been the only one obsessed with kisses. “Make yourself home.”

Harry leaves to use the bathroom quickly and on his way back he finds himself wandering into her bedroom. He has been in her home just a few times before, only spending short minutes here when he was picking her up but now he has time to actually look around, hoping she won’t mind him snooping around.

Her whole place is just as colorful as she is always, each piece of furniture a different style and color, yet fitting so well when you see it as a whole. The quilted patchwork blanket over her bed is definitely homemade, each patch has a different flower on it while the left lower corner has Floortje embroidered into it. Harry wonders if it was made by a friend or family member, either way, it’s surely a special piece.

Her dresser is cluttered with rings, perfumes and endless amount of hair ties. She has complained before that her hair stretches her elastics out so fast, she keeps buying new ones every month. The little armchair in the corner is covered with a few of her used clothes, ones she’ll wear once more before putting them into the laundry basket.

As he walks over to her nightstand that’s filled with books, at least seven piled on each other, his eyes stop over something that makes his heart flutter.

A crooked little paper crane is sitting on the edge of the nightstand, the one he made the first time they talked, to be exact. Harry takes the bird and looks at it in awe, surprised that she kept it to herself. However he doesn’t find it odd, not even a little bit, since he has also kept the one she wrote her phone number onto, it’s sitting on his desk in his study.

“Found something interesting?” Flora walks in and Harry’s head whips towards her, feeling like he was just caught. But the warm smile on her lips is a telltale sign that she doesn’t mind him looking around.

“You kept it,” he states matter-of-factly, holding up the paper bird.

“Of course I did,” she nods, walking closer. “It’s a special one.”

“Thought you treat everyone and everything the same,” he teases smiling as he puts the crane back, his hands finding her waist.

“I guess there are a few exceptions,” she smirks slyly, her hands running up on his arms until they reach the base of his neck.

“Am I an exception?” The corners of his mouth curl up as he places the bird back on her nightstand and circle his arms around her waist.

“Did I say that?” she teases him. “I think I called your work a special one.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, pretending to be hurt at her words, but he can’t push the growing smile back from his lips. They’ve been seeing each other for only over a month, but it was enough time to make him completely hooked on her. He is amazed by her in every possible way, feeling like he could never get enough of the ray of sunshine that Flora is. His favorite thing is that she makes him feel so normal, just an average guy dating a girl he met at a café. Not once did she treat him any different because of what he is and it’s just the feeling Harry has been looking for for such a long time.

“Come on, dinner is ready,” she smiles, pecking his lips before peeling his arms off of her frame, taking his hand as she pulls him out of the bedroom, however they surely end up in there again sometime after dinner, but with way less clothes on.

Harry watches as Flora plays with the bubbles in front of her, picking some foam up into her hair, watching it move around on her wet palm before blowing on it gently, her delicate fingers poking at the small bubbles that escaped from it. His hands are caressing her sides under the warm water that was once hot when they first got into it about an hour ago.

It’s been a lazy Sunday, Flora arrived early in the morning and went plant shopping. Her home has always been filled with plants and Harry has grown a liking to all the greenery, wanted some more in his house as well and Flora was more than happy to help him pick out the ones that are the easiest to take care of. Then they cooked lunch together, watched a movie and cleaned up the mess they made in the kitchen before running the bath. Harry has been loving these domestic days, lounging around his or her home, wearing comfy clothes and not caring about much of the outside words, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Remind me to buy peanut butter the next time I’m going grocery shopping,” she speaks up, leaning further back against his chest while Harry rests his chin on her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist under the layer of bubbles.

“What do you need it for?” he hums, nudging her hair with his nose, her curls ticking his face, but he doesn’t mint it.

“I want to make cupcakes for the kids next week.”

“What for? Is there gonna be a special occasion?”

“No, they’ve just been super nice lately, we set up some new rules in the classroom and they’ve been really good following them.” Harry hums, loving how she is so eager to treat her students, he is convinced she is easily the best teacher he has ever came across.

“So peanut butter, huh? I think I need some too. Been dying to eat a good burger with some peanut butter.”

“I cannot believe you put peanut butter into your burgers,” she chuckles, peeking at him over her shoulder.

“Don’t bash it when you haven’t even tried!” he defends himself, kissing her cheek softly.

“The Aztecs would be so disappointed,” she sighs turning back forward, so she doesn’t see the puzzled look on Harry’s face.

“The Aztecs?”

“Yeah, they technically invented peanut butter,” she nods, as if it was common knowledge.

“Do I want to know why you know this about the history of peanut butter?” he chuckles softly.

“Well I had this kid last year who was obsessed with it and I started looking up fun facts for him for mornings when he looked a little moody. Then the others started enjoying it too so it became our morning thing that I told them a fun fact about anything.”

“Oh really? Tell me one then!” he asks smirking, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Okay, um…” she thinks to herself. “Do you know what the Olympic rings stand for?”

“I do not,” he shakes his head.

“The five rings stand for the five inhabited continents of the world, united by Olympism.”

“Sounds logical,” Harry nods. “Tell me another one,” he asks.

“Are you going to make me tell you all my fun facts?” she chuckles, turning a little so she can look into his beautiful green eyes.

“Maybe. I like it when you talk like this,” he smirks playfully.

“Like what?”

“Like… smart. I love how you know all these little things about the world and teach it to not just the kids but to me as well.”

“You don’t think I’m a smartass?”

“Why would I?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“I used to be picked on in middle school because I liked to learn, more than what was required.”

“That doesn’t make you a smartass, baby. You don’t go around, correcting every tiny mistake around you. You use your knowledge to educate, like you should.”

Flora smiles softly at him, his words bringing the sense of reassurance she’s been seeking for so long. She pecks his lips shortly before turning back forward.

“Do you know how many days a billion seconds make up?” she asks, smiling to herself.

“I don’t.”

“11 574 days. That’s a little over 31 years.”

“So I haven’t lived a billion seconds in my life just yet,” Harry states, doing the quick math.

“No, you haven’t,” she smiles, mostly at the fact that he didn’t just listen to her little fun fact, but also thought about it a bit deeper.

They stay in the bath until the water gets cold and Harry keeps asking for fun facts and Flora gladly tells him whatever comes to her mind.

Harry finishes up the fresh salad, filled with Flora’s favorites: cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and corn with some kale, baby spinach and garlic dressing. He even sprinkled some sesame seeds on top, now he is pretty proud of his work, it looks like something influencers would snap in an aesthetic photo to their Instagram feed.

His bare feet tap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to Flora’s bedroom where she is still curled up on her chair in front of her computer, her hair in a mess on top of her head, glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. She hasn’t moved much from the spot in hours, intensely working on her thesis that should be finalized within the next two weeks. She has been gradually working on it over the last few months, in no mean she is behind, but she’s been extra nervous about making it as good as she wanted it when she started and Harry has been nothing but supporting about it, knowing how much it means to her. So he’s been her moral support, making sure she eats, gets some rest and doesn’t get herself too worked up about her research. She appreciates his efforts and though she often feels bad for neglecting him lately, he made sure to assure her, he’ll be right here when she is finally done with it.

Harry walks around the mountain of books on the floor she has piled up from the library these past two weeks as he walks up behind her while her fingers type away on her computer so fast he can barely believe she even understands what she’s typing.

“Hey,” he softly calls out, leaning down he kisses her cheek, holding the bowl of salad in front of her, drabbing her attention, making her gaze move from the screen to the food in front of her.

“Oh, hey! Is this for me?” she asks with a soft smile, lifting her head so she can look at him. Even with the circles under her eyes, the messy hair and worn out t-shirt that she’s wearing, he thinks she is the most wonderful creature he has ever seen.

“Yeah. Come take a break, yea?”

She doesn’t protest, just saves the file before moving away from the desk to the bed along with Harry. She props herself up against the headboard, a tired moan escaping her lips as her spine rests against the pillows under her back. Harry hands her the salad and she digs right into it, only just now realizing that she’s been feeling hungry for the past two hours, but ignored it entirely.

“How much do you have left?” Harry asks nodding towards the computer.

“I’m finishing up the last part, then I just have to write the abstract and then…” she explains, popping a tomato in her mouth. “It’s just gonna be the formatting. I think I’ll be done by Wednesday.”

“That’s great,” he smiles proudly. He has always admired how hardworking she’s been when it came to school and her profession. He could never imagine himself do the same, especially because he didn’t even finish high school. He used to feel a little self-conscious about it when they first started dating, afraid that she might think less of him because he didn’t finish his education properly, even though it was never something that bothered him. But Flora assured him that it makes absolutely no difference in her opinion about him.

“It’s not about the papers or how many schools you’ve finished. It’s about how you see the world and if you are willing to learn when it changes around you. And I think you are perfect in that department, your curiosity and openness makes you an excellent learner,” she told him without even thinking about it.

Harry lies on his side next to her, one hand propping his head up while the other one wanders to her thigh, massaging it gently. She hums to herself, enjoying the food he made and he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He loves taking care of her, especially because most of the times it’s her that takes care of him. Cooking for him after a long day at the studio, putting his laundry away while he is in an online meeting or writing him a list for when he goes grocery shopping, Flora has been watching out for him through these little things, but now it’s finally his turn to give it all back.

He’s been thinking about asking her to move in with him for a few weeks now, he just hasn’t been brave enough to bring it up, thinking that she might find it too early for such a big step, seeing that the two of them have been dating for a little over nine months. He’s been playing with the thought of coming home to her every single day, waking up next to her in the mornings, watch her form his home more to her liking, creating a space for the both of them, making it a home not just for him but her as well.

As she finishes up her salad, completely oblivious to what Harry is thinking about, he decides to bring it up once she is done with her thesis, not wanting to bother her in any possible way until she is finished.

“Mm, this was lifesaving, thank you,” she sighs, leaning over she kisses him softly as her appreciation for the sweet gesture. “I’ll finish up this one paragraph I’m in the middle of and then we could watch a movie. But strictly without subs, because I’m done with words for today,” she jokes, making him laugh as he takes the empty bowl from her hands.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen and find something to watch while you finish.”

“Thank you.” As they both get up from the bed, she pulls him down for another kiss, Harry’s free hand finding the small of her back right away. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips, his heart fluttering in his chest at the words he has heard before, but it never fails to stun him.

“I love you too. Now go, finish it so we can cuddle,” he smiles, smacking her bum gently before they let go of each other.

“Ja, pappa. Dat klinkt fantastisch. Ik zal het hem vragen. Ja.” Yes, dad. That sounds fantastic. I’ll ask him. Yes.

Harry listens to Flora talk to her father on the phone as she applies her lip balm, the one she uses every night before going to bed. He loves it when she talks in Dutch, many tend to criticize the language, but not Harry. Or maybe it’s just because he only hears Flora talk it and he loves everything she does.

“Ja, dat is goed. Dank je. Tot ziens, pappa, ik hou van je!” Yes, that’s great. Thank you. See you soon, dad, love you!

She ends the call and switches the light off in the bathroom that’s been not just Harry’s but hers since she officially moved in with him just last week. Harry finally built up the courage to ask her opinion about the possibility of living together in the near future once she was free from the worries of her research and thesis. For his biggest surprise, she was on the exact same page as him, definitely a fan of the idea. So three weeks later they started slowly moving all her stuff over to his until her apartment completely emptied out. Now all her belongings are splattered across Harry’s home, they haven’t found the perfect place for everything just yet, but it’s slowly starting to feel like home for the both of them.

“Dad called, asked if we would go over for dinner this weekend,” she tells him, moving around the bedroom as she takes her little hoop earrings off, placing them in the shell she uses as a jewelry holder on top of the dresser. She is wearing a pair of yellow sweatpants with one of Harry’s shirts, nothing underneath them, just how Harry loves it.

“It’s cute how you always tell me it was your dad, but he is the only one you speak Dutch with,” he chuckles lowly as she climbs to bed, pulling the covers over the both of them.

“It comes so naturally, I don’t even realize I’m switching languages,” she admits smiling.

“Dinner sounds lovely,” he nods, getting back to what she was talking about before.

“Arnold is bringing his girlfriend too,” she smirks, her eyes sparkling from excitement.

“Your brother has a girlfriend now?” he hums, eyebrows rising at the new information.

“It’s the girl I saw him with at his basketball game last month. They made it official like two weeks ago.”

“And he is already bringing her home? He is not beating around the bush,” he chuckles. “Is it going to be the first time the girl meets your parents?”

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be exciting,” she nods, cuddling to his side.

Flora is playing with the little cross pendant on Harry’s chest and he is watching her delicate fingers flipping it over, her fingertips tickling his chest a little in the process.

“When we have kids, will you also teach them Dutch?” he suddenly questions, the words just blurting out of his mouth. Flora lifts her head, resting her chin on his chest as she looks into his curious eyes. She stays silent, but a small smile is tugging on her lips for sure.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little nervous. It’s the first time he is bringing having kids up, but he definitely has been thinking about it, especially since she has moved in. They haven’t been dating for that long, but Harry is one hundred percent sure he is in the long run with her.

“I just… love how you said when and not if.”

“Well, it’s a question of when for me. What about you?”

“Same goes for me,” she smiles warmly. “And yes, I do want my children to speak Dutch. It’s important to my family and me as well. How does that sit with you?”

“Totally fine. In fact, I always envied kids growing up who were taught another language so early in their childhood. Would love that for my kids as well.”

“Dan is het geregeld,” she smiles widely at him.

“What’s that mean?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“I said that, then it’s settled. We’ll have some cute, bilingual babies,” she chuckles, half jokingly, half seriously.

Today has just been one of those days that were doomed from the moment Harry opened his eyes. He has been overwhelmed with stress lately, working on new music, but his studio sessions haven’t been as successful as he wanted them. He is also flying out to LA for two weeks in just a couple of days and he has to miss Flora’s mom’s birthday this weekend, which has been torturing him with guilt ever since he found out he can’t push his trip back.

This morning it felt like the universe just plotted against him. He slipped in the shower, broke a glass in the kitchen and successfully ripped one of his favorite jeans when he was getting dressed. He had a one way ticket cranky city, turning Harry into a moody little child. It didn’t take him long until he started a fight with Flora over the smallest, most ridiculous thing. It started with how Flora misplaced a bowl in the cabinet and took him two moments longer to find it than usual, then they ended up disputing about every little thing about each other they’ve been finding annoying, but neither of them voiced their feelings about them.

Flora, on the other hand, was not in the mood to argue with Harry so early on a Tuesday morning and she chose to just walk away and let him stew in his own anger. Harry knew the moment he heard the front door shut that she was mad at him: she didn’t kiss him goodbye like she does every day before she leaves.

He took a cold shower to cool him down and clear his head, get his thoughts straight so he can apologize like she deserves. Getting into his car he drives to the florist he usually goes to when he needs flowers for whatever occasions. The old lady greets him with a warm smile and upon describing what he envisioned, she immediately knows what to create for him this time. The result is a giant, colorful bouquet that reminds him of Flora in every possible means.

Driving down to her school he is met with an extreme amount of nostalgia even though it’s not even the school he went to as a kid, but it still brings back some memories.

The security guard immediately stops him when he walks into the building, but once he has explained him the situation, the old guy gladly tells him which classroom is hers so he can go and surprise her. His footsteps echo in the empty hallways as it is the middle of the second period, all students are locked up in their classrooms, lucky for Harry, because he surely can’t deal with teenage girls recognizing him right now. Holding the flowers in one hand he stops when he finds room 414 and he can hear Flora’s voice coming from inside, enthusiastically explaining something about penguins and it makes Harry smile.

Even with such a horrible morning behind her, she is still giving one hundred for her students. He brings up his hand and softly knocks on the door, interrupting her speech.

“Come in!” she calls out and Harry opens the door, popping his head inside first, then holding up the bouquet of flowers, making the kids start chattering in excitement at his arrival while Flora is staring at him shocked.

“Miss Hoven, do you have a moment for me, please?” he asks with a shy but charming smile. She quickly gains back control over her features before turning to her class.

“Please start working on task two and five, I’ll be right back,” she orders, but the chatter doesn’t die down so she raises her voice at them. “This is not how we act when we have guests, guys!”

The kids are quick to quiet themselves, eyes curiously switching between their teacher and the intruder at the door.

“Miss Hoven, is this your husband?” one of the kids, a little blond boy asks.

“No, Michael, he is not. Harry is my boyfriend,” she answers calmly, heading towards the door.

“Wait, I know him!” a girl exclaims gasping. “He sings the watermelon song!”

“Lilian, no discussion now. Do the tasks!” Flora tells her before walking out, but keeping the door open so she can hear what’s happening inside. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes wide when she finally looks at Harry again. “What’s—What’s this?”

“These are for you,” he clears his throat, handing her the bouquet. “And I came here to apologize for being such an arsehole this morning. It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been crankier lately and I took it all out on you. I’m very sorry.”

Flora’s eyes soften on him as she takes one of his hands with her free one, giving it a squeeze.

“I said some nasty stuff too, so I guess I’m sorry too,” she sighs, her anger and frustration from earlier now long gone.

“I brought that out of you, so I’ll take the blame,” Harry chuckles softly. “But the point is that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you are forgiven. You were even before you came here,” she assures him smiling warmly. “Why don’t we order something tonight and just get lazy on the couch?”

“You said you have some tests to go through.”

“That can wait. You’re leaving in two days so I want to spend time with you.”

“So we won’t get our tests back tomorrow?” they both hear a muffled voice coming from inside and Flora chuckles shaking her head as she opens the door wider and steps inside. A small group of kids run back to their seats, but not fast enough to not get caught.

“Lilian, would you mind telling me why you left your seat without permission?” Flora questions the girl who just rolls her lips into her mouth, pretending like she hasn’t even moved all along. Flora sighs stepping outside once again. “I gotta go now, but thank you for this. They look beautiful,” she tells Harry.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leaning down he kisses her quickly, feeling like he is breaking rules even though he is not a student or a teacher here.

“I love you too,” she smiles back before walking back inside and shutting the door. Harry stays for a minute, just out of curiosity to hear if the kids ask her some more questions about him.

“Miss Hoven?” a girl calls out and Harry bets it’s the same nosy girl who recognized him.

“Yes, Lilian?”

“You have a nice boyfriend,” she exclaims, earning a soft chuckle from Flora.

“Well thank you, Lilian, but let’s get back to our new unit. Let’s see the tasks you had to solve!”

The splashing sound of vomit arriving to the toilet hits Harry’s ears once again as he is rushing up the stairs with a glass of water and the Emetrol his hands that he dug the kitchen cabinets through for. Arriving to the master bathroom he finds Flora just where he left a few minutes ago, kneeling in front of the toilet, arms on the rim as she is taking a deep breath, hoping to calm her stomach and stop throwing up finally.

“Oh baby, here. Found you some Emetrol, this should help,” he coos gently, sitting down to the marble floor next to her he places the water beside him as he pours some of the liquid medicine into the cap for her. She lifts her head, skin pale as the wall, the dark circles under her eyes make his stomach churn, he hates to see her in this condition and wishes he could just help her.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her shaking hand takes the cup and she downs the medicine before taking a few sips from the water. “Harry, I’m so sorry for ruining our date,” she sighs in defeat.

“Oh shush. Don’t you dare apologize for being sick,” he shakes his head, putting the Emetrol aside before he towers above her to redo her hair so it doesn’t fall to her face. Today marks their one year anniversary and though they only planned to go out for a nice dinner, nothing extra, Flora still feels bad they had to cancel on their reservation when she started throwing up this afternoon. She’s been feeling nauseous ever since she ate that leftover casserole for lunch. She had a feeling she should have just gotten rid of it, but she hated wasting food so ate it. Big mistake.

Harry’s fingers delicately work on her curls, piling them on the top of her heat before he secures the bun with professional movements using the elastic he tends to wear on his wrists, just because Flora always loses hers. He likes to keep one on him as well. His long haired days trained him well, her hair is neatly kept out of her face as she frowns, feeling her stomach churning again.

“Can I do anything else for you, baby?” he gently asks, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, but she feels alright. She probably just has to get rid of the bad food.

“Can you please get me a wet washcloth?” she asks faintly. Sitting to her butt she leans against the wall beside her with her eyes closed.

Harry nods and he is on his feet in a blink of an eye, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet and wetting it in some cool water. He kneels in front of her and starts gently tapping it against her cheeks, forehead and neck, wiping off the thin layer of sweat.

“This is not how I planned to spend our anniversary,” she groans with a frown, making him chuckle.

“We agreed, the anniversary is postponed. Don’t even think about it.”

“But I wanted to look nice for you, even bought a new dress.” She pouts her lips at him, eyes opening narrowly, glistening from the tears that watered them while she was throwing up.

“You always look nice, baby,” he softly tells her, letting her take the washcloth before she places it over her forehead.

“Even now? After you saw me throw up four times? We have very different versions for the word nice, H,” she jokes with a soft chuckle and Harry is thankful to see her smile, even if it’s still very faint and tired.

“Even now, baby,” he nods smirking and he is not lying. Though the situation is saddening, Harry still enjoys taking care of her, being the one she can rely on even on her worst days.

They sit on the bathroom floor as the medicine slowly works and she finally gets rid of the urge to throw up. Then Harry scoops her up and undressing the both of them, he helps her take a nice shower before dressing her in clean clothes, tossing their dirty ones into the laundry basket, noting to do them sometime in the morning.

When Flora is settled under the cover, head comfortably sinking into the pillow, she immediately feels her eyes closing, the strenuous afternoon has successfully sucked all her energy right out of her body. Harry brings her another big glass of water for the night and just to be sure, puts a trashcan next to her side, if things go south again. When he gets under the covers she is already half asleep, but she hums when his fingertips dance down the side of her face.

He allows himself to shamelessly admire her as she finally falls completely asleep, her lips parted as she slightly snores, but she looks so peaceful, the painful frown he saw on her face all afternoon is now gone from her beautiful face. He hasn’t fully wrapped his mind around how an entire year has passed with such a wonderful creature by his side. As their anniversary was coming up, he caught himself thinking about what the future is holding for them more often. There were so many things they needed to experience together, so much to see and do as partners and Harry couldn’t wait for it all to come.

As he lies in the bed next to her, a smile tugs on his pink lips at the thought of the possibility of spending the rest of his life with Flora. His future has never seemed brighter than in that moment.

“This is harder than I thought,” Flora admits, focusing on the instrument on her lap, trying to figure out if she is holding down the accords the right way, but a moment later Harry’s hand covers hers on the neck of the guitar and he fixes her fingers on the strings until they are in the right position.

“Like this. Try it now,” he murmurs, his chin resting on her shoulders as she is standing between his legs, back leant against his chest. Flora has been begging him to teach him a few accords on the guitar and today finally brought the moment Harry would turn into her master.

The two of them are sitting on the bed, Harry only in his underwear while Flora is in one of his hoodies with only her panties covering the lower parts of her body. Harry came back from a week-long trip to New York and they haven’t left the bed too much since he set his feet inside the house, only emerging from the bedroom to fulfill their other physical needs.

Flora’s fingers strum against the strings and the instrument comes to life, giving her a clear accord finally, bringing a triumphant smile to her lips.

“You are a natural talent, baby,” he smirks, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before kissing into her neck.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying!” she warns her playfully, playing the chord again, loving how she can create such a beautiful sound with the instrument.

“Mm, you’re coming for my career?”

“Oh, surely. I think I would make an excellent rockstar,” she nods confidently, making him laugh.

“You are so not the rockstar type. More like the chill indie singer who dances barefoot on stage.”

“Yeah, but I could spice it up a little and make it rockstar-y,” she explains and glances back at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you think I would look hot in one of your stage costumes? Sparkly suit and all?”

“Oh I know you’d look amazing,” he nods eagerly. He has spent quite some time imagining her girl in one of his suits and he quite liked the thought. Flora chuckles as he puts the guitar aside before she turns around and straddles him, her knees on each of his sides.

“Yeah? I would need a better name, mine is not too fitting for a star,” she explains. “Easy for you, your name is basically the most perfect name for a rockstar.”

“You think so?” he cocks an eyebrow at her, his palms coming to cup her bum as he tilts his head backwards since this position makes her the taller one for a change.

“Harry Styles? Oh please, it’s like Anne knew she would give birth to a legend,” she scoffs making him laugh.

“I’ve been told it’s a nice one,” he shrugs smugly. “I think it’s the surname.”

“It’s pretty cool, yeah.”

“What if you had the same? Flora Styles? Sounds pretty badass,” he suggests and at first, she doesn’t even realize the hidden meaning behind his words, tasting the name so obliviously.

“Flora Styles? You might be right, the surname sounds very cool,” she agrees and it amazes him how easily it went over her head.

“You like it?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her hand reaching for the guitar once again, but Harry stops her, taking it between his as he blindly finds her ring finger that is now ringless.

“Do you like it enough to actually take it?” he questions, hoping she would get the hint now where this is heading. She blinks at him a little puzzled but it’s until she realizes that his fingers are fidgeting with her ring finger, more specifically where a ring would sit on it, his fingertips gently caressing the skin around it.

“Harry?” she gasps with wide eyes as she just watches his grin grow wider. “This is not… Are you--?”

“What?” he chuckles, feeling entertained how she lost all her smug confidence all of a sudden. “What’s it that you’re trying to say?”

“No, what is it that you are trying to say?!” she snaps back, still in shock about what he just implied. “Was this your sneaky way of… proposing?” she asks, whispering the last word as if it was a curse word.

“Why do you act like we have a forbidden love and marriage cannot be even mentioned?” he chuckles at her.

“Because I was shocked! Not that bad now though, you haven’t pulled out a ring so I guess it was just a cruel joke.” She narrows her eyes at him, kissing his smug grin shortly, but Harry is definitely not done with her just yet.

“I wouldn’t be that sure about it, baby,” he warns her before gently pushing her off her lap to get off the bed. Flora’s eyes widen as she follows him walk to his suitcase that’s still lying on the floor next to his dresser, waiting to be unpacked. He digs under his clothes before pulling out a small velvety box, making her gasp immediately. Harry gets back on bed as he holds out the box in front of her on his palm, not opening it just yet.

“Did you buy that in New York just this week?” she asks with her mouth hung open.

“I didn’t. I’ve had it for about a month, I just took it with myself because I was afraid you’d find it,” he chuckles as he plays around with it between his fingers. “Have been planning on it for a while, but I couldn’t come up with anything so then I just decided to wait for the right moment and go with the flow,” he explains.

“And this is the right moment?” she questions, her heart beating in her throat as her gaze is switching between Harry’s green eyes and the box in his hand.

“Felt like it, yeah,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Silence settles between them as they both just wrap their heads around the weight of the moment. Harry’s heart flutters in his chest, a little afraid it’s too early. They’ve been dating a little over two years now, marriages have been tied way earlier in a relationship before, but Harry feared Flora would feel it too rushed just yet, however the question is out there now. Or is it?

“Well, are you gonna ask it?” she questions and as Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet her gaze, he is met with that playful challenge in them that he adores so much.

“I just asked,” he mutters.

“No, you asked if I would take your name. That’s not a proposal,” she reminds him and he realizes she is right. He never actually asked the big question.

So he finally pops the lid open revealing the vintage diamond ring he bought a month ago when he was just out and about. The moment his eyes laid on the jewelry, he knew it’s the one he’d like to see on your finger and bought it right away.

“Floortje Hoven, will you marry me?” he simply asks, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks as he smiles widely at his lover.

“I will,” she nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she watches him take the ring out of the box and carefully put it on her once empty ring finger. Still holding her hand, he brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the ring before leaning in he connects his lips with hers.

-

Thank you for reading! Please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

[dadsbongos]

burn me to the ground

(1)gentle lover (2)burn me to the ground Movie/Game/Show: Thor: Ragnarok Dynamic: Loki Laufeyson/Reader Warnings: ragnarok spoilers?, passing description of you as toned/muscular cuz loki with gf who could crush him >>>, i give more time gap to thor's arrival cuz :), fem pronouns Summary: He’s never been one for such sentiment, maybe that’s why her influence is so terrifying to him. ~~~

“You wanted me to meet someone?”

“Right! Right, right, right,” the Grandmaster waves his hand in a gesture for Topaz to guide his chair through the room, “He was all mumble-y and murmur-ey and I heard your name, so I was thinking maybe you could tell me what this guy’s all about!”

Upon seeing the man in reference, your eyes widen and you nearly stumble back.

The man, however, immediately tilts his head and practically hisses out, “You.”

Well, no point in pretending to not know him now when he reacts like that. Sighing and tossing up your hands as if to show relief, you gush out an awfully whiny, “Aw, prince! Thank goodness you’re okay! I was so worried when we got separated!”

“So, how do you two know each other?” the Grandmaster’s smile is broad, if not slightly threatening, as he waggles a finger between the two people in front of him.

“I’m a sort of guard to your royal asshat.”

Loki doesn’t get the chance to speak up as the Grandmaster claps in response to you, “Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to know your track record here doesn’t show any signs of slacking!”

“Certainly, yes,” Loki nods curtly, not pleased at the prospect of a Midgardian - this Midgardian - having to watch over him again, “Reassuring to have her here.”

“I would be, look at her- " reaching over, the Grandmaster squeezes at your bicep, “So strong, she’s a great contender!”

“Contender…?” Loki murmurs to the woman, a brow quirked.

Smacking the prince’s arm, you shake your head before turning back to the Grandmaster, “Loki wouldn’t be a very good contender, he’s pretty frail and weak. Lame, too.”

“Aw,” wagging a finger as one would to a pestering child, the Grandmaster’s broad grin falls into a tight-lipped smile before he speaks, “Loyal guard trying to protect her prince, how sweet.”

“What can I say?” Loki notices the way you seem more on edge now, breath shakier, but you manage to mask it as light laughter, “Duties never rest.”

Nodding, the elderly man turns to Topaz, whispering in her ear before dismissing you both back to your quarters.

It’s as the door to the room shuts that Loki is greeted with the first hint of aggression he’s ever seen from you - not even in his time on Earth had he seen malice slip from you like he does now. The door slams and you wring your hands in your hair, nearly shouting as you turn to the God,

“You moron, why’d you have to go and say that? As if you know me? You could’ve gotten us killed.”

“But I do know you,” Loki held his hands up, pausing your rampant pacing, “Was I not supposed to try and find solace in the fact that I was on a new, strange planet with the one person I recognize?”

“You’re such an ass,” it’s a deflated insult, sighed out while you stomp over to the one bed in the room and slump down on it, “Just hope that nutjob believed me about you being weak.”

“Which, I believe we should have a talk about, by the way,” Loki’s brows furrow, “Why do that? I don’t need any protection nor defense, especially by the likes of you.”

“Unless you want to go as a gladiator and potentially be ripped in half by people twice your size, I would just take the label of weakling socialite and run with it. Hope you get on the Grandmaster’s good side like I have and eventually he maybe stops looking at you like a starving man to steak.”

“Haven’t quite gotten to that last bit, I imagine.”

“No, unfortunately not. It’s a little terrifying.”

It’s quiet as you rub at your aching temples and think over the situation. Loki turns and begins assessing the room - a room he hopes to not be stuck in.

“Are we to share this?”

“Probably,” yet another exhausted sigh slips from your lips, “I wouldn’t bother bringing it up to the old man, you might get vaporized.”

There’s a beat of silence before Loki chuckles, it’s forced and tight.

“Oh,” nodding, you lean back until you’re fully reclined on the bed, “you think I’m joking.”

The God’s eyes widen at that, turning to face you in alarm, “Are you not?”

Suddenly sitting up to untie your boots, you mutter, “I’m trying a slow coup. I was gonna do it on my own, but now you’re here so that’s minorly reassuring.”

“Coup?”

“Accident comes to the Grandmaster, we move up. I say we, but if you try and overthrow me for the throne, I will have to duel you. Duel at best, but at worst…”

Another pregnant silence flows through the room, Loki tilting his head, “You do realize how alarming that is when you don’t finish that sentence, right?”

“Good.”

It was an unlucky arrangement. Trapped on a trash planet, literally, with a Midgardian worm - whom he either has to share a bed with or rest on a loveseat for the nights. None of which is even mentioning the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster.

On the surface he’s light. Bubbly. Fun. And then someone drops a glass too close to his favorite new shoes and suddenly they’ve been pardoned from the land of the living and the stench of wretched toast permeates through the room.

It’s that memory that has Loki tuning out of the story of the man across from him. His hands fall to his thighs and begin rubbing away the sweat of nervousness that gathers there. The movements don’t go unseen, and the woman who assigned herself as his personal guard reaches down and takes his hand. Uncaring if the rest of the party sees as they cling to one another.

You aren’t Loki’s first choice of partnership but maybe that’s where he’d be wrong - because your grip is strong and it won’t let go unless it’s commanded. It’s comforting and reassuring and Loki can’t remember the last time someone held him like that as he breaks down. It isn’t just the hand holding at parties, it’s in the late nights when neither of you can sleep and your heads are too full of countless worries of each’s own home. It’s the way you hold him and don’t say a word of it the next day. Barely acknowledging it unless he brings it up first, not wanting to make him uncomfortable or pressured.

It’s kindness and genuinity and he thinks he wants to have you around all the time. After the Grandmaster. After Hela. Whenever and wherever that dust happens to settle, he knows he wants this comfort all the time.

Storytime comes around to Loki. His fingers curl tighter around your hand as he speaks, occasionally taking a break to sip at his neon drink when there’s a hearty whisper-shout of both your names,

“Over here!”

God of Thunder, you notice. Thor of Asgard. You two excuse yourselves from the couch of socialites to cross the room to Thor.

“Thor? You’re alive?” you begin, eyes wide.

“Of course, I’m alive, what’re you two doing? Why aren’t you stuck in a chair? Where’s your chairs?”

“We didn’t get one,” Loki shakes his head.

“Get me out,” Thor urges, still thoroughly confused over the presence of his brother and old friend.

“We can’t,” you whisper.

Nodding, Loki continues, “We’ve gotten in favor with the Grandmaster. In his higher courts.”

“Like friends but scary,” you pitch in, “We’ve been here a few weeks. Maybe a month.”

“A month?" Thor repeats in utter disbelief, "I just got here.”

“What’re you guys whispering about?” the Grandmaster himself juts into the conversation with a giggle, “Time works different around these parts. On any other world I’d be like millions of years old, but on Sakaar…” he stops and looks between the trio with a teasing grin before shaking his head, “In any case, you two know this… what’d you call yourself - Lord of Thunder…?”

“God of Thunder,” Thor corrects with a forced chuckle.

“I’ve never met this man in my life,” Loki immediately denies.

“He’s my brother.”

Rolling your eyes at the brothers, you’re quick to gesture to Loki, “Adopted.”

The Grandmaster nods, “He any kind of a fighter?”

“You take this thing out of my neck and I’ll show you.”

That’s how they find out that - at the very least, Thor’s alive. Not well, but certainly alive.

The night after that party is mostly quiet in the room. Presently, both people are getting ready for bed but inside their minds is such fueled turmoil that neither truly believes they’re getting rest that night. Upon finishing his state of dress, Loki makes his way out to the balcony.

Air on Sakaar isn’t particularly fresh or clean, nor are the stars incredibly visible with all the city lights, but it felt better out there than being trapped in a room. He’s soon joined by another body at the railing, hands barely brushing together on the roughened metal.

It’s Loki that makes the first move, slowly sliding his hand across the rail until his entwined with yours. Your fingers weave together and Loki can’t help but balance his gaze between your conjoined hands and your eyes. He remembers a time where he used to look into those eyes and see an enemy - now, he can’t imagine a time where he would’ve ever wanted to hurt someone such as you. Can't believe there was a time where he wanted to hurt you. Your care is expressed in tender touches and loyalty. In quiet moments of trust and earnest adoration. In honesty. It's that silent care that speaks the loudest.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his own thoughts, “When this whole thing is over and Sakaar is ruined and Thor will have the throne, where will you go?”

Loki falls silent at that question, he brushes a thumb over your knuckles, pursing his lips and tilting his head as he thinks over what response would fit best. Then he comes to the realization that it wouldn’t matter where he lies as long as he has comfort that lies with him. Comfort that sleeps inside the woman beside him is what he wants.

And so, he mumbles out, “Where will you want me?”

There’s a laugh pulled from you as your head shakes, “You wouldn’t want to go to Earth. Unless you’d like the Avengers up your ass.”

There’s a shared laugh as Loki relents, speaking before laying a kiss to your knuckles, “I wouldn’t be fond of that… but for you, my dear, I’d tear the universe apart.”

“That sounds like exactly why they wouldn’t want you. Sorry to say they’re not fond of universe-tearing.”

A sarcastic huff falls from the prince, “I’m charming and romantic and this is how I’m repaid?”

“However, I can’t say that’s not excellent bargaining to keep you on a leash,” you grin.

“Like a dog?”

“Well, now,” looking away, your lip is tucked between your teeth to muffle possible laughter.

Loki doesn’t follow your example, instead he studies the planes of your face. The curve of your cheek and the way your eyes are lit up by the stars and lights that flow in this city. You’re beautiful. That, he knows. And despite being trapped on Sakaar, he also knows he’s grateful to have someone like you. To have you.

Strong, both in emotional resolve and psychical capability. It’s nice to have someone who can stay level-header and offer support. It makes him want to care and provide for you as well, and that’s what scares him.

You make him want to return sentiment when all he’s cared for before was letting things burn.

[sichengtual]

how sweet it is (to be loved by you)

— summary: some loves are meant to run too deep, some loves are meant to stand the test. luckily, for you and cheol, nothing has ever posed a threat.

— pairing: choi seungcheol x reader.

— genre: fluff ; established relationship ; 70's au, part of the tiny dancer universe.

— word count: 2665

— warnings: mentions of smoking.

happy birthday to the love of my life @svtxsoju! i love you so so so much 💞

Seungcheol had never been hard to read.

From the very first moment you’d met, you’d seen he always wore his heart on his sleeve. You liked that about him; the way you could tell how he was feeling by paying attention to the size of his smile and the gleam in his eyes. For a while, you wondered if he was like that when only you were there to see. A sort of prize won after confidence, the kind that came with a great deal of trust. Your heart always leapt at the thought; of Seungcheol trusting you enough to let his walls down, of letting you in with such ease you’d wonder if he just wasn’t afraid of ever getting hurt… not by you, but by the world.

After a while, you finally came to see it wasn’t quite like that. Seungcheol just trusted people. Not only his friends (which you were at the time) or the people closest to him, but the strangers he passed by on the street. The people he ran into at the store. The men he made business with, the bands he came to meet, the fans he saw from afar. It was a beautiful thought, Seungcheol having a heart so big there was no sort of mistrust in it; but it was also a scary one, because you knew the world to be cruel. You knew the world to be undeserving of him.

“He’s gonna fall down on his ass,” Mingyu speaks next to you, a hand in the pocket of his torn up leather jacket and the other holding a cigarette. “Part of me wants you to tell him to come down but the other part wants revenge from him waking me up at 5 today.”

“You guys had a gig,” you laugh, taking a sip from your cup. It’s run cold, but the beverage leaves a sweet aftertaste on the back of your tongue, so you keep drinking. Summer is just around the corner anyways. “Not to defend him, but, you know.”

“Oh no, not you too,” Mingyu whines, throwing his head back as he speaks. He’s always reminded you of Seungcheol, and you wonder if that’s why the two seem to clash together so much. “The gig was at noon, no need to see the rise of dawn and scare my sleep away with Chan’s sleeping mask.”

“Oh, fuck you!” You hear from the back of the yard, Chan’s voice somehow louder than the playing vinyl.

His laughter, followed by Mingyu’s quiet giggle and the careless strum of a guitar, brings a smile on your lips.

Night has barely begun to fall down. The sky is tinged bubblegum pink and the clouds have started to change color, adorning the afternoon sky in an array of orange shades. It’s the moment before it starts turning down, but even when the light threatens to decrease, temperature only but rises. It’s a warm summer afternoon, with friends laughing at the top of their longs and music playing as soft background music, setting the scene even when the melody runs ignored.

It had been a while since you last had spent time with the band. They had just gone on their first big world tour and were just getting welcomed back home, and you can swear there’s something about finally knowing the world that allows their smiles to grow a little bit wider. It’s as if they’ve collected happiness at every spot, experiences turned into emotion as they let themselves completely feel every single moment. It’s as if they let their hearts be free once they’ve known how it is to let their bodies do the same.

“Why did he even get up there, anyways?” You ask, taking a sip from your punch glass. It’s sweet and cool against the growing heat.

“Seungkwan and Hoshi dared him,” Mingyu answers, smiling when Soonyoung tries to excuse his actions, yelling about some book incident involving Cheol and Jun. “Can’t believe he’s about to fall on his face in front of you for a slice of cheese pizza, though.”

“It’s a matter of honor!” Seungcheol exclaims between jolts of laughter, fingers forming a peace sign as Joshua pulls his portable camera out of his bag and points it at him. “Wait, what is this for?”

He tries to pose as he stands over a wobbly table, one of his hands holding a glass of pink colored punch and the other pointing to the camera while he tries to keep still for however long it takes Joshua to focus the lens. The guitarist isn’t the best at photographs, but his enthusiasm makes up for the lack of skill.

“Ivy and Jun are doing some groovy memory thing,” he explains, breaking into a laugh, shrugging in the direction of the couple. “Don’t worry, I’ll document every step of the process.”

Your boyfriend’s mouth opens wide at Joshua’s words, the peace sign in his hand quickly becoming a single pointed finger, eyes blazing as he moves his hand in the air.

“As soon as these fifteen minutes are up I’m getting down from here,” Seungcheol says, each word enunciated in the form of a loud whine, a pout forming on his lips as he berates his friend. “Be sure to document the slice of pizza in my mouth, Bob Dylan!”

“That would be so fucking gross,” Minghao comments from the hammock, a pair of pastel yellow sunglasses resting on the tip of his nose. “Trust me, no one would ever want to see that.”

“And Josh wishes he was Bob Dylan!” Mingyu laughs.

“I bet you wish you got the riff today right, tho,” Chan teases, another fit of laughter ensuing. Mingyu responds, and Minghao giggles.

Seungcheol turns to see his friends from where he’s standing, chest growing tight at the sight. It’s his family, after all, reunited and relaxed after what was, probably, the start to a lifelong adventure. You meet him halfway, smiling as you point the glass of punch in his direction in a silent cheer. It’s your family as much as it’s his, and there’s a sense of pride growing in the center of your stomach as you realize what an honor it is to be a part of it.

He smiles, and it doesn’t really seem like he’s all the way across the yard on top of a table that threatens to break down, because he’s truly never felt closer to you.

…

Hours later, the pizza discussion has quieted and night has finally fallen down.

Seungcheol ended up not falling, breaking literally everyone but Ivy, Jun, and your expectations, but earning Joshua quite a groovy photo (he had almost fallen down, after all). The beginning of the entire thing is still a bit of a mystery to you, but with the information you’ve been given, you’re not completely sure you’d actually want to know. After all, the entire fifteen minutes had given you a good laugh and a lifetime of worries, all at the same time.

“Here,” Seungcheol’s voice breaks you apart from your thoughts. He’s holding a yellow ceramic cup full of steaming tea, arm stretched in your direction. “Can you believe Seungkwan was trying to hide his Earl Gray from me?”

“Actually, yeah, I can,” you answer as you laugh, taking the cup from Seungcheol’s hands while he sits on the grass next to you. “You don’t even drink tea.”

“No, but he knows you do,” he says. He speaks as if he’s telling you a secret, words low, soft against the wind, entering your ears like honey as your lips curl up into a smile.

Seungcheol’s gentleness is present in every thought, in every gesture. It’s in the thinking of you to ensure your comfort, the going out of his way to make you happy, that lets you know he treats your happiness like he’s guarding a flower that’s just about to bloom. He touches it with the tips of his fingers, caring for it and nurturing it, helping your smile grow by the day. A smile directed at him.

“And yet he guards it from the both of us,” you say, raising the cup to your lips and taking a small sip. It’s sweet, a bit too sweet, perhaps, but the saccharine taste feels like velvet against your tongue, so you continue drinking. You’ve always liked sweet things, and Seungcheol has always known. “Are you not gonna have anything?”

“Seungkwan’s coffee brew and my stomach aren’t really the best of friends,” he jokes, eyes fixed on the midnight sky. “Not after last time, at least. The good thing about the tour was that all the coffee we got was made by other people.”

“Hey, he takes a lot of pride in his coffee brew!”

“That doesn’t make it any lighter!”

He doesn’t quite remember just how long it’s been since he’s taken a second to stop and breathe in like he’s doing now, the feeling of laying down without a worry having been completely alienated. It’s like he’s always on track; always moving here or there, physically or in thought, and stopping finally means letting his thoughts lay down too. He lets himself feel every inch of the warm breeze hitting his skin and rustling his hair, enjoying every second of finally watching the stars shine bright above his head.

Seungcheol is always hearing Jun talk about just how much he likes looking at the stars, and now he finally understands.

“Hey, look up there,” Seungcheol whispers, nudging your shoulder with his and pointing to the sky with his finger. You’re not sure he’s drawing your attention to any spot in particular, and, to be honest, neither is he. “It reminds me of you.”

“What exactly are you looking at?” You ask, and it’s somewhere between a laugh and a question, but he doesn’t comment on it. He’s always loved the way you talk, because, even if for a second, he feels like happiness drips from every pore. “You’re pointing at like, at least five different stars right now.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean. You’re each and every single one of them. You’re there with me, lightning my path with every step I take.”

You’re not sure, but you’d think that’s the moment the world stops spinning, because it’s just the two of you; it’s just you and Seungcheol, and your warm cup of tea, and the crazed laughter of your friends flows through the air like the background scene of a film you’ll watch over, and over, and over again. It’s like the moment and his words become etched so deep inside your heart they become a part of who you are, and of who you will always be, because there’s nothing that encompasses happiness better than the love you and Seungcheol hold for each other.

“Are you coming for Jun’s job now?” You ask, voice breaking as tears begin to prickle your eyes.

“Should we switch places?” Seungcheol follows, letting himself fall completely on his back, feeling the grass grazing against the soft linen of his purple button-up. His tone is light, relaxed. Gentle. “I’m pretty sure Jun could make for a convincing business man.”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure he would. He’s different now, isn’t he? He feels a bit more confident. A bit more secure.”

“Love does that to you, I guess. It makes you believe in yourself, because you know someone else does it too.”

And it’s just so much of a feeling growing inside your chest that you’re sure this is exactly where you’re meant to be, and Seungcheol is exactly who you’re meant to be with. You look at your surroundings, and he’s nestled so deep within your soul it’s almost like he’s everywhere. Every single place, every single sound, every single scent; he's everything.

“Can I have this dance?”

He moves, rustling in place as he extends his hand over to you.

“You can have all of them.”

It’s almost like it’s your thoughts speaking, voices intertwining, souls coming together. He takes your hand in his and you follow his lead as he stands up, pulling you to his chest with such gentleness in his touch it feels like you’re made of glass. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, but you don’t really think he needs to, because as soon as his fingers tangle with yours, it’s almost like you’re flying.

Somewhere in the garden, sitting around a campfire, Joshua and Mingyu’s guitars begin playing a song you both know, and you barely notice the moment your feet start moving. They dance on their own accord, gliding over the grass in a pace that doesn’t quite match the one set by the instruments, but neither of you fight it. He tightens the grip on your fingers and sets them over his chest, moving in closer to your frame.

You can feel him in what’s almost a hug by how close you’re standing, and it’s only when Joshua and Mingyu begin singing that you move your head up to take a look at him. The melody is sweet, raising into the sky over the crackling of a roaring fire. Dark, thick wisps of hair fall against his forehead and over the golden frame of his glasses, completely rustled by the summer breeze. You know it’s only a matter of time before he’ll try to tussle it back against his head, no doubt counterproductive, further messing up his (once) carefully gelled hairstyle.

He looks just the way he did when you last saw him before the tour, and, in a way, he looks a completely different person. There’s a sense of growth, of experience, of adventure nestling in his smile and yet, the look in his eyes expresses just as much love for you as it’s always done.

“I missed you,” he says, words soft against your skin.

He pulls you in even closer, lips coming into contact with your forehead. He presses a kiss; light, soft, gentle. And yet loving, lingering. It’s an expression of a love that doesn’t quite pressure to grow, that doesn’t quite define itself by the closeness in touch or time. It’s born on the surface, but it travels down so deep it lays untouched by whatever might pose a threat. It blooms, so wildly and fierce, and so close to your own souls it’s shaped them into what they are. It’s what you are, and you can feel it dripping down your very self whenever you’re close. It’s where you’ve found a sense of home.

“I missed you too.”

You smile, letting your forehead rest against his lips. He takes in a breath, closing his eyes. The cup of tea sits long forgotten over the grass, but steam still rises from the top. The liquid lays untouched, unmoving; but still warm.

…

The morning rises, and you’re there to see.

Seungcheol is asleep in the guest room of Seungkwan’s field house, resting calmly beneath the thick duvet you had shared the night before. His arm is still splayed over the space you once occupied, and there’s a smile resting on his lips. His hand is balled into a fist, clutching the soft, velvet sheets. Light begins to seep through the window, filtering through the curtains. A soft ray falls over his face.

In the backyard, you look up at the sky. Once dark, it’s now the most beautiful shade of gold you’ve ever seen. Air runs between the trees, and you can feel it move against your skin. The world starts waking up as you smile, and you can feel every second of it. Joshua and Mingyu sleep calmly on the couch, and Minghao brews his coffee in silence. Ivy reads a book while caressing Jun’s hair, his head resting on their lap. Seungkwan, Soonyoung, Chan and Vernon busy themselves with breakfast, the faint scent of burning toast reaching your nose.

Your family is there with you, and you feel love all around.

[flyingkiki]

A Very Merry Christmas (4/4)

We're ending this little series with a steamy little Christmas celebration for our favorite little birbs. Thank you all for following this series. I had a lot of fun writing this story.

Chapter Three of A Very Merry Christmas is here.

I'll focus on a few other TimRae projects and finishing a few other stories. Would you be interested in an AU?

Here's a steamy Christmas celebration, my loves!

~~~

Christmas dinner was a sin, really. It was the most delicious meal Raven ever had in her lifetime – Alfred truly did wonders in the kitchen. She still silently marveled at the normalcy of the Wayne family celebrating Christmas with a Christmas ham, creamy mashed potatoes, and array of vegetable dishes and sides, and a delirious amount of desserts. It felt strange to watch Bruce Wayne carve into the ham and gingerly place a rather large slice of ham on an annoyed Jason’s plate. The emotions in the room were strange – hurt still bubbled low and raw underneath the surface, but there was a level of protectiveness, forgiveness and care she could feel all at once with the family.

While everyone was still full and dutifully placing dishes into the dishwasher (“Alfie should not wash dishes, you little shits,”), Raven, Cass and Alfred carefully portioned off leftovers into containers for everyone to take home tomorrow.

The house smelled like Christmas as Cass steered her back into the sitting room where the large Christmas tree was bright and warm. If she blinked, Raven thought she was in an old Christmas movie as she watched Dick and Bruce settle a few more gifts under the Christmas tree. Their movements ruffled a few sprigs of the tree and Raven could smell the fresh scent of pine.

“Presents time,” Cass whispered into her ear and pushed her into the plush rug next to Tim, who easily caught Raven by the elbow and helped her settle in next to him. Cass pushed a plate stacked high with desserts into Raven’s hands, “Eat,” before bounding up to the couch to settle next to Bruce.

Raven stared at the gingerbread men and colorful thumbprint cookies warily before shooting Tim wry smile. “This is so much food,” she whispered to him, while watching Tim chuckle and pluck a colorful peanut butter Christmas cookie, his favorite, off her plate. Alfred had taught her how to make them, which thankfully turned out passable by Alfred’s standards. Tim didn’t seem to mind the burnt edges.

“We’re growing superheroes, we need our calories,” Tim said teasingly before quickly devouring the cookie.

Raven leaned into Tim, pressing into his side as they settled comfortably against each other. Curling her legs under her and feeling just a tiny bit drowsy from all the food, she carefully balanced the plate on her lap. “I don’t think I’ll fit into my uniform after all of this,” Raven breathed in resignation and took a careful bite out of a gingerbread Batman.

Tim made a dismissive sound and grabbed another peanut butter cookie while the rest of the family was busy pouring themselves glasses of eggnog and hot cocoa. “I definitely do not mind you out of your uniform,” he whispered discretely into her ear, earning a blush and exasperated eyeroll from Raven.

“Shut up,” she shoved Tim lightly, and she smiled at his amused chuckle as he plucked another cookie from her plate and crawled towards the large coffee table to grab them some hot eggnog. He carefully crawled back to her, half a cookie in his mouth, balancing two glass mugs of eggnog in his hands. Raven accepted the small glass mug and took a careful sit and immediately felt the warm rush of alcohol and spicy, creamy sweetness coat her tongue. Delicious.

“Okay, presents!” Dick announced after Alfred finally joined the family, not after depositing a large Christmas log on the table much to everyone’s delight. Bruce dove right in and began handing out slices.

Raven settled back and watched in a mixture of fascination and amusement as everyone eagerly handed out gifts. Bruce received a Green Lantern shirt from Jason, much to his chagrin. Damian received a new easel stand from Bruce. Jason got a new holster with tech upgrades from Tim. New ballet shoes for Cass from Dick. Alfred received some incredibly fancy pair of gloves from Damian. Dick chuckled in amusement at the Hufflepuff scarf he received from Cass (Both Dick and Cass seemed to have taken quite a liking towards Harry Potter).

There were more gifts that were passed around and opened and Raven took great pleasure to take in the domesticity of the scene in front of her. She ignored how her stomach leaped and warmed at the occasional ‘Thank You’ and the hug she received from Cass for the ballet tickets (“We can go together!”). She still was not entirely used to having this kind of doting attention directed towards her. This year she and Tim signed the tags of all the gifts for the rest of the Wayne brood with their names together. It was a surreal act, a first in their relationship (since last year they just kept to themselves), making this feeling of inclusion into this little bubble very real. She watched as Damian carefully unwrapped the silvery wrapper of their gift for him, her gaze briefly catching sight of the familiar tag she and Tim meticulously cut out and signed. She felt her heart leap briefly and marveled how a simple strip of paper could affect her.

They gifted Damian with leatherbound sketchpad and graphite pencils which Tim had carefully picked out for the younger boy. She watched as the corners of Damian’s lips curled slightly into a smile as he lifted the large sketchpad and inspected the lettering of Damian Wayne carefully pressed into the leather. She knew that Tim and Damian were not always at best terms, but Tim still was very thoughtful of his younger brother’s interests.

“Thank you, Raven, son,” Bruce smiled kindly over at the couple, holding up a large leather satchel. Tim had mentioned that Bruce needed a new bag for work, so he and Raven tried to find one and worked on customizing it with a few more hidden panels and locks.

“Welcome, B,” Tim beamed and quickly went through the codes and panels with the older man.

Raven was busy making plans with Cass to catch a performance at the New York City Ballet Company for their Spring season with the promise to use a portal to pick the younger woman up in Gotham. Tim returned and sat down next to her and gently pressed a small present into her lap.

“Oh,” Raven looked at the small red package in surprise. She caught Tim’s bemused smile and playfully rolled her eyes. “Wait, let me get yours,” she said and hurried towards the tree and grabbed the medium-sized gift. “Here,” she offered him a stern look. “Don’t shake it,”

“What is it?”

Raven settled next to him and placed her own gift into her lap, curiosity piquing slightly at what could be in the box. “Just open it,” she nudged him gently while watching his fingers pull at the ribbon and meticulously unwrap the giftwrap.

“Oh,” Tim pulled out a Sigma camera lens from the box. He blinked and stared at the new model, surprised at the gift. They briefly talked about getting new lenses for his camera a few months back, Tim was touched that she even remembered that conversation. “This isn’t even out on the market yet,” Tim marveled.

Raven shrugged and smiled mischievously. “I have my ways,”

Tim carefully returned the lens into its box. Leaning in he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, Rae,”

Raven hummed, a warm blush dusting her cheeks, and she ducked her head. Focusing on her gift, she unwrapped the gift carefully and stared curiously at the grey box. Carefully lifting the lid, a small smile spread across her lips as she stared at the little note she found on top of a pair of very fuzzy blue socks. ‘For your cold feet.’

She released a soft huff of laughter and pulled out the impossibly soft and fuzzy socks. She shot an amused look at Tim, who quickly returned hers with a familiar boyish grin of his own. Pushing aside the colorful box stuffing, she pulled out a portable mug heater and a beautiful kabuki mask from his last trip to Japan.

“Thanks, Tim,” she pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek.

“There’s one more,” Tim gentled nudged her shoulder, prompting her to look back into her gift box and rummage through colorful paper before fishing out a small velvet pouch. She cast Tim a curious glance, before turning back to the little pouch and carefully opening it. Turning it upside down, she knew it was jewelry when she felt the light weight of a chain slide down the pouch and drop into her hand. “Tim,” she breathed.

It was gold necklace with a little bird in flight pendant. The pendant looked delicate and finely made, Raven could see the details of feathers on the little bird’s outstretched wings. The little pendant slid down her palm as she shifted her hand in the warm light, the delicate weight of the necklace tickling her palm. She never really thought much of jewelry, but her heart warmed at the thoughtfulness of the gift.

“Do you like it?” Tim asked carefully, leaning into her space, and gaging her reaction. He knew that he shouldn’t be all too worried over her not liking the gift, he already knew that she appreciated small tokens and trinkets. Early on into the relationship Tim learned that Raven did not seem to care over expensive and lavish things, but she enjoyed simple treats and gifts from his business travels and missions. She did the same by bringing rocks or other strange trinkets from her off-earth missions. Yet the little golden necklace seemed to unwittingly rattle him just a little bit, he thought.

Raven smiled and nodded. “It’s pretty,” she mumbled, careful to keep the little conversation between them as the rest of the Bat family busied themselves with their own presents and conversations. Leaning into his space, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You shouldn’t have,”

“Well,” Tim chuckled and took the necklace out of her hand and gently pushed her shoulder to turn her around for him to put the necklace around her neck. “I would have wanted to get a bat pendant, but that would have been weird,”

Raven released a huff of laughter as she pushed her hair out of the way and allowed Tim to fasten the necklace around her neck. The little gold bird settled against her red reindeer sweater. Absently fingering the little pendant, before turning back to Tim to show him how it looked. She smiled as she watched him beam at her, blue eyes bright in mirth. He looked happy and content, bathed in the warm Christmas lights and wrapped up in his dorky Festivus Christmas sweater. Raven’s heart warmed at the sight, the Tim she met so many years ago was so different – much darker, and she enjoyed seeing this new light in him. Leaning in, she kissed Tim. “I love you, you dork,”

Tim hummed and offered a mumbled ‘I love you’ back before gathering her into his arms for a quick hug. Aware of others around them and the curious glances they shot their way, he released her and pressed a quick kiss to her temple before they settled next to each other. While Raven busied herself with Cass, Tim caught Bruce staring at them, his gaze warm and there was a small smile on the older man’s lips. Tim felt a little flustered at being watched but felt relieved to find himself in a better place with Bruce and the rest of the family. Offering the older man a small smile, Tim was glad that he and Raven decided to spend Christmas together with the family.

“We should take a family picture,” Dick announced, his Gryffindor scarf clashing terribly with his cat Christmas sweater. There was a loud cacophony of agreements and grumbles (“So many dramatics, dickface”) as Dick herded people to the small couch by the Christmas tree and had everyone settle around Bruce and Alfred.

Raven blinked, suddenly unsure where to place herself in the middle of people moving around the living room for the family picture. She awkwardly stood up and made a grab for Tim’s camera. “I’ll take the picture –”

“No!” Cass jumped to her knees and stopped Raven from picking up the camera from the table. “You sit with us,”

Raven felt heat rush to her cheeks at the invitation. “But I –”

“You’re one of us now,” Dick chirped from his perch on the couch’s armrest. His arm was slung over the back of the couch behind Alfred and he smiled warmly at Raven.

“Sit,” Tim mumbled warmly into her ear, gently pushing her lower back towards the couch. He easily caught on her sudden discomfort, catching the way her brows drew together in worry. Smiling gently, he gave her another gentle push before he took the camera and worked on setting up the tripod and timer.

“Come sit with us, Raven,” Bruce said while wrapping an arm around Damian next to him. Bruce easily caught her flustered glance and tilted his head towards the side where Cass had settled down next to the Christmas tree.

Raven tried to hide her surprise and embarrassment as she ducked her head and hurried to sit down next to Cass by the foot of the Christmas tree. You’re one of us now settled low in her stomach and surprisingly sent warm jolts up her spine – she had not expected that invitation. She felt Cass’ hand wrap around hers and she looked up at the younger woman in surprise. Cass offered her an encouraging smile and nudged her shoulder. Raven offered a small one in return as she allowed these new feelings to settle in.

“Hurry up, Timbers. Let’s get it done within this year’s Christmas maybe?” Jason’s annoyed voice drifted through the living room and Raven listened to Cass giggle next to her. “My hot eggnog is getting cold, and I’d like it warm, thank you very much.”

“Hold on, one sec,” Tim mumbled. He was busy tinkering with the camera settings, making sure that the lighting was perfect, and the exposure was just right. After making sure that everyone was in frame, Tim pulled out his camera remote. “Okay, got it.”

Hurrying towards Raven and Cass, Tim settled down on the floor next to Raven and gave her gentle smile. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to his side, he squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. “Okay, everyone. On three, smile. One, two, three!”

“Wait now? Or on three? Or after?”

“On three, Dickface!”

“Boys!”

“Three!”

As the sounds of the camera shutter filled the room, Raven smiled and leaned into Tim. Whatever discomforts and flustered feelings she may have had early on, seemed to have slowly dissipated – like a weight she had been carrying on her shoulders had lifted. She belonged. Leaning into Tim more and feeling his arm just tighten a little bit more around her, Raven basked in the warmth of belonging.

The picture turned out great.

~

They all settled into their own rooms later that evening after everyone had their fill of eggnog, hot cocoa, and the Christmas Yule Log was miraculously eaten up. (“When you raise boys, leftovers are rare,” Bruce told Raven with a chuckle) A round of ‘Merry Christmas’ filled the living room followed by amusingly stiff yet warm hugs among the men (except for Alfred, who warmly hugged his brood) and a promise of Christmas leftovers for breakfast for everyone.

Raven and Tim silently shuffled back to their room carrying their gifts. Raven was surprised she even received gifts that evening considering that none of them even knew that she would be coming. The cashmere scarf from Alfred was beautiful (“I wasn’t sure who Master Tim would bring, but I would think every young woman would need a beautiful scarf”) and the Christmas-themed Batman sweater was funny (“We didn’t know who you were,” Dick shrugged apologetically). Bruce gifted her with a first edition Mark Twain book, undoubtedly pulled out of his personal library, but she loved it. (“You’re welcome to come and visit the library, or our home, anytime.”). Damian surprised both Tim and her when he silently offered them a thick rolled up paper before scurrying back to Bruce’s side and stuffing his face with cookies. When she and Tim unfurled the paper, they were surprised to see a beautifully drawn pencil drawing of both of them asleep and curled up into each other in one of the many sitting rooms of the house. It was beautiful.

Just as they carefully deposited all their gifts on Tim’s study table, Raven heard a little huff and scuffle by their door. Titus’ head peaked through the open door, obviously on his way to Damian’s room down the hall. The large dog whined, begging for Raven’s attention. Leaving Tim to change and get ready for bed, Raven released a soft chuckle and went over to the large dog.

“Hey boy,” she whispered and knelt to offer some scratches. Titus huffed loudly and promptly plopped down on the floor and rolled onto his back for some belly rubs. Raven eagerly complied, rubbing the dog’s soft fur.

Raven chuckled as Titus gave a low huff and whine as she scratched just the right spot. She heard Tim move in the background and slowly appear next to her, watching them in amusement. “Titus is going to miss you,” Tim chuckled while rubbing his face with a towel.

Raven hummed and she briefly looked up at Tim, noting that he had already changed for bed. Taking that it was her turn to get ready, she gave Titus one last pat on the belly and finally stood up. “I’ll miss him too, but not his sheer force of a dog,” she said with a small smile and stood up. They both watched Titus whine and get to his feet, watching Raven curiously. With a sneeze and a huff, he sat by their door. “Night, boy,” Raven gently patted the dog on his head before gently nudging Titus out the door and closing and locking it.

Pressing a kiss to Tim’s temple, she slowly shuffled off towards the bathroom to wash her hands and get ready for bed. She could hear Tim climb into bed and tinker with his phone as she heard the distinct tapping of keys, she was sure that Tim was busy checking emails and some work-related project from WE. She could feel the gentle push of his stress and it was a little surreal how well she knew Tim. While admittedly, there was still so much to learn from each other, Raven oddly caught herself surprised at how well they complemented each other despite the physical distance between them at times.

Despite her earlier hesitations of coming to meet Tim’s family officially, Raven was glad they made this trip. She understood his hurt a little bit better. She got a glimpse of how much he cared for his family, despite the tension that often bubbled low beneath the surface. She understood and saw Tim more, a rawness she was privileged to see, and her heart unconsciously warmed to have shared those moments with him.

Frank Sinatra’s ‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas’ crooned softly from the bedroom and Raven smiled. Feeling warm and full, Raven was glad she was here with Tim. She silently hoped for more of this. These quiet, raw, moments between them. Funny how she now found herself wanting this kind of raw intimacy.

After washing her face and brushing her teeth, Raven stripped down to her underwear – thankfully a matching lacy black pair. Not bothering to change just yet, she slipped out of the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe as she listened to Sinatra’s voice and watched Tim frown at his phone screen.

“I’m not sure Frank Sinatra will appreciate you frowning so furiously at his singing,” Raven teased, while playfully crossing her arms.

“There’s just a report –” Tim paused and openly stared at her figure, drinking in the black lace. “Oh,” He sat up, leaning against the headboard and watched her move towards the bed with piqued interest. “Hey,”

“Through the years we all will be together…”

Raven released a soft chuckle. “Hey,” she replied, lips curling every so lightly as she felt the familiar press of desire and attraction press against her. Drinking in his own boyish grin and the way his muscles rippled as he carefully placed his phone on the nightstand while not breaking eye contact with her had her own desires pool low in her stomach.

“Merry Christmas,” Tim said as Raven reached his side of the bed.

Raven hummed playfully. “Merry Christmas,” she replied and climbed into his lap, Tim’s hands immediately settling on her thighs as she sat down.

Tim grinned up at her boyishly and ran his hands up her thighs and over the swell of her hips. Fingers teasingly hooked into the sides of her lacy underwear and his lips curled further into a smile as he caught her amused stare. “May I unwrap my Christmas present?”

Raven released a thoughtful hum and ignored his fingers press into her hips. Leaning over him, she instead slipped her hands underneath his grey shirt and teasingly tugged it up his body while pressing a kiss to his neck. “I was hoping I could unwrap mine?” she mumbled into the underside of his chin as she pressed her body into him and felt his hands splay over her hips and butt. She tugged at his shirt once more and they fumbled to remove it while Raven lay over him.

They kissed languidly, both basking in a warm Christmas glow that settled low in their abdomens and left warm tingles up their bodies. Fingers were needy and gentle as they pressed into familiar curves and scars.

Raven felt nimble fingers run up her back and make quick work to unfasten her bra as she kissed him deeply. With a soft inhale, Raven sat up on Tim’s lap and allowed the garment the slide down her shoulders. Raven raised an eyebrow playfully as she caught Tim’s heated gaze, watching her remove her bra and drop in on the floor. For good measure, she teasingly rocked her hips into him as she felt his erection press against the apex of her own growing need.

Inhaling sharply at the steady rocking of her hips, Tim’s fingers dug into her hips and slowly slid up her waist for a steady trek up her chest. “Definitely the best Christmas, I must say,” Tim announced, hooded eyes eagerly drinking in Raven’s naked form.

Raven teasingly raised an eyebrow and ran her hands down his abdomen, watching in satisfaction as the muscles contracted in contact. She hooked her fingers into his sweatpants. “I still need to finish unwarp—”

Titus’ loud snuffling interrupted them as he sniffed the bottom of their bedroom door. Raven paused, lips lifted into an amused smile, and they both curiously watched as the silhouette of a large nose danced across the small crack at the bottom of their door. There was a low whine and a lot louder snuffling.

Tim shot an annoyed-amused look at this door. “Go away, Titus. You’re killing our Kinky Christmas mood,” he said, which of course did not achieve anything with the silencing charm still in place in the room.

Raven chuckled. With a little spark of magic that danced through the crack, Titus released a loud huff, before scurrying away from their bedroom door. With purple eyes dancing in amusement, she turned back to an equally amused Tim. “We should get a pet,” she said, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully and she regarded Tim’s surprised expression.

Tim blinked, surprised at the announcement. Scooting further up against his pillows to sit up better, he dragged Raven closer to him on his lap. The pads of his fingers pressed into her waist. “A pet?” he repeated, curious at this sudden announcement.

“Yes, a pet. An animal,” Raven rolled her eyes and squeezed his left forearm playfully.

Tim paused, gaging where this was going. He watched Raven curiously, waiting for her to explain but she seemed to wait patiently wait for his reply. He blinked. “Uh, okay? But we’re rarely together as often as we’d like in one location. So maybe a,” Tim paused and drew his eyebrows together. “A fish?”

Raven released a soft huff of laughter. “I’m pretty sure a fish needs just as much care as any other animal,” Her gaze softened a little bit as she took in Tim’s curious look and the corners of her lips curled up. “You always said you’d like a cat and I thought we could get one together?”

Tim’s chest warmed at Raven’s explanation. She remembered their conversations of wanting to own a cat as a child but never having been able to. Tim smiled warmly up at Raven, as a rush of emotions spread across his chest. It was always so easy to remind himself why he loved Raven because of her simple acts of kindness and thoughtfulness. “I’d like that,” he said. Curious, he pressed on. “So, it moves around with us? A few months in Gotham and Jump at a time? How do we –”

“I could be more in Gotham,” Raven cut in, tilting her head thoughtfully as she looked down at him.

“Oh,” Tim breathed, as realization slowly dawned on him. A pet – something they’d share together, the feeling of permanence bubbled low underneath his skin and the thought left him just a little bit breathless. “More time in Gotham?” he repeated, sounding terribly like an old record, but he needed to confirm what he was hearing and what it meant.

The corner of Raven’s lips lifted slightly, and she shifted in his lap as Tim sat up fully to lean against the headboard. Fingers pressed into the dips of her waist, and she felt a blush spread across her cheeks and neck as she felt his warm press of emotions against her – want, love, happiness.

“Yeah,” she replied and absently traced an old scar along Tim’s right forearm. “I’ve been thinking of getting a degree at Gotham University, have a life more outside of the Titans,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “I’d still help where I can, but –” Raven blinked thoughtfully and stared at Tim. “I’d like to have a life as Rachel as well,”

Raven watched as a smile grew on Tim’s lips. She returned his smile, her own emotions a whirlwind in her chest as she thought of the different prospects of the future. “That’s an excellent plan,” breathed Tim, eyes shining and his grin wide with excitement and happiness.

“Yeah?” Raven asked, unconsciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. They occasionally talked of the future and their current arrangements, but her plans offered unspoken possibilities they both seemed eager to explore. “That is, if Batman is okay with having a half-demon resident in Gotham?”

“Fuck Batman,” Tim huffed and pressed forward to kiss Raven, muffling her bark of laughter. Pulling away from the kiss, he smiled “So, a cat?”

“We should look at shelters,”

In a rush of emotions, Tim kissed her again. The promise of so much more between them seemed to teasingly dance in front of them and he was eager to take what he could get. He felt Raven hum and melt into the kiss, leaning deeper into his embrace.

“I love you,” he breathed after finally pulling away and gently pressing another kiss to the corner of her lips. Basking in the joy of the moment and the unspoken promise of what lay ahead for them, a cat and so much more, Tim pulled away and carefully leaned towards his bedside table. “I have another Christmas gift,” he announced and with unusually clumsy fingers, he pulled the small item out of the bedside drawer.

Raven’s brows furrowed as she curiously watched Tim blindly fumble through the items in his drawer. She kept her balance on Tim’s lap, as he twisted and tried to keep his balance over the edge of his bed as he rummaged through the drawer. “Here,” Tim announced and turned back to her a little too quickly, eager to present to her what he pulled out of the depths of his drawer.

“What – oh!” Raven felt her heart stutter to a halt and her breath was knocked out of her lungs. She stared at the small black box in front of her with a wild mix of emotions. She blinked, wondering perhaps she was seeing things, but yes – the little black box was there. Her heart jumped into her throat. “Tim.”

Tim blinked at her tone and jumped as his own thoughts and stray emotions seemed to catch up with him. “It’s --- ah,” he breathed, and Tim was sure he could barely hear his own thoughts over how loud his heart was hammering in his chest. He shifted in bed, bringing Raven closer to him. Her eyes were wide, staring at the little box in his hand.

“It’s not an engagement ring,” Tim quickly explained, catching the panic and surprise that crossed her face. “I --- ah, yet.” He quickly added, heart beating like mad in his chest and he watched in relief as Raven released a soft huff of laughter and the confusion on her face disappeared.

He pressed the little box into her hands with a nervous laugh. “It’s not an engagement ring,” he repeated and offered her a small reassuring smile. “Yet – we didn’t talk about that. But --- yeah,” Tim wrapped her fingers around the small box and held her hands. “It’s just a ring I thought you might like,”

There was an inexplicable warmth that spread through Raven at the unspoken promise of something deeper. They had never really talked about how their future may look like – their work offering little stable foundation to a permanent future. But this tonight – these little promises and pictures of what may potentially be ahead of them painted a much clearer picture of the future for the two of them. It left Raven breathless. They were getting a cat, together, and they had this now – this little warm bubble they shared.

“Oh,” Raven opened the box and stared at the silver infinity knot ring perched in the velvet case.

“I thought you might like it,” Tim explained gently, taking in Raven’s surprised reaction. “I just – I like this, us, and everything we have together. It was a dangerous mission, but Lisbon and getting shot and getting paired with you was incredibly lucky for me – well, minus getting shot and losing a lot of blood, but,” Tim shrugged and watched as Raven chuckled softly. “I’m so lucky to be with you, and I honestly don’t think I deserve you or everything that you’ve given me. You’re the kindest, most loving person I know. The last year has been incredible and yeah --- I want more of this. These moments of us together, it’s been incredible. I love you, Rae,” Tim felt his stomach twist and he smiled gently at Raven. “I’d really like that cat with you,”

Raven laughed; eyes filled with unshed tears. “I love you too,” she breathed and dipped down for a deep kiss he eagerly responded to. There was a jumble of emotions that seemed to catch up on her – she honestly wasn’t quite sure if they were hers or Tim’s, but the feelings were pleasant, and she was in no rush to dissect them.

She pulled away when air became scarce and a deeper hunger pressed into her as their hips slowly rocked into each other and fingers pressed into the dips of her ribcage and brushed just under the swell of her breasts, a reminder of their nakedness. Sitting upright under Tim’s watchful gaze, she pulled the ring out of its box and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. Looking down at Tim’s face, she quirked her lips up teasingly. “Are you sure you didn’t just propose?”

Tim laughed and leaned forward to press a kiss onto her cheek, he felt her grin widen. “I want you to be my cat partner,” he teased and ran his hand down her bare back, enjoying how her warm skin felt against his hands. There was a little window that offered a little glimmer of being more than just cat parents that they both seemed to acknowledge but they did not bother to speak about – yet. “Besides,” he mumbled against the underside of her chin and teasingly ran his hand over her waist. “I’d rather propose somewhere else, not with a 200-pound dog standing guard outside our door and the rest of my family in the house,”

Tim flipped them over, Raven released a soft laugh as she was pressed into their bed and Tim hovered over her with a teasing smirk. Fingers teasingly hooked into the waistband of her underwear and he grinned boyishly at her, long hair falling into his eyes as they twinkled playfully. “And I’d like us to celebrate very loudly all over our apartment and not worry over nosy neighbors,” he said and playfully tugged at her panties. Pressing down for a breath-stealing kiss, Tim nipped at her lower lips and pulled his body flush against hers and gently started to tug her panties down. “For now, we celebrate us being cat parents. I’m going to unwrap my Christmas gift,”

“Yes,”

With a final tug, black lacy panties were thrown off their bed and Tim quickly dipped his head between her legs, tongue eagerly licking wet folds and burying into an addictive warmth. Raven gasped loudly, back arching off the bed, just as hot electricity shot through her body and desires pooled low in her abdomen.

“Tim!” she gasped, her thighs straining against his forearms as he pressed them wide open. Raven’s world seemed to turn into a blurry haze as heat just ignited her skin. Blindly grabbing the sheets to anchor herself and her reeling world, Raven buried her right hand into Tim’s hair and gave it a sharp tug as he hit a particular delicious note in his ministrations. Groaning, Raven felt her titter dangerously out of control.

Enjoying watching her coming undone, Tim continued with his careful ministrations of measured licking and strokes. Humming in delight as he felt her sharp tugs in his hair, he peered up at her and watched in satisfaction as continued to writhe in delight. Spreading her wider open and digging his fingers into her hips, Tim’s tongue buried deep within her and eagerly stoked a fire that made her sing.

Raven felt the world melt away as she felt herself quickly tumbling over the edge as Tim continued to stroke and suck, quickly sending her into oblivion. With a cry, Raven felt her body tumble over the edge. The world seemed to explode as she fell through the sky and her body roared at lick after lick after lick – continuously stoking flames and propelling her into the abyss.

The world came back around her slowly and the first thing she heard was her unsteady and rapid breathing. Her senses came back one of after another, her skin hot and sticking against the sheets despite the cold winter air that brushed over her legs. She lay spread eagle, all her limbs weak, and she gasped for breath as the heat within her belly still roared and her core throbbed deliciously.

“Fuck,” she breathed, blinking up at the old wooden ceiling and thanked the gods for their common sense of using a silencing charm.

“Hmm,” Tim made a humming sound of agreement from below and Raven lazily lolled her head in his direction to catch him still draped over her thighs and hips. He looked like the cat that ate all the cream – quite literally with the way his chin glistened. Raven blushed at the sight and her desires roared lowly for more. Nimble fingers danced over her heated flesh, dancing across her inner thighs and dangerously close to her throbbing core – teasing her with each stroke. Raven involuntarily bucked into him. Fuck.

“That was the best present to unwrap tonight,” mumbled Tim with a soft grin. He watched her sigh softly as he ran his hands up her waist. “Need to do one more thing before we move along,” he announced and quickly began kissing and nibbling on her hip bone.

“What are you doing?” Raven asked in between breaths as Tim nibbled and sucked on her hip bone, teeth scraping against heated flesh. She gasped as teeth dragged across her skin and she felt herself buck into him, cashing the delicious friction.

With a wet pop and a satisfied grin, Tim looked up at her, catching her blown blue eyes over her heaving chest. Tim felt his emotions hum in satisfaction, he loved watching her come undone and loose herself. “Just leaving a little mark to celebrate the occasion,” he said, eyes trailing back to her hip bone.

Raven’s brows furrowed together in confusion before releasing a soft huff of exasperated laughter as she saw the blossoming red bite mark on her skin – on her hip bone. “You didn’t,” she threw him an accusatory smile.

“Oh, I did,” Tim kissed her rib cage as he crawled up her body. Pressing a kiss to the side of her right breast, he dragged himself up her body and enjoyed the silky press of her skin against his. Pressing into her and enjoying the subtle roll of her hips against his own, he kissed the underside of jaw. “Thought it’d be a good touch to celebrate our Kinky Christmas,”

Tim had lost his sweats at some point earlier and Raven felt him brush against her inner thigh. Chasing the silky heat and his hot emotions, she laughed and wrapped her arms and round his shoulders, drawing him flush onto her. “You sap,” she whispered and caught his lips for a kiss. Feeling him brush against her, she whimpered softly and wrapped her left leg around his waist.

Tim rolled his hips against her teasingly, his cock brushing against her entrance and he released a breath he was holding in anticipation. Teasingly, he kissed the corner of her lips and smiled. “You like it, admit it,” he said while grabbing her leg around his waist and digging his fingers into her thigh. He grinned at the soft mewl and how their bodies rocked into each other.

“Yes,” She whispered, slowly loosing herself again. Her fingers danced over his shoulders and traced old scars. Rocking her hips against his and chasing the heat that was building up, Raven tapped his shoulder and hungrily brushed up against the silky skin of his cock. “But,” she whispered and her breathing stuttered as Tim started to kiss her neck and continued to teasingly rock into her. “I – I’d rather,” she mumbled, and she felt him nibble at the junction of her neck. “You fuck me into oblivion to celebrate our cat parenting future,”

Tim dragged his teeth along her pulse point and listened to her stuttered breathing. Allowing a fire to consume both of their desires, Tim promptly crawled over her and grinned down at her wolfishly. Rocking his hips into hers and brushing against her entrance teasingly, he spread her wider for him and pulled her in for long, bruising kiss. “Gladly,” he growled and all but impaled himself into her hot heat in one fluid motion.

“TIM!”

Much later, when they lay spent against each other and basked in the afterglow of lovemaking, they’d agree that this was perhaps the best Christmas they ever had – the promise of more Christmases together, as a cat family, seemed to glimmer teasingly.

[winter-fox-queen]

Kisses Like Wine Part 7

Thank you, thank you for all the kind words, clever tags…I hope this ending is a good one for all of you. <3

Summary: We end where we begin…at a party. Will the Thief get everything he came for?

Warnings: Making out…I don’t know why, the man exudes pure sex, but I couldn’t fit the smut in. Stealing things. The reader is female, blank canvass, no y/n.

I stared at the card.  All that blackmail, clever managing to break into a warehouse, avoiding getting killed…and all I had to show for it was an empty chair and a card.

A King of Spades. What the hell did that even mean?  It’s been a few days, and I had no idea where he was, if he was alright, anything.

But I did have a bit of luck.  I learned that there was to be a ball…and it was tonight. The Heart of the Rhine would be on delicious display, around the neck of a lady who claimed to be one of the “Last Habsburg Princesses” — though people made fun of her for her grandiose claims.  But still.  She was going to the ball, wearing the Heart, and I was going to steal it.

I had a glass fake.  It wasn’t a very good glass fake, but it would do with the time I had.  I also had a beautiful dress, a soft, filmy green that clung where it should and sparkled like a thousand diamonds had been sewn into it.

I then tried to treat myself to dinner, but the card was declined…finally, my father had cut me off.  I laughed…I had bought everything from the skin out for the ball, made sure I was the most beautiful and elegant I could be, and it was the MCDonald’s cheeseburger that got declined.

I told myself I was dressing for the part, not for the man.  I hadn’t picked out the most beautiful lingerie to wear under the dress that I could just in case he would get to see it.

I’d give my soul to know his name, and it scared me, how far I’d gone.

How much I wanted him.

So, there I was.  At the entryway to the Great Ballroom (which I’d cleaned yesterday, and helped set up this morning before collecting my paycheck and canning my maid outfit and wig for good, thank you very much) I paused.  It was going to end the way it began.

I told myself I was ready.

“I thought you’d be in the corner, singing to yourself, angel.”  His voice was like a heavy velvet wrap around my heart.  I was suddenly so very aware.  Aware of the warmth of his body near my back, the feel of his hand as he moved to take mine, bending low and kissing the knuckles, the dark pools of his eyes never leaving mine.

“It’s not a masquerade, this time.”  I was proud that I almost sounded unaffected.  Almost.  He was wearing a jacket of silvery grey, it shimmered a little in the light.  “All masks are off.”

“Are they?”  He presented me with a little pouch.  Smiled down into my eyes, his eyes so deep and dark — but warm, like summer shadows.

“What’s this?”  I took it gently.

“A thank you present, for later…hide it in one of the pockets you had sewn into your gown.”  He caressed my cheek gently.  “Thank you for rescuing me.”

I tried to feel it through the velvet of the pouch as I stowed it…paper?  Around something hard?  His caress distracted me.  “I can’t believe you got caught.”

“Perhaps it is time for me to retire.”  He held out a hand.  “Shall we?  We did not get to dance properly last time, and tonight, we have time to kill.”

I let him lead me out on the floor.  His hand on the bare skin of my back was warm, intimate.  He’s held me close before but this is different…my breath still came faster, heat still pooled in my belly at his touch, feeling his body move against mine, but it felt like home just as much as it felt like lust.  Would he move this smoothly, if we were alone in his bed?  Would be be this gentle, but this firm as he lead me?

“How…”. I shut myself off.  I had been about to say, “How do you fall in love with a Thief?”

“How do I plan to take it?”  He tapped his forehead to mine gently.  “You know better than to ask.”

“Well.  She has four guards around her everywhere she goes.  She’s never alone — someone is always talking to her, always saying something.”

He turned me gently in his arms, and now I was back to his front, as they continued dancing to the music.  His cheek was pressed against mine, and I felt the bristle of his beard.  “They’re all men.”  I said softly.

“Good.  Good.  And see how much she drinks?”

I spin away, his hand gently guides me back and we are face to face again.  “That can’t be it.  That’s too easy.”

“Sometimes it is.”  His nose brushed mine.  “Enough talking.”  He kissed me.  I stopped right in the middle of the dance floor.  The world was spinning, but I was still, tucked up against him, his mouth exploring mine, his hands pulling me close.  When I opened my eyes I realized he’d guided us off to the side, in a shadow created by one of the pillars that lined either side of teh room.  He looked down at me, as if trying to say something, then sighed, closed his eyes and placed his forehead to mine, cupping my face with both of his hands.

“Will you ever tell me your name?”  I whispered.

He pressed his face against my neck, I felt him smile.  “Maybe,” he said softly.  “Or perhaps you should make one for me.”

“I’d rather know yours.”  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he started kissing my throat.  I was pretending to keep my eye on the mark, but failing.  “Stop distracting me…anyway…I am tired of calling you The Thief in my head all the time.”

He looked up.  “Really?  Is that all you call me?”

“Yes.”  I drew it out.

“Liar.”  He said, and kissed me on the nose.

“This is not what I expected.”

“And what did you expect?”

“Well.”  I played with the satin lapel of his jacket.  “I thought you’d drag me off to some quiet corner and have your way with me.”

His hands closed in on my waist, and squeezed.  “Is that you want, my darling?  To hide somewhere and taken so passionately that I need to keep my hand over your mouth to stifle your moans?”

I looked up at him.  “Sounds lovely.”

His mouth twisted into an oddly alluring smirk.  “Well.”  He said softly, leaning closer.  His eyes dashed a quick glance over my shoulder, and his frame sank.

“Is she heading for the restroom?  Already?”

He nodded.

I held up a finger.  “Hold that thought.”  I moved through the crowd, muttering about woman and their humming bird sized bladders.

I went in.  There was an attendant, the black cloth of the uniform shirt a little too snug around her arms and shoulders.  She was built like an amazon, and I thought, That is not coincidence.  I used the restroom, washed up, and was checking my makeup as my mark approached mirror.

My body was between the attendant and the mark.  Could I do it?  Dared I?  “Excuse me…the clasp of your necklace looks undone…”. I reached over to fix it, thankful that she had worn her hair upswept.  The fake was palmed in my hand.

“I’ll see to that,” the attendant said, pushing me aside gently.  “It looks alright.”  Her tone was less gentle this time, and she frowned at me.  The Hapsburgh Princess — the papers said her friends called her Norri — gave me a glare in the mirror, then kept fixing her face.

“Must have been a trick of the light.  I’d hate for you to lose your necklace, it’s really pretty!”  I backed to the door.  “See you around!”

He was leaning against the wall next to the door.  “Attendant?”

“How’d you know?”

He put an arm around my waist.  “You need work on your poker face, my love.  Which is a shame, because our next shot at the jewel is during the poker gamethey have set up for later.”

I let him lead me away.  “What?  You think to get her to add it to the pot?”

He shrugged elegantly.

“Oh, come on.  Tell me.”  He lead me to a balcony, overlooking the city.

“I have a plan.  You know how to play, right?”

“I do…I am adequate, but…”

He handed me a card.  “This is so you can join the game.  The chips have been purchased.  Just collect at the end and cash them in.”

“What happens if they figure out that I’m your accomplice?”

He reached over and tucked some hair behind my ear.  He looked very sad, in the golden light.  “They won’t.”

I cupped his face in my hands.  “Why are you so sad?  What are you going to do?”

He shook himself and gave me a blinding smile.  “Nothing!  Everything will go according to plan.  Now…”. He sat down in one of the wicker chairs on the balcony.  “Come, let me hold you for awhile.”  He unbuttoned his coat with careless flicks of his fingers, then looked up at me, held out a hand.

“Well.  We do have to kill an hour…” I sat down carefully.

“Shhh.  Give me your whole weight, my dove.  None of this awkward half sitting, eh?”  I shifted as his arm closed around me, and he traced my jaw with his knuckles, and kissed me.  His mouth was hotter and sweeter than sin, I shifted to get closer, pressing my chest to his.  I ached to be touched, as those soft lips met the skin of my neck, nipped and licked, burning a path that made me moan softly.

“That’s it, my beautiful girl.”  He whispers in my ear.

“What do I have to do to get you to tell me your name?  Just the first.  Lie.  It’s fine.  Just tell me…”

He’s playing with the strap of my gown, he’d been in the process of pushing it aside.  “I will not lie, not to you, not about that.  But I have promised myself — I will only tell my name to the woman I love.  The woman I want to…”. He cut himself off and looked at me.

“Alright,” I gave him a brave smile, trying to cover the hurt.  “Tell me something else.  Anything.”

He ran his hands up my arms.  “That you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

I let him pull me back, kissed him.  “I love you, but I know nothing about you, and I hate myself for it.”  I whispered in his ear.  His hands stilled and I slipped off his lap, made a point of looking through the glass door.  “Ah.  It looks like they are opening the poker tables.  See you there?”

The angle I was at, I couldn’t see his face.  I kissed the top of his head, enjoying the feel of his soft curls.  “It’s OK.  It really is.”

And I went inside.  I heard him follow, but like Orpheus, I did not dare look back for fear of losing everything.

In this case, everything was my sanity, my will not to start crying, not to berate myself…You know, no-strings screwing could be a ton of fun.  I felt a bit like Anne Boleyn, leading Henry the 8th of a merry dance to get what I wanted…knowing full well he could kill me if he felt like it.

I knew he wouldn’t kill me.  But I knew he’d probably leave me.  Maybe that was why he looked so sad.  Could the world’s greatest thief feel regret?

He across from me at the table.  There was another guest, then Norri, the mossy green diamond glowing.  I felt an unreasonable hatred for it, for her, for the whole place.  For diamonds worth millions but still not as unattainable as one Thief.  Hell, the moon would be easier to get.

Another man, me, the dealer.  I ran my hand over the tray that held my chips, the rough edges cool against my palm.  If I walked out with this tray I could get home.

We started playing.  I was surprised.  I expected silence, quiet desperation…but no.

The table wanted to talk about love.  LOVE.  I threw in some chips.

“I have been in love exactly three times in my life.”  The Thief said idly, accepting new cards and inspecting his hand.  The pile of chips in front of him was respectable, but not gross.  He was winning just a little more than he was losing.  Me?  I was annoyed and out for blood.  “The first one poisoned me.”

“Really?” Norri was fascinated.  So, of course, was I.  “Why?”

He nodded and threw some chips in.  “Difference in opinion about how to run the family business.”

“The second?”  I asked, despite myself.

His eyes flickered down to his cards.  “I made her sad.  She could not bear me, the way I am.”  He gave me the sweetest of smiles.  “It happens.”

“I’m calling.”  Norrie says.  “And you must tell me the third?”

We paused to show our cards, or not.  I had a full house, and won, scooping my chips in.

“She is the one I love most.”  The dealer was dealing cards again.  “I did not know how much I loved her, when I first met her I saw a beautiful woman, inside and out, underappreciated, stuck in a cage when she would be so much more.  I thought, I could give her a way out.”  He grinned.  “Vanity is one of my many, many vices.”

Everyone laughed.  Except me.  He reached over and took the cards from the dealer, despite the man’s protests.

“I wish I could start over,” he says, shuffling the cards.  He looked into my eyes.  “But it is almost midnight, Cinderella, and the fairy tale is over.”  I realized the backs of the cards were different…when had he changed them?  “I am so sorry,” he said, and raised his hands, and rained the cards over us.  The power went out, and the cards, as they flew into the air hissed and spat, flaring with fire for a second before becoming sparks and ash.  Norrie screamed next to me.  I felt a touch as light as feathers for the briefest of seconds.  A kiss on my temple.

And then the lights came up again, and the greatest thief was gone again.

I was searched…we all were.  The fake necklace was gone, but this time it was me who hid it in a small panel I’d found while cleaning.  The going away present he’d left me, the little pouch, was well hidden in my dress, so I was snot surprised that they did not find it. They also did not find the playing card.  I found it later, where the first card was.

The Queen of Hearts.  I never knew that looking at a playing card could feel like a kiss and a slap at the same time.

I traded in my chips.  I took my money.  I walked out the door, and thought, I am done with all of this.

There were no more diamonds.  No more clues to follow.  A black car was waiting outside.  I quickened my steps, wondering, hoping.  The door opened, and all hopes were dashed.  My brother came up to me, looking…relieved.

“Are you alright?”

“I am.  I failed.  So maybe not for long,” I joked.

“It’s time for you to come home.”  He looked so serious.  “No one’s mad…we just miss you, and this was good…you had fun, we tried to get the diamond back, but…enough is enough.”

“I hate to give up now…”

“It’s OK.  Just come back.”  He gave me a tentative smile.  “Where else are you going to go?  It’s your home.”

“I have options.”  I said.  I hugged him…it was as stiff and welcoming as I expected it to be, so it was short.  “I think…I think I’ll take a rain check.”

“Dad’s frozen your cards…”

“I know!”  I said cheerfully.

“What are you going to do?  I don’t understand…I…”

This time, I petted him, and my “I know” was far more serious.  I could never make him understand.  He was as much a prisoner as I was, but no one saw enough in him to show him a way out.  I started walking.

“Did he seduce you?  Is that what this is?”

“Sadly, no.”  I said over my shoulder.

As I walked, I took the pouch out.  Under a street lamp I looked at it.  A signet ring.  Heavy.  Old gold.  I held it up to the light, and etched in the blood red ruby was a little devil’s head.

I knew where he was.

And I knew his name.  I’d seen it — and the little sigil from the ring — enough times, researching the Midas’s Rainbow.

There is, if you know where to find it, a castle.  It overlooks a formidable bay that had been the bane of many a ship, in the old days.

It looks abandoned.  The land for a good distance around it is private, and it is very hard to get to.  People at the closest town will tell you it is haunted by a man who sold his soul to the devil, and that he has lived there for hundreds of years.  That his castle has a vault full of cursed treasure.

There are people there who will tell you the story with an almost mocking twist.  And you — and I — both know that these are the people who have been paid, and paid well.  To spread the legend.  To bring in supplies.  To try and dissuade lone women from walking the long, rutted path into the woods, to climb past rocks to the lonely castle over the ocean.  To approach it, the red painted drawbridge bound in black iron.

There’s a door, set in the drawbridge.  The knocker looks like the heraldic devil’s head in the ring I wear on a chain around my neck.  No one answers my knock.

It does look abandoned.  Quiet.  But I hear a song, sung softly, and I walk around until I am in a garden.

I call his name, and when he turns, he laughs, a sound of relief as much as pleasure.

I drop my bag, my purse, and throw my arms around him.  He crushes me to him, and I can barely whisper his name, over and over, and that I love him, I love him.

“Welcome to your home, my love,” he says, in a pause between kisses, “Thank you for coming to find me.”

The End.

(Unless the actual commercial gives me thots)

With extra, most loving thanks to the people who have been following this and loving it:

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[le0watch]

A Flower for Your Thoughts

The night is still young, the palace filled to the brim with young women hoping to catch the prince’s attention. Each young lady has her own dress, and the colors range from white to black, and the sizes from large and puffy to thin and flat.

They’re all so loud and persistent, and hardly give Prince Langa the space he desires. He doesn't even want to be here- it was a decision made by his mother and chamberlain back in their Kingdom of Snow. His mother was beginning to get worried that he was too lonely, and his chamberlain had suggested that they come here to try and find him a suitor. Because then, with a wife, Prince Langa wouldn't be lonely again.

And while Langa would love for a wife, this feels too forced, and not natural. The women here only care that he's a prince, and for the enormous amount of wealth and fame that comes with marrying him. None of them actually care for him… just his title.

He sighs heavily, sitting on the edge of a fountain somewhere in the large palace garden. He's been here a while- no one has been able to find and annoy him as of yet, and the sound of the trickling water was soothing compared to the yelling and calling of the women in the castle. He rests his chin in the palm of his hand, the loneliness he'd come to know so well back him settling in his gut.

“It's the same here…” he mutters quietly, staring at the cracks in the ground and the ants crawling through the grass.

Suddenly, someone flops down beside him on the fountain’s edge, her dress a brilliant blue that spills around her legs and feet. It splays out across the edge of the fountain, some of it brushing through the water beneath them. He flinches, ready for yet another suitor to try and woo him for his wealth.

“Where is everybody?” the girl says, and Langa is struck by how cute she sounds. He hasn't looked at her yet- afraid if he does, it’ll break the spell and she’ll start fawning over him. He feels her eyes on the back of his head a moment later, staring at him. “Did you get lost?”

A reflection of light catches his eye, and glances down at the ground eyes widening as they land upon a gorgeous pair of glass heels. He's never seen glass slippers, or shoes for that matter, but they go wonderfully with her dress.

“Pretty…” he mutters, before he realizes what he's doing.

“Huh?” the girl says, taken by surprise.

“Your shoes. I've never seen any made of glass before,” he explains, and finally works up the courage to look at the girl’s face. He nearly gasps, because she's even prettier than the shoes or dress she is wearing.

Her bright red hair is pulled into two braids that trail behind her shoulders, the rest of it a mess of curls on the top of her head. Her eyes are a gorgeous honey amber color, and they sparkle even in the dark of the night. Freckles pepper her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and before he realizes what he's doing, he's looking at her lips, a soft, plump pink.

He has to tear his gaze from her lips as they turn upwards into a bright grin. So bright, Langa momentarily believes her to be the sun, and that morning had come early. Her beautiful blue dress contrasts prettily with her red hair and eyes, sparkling gently beneath the stars.

“Oh, you meant the shoes,” she says sheepishly, chuckling lightly. What a beautiful sound. He almost wants to take back what he'd said, and tell her that no, he'd actually meant that she was pretty.

“Yeah,” he responds instead, because his brain is slow and sluggish as always. This doesn't phase the girl, however, but makes her tilt her head to the side with a crooked grin.

“How long are you gonna stare?” she asks, making Langa jump out of his skin. Oh, great. She’d caught him staring at her like a buffoon- very unprincely indeed. But she instead exclaims, “Let's dance!”

That takes Langa by surprise. She was being so bold- she's not even asking him, she's just saying it like it would be the natural thing for them to do. “With me?” he asks, quite stupidly. Who else was there for her to ask? He blames his short circuiting brain on her and how pretty she is.

“Is anyone else here?” she says pointedly, her grin only widening. She sounds excited, and she grabs his hand, hopping to her feet and pulling him along with her.

He lets out a noise of surprise as he stumbles to his feet after her, surprised by her straight forwardness. Wasn’t he supposed to ask her to dance, if at all? Yet, he doesn't pull his hand away, nor does he say anything negative in response.

Once they're both standing, the girl waits patiently for him to get ready, bouncing on the balls of her feet. When he rests one of his hands in her hand and the other on her waist, her face flushes a pretty red, and she sheepishly chuckles.

“I uh- I’ve never actually danced before,” she tells him shyly, and he blinks down at her. She’s shorter than he is- but not by too much. Her head reaches just above his chest, and is peering up at him through her pretty red lashes. “So uh- could you teach me?”

Langa’s cheeks grow warm at her shy but excited demeanor, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her pretty face. She flushes, and squirms a little under his gaze.

“I'm sorry- I shouldn't have asked if I didn't know how-” she begins to apologize, slowly pulling away from Langa.

But the prince quickly catches her, keeping her close. He smiles down at her warmly- the first time he's smiled in years since his father died- and gently guides her hands to their proper places, one on his shoulder and the other lightly gripped in his. His body buzzes from their intertwined fingers to his toes, a warm happiness settling in his gut.

He hasn't felt so infatuated in a long time- or ever, for that matter. But somehow, this adorable redhead had caught his attention. Maybe it was from how she treated him like an equal, or maybe it was due to her sunny disposition. Anyway, Langa feels as if his heart is going to burst from his chest at any second.

He's never felt in love before, nor has he ever experienced a crush. These are new sensations and emotions he's experiencing, but he's highly enjoying them.

“Your hands go here,” he explains, meeting her amber gaze. Her eyes seem to glow, like a pair of stars in the night sky above them. “And I will lead. Just follow my steps, and you'll catch on pretty quick.”

“Oh- okay!” she exclaims with one of her bright grins. He nearly melts under its warmth, but begins the most basic of waltzes, as to not overwhelm her for her first time. He listens to the faint music playing from the distant castle, taking the first few steps. She stumbles for a moment, and trips over his feet, but he steadies her each time. She flushes and apologizes sheepishly when she steps on his feet, but he reassures her with a small smile.

“Wow, you're a good teacher.” She sounds whimsical, and it makes him smile again.

“You're learning it on your own,” Langa points out. “I'm just guiding you through it.”

“Guess you're right about that!” she exclaims with another bright grin. He loves when he smiles and grins; she smiles with her whole face, eyes scrunching at the edges, the tips of her lips stretching to both of her ears. “Now, who might you be, anyways. I've been dancing with a stranger this entire time.”

“Wait, you don't know?” he asks in surprise, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. Everyone who’s come to the ball is merely there to meet him and hopefully get him to pick them as his wife. Does she really not know- or is she just acting?

But no, in the short amount of time Langa has known this mystery girl, he knows for a fact that she wasn't acting, somehow. The genuinity shining in her eyes coupled with her curious smile proves that to him.

“Should I?” she asks, a teasing edge to her voice. She draws in a sharp breath of surprise when Langa twists her outwards, before pulling her back close to himself again. He smiles down at her, and she smiles back up at him, holding tightly to his hand. Her hand seems to fit almost perfectly in his.

“I suppose not, if you don’t,” he replies. She doesn't have to know right away, right? That would probably break whatever magical spell has set over them, and turn her from a fun young maiden to one just as desperate for his wealth as everyone else. “But you may call me Snow. That's what my mother calls me. And your name?”

The girl hesitates, her dress fluttering around her legs when Langa twirls her, holding his arm high to allow her room. When she’s pulled back in and they fall back into step, she finally says, “That isn’t too important.” Her smile dropped while she said this, making Langa’s heart plummet into his stomach. Oh no, he had upset her. Or, she just feels as if she is inadequate beside him. He has to remedy this instantly.

He opens his mouth to do just that, but the girl beats him by saying, “Why don't you tell me more about yourself, hm? Like why you're outside all alone.” She smirks up at him, her previous negativity disappearing in an instant. She's masking. Langa’s familiar with masking. He was basically raised to always have a princely mask over his face. He doesn't like her masking one bit. But he also knows he can't force someone to stop.

“Needed to get some fresh air,” Langa replies honestly. “It was much too crowded and loud inside, so I stepped out for a moment.”

The girl doesn’t respond until he's finished spinning her through the air, gaining a beautiful burst of laughter from her. Once she’s on the ground again, her laughter tapers off, but a smile remains on her face.

“And what are you doing here, hm?” she asks, and Langa's mind instantly begins rushing for an answer. “I thought only the maidens of the land were invited to the ball, not the men.” She’s teasing him, fluttering her pretty lashes at him.

He swallows heavily, butterflies in his stomach. This girl has to have magic, how else could he be feeling so much because of her all at once?

“That is true,” he says, wetting his lips nervously as he dips her low. She gasps before giggling, latching onto his arm to keep herself from falling. Even though he would never drop her. He doesn't want to tell her he's the prince, yet. Soon, but not now. Just a while longer as another random guy at the palace. He is enjoying it. “I work here. In the palace, I mean. I'm… an apprentice!”

Her eyes widen and she grins up at him, her flowing dress brushing against his knees. The blue of her dress contrasts amazingly with her bright red hair, and he thinks the color suits her.

“Snow the apprentice,” she says. Langa likes the way she says his nickname. Or maybe he just likes her voice. Maybe a bit of both. “I like it.”

Langa lets out a breath of laughter, and dips her for the final time in their waltz. They break apart, and he bows while she courtesies low to the ground. Her dress is like a halo around her, and she looks much like an angel on earth.

Once they've both straightened back up, Langa glances towards the palace, biting his lower lip. He’s sure that he is not yet missed- he could show her around the garden. Maybe even give her that flower… yes!

He holds up a hand in offering, and asks, “May I show you around the garden?”

She hesitates only a moment before she takes his hand, dipping her head shyly. He smiles, and she smiles back at him. He leads her through the garden, pointing out the plants he knows the names of.

“Those are my favorite flowers,” he says, pointing to a patch of blue flowers. “They’re called forget-me-nots. The story behind them just makes them all the more special.”

The mystery girl looks down at them, before releasing his hand to crouch in front of them. She picks one of the many buds, before turning back to him. A light flush colors her freckled cheeks as she stands on her tiptoes to slip the stem of the flower behind Langa’s ear. His breath catches in his throat at her close she is- her breath mingling with his, and he can see each time her pretty lashes flutter, and the way her lips hanging slightly open.

Once satisfied, she draws back, looks over her work, and then grins brightly. “It matches your hair!” she exclaims, and he's taken by her all over again. She retakes his hand, and he has to draw in a deep breath before he can speak again.

“Th- thank you very much,” he says, clearing his throat. He's sure he's blushing. His face is hot enough. He then tugs on her hand, “Now I want to show you something.”

“Haven’t you been showing me the garden?” she teases, but follows after him obediently.

He doesn't answer her, looking this way and that for the flowers he has in mind. Finally, he spots them: red hibiscus flowers. He tugs her along quickly, and she lets out a surprised laugh, stumbling a moment to be able to keep up with him. Once he's reached them, he gestures for her to sit down. She raises an eyebrow at him, but does so anyways, her dress pooling out around her on the grassy ground.

“Hope this doesn't ruin my dress,” she mutters, more to herself than Langa. He hums in response, but focuses on the task at hand. His father had taught him how to do this as a gift for his mother when he was younger, and they constantly did it for her when Mother’s Day rolled around.

He gathers a hand full of the brilliant red flowers before he steps to stand behind her, dropping onto his knees to reach her hair. He sets the fistful of flowers on the ground beside himself, and takes his gloves off. He then combs his bare fingers through her puffy hair, eyes widening at how soft it is beneath his fingertips. She stiffens at first, before relaxing as he gently cards his fingers through her hair.

Langa begins to part bits of hair into two sections, throwing the right side over her shoulder. She stays silent as he works, and when he looks at her freckled face, he finds her eyes lightly closed as she soaks in his soft touches.

He smiles softly at her relaxed expression, before beginning the braiding process. Each time he loops one large strand of hair over the other, he weaves a flower or two between them. He continues this until he's finished the first braid, smiling at his work. He guides the large braid over her left shoulder, and then quickly picks another handful of hibiscuses.

As he focuses on the right braid, the pretty girl in front of him hums softly. “Didn’t think you knew your way around a woman’s hair,” she says softly, lightly tracing the braid with her finger. “This is beautiful.”

“Just as you are,” Langa says before he could think it through. He hears her take in a sharp breath of air out of surprise, looking at him through the corner of her eye over her shoulder. He smiles at her with a wink, and her face turns a deep red similar to the flowers weaved into her hair. “My father taught me, so I could do this sort of thing for my mother. She's always loved it when I do it, so I thought you would as well.”

“I think I do,” she whispers, running her finger along one of the flower’s petals. Langa watches her for a moment, getting caught in how gorgeous she is just looking at the flowers in her own hair. Then, he shakes himself inwardly and gets back to work, weaving more and more flowers into the second braid.

When he's finished, he guides the second braid over her right shoulder. She traces this one as well, before turning to face him, grinning brightly at him, blinding him all over again. “Thank you very much, Mister Snow!” she exclaims, and grabs one of his hands. Their fingers weave together, and he looks at their interlocked hands with wonder.

“And thank you for letting me do it, fair maiden,” he answers courteously. She giggles at him, and he slowly brings her hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips against the back of her hand. Her breath catches, her face flushing an even deeper red. Man, red really is her color. “I've had such a wonderful time with you- please, I must know your name.”

She wets her lips nervously, her amber eyes sparkling with anxiety. He lowers her hand, and begins to lightly trace her knuckles with his thumb. She watches this for a few seconds, before drawing in a deep breath. She steels herself, before meeting his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she says, and he unconsciously scoots closer to her, his knees brushing through the grass. He stops at the edge of her dress, not wanting to drag his knees across the well sewn stitching or fluffy layers. She leans in close, like she's about to tell him a secret, and he leans towards her without noticing, holding his breath with anticipation. “My name is-”

She cuts herself off when the loud bong of the nearby clock tower sounds, her eyes going wide, grip on his hand tightening. He stares at her questioningly, still waiting for her to say her name, only for her to suddenly be pulling away, pushing to her feet while brushing the front of her dress off.

“I have to go,” she says, taking Langa by complete surprise. His mouth falls open as she begins to quickly walk back they way they’d come, dress swaying around her wildly. Her expression is one of regret, but she doesn't stop going, turning back for one moment to tell him, “It was a fun night. Thank you very much.” She does a small curtesy before taking off in a full on sprint.

Langa almost can't do anything at first. All he could do was stare where she'd just been, his hand, now empty, held out uselessly in front of himself. The grass where she'd been sitting has an indention in it from the grass laying across it.

Then, he snaps out of it, and scrambles to his feet, taking off after her. “Wait!” he calls after her. His heart is hammering in his chest- they were having such a good time, why did she have to suddenly leave? The ball isn't even over for another two hours. They had plenty of time, and he wanted to get to know her more. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“I'm sorry!” she calls back, disappearing around a corner. Langa runs as fast as his legs could take him, and finds her already halfway down the steps of the palace. Her dress flares out behind her in a mess of blue, brushing across the tops of the steps.

At one point, Langa’s heart stops when she seems to stumble and nearly trip over one of the steps. He hardly even notices the large amount of noise growing behind him; everyone inside must have taken notice of his plight.

But the girl catches herself, pauses to look back, and then takes off again. Langa stops at the spot she had- spotting one of her beautiful glass slippers. His eyes widen and he crouches down to pick it up.

Bad idea.

Because the girl manages to get into her carriage and the carriage takes off as soon as the door is closed. His heart plummets and even though he knows it's in vain, he still gives chase after the carriage as it pulls away.

“Wait!!” he shouts after the receding carriage, to no avail. He glances around for his horse, but is stopped when his mom appears beside him, panting.

“Who was that?” she asks breathlessly. Langa’s mind buzzes; no no! He doesn't have time to talk! He has to get his horse and get to her before he loses her! But his mom catches his wrist before he could run, stopping him in his tracks. “Snow!”

He snaps out of his daze, and looks down at her desperately. Kojiro suddenly appears beside his mother, looking between them with confusion. “She- I- She's the one, Mom! And she hasn't even told me her name!” he manages to exclaim.

His mother’s eyes widen, and she looks at Kojiro, who seems to understand her look. He peels away from them towards the palace guard, hopping onto his horse.

“Calm down, sweetie,” she tells him soothingly. He's trembling, he realizes. He doesn't want to lose this mystery girl and her pretty face and kind personality and the things she makes him feel. He’d just met her and started smiling again! “Kojiro and the guards will go and bring her back, alright? Just wait right here. They'll be back soon.”

Langa wets his lips, biting his lower lip anxiously. He tightly grips the glass slipper she’d left behind, the only connection he has back to her.

His mystery princess.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Sleepless (LoV x Reader)

Pairing: League of Villains x Reader, platonic relationship

Shigaraki, Toga, Twice, Kurogiri, Dabi x reader

@riarora messaged me with the request: "So I was thinking platonic LOV x child reader (You can make them 18 if you're more comfortable, but I was thinking more like 14-15)The reader (I'll refer to them as she/her, but you can make it gender neutral) has really bad insomnia so every night, she would be pacing around, doing anything and everything to make sure no dark thoughts take over. Usually, none of the LOV would bat an eye, but considering the fact that she's a child, they feel sympathy, so they indirectly try to get her to fall asleep. Like, sending her on extra missions (always with protection of course) or changing her normal tea with sleeping tea, or maybe just straight up telling her to sleep."

Genre: Comfort

Word Count: 2,291

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Thanks for the request sweetie!  I hope you like it~

Wrote this while listening to a Shinsou playlist on Spotify and it was pretty chill to listen to, if y’all want the link you can comment or dm me and I’ll send it.  Something different, but I like how it turned out. It's twice as long as I thought it would end up being, but I think it fits.  It's a comfort story that I hope you guys will read even if you don't normally read stuff for the villains.  I really like it, I hope you guys read it if you need some comforting.  Enjoy~

Like a lot of people, I don't have the nicest thoughts.  Most nights, I'm trying everything to block them out and find the sweet release of sleep, whether it's trying to consciously think of other things to block them out, escaping out of my sheets to pace or run in place inside this small room I was given, or getting up to get a snack.  Unsurprisingly, none of it works.  The rest of the League constantly tease me about my dark circles making me look more villainous all I do is smile, because at least it means I'm part of something now.  I would ask them to get me something to busy myself, like a sketch book or a notebook to keep me busy at night, but they aren't my parents; they have no obligation to take care of me and they've already give me a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in.

Little by little, the perceived barrier between us broke down before I realized it.

It started when I took one of my late night trips to the kitchen only to see the light on already.  Toga's crooked but innocent smile beams up at me as she twirls a knife in her hand, leaning against the counter.  "You're up too, hmm~?  Wanna take a trip with me?"

We ended up shrugging on our jackets and masks, walking into the dark, brisk night to the nearest grocery store.  "You waited until 2 AM to get pomegranates?" I raised an eyebrow at her zipping straight to the produce section of the market.

"I didn't wanna go alone~" Toga casually responded in her singsongy voice.  "A little girl like me shouldn't be out alone at night.  Besides, late night shopping in a practically empty supermarket is the best time to go.  It's super creepy!"  She giggles, filling a plastic bag with three large fruits.

We returned to our hideout and she asked me to help her de-seed them.  I slide in next to her, taking the knife out of her hand.  Not like I had anything better to do.  What was I gonna do, sleep?  Sure, okay.

She sliced the fruits in half and held her hands over a large, empty container, using just her hands to push the seeds off the bitter white core, humming to herself.  "Are you sure there isn't a more...strategic way to do this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at the mess she was making of her hands.

Toga just giggled and held my stare with her cat-like yellow eyes.  "When it gets all over your fingers, it kind of looks like blood doesn't it?" She shivered in ecstasy as she licked the scarlet juice running down her hands and the knife she cut them with.  "Mmm, so sweet."

While I continued, trying to avail to be as clean as possible, taking sips of the tea she made for us while we work.  I chanced a few tastes myself, chuckling at my own hands.  "You're right, it looks like we've commit murder."

"Right?" she chirped with the widest grin, "Isn't it fun?"

I made a better point to get more juice on my fingers before curling my fingers grossly towards her.  "I want your heart, Toga.  Give it to me!" I growled.

She giggled and held one of my wrists so she can lick some of the juice off.  "Too bad you can't have it."

After we finished gathering the seeds into the bowl, we sat on the couch, munching on them by the handful and finishing our drinks.  My eyelids kept drooping as I drank my tea.

"We should go on adventures more often," Toga purred as I near the end, taking my cup, laying me down, and covering my body with a blanket before petting my head.  Her voice singing, "Sleep well, (Y/n)" was the last thing I heard before drifting off.  It was the best night's sleep I'd gotten in a long while.

.

A few days later, Kurogiri stopped me from heading to bed while the rest went off.  "I heard you and Toga up late a few nights ago.  Why don't you help me clean up before going up?"

I agreed, mostly because I would be awake with my thoughts anyway.  He had me shining his glasses, climbing up a ladder to dust the top shelves of his bar, wiping down the counters, and organizing his liquor.

"Have some of this, child."  He set down a cup of tea and saucer on the counter while I was organizing his top shelf liquor, the clock flashing 1:57 AM.  "You've been a big help."

I climbed down carefully and stare down at the translucent, peach colored liquid carefully.

He noticed my cautiousness.  "How are you adjusting?"

I tilted the cup around, swishing the liquid around before holding it up to my lips.  "It's better than where I was before, thank you."

"I'm glad you're settling in and getting along with the rest."

"It's just Toga so far."  I sipped a good portion of the hot liquid, easing down my through smooth as the honey I can taste that he added.

"It'll take time for the others to warm up to you.  Shigaraki and Dabi especially don't take to strangers that easily, but they'll come around."  His cold, portal enclosed hand rested on my head.  "We're happy to take you in as our family, (Y/n)."

I smiled at his assurance of me, nodding in gratitude, but still hesitant about feeling that I fit in here.

We talked for a while more until I finished his tea and he sent me off to bed.  Though reluctant - I even offered to do more cleaning up to keep myself there - he insisted I leave.  I trudge to my room, the exhaustion in my bones and muscles more apparent than usual.  I know this old trick; even when I'm fatigued, my thoughts still keep me up.  But as I ease under the blanket and close my eyes, I feel myself pulled down into sleep without interference.  I started thinking there was something in the tea.

.

It took a while for Shigaraki to come around, as Kurogiri said.  He heard the rustling of me rolling around in bed on his way back from getting a glass of water from the kitchen.  "Hey, you still awake?"

I turned over and sat up.  "Am I bothering you?  I'm sorry-"

"You wanna come play games with me?"  It was an unexpected question.  He never talked much to me so I figured he wanted to keep his distance.

But I still agreed, ending up in his dark room where only the TV cast its artificial light over us.  He pulled up another pillow for me to sit with him, leaning back against the mattress and box-spring stack.  He resumed his game, some kind of RPG with amazing art and storytelling.  The main character had jet black hair and traveled with three other guys of varying talents and personalities.  They seemed to have a great relationship together as they trekked across their virtual world in a fancy car. (1000 brownie points if you know which game i'm referencing)

There was a hilarious part in the game where the crew rode on the backs of these fluffy, yellow birds that were the size of ostriches.  "What's the point of this part?" I asked curiously.

Shigaraki beamed at the screen, his chapped lips spreading in joy.  "It's just something you always have to do in these games."

My eyes remained glued to the screen.  Shigaraki wouldn't ask me if I wanted to play after one time, which I appreciated.  I'm not too good at playing games, I prefer watching other people play them from the sidelines.  I followed the complicated story line, impressed with how fleshed out the world is, the detail in the art, and the power system interface.  If I were better at gaming, I'd understand how amazing it would feel playing it; I was immersed in it even as a spectator.

The game got to a cave-crawling segment.  The eased up voice acting, ambient noise, and dimmed lighting made my eyes heavy.  I didn't want to fall asleep in Shigaraki's room, but I also knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep if I went back to mine.

"You can sleep if you want.  Get comfortable."

Though he didn't particularly use a motherly voice like Kurogiri, I understood he was trying to come off the same way.  I ended up laying on my head on my pillow, sprawling onto the floor on my stomach, the noise of the game slowly lulling me off to sleep.  In the morning, I would wake to a blanket pulled over my body.  It somehow became a weekly occurrence; we wouldn't talk to each other, but the silence was comfortable.  It was reassuring that I didn't always need that strange tea to put me to sleep.

.

Late nights with Twice are probably my favorite.  He's like a huge dad, or much older big brother.  I connected with him on a more emotional level than the rest.  If I found myself in the kitchen rummaging for snacks, he'd come up and pick out a bunch and sit us at the table with some tea.

"I have trouble sleeping too sometimes," he admitted, popping some chips in his mouth.  "I was lonely before I found these guys.  I had no one but myself, and the many versions of myself weren't the most forgiving on me either."

I stared down at my glass of warmed milk.  "So your thoughts were actually told out loud to you all the time?" I whispered softly.

"Yup."  He blinked before waving his hands in front of his face wildly.  "But that doesn't mean I had it worse than you, that's not what I'm saying at all!  Your problems are just as valid and important and-!"

"It's okay, I understand."

He offered a sympathetic lopsided smile.  "I know you've been through a lot, kid, and it probably feels like a lot and nothing at the same time.  The times when it feels like a lot will hurt, and that's okay.  You'll get through it and grow up to deal with it in your own way.  And there is a light at the end of the tunnel, believe me.  You can't see it now, but it's there.  Keep fighting through it."  He touched my hand over the glass.  "I'm here for you, we're here for you."

I felt like crying, suddenly choked up by the bitter nostalgia of missing my parents.  "You'd be a great Dad, Twice."  I tried to cover for my tears and unsteady voice by clearing my throat and rubbing my eyes.

He hummed in response.  "I've always wanted a kid.  Things never ended up that way though."

I found myself finally sobbing at his misfortune piling on top of mine.  "That's really shitty actually," I choked out.

He handed me a tissue to wipe my face with.  "Let it out, kid.  Sometimes it's good to just cry it out."

And I did, until I finally sobbed myself to sleep at the table, and Twice picked up and returned me to my bed, tucking me in like the soft dad he should've been.

.

Dabi remained the hard nose one, keeping his distance and looking down on me.  Like Shigaraki, walked by my room while I was tossing around, but he stood over my bed.  "Hey.  If you don't go to sleep, I'm putting you to work."

Put me to work he did, sending me out to fetch him snacks, cards, or cigarettes.  Once, he decided to join me and we ended up on the roof of our abandoned building after coming back from the convenience store.  The stars already dusted the sky as Dabi lit the cigarettes with his blue flames just for fun, watching them disintegrate into ash in front of his eyes.  I never knew how to get him to open up, he's too gruff for me to start a conversation with him, so I stuck to being mesmerized by his flames.

"What's on your mind that you can't sleep, kid?" he finally asked, breaking the awkward silence and cutting off his quirk to stare me hard in the eyes.

"N-Nothing."  I hated to admit it, but I'm scared of Dabi the most.  Both him and Shigaraki can end my life in a fraction of a second, but Dabi overall has the scarier aura.  "Just...thinking."

After a few more moments of braving his stare, he looked up.  "Yeah, we all do that a lot, don't we?  Us damn human can't help but think.  It'd be nice if we can pull the cord sometimes, yeah?"

"I guess," I answered carefully.

He studied me again out of the corner of his eye before flickering back up.  "Do you ever think that's why none of us survive well alone?  We need other people to distract us all the time because then we'd get stuck in our heads, and we all know how dangerous that can be if we're stuck there for too long.  It never ends well."  He adjusts himself, placing his hands behind his head to rest his neck.  "We all got demons, kid.  It's what makes us stronger, but you gotta grow from them first.  And I guess that's what the rest of us are for, so if you need us, you know what to do."

It was with Dabi that I realized he had a point.  I'm not alone anymore and none of the others seem to think of me as a stranger or a stupid little kid they have to be responsible for.  I'm a member of this group now, I should rely on them as support, just not in the traditional way.

How I ultimately ended up here doesn't help any of the awful things I tell myself or what happened to me, but being here definitely helps, especially when I'm surrounded by people who subtly share solidarity with for now.

[michaelmyersmalewife]

the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 3/?

- sephiroth/reader

- sfw

You were really starting to regret not getting at least a coffee as you made your way to the briefing room. Maybe it was just your nerves, or the fact you might’ve run a mile in under an hour, but you were feeling some horrible combination of tired and energized. You closed your hands into tight fists to calm your jitters.

You could already see their frosty apparitions just beyond the semi-transparent sliding door, the figure that could’ve only been Sephiroth turning in your direction as you approached. He was leaning against the ring of desks in the center of the room, arms crossed, with Director Lazard seated at a monitor right next to him. The screen gleamed against the glasses perched on his angular face, obscuring his eyes until he looked up at you. They were the same stony grey as his suit, which he smoothed down as he sat up, extending a gloved hand toward you. You shook it, slightly bewildered.

He was kind of a lanky man, his hair the dingy color of wheat. But he had kind eyes, the type that crinkled at the corners when he smiled even a little bit. He gave you a single, firm handshake before taking it back, folding his hands neatly in front of him.

“Good morning! I’m glad you could make it on such short notice.” he said, promptly sitting back down. “This won’t take too long, I assure you.”

Sephiroth gave you a nod in greeting, ambling over to stand beside you. You straightened your posture.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re both on the same page.” he said as he typed something in rapid succession.

“It’s no problem, director.”

Taking his hands off the keyboard, he set his elbows on the desk. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve made great strides in your training.”

Doesn’t feel like it, you wanted to add. You shifted on your feet, trying to keep your attention focused on the director and not on the eyes you felt boring into you from two feet away.

“So, starting today, you’ll be joining Sephiroth on his missions. At his request, of course.”

You didn’t know what to say, you weren’t sure if you could say anything even if you had the words. You turned toward Sephiroth, who - while facing the director - was looking at you through his peripherals, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly before he erased all evidence of it. It happened so fast that it took you a few too many seconds to register it as a grin. You always wondered how he could do that. Suddenly realizing you had been quiet for an embarrassingly long time, gawking like a fool, you cleared your throat.

“I won’t let you down, sir.”

Sephiroth glanced down, the full extent of his attention on you now. Then, he did something strange. He smiled - like, genuinely. Not so much with his mouth, but with his eyes, squinting with something that wasn’t born from tired disapproval or aloof pride. Noticing your jaw had gone slack, you snapped it shut, facing ahead.

“Now that that’s in order,” Lazard started, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the wall-sized screen behind him. “You’ll be sent to Kalm to investigate recent reports of strange activity around its mines.”

The screen blinked to life, showing a map with dozens of little dots with one in particular highlighted among the rest. The tension in your muscles loosened. By all accounts, it was a routine job for soldiers in your class. You’d since lost count of all the times you’ve disposed of monsters and the like in the villages surrounding Midgar. If you were being honest, you weren’t sure why a 1st would be needed for something so mundane, unless they were really bent on getting this over with.

“We sent a group of 3rds to scope it out,” he adjusted his glasses. “All three are currently recovering in the hospital wing.”

Well, shit.

“You’ll be dispatched when we have everything ready. Should take a little over an hour but we’ll send someone for you.” he finished, looking much too optimistic for you. “I’m sure you two can handle this.”

“Sounds good to me, sir.” you said, feebly masking the tremble in your voice.

Lazard nodded. “Dismissed.”

Seeing Sephiroth bow his head, you stiffly followed suit, shuffling to the side as you followed him out of the room.

As you entered the hall, Sephiroth looked over his shoulder, slowing his pace as you eventually caught up to him. He looked at you with that same expression back in the briefing room, flicking his bangs out of his face with a single shake.

“Nervous?”

“Pff, me? Nah.”

There was a pause, and the gap in conversation made you not want to look at him.

“Good.” he said calmly, the sound putting your nerves at ease.

---

Flexing your hand, your knuckles popped, going back to gripping the edge of the seat. You were still being jostled by the uneven road, and it was taking all your concentration not to knock into Sephiroth (who was somehow so stationary you’d think he was glued in place). You were already trying to balance feeling nervous and excited, but when he so easily could’ve sat across from you in the otherwise empty truck, you were sure he was actively trying to make you puke. You stared out the window. You had already been on the road for some time, but it wouldn’t take you more than twenty or so minutes to get to Kalm. But every passing second felt like an hour.

You felt something nudge your arm.

It startled you, but you ignored it, thinking it was just a particularly rough bump in the road that finally shifted Sephiroth out of place.

Another nudge. You cast him a glance.

“You’re tense,” he commented in that flat tone he usually reserved for your training sessions. “Ease up a little.”

Without really thinking, you let your shoulders droop.

“You’ll be fine. Think of it as any other mission you’ve cleared.”

“Right.” you mumbled.

There was a long stretch of silence. For a while - you couldn’t tell, really - all you heard was the sound of rocks and dirt crunching under the truck’s tires. Outside, grassy cliffs filled every corner. The sun wasn’t out today, and you could feel the latent chill from outside seeping in from the pane of glass behind you. Sephiroth leaned his head against the wall of the truck.

“My first mission, my first big one, went horribly.”

You looked over at him. Leaning forward, you perched your elbows on your knees. His chest rose in a silent sigh. You weren’t about to prod him to continue. He was far away in a memory, looking both unreasonably young and old. You shifted in your seat.

“Whatever the outcome, it’ll make for some good experience.” he finally spoke, slowly, like he was rolling the words around in his mind.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He chuckled softly, his eyes fluttering shut. “Yes. Did it work?”

“You kind of suck at it,” you said, sitting upright with your arms folded across your chest. “But yeah..sort of.”

He blinked at you before letting out a bemused laugh, his shoulders shaking with the lilting rumble. You couldn’t help but crack a smile.

Just like that, the truck jolted to a stop, rocking you right into Sephiroth. You muttered an ‘ouch’ as you rubbed the part of your head that collided with his pauldron. You thought you heard a ‘sorry’ in response, but before you could acknowledge it there was a quick succession of bangs from the plate separating you and the driver.

“That was fast.” Sephiroth hummed, pushing himself up and reaching for the door.

Though it was incredibly overcast, you squinted against the brightness from the silver blanket of clouds that shielded the sky. There was a humid chill in the air, uncomfortably clinging to your skin like an ill-fitting sweater. It looked like it wanted to rain.

They had dropped you off just outside of Kalm, the small town peeking out of its cozy nest among a grassy plain. It was a short walk away, but already your presence was attracting attention.

As you entered the town, dirt road abruptly shifting into swirling cobblestone, you felt dozens of eyes on you. The streets were by no means crowded, but the handful of people that were out made no attempt to hide their stares. You had since gotten used to that sort of thing - you had to be, as a member of SOLDIER. But now you shrivelled at the feeling, just a little.

It was easy to ignore the looks - the good and the bad - but with a walking posterboy at your side it wasn’t as easy. It was impossible, and the further you ventured into town the more it seemed to cluster. Your pace broke, and you fell into step just behind him. He didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he made no mention of it.

“Is that him?” a hushed voice passed by you.

Throwing a quick glance over your shoulder, you spotted two teens huddled together, trying to hide excited giggles behind their hands.

“It’s gotta be, who else has hair like that?”

You let out a snort, prompting Sephiroth to turn his head. It swivels to the side, right where you had been up until a minute ago, and there’s almost a hint of something frantic as he spends a second looking around for you. Finally setting his gaze on you - meeting your eyes - he gives you another one of his flash smiles, before refocusing on the path before him. Behind you, the teens burst into giggles, their shoes scraping against the stone floor as they scrambled away.

As you entered the town square, the slowly amalgamating crowd became a singularity, and something in Sephiroth’s demeanor changed. Like the air before a storm, you saw no trace of the man that seemed intent on easing your nerves. This was Sephiroth the war hero.

People were already approaching you - or rather, Sephiroth, who had unwittingly pulled a crowd into his own gravity. It took a fair amount of concentration to single out each voice among the cacophony, as they were barely audible over one another’s frantic questioning.

“Are you here to get rid of the monster?”

“We’ve been out of work for almost a week now!”

“Thank goodness they finally sent a real soldier to take care of this.”

“Mister Sephiroth can you look down here for a second?”

You felt a pulse at your temple, like someone just stuck a needle into your brain matter and pulled it out in the same breath. The crowd was what you’d imagine a rip current to feel like, and without really meaning to, you exited his orbit. To your relief, none of them seemed to notice anyway. You felt a little bad leaving him back there, but as the sound of clashing voices and photos being snapped dulled, you felt the tightening in your chest loosen. Despite the chill in the air, you found that you had been sweating.

“This all started because of them.” a man muttered to someone beside him.

They were standing at the very edge of the crowd, looking on with a certain intensity. Though they were both staring in Sephiroth’s direction, you couldn’t help but feel like that venom was directed at you.

“Oh come on, they’re just a bunch of guard dogs. You know who’s really responsible.”

“Still don’t sit right with me.” the first man said, brimming with spite. “They can show off all they want, still ain’t solving shit.”

You kept walking.

---

You had left the town square entirely, the noise nothing but an echo. Quietly walking past shops and homes, you hadn’t realized that you completely left Sephiroth in the dust. You were tempted to double back and drag him out of there, but as soon as you turned around you twitched in surprise.

There was a kid (a tiny thing, her tawny hair messily tied into twin pigtails and looking like she had just finished wrestling with dirt) standing about a foot in front of you. There was a sparkling curiosity in her eyes despite the impassive expression, and you realized that she wasn’t even looking at you.

“Are those real?” she pointed at the blades strapped to your sides.

You gave them a passing glance. They were nothing special, though you took care of them like they were. They were simple, SOLDIER-issued swords - twins, with black blades that reflected a dull image of you whenever you polished them. You unsheathed the one on your right, leaning over slightly as you lowered it to the kid’s level.

She hesitates, like it’s an animal ready to snap at the hands she has clutched close to her heart. But she takes a closer look, her sparkling eyes reflecting in its dark metal, warped but intrigued.

“Cool.” she says with a simple sort of reverence.

Slipping it back in its sheath, you peer down the path you took from the center of town. You sighed. With no hint of Sephiroth, you continued toward the mines.

You were only able to take about a handful of steps before you heard a soft pattering of shoes against the road shortly behind you. You didn’t have to look to see the kid trotting after you like a small shadow.

“Do you fight monsters with those?” she asked between breaths, struggling slightly to keep up with your pace.

“Yup.”

“It’s a pretty big monster.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“There were some soldier guys here yesterday. They got hurt real bad.”

“Well that’s..that’s why we’re here.”

She looked up at you, over her shoulder, then back at you. “Is your friend coming?”

“He’s not my - where are your parents?”

“I saw him back there, my brother thinks he’s cool.”

You rubbed your eyes, suddenly feeling very tired.

“Your friend’s got a big sword. Bet that’s gonna scare the monster away.”

“I’m sure it would.”

“So you’re really gonna fight it alone?”

“Probably.” Stopping mid-step, you felt the kid collide with your arm. “And that means you gotta stay here where it’s safe before the monster eats you. Or something.”

The kid paused, brows furrowing as if deep in thought. After careful consideration, she finally spoke.

“Okay - good luck!”

Seeing the kid trot back where she came, you stretched - your arms reaching for the sky - before you folded them behind your head. You really should’ve gotten that coffee.

[remmushound]

Hey!! I loved your little one shot with Rottmnt and tmnt 2012, and was wondering if you could write something about The Rise turtles reacting to 2012!Leo? Specifically his more responsible yet depressed demeanor? I’ve honestly had this idea in my head since rise started. Maybe he could have a talk with rise Raph or Leo about leadership too! Maybe give em some tips ☺️. But if you can’t/would rather not then thats fine!

Reminder: 2012!turtles are referred to by their nicknames, rise!turtles are referred to by their full name. Love the suggestion and definitely gonna do more Interactions like this down the line 💕

“So you’re Leo, huh?” Michelangelo’s eyes were narrowed as he pointed a finger toward the dark-blue clad turtle.

The turtle was unamused, shoving Michelangelo’s hand away as if it were infected. “Yes. And if you’ll excuse me, this is a time sensitive matter.”

Leo crossed his arms and gave a smug smile as if he had just smited some invisible foe. There was a moments confusion shared between the rise turtles before Donatello walked over to scrutinize the leader of the other team. Leo was oblivious to the interaction until a touch on his shoulder made him flinch back to the reality beyond his own mind. His eyes flicked open and he looked over to the softshell. Donatello took Leo’s mask between two fingers, pinching the material to feel its fabric before running a finger across Leo’s shell and then his skin. Leo pulled away.

“Uh— personal space, much?”

Leonardo grinned and leaned against a nearby wall. “No— none at all.”

“What species are you?” Donatello asked.

“That’s a...” Leo thought for a second, then snapped his fingers, “great question. Donnie?”

“Yes?” Both Donatello’s spoke at the same time, and then exchanged looks.

“Uh, well, that’s something I’ve always wondered too!” Donnie said, “we could be diamond back terrapins—“

“No.” Donatello said, abandoning Leo in favor of examining Donnie, who seemed all too happy to comply with the poking and prodding. “Shape, pattern, color, all off. Diamondbacks are white with black spots and have spines on their shell like mine. You’re all green with Oval-like shells and no markings.”

“Oh okay.” Donnie watched Donatello curiously, “then maybe red eared slider—“

“Hmmmm. No. You’d have more markings like Nardo here.” Donatello grabbed Leonardo and pulled him close, spinning him around to show the yellow stripes and red markings.

“Stripes are where it’s at baby!” Leonardo whistled.

“This is serious! And we’re wasting time!” Leo snarled, “every second we waste here is another second Shredder could be ripping our city apart!”

“Yo, chillax my man.” Leonardo wrapped his arms around Leo and hung against the older teen like a drunkard. “We know how to handle a shredder or two!”

“Good.” Leo’s tone caught the rise turtles off guard, so serious and stoic when compared to the high-energy, jovial brother they knew and loved. “Donnie said your world’s Shredder is most similar to the one we’re dealing with; an undead demon who will destroy everything in his path—“

“You mean like Raph when he hadn’t had lunch?” Leonardo snickered, and so did both Mikey’s, but Leo only stared. Determined to make his mirror-clone crack even the smallest smile, Leonardo went on. “I mean, I don’t know how your Raph is, but when ours is hungry he’ll eat just about anything he can fit in his mouth. And that thing?” Leonardo grabbed Raphael and tugged him down, forcing his mouth open to show the fangs within, “Is ginormous! Look at the size of that thing! I could fit my entire head in there!”

“He ate glass once.” Michelangelo said.

“Hey! It’s not my fault it looked like food!” Even with the vicious snarl, the brothers of Raphael didn’t flinch. The other turtles, however, pulled back as if there were a raging beast about to rampage.

“It was a glass figurine!”

“Well you shouldn’t have made it to look like a sandwich!”

“Technically it was a sandwich.” Donatello examined his nails casually, “sand, which had been superheated to approximately 1,760 degrees Celsius.”

Leonardo scoffed. “Who even uses Celsius?”

“LITERALLY EVERYONE!” Donatello growled back.

“What in the world is going on?!” Leo’s voice fractured the argument like the glass figurine they had been discussing.

“Talking about Raphael eating mikey’s glass sandwich sculpture.” Leonardo said.

“Superheated to exactly 1,760 degrees Celsius.” Donatello added.

Leonardo pointed back at Donatello. “Can we get that In Fahrenheit please?”

“That would be...” Donatello pressed a few buttons on his watch before concluding, “3,200 degrees, exactly.”

“Thank you, good sir!”

Leo growled and pulled on the tails of his mask. “I can’t believe this— you’re all just Mikey with extra steps!”

“I take that as a compliment!” Raphael said, grabbing Michelangelo and pulling him into a careful hug, “I love my little brother!”

“I think you’re missing his basic point here.” Donatello said with a wave of his hand.

“Ugh! This is no good!” Leo turned away from them and started pacing. “Gotta think of something— gotta think—“

Donnie walked over to Leo and tried to put a hand on his shoulder, only to be shrugged away. Donatello walked over to the other Donnie and stared at the pacing turtle, though his look was more of bewilderment than the gentle concern shown by the other gangly teen.

“Splinter!” Leo declared.

“WHERE?!” Raphael looked around, holding his arms close his body as he looked around for the rat.

Michelangelo perched himself on Raphael’s shoulder and cupped his hands over his eyes like binoculars. “No sign of ‘em, Captain Red!”

“HE’S FINALLY UNLOCKED THE POWER OF INVISIBILITY!” Leonardo cheered.

Donatello held his hands to his chest and his eyes lit up. “Oh I am so proud— and so jealous!”

“What?! No!” Leo groaned, pinching his brow. “Just— just take me to him. He might be the only one with any sense in this hellhole.”

[hellflame-for-a-reason]

Iida experiments with skirts

Quick warning, Bakugo's kind of a dick but it's ok, he's just insecure

"I hate these things…" Tenya had tried his best to adjust the trousers to fit him, his mother had even altered the stitching but they were still so uncomfortable. He found himself picking at where the fabric pitched at him or stretched over his exhausts almost all day. It seemed Uraraka had noticed, the round-faced girl glancing up from where she was picking out a colour for Tsu's nails.

"Why don't you try a skirt?"

This got the attention of both Momo and Mina, who glanced over, looking interested. It was Mina who spoke up, looking excited, "are we putting Iida in a skirt??"

"I- I guess so?" Tenya responded, not entirely sure what was happening, "I suppose I might as well consider the idea, if only to humour you."

He allowed himself to be dragged upstairs by the girls. Momo was the closest to him in height and waist size so they took the spare skirt from her drawers, waiting outside the room for him to change into it. Tenya did try it on, it was a little tight and he struggled to get it over the exhausts when pulling it up but it definitely didn't disturb said engines when he moved. It was incredibly short though… his legs felt very exposed like this.

Stepping out of the room, he smiled awkwardly as the girls cheered. "You look so cute Iida!" Uraraka seemed to be a fan of the look, clapping her hands in approval. Mina lifted a finger and gestured for him to twirl for them, it made Tenya feel very exposed but he did as he was told.

"Atta boy!" Mina approved of it then, giving him a thumbs up.

Momo was also pleased with how he looked, smiling, "you look lovely, Iida, how do you feel about it?"

"Well to be honest I don't like how short it is, that's really the only downfall of the skirt. It's very short… and I feel very exposed."

Tsu nodded, adding her input, "the school skirts are very short, ribbit."

Uraraka looked slightly disappointed and Iida almost felt bad, but Momo was humming in thought. "I could make you a longer one?" She asked him, clearly serious, "it doesn't even have to be a school one, I personally think you'd suit a blue one."

"Oh!" He was a little taken aback by this offer, not expecting to be taking the idea so seriously. "I suppose we could try that? Just to see how it looks…"

She nodded, turning around to create the skirt, "you want it crimped? High waisted or low waisted?"

"Uhh…" Tenya absolutely didn't know anything about skirts, "I don't…"

"He's a high waisted kind of guy, he doesn't own any low waisted pants." Uraraka stepped in, being the only one of the girls to have seen his wardrobe, "you like the shirt you're wearing right Iida?"

"Um, yes, it's very nice." He nodded, smiling at her.

"Crimped then."

"Alright, let me juuusst…" there was a pause as they waited for her to be done, "here we go!" Once she finished, she spun around holding a very pretty deep blue skirt. "Do you like it?"

"Well I need to try It on first," he smiled as he took the skirt from her hands, feeling the fabric with his fingers, "but it looks lovely, thank you Momo."

He went back into her room to try it on, slipping the skirt over his engines with relative ease, the waistband was a lot more loose and stretchy than the previous skirt- he hadn't even mentioned that issue. It was a lot longer than the previous one too, reaching around his knees, barely brushing at the top of his engines. He stood, walking over to the floor length mirror Momo had in her room.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he found that he looked very good in the skirt. It matched his hair and contrasted both his skin and the red grazes that littered it around the knee area. Tenya couldn't help but to smile, he really liked how he looked in this. There was something wonderful and freeing about it, maybe it was just the breeze or the expectations of the girls, but he genuinely thought he could see himself wearing skirts like this.

The girls seemed to agree with this statement, gushing over him the moment he left the room. All four of them seemed very happy with Momo's handiwork, telling Tenya about how nice he looked. Tenya had never really been fussed over like this before so he got just a little flustered, "I… thank you??" He wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to react to this kind of treatment, his brother got so much attention all the time and Tenya usually just sat there, so being the centre of attention was very new for him.

"Hahaha! Got captured by the girls did you, glasses?" Oh great, Bakugo was here. Tenya suddenly felt a lot less pleased to be wearing a skirt, but he couldn't take the blonde's laughter laying down, he had to set an example.

"For your information, Bakugo, the girls were helping me find an alternative for the trousers that I find uncomfortable on my engines." He walked quickly over to where Bakugo was standing, pleased to not feel the usual rubbing feeling over his calves.

"You look like a girl, dude." He chuckled, staring up at Tenya with a smirk.

It was then that Mina spoke up, "leave him alone Bakugo! It's none of your business!"

Hearing the words of his friend, Bakugo groaned but sculcked off to presumably bother Midoriya. Tenya turned around and smiled at her, happy to have the girls on his side. Tsu groaned as he left, "ugh, what a jerk, ribbit."

"He's just being tough to mask his insuricities, leave him be, Tsu." Mina sighed, glancing at where Bakugo had gone, "sorry he's such such a dick, Iida, he's just-"

"Insecure," he nodded, "I know, I have to do a nightly patrol." He remembered hearing crying from at least half his classmates' rooms at least once, he only ever checked on those that trusted him.

"You do realise you don't have to do that right?"

"I know, but I like to make sure everyone's alright, it's my duty as their class president."