#he is repeatedly saying and showing that he hates the cover ups and lying and misery the curse and helping his family is causing

[teamhawkeye]

i really do worry for the state of media literacy these days

you go into any tag and see people with their whole ass chest saying wrong and untrue shit, and they wholeheartedly believe they’re correct despite the canon source they’re pulling from saying otherwise

[hello-nichya-here]

No, the HIMYM finale is not secretly genius, stop lying to yourselves

The series finale of How I Met Your Mother, with Robin divorcing Barney and then getting together with Ted, a widower, years later could have been great. Yes, I'm serious.

Two people that were NOT soulmates and did NOT work out as couple when they were in their 20s met their true soulmates but life made them split up, and then they got a second chance of happiness with each other because, despite not being a perfect match they were at a point where they could make it work? Could totally work as a "bittersweet" ending. It's not "happily ever after" but it still finding happiness after the tragedy that stole their actual happily ever after, which is a valid, totally compelling story to tell.

But the writers completely destroyed any chance of it working as a satisfying story because the ending simply doesn't work as a twist and foreshadowing can't compete with consistent characterization.

The finale would only ever work if we had gotten to see the years of character development that were supposed to lead up to it. We'd have to SEE Barney and Robin's marriage deteriorating. We'd have too SEE Tracy's struggle with her illness and then Ted's years of grief. We'd have to SEE Ted and Robin slowly reconnecting and realizing that they've changed so much that can actually be a decent couple now - and more importantly, we have to see them CHANGE IN A WAY THAT MAKES THEM COMPATIBLE, NOT SIMPLY REVERSING THEM BACK TO HOW THEY WERE IN THE PILOT EPISODE BECAUSE THEY WERE ALREADY INCOMPATIBLE BACK THEN!

The show spent 98% of it's time building up to the "red-herring" of a Barney/Robin & Ted/Tracy endgame, with only the ocasional hints that this wasn't actually going to happen. It spent 9 fucking years, 9 seasons of 20+ episodes, building up to it this false endgame. Then suddenly the finale they try to give us SIXTEEN YEARS IN 40 MINUTES, expecting the audience the do the writer's jobs for them and fill in the blanks.

If they had given us the "fake ending" in the middle of the show, then spent the following seasons building up to the true ending, the finale wouldn't have been hated. Sure, no one would be surprised by the events in it, but anyone who didn't want Ted and Robin together would have bailed on the series a long time ago anyway.

And that's why they didn't do it. Because they knew most people didn't want these two to be endgame, LOVED Barney's growth as a character, and were not only eagerly waiting to meet Tracy but were also blown away by how she managed to be even better than we imagined. They wanted to have it both ways: give the audience what they wanted AND say "Sorry, this is our story, if you don't like it you don't have to watch it." It's cowardly, pathetic and a deep betrayal of the audience's trust, because people CAN accept not being given what they wanted - but they don't accept being lied to.

We never saw Barney be frustrated by Robin's work or by constant traveling before the finale - he's the "challenge accepted" guy, for fuck's sake, he used to go random trips just for the sake of having an adventure with his friends - thefore we don't believe that he is miserable enough that he'd want to end their marriage.

You can't show us Robin repeatedly choosing Barney over Ted, give us an insane scene of her covering Ted's face during sex to pretend she's sleeping with someone else, having her react to what she thinks is a proposal with 'You can't do this to me!", and even saying, to his face, that she doesn't love him, and then pretend that she totally still had feelings for him this entire time.

Even Ted pointed out, during this wedding to Stella, that Robin isn't hoping he'll remain single because she genuinely wants him, but because she's just afraid of being alone. C&C cannot convince general audiences, or critics, that she loves this man after they literally described the show as "The story of man that is in love with a woman, and she doesn't want that."

They can't tell me Ted genuinely loved Robin when he was constantly irritated by everything that makes her who she is: the fact that she's career-driven, always takes charge of everything, doesn't want kids, likes to travel around because she wants life to be an adventure, doesn't seem to believe in fate or soulmates, is a gun enthusiast, etc. They can't tell me they'd make it work when that's still who Robin is a person and Ted would still be irritated by it.

They DEFINITIVELY cannot convince me that him being hung up on her for so long means anything when he meets a new potential "soulamte" every other week, and will ALSO fall back in love with multiple exes the second he runs into them again, or so much as thinks back to the good old times.

And they absolutely cannot fucking tell me that he'd still be hung up on her after 25 fucking years, after he met his actual soulmate - unless they want me to believe the woman that was basically born from his rib is not his soulmate, which I call bullshit on.

And no, finale defenders, you cannot make this an inspirational "He found happiness with an old flame after his true love passed away because life is messy like that" when the show itself said, all the way back in season two "If Ted and Robin got married, they'd inevitably divorce, handle terribly, and screw up any kids they had."

Because yes, that's a thing that happens. When Robin meets Ted's parents, there's a whole misunderstanding about the dad supposedly cheating on the mom - and then we discover that actually they've been divorced FOR A LONG TIME, and just never told their kids because REASONS. Ted is even outraged that "Is this what passes for communication in this family?" More importantly, he and Robin, who are wearing the same colors as his parents, are shocked as they realize that the reasons for their divorce were the same reasons that made Robin not want to want Ted - the same reasons that would make them break up episodes later.

The writting is on the wall here. Ted and Robin will inevitably split up, and his kids will resent them both for getting them caught in the crossfire. Ted is already taking a page from his parents' book on How To Suck At Communicating Like A Normal Person by claiming he's gonna tell a story about their mother, only to then be like "Actually, this about how I love someone else and want to date her now."

"Oh, you just don't get it! The show was never about the Yellow Umbrella (Tracy)! It was about the Blue French Horn (Robin)!"

Yeah. It was about Robin. About how she's completely wrong for Ted and how they could never be happy together. About how he needs to let go of this obsession before it ruins his life and his relationship with everyone else that he is hurting during his attempts of getting with her: Victoria, Barney, Tracy, his children, and even Robin herself.

This is not a bittersweet ending. This is not a happy ending. This is two delusional writers ACCIDENTALLY giving their characters the most miserable endgame possible, and being convinced that they're giving us a fairy-tale ending - because yeah, that's what they thought. They weren't even aiming for bittersweet. They were never aiming for "Tragedy happens, but life goes on and you can still find happiness in it." They thought that Robin and Ted being so distraught by their awful lives that they convince themselves they were meant to be, and then go on to ruin their already shiity lives even more, was the most perfect happily ever after anyone could ask for.

The finale COULD have been great. Instead it was the worst thing imaginable, and the very fact that people can only try to defend it by WILDLY misterpreting what the writers wanted them to take from it is proof of how poorly thought out and written it was.

No one likes it for what it is, they like it for what they PRETEND it is. That simple fact is more insulting to this ending than anything I or anyone else could possibly say.

[lemonjoonah]

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).  

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...  

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?”  You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.”  The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.���

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry.  “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”  

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.  

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”  

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head.  “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose?  “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside.  Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”      

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a  sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a  warm and earthy scent envelopes you.  His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.  

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel.  Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it  you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid.  “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin.  “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod.  A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.  

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.  

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth.  He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts.  And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.  

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”  

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.  

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”  

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom.  A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.  

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

[hxlyhead-harpies]

Don’t Call Me Kid (G.W.)

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Summary: When her soulmate’s name appears on her wrist on her twentieth birthday, (Y/n)’s heart stings with betrayal when she finds out who it is.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Angst

As the clock slowly ticked towards midnight on the eve of your twentieth birthday, you couldn’t help but feel edgy. Your nerves were tingling and your stomach churned at the thought of what would be revealed on your wrist the moment you turned twenty. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to find out who your soulmate was; you just had no idea who it could be.

There was no one in your life who you felt a strong connection to. No one that gave your stomach the little tug that your parents so fondly described when they told you the story of how they met. And no one had revealed to you that you were their soulmate. You had always hoped that your soulmate was older than you. And that they would find you before you had to anxiously await for a name to be seared into your flesh. But no one had come forward yet. So you went with the assumption that you didn’t know your soulmate.

Of course, there was one person who you had always hoped it would be. It was your best friend’s older brother, George. It was a schoolgirl kind of crush, one that had you writing his last name on your school work and blushing every time he merely looked your way. As a child, you had followed him around like a lost puppy, fantasizing about your name adorning his wrist. But it wasn’t the case. His twentieth birthday had been years ago. You remembered the day very clearly.

You were spending the Easter holiday with the Weasleys, rooming with your best friend, Ginny. She was in your year and you had become fast friends the moment you sat next to each other on the train first year. You and most of the Weasley clan were eating breakfast, anxiously awaiting the twin’s arrival at the table. Fred had been up early, a wide smile informing you all that Angelina Johnson was his soulmate. Molly had clapped and pulled her son into a bone-crushing hug.

Eventually, George had stumbled down the stairs. The bags under his eyes were evident, displaying his lack of sleep, and his hair was disheveled from repeatedly running his fingers through it.

As he stepped into the kitchen everyone froze. Ron’s oatmeal dribbled down his chin as he stared at his brother, impatiently waiting for him to reveal his one true love. Molly’s hand was over her heart and her breathing was shallow as she anxiously awaited for her son to tell her the name of her future in-law.

George looked up to see everyone staring at him and just shook his head, tugging his sleeve farther over his wrist. Molly gasped before pulling her son into a comforting hug and you felt your heart break for him. George’s behavior let everyone know that he didn’t have a soulmate.

It was rare for people to have a blank wrist, though not impossible. Some people were meant to be alone. But you had never imagined that George could possibly be destined for loneliness.

You pushed the thoughts of your old infatuation and focused on the present. It was impossible for him to be your soulmate, the universe had already decided that, so there was no reason to even think of him.

Soon, your wrist began to burn. It wasn’t a terrible feeling; from the descriptions you had heard you assumed it would burn like placing your hand on a flame, instead it burnt like firewhiskey running down your throat. Your eyes watered as the name was carved into your skin, the gravity of the situation finally settling in. You were about to find out who your other half was, the person you were meant to spend your life with. The moment couldn’t be more daunting.

You screwed your eyes shut, not wanting to catch a glimpse of the forming letters until the burning subsided.

When your wrist cooled your eyes fluttered open. You took a deep breath before lifting your wrist up to your face. You read the name. Your world stopped. You couldn’t breathe.

George Weasley

Your mind ran over all of the possible explanations, confused as to how his wrist was blank but yours adorned his name. You came up with only one answer.

Your name was on George’s wrist. But he wished that it wasn’t.

Why else would he go through the trouble of hiding it? Why would he accept the years of pitying looks when he told people that he didn’t have a soulmate? Because he’d rather belong to no one than belong to you.

Hot tears rolled down your face as came to the realization. A moment that should have left you euphoric with happiness, only made you feel emptiness.

It was unfair really, that you had spent years pining after him and years feeling sorry for him, only for him to have been lying to you all along. You had been there when his mother cried for her son and cried for his life of loneliness. You had rubbed his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him when he sulked on the couch for a week. You felt like a fool.

As your mind began to remember all the moments where he had the opportunity to tell you the truth, you only became angry.

Because how dare he keep this from you. You were supposed to be his other half. You quickly wiped away your tears and apparated to the front of his shop.

It was a few minutes after midnight and the shop had been closed for hours. But you knew that he was up there in his flat above the store. You just hoped that he’d be able to hear you bang on the door from all the way up there.

After a few moments of relentless pounding, the door flung open.

“Bloody hell do you know what time it is?” Fred asked as he swung the door open. He caught sight of you and his mouth dropped.

“(Y/N)!” he said, a stunned expression on his face. You crossed your arms.

“Go get George,” you said, letting a small amount of anger to seep into your tone. Fred cast his eyes to the floor. The look he gave you let you know that he knew exactly why you were here. He had been in the same room as George when their soulmates had been revealed. He was probably the only other person in the world that knew about you.

“(Y/n) don’t be mad at him,” Fred said quietly. You scoffed and shook your head.

“How do you expect me to not be angry,” you asked incredulously. Fred just sighed and opened the door wider to let you in.

You hadn’t been inside the shop in years and under better conditions, you might have been able to appreciate the beauty in the chaos of it all. Even in the after hours inventions whizzed past your head.

“I’ll go get him,” Fred said before squeezing your shoulder and climbing up the stairs.

You nervously waited for him, suddenly regretting your decision to show up so abruptly. You hated that you could be so rash at times.

“Happy birthday,” a soft voice called out, interrupting your thoughts. You turned to see George staring at you from the top of the stairs, an unreadable expression on his face. You stiffened at the sight of him, instinctively wrapping your arms around your body as if to shield yourself from him. But that didn’t stop yourself from feeling drawn to him, as if the universe was tugging you towards him.

He slowly descended down the stairs, stopping a few feet in front of you. You stared at the floor, unsure of how to begin.

“(Y/n)...” he whispered softly, coaxing you to meet his eyes. You spoke instead.

“How could you?” you asked, your voice shaking. George let out a sigh.

“You have to understand. I couldn’t tell you,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“What is that even supposed to mean George?” you asked, “I was right there in your kitchen that day. You could have said something.” George shook his head.

“I had my reasons and you just have to trust that,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“Am I really that horrible?” you questioned, “so horrible that’d you rather lie and say that you didn’t have a soulmate than admit that it was me.” Your voice cracked. George shook his head and stepped closer to you. He lifted his hand as if he wanted to reach out to you, but he retracted it at the last second.

“That’s not why,” he said softly.

“Then why?” you pushed, angry that he wasn’t telling you what you wanted to know.

“You were just a kid, (Y/n)!” he said, desperation filling his voice. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“What does that have to do with anything?” you asked softly.

“(Y/n) you have to understand… You were sixteen! You were my little sister’s best friend and you were still in school! And I was older and I had the shop!” he explained. You shook your head.

“You still could have told me,” you whispered. George groaned.

“No, I couldn’t! I was out fighting with the order and you weren’t even old enough to use magic outside of school. You were a child,” he explained exasperatedly. You felt your face harden.

“What about now?” you asked bitterly.

“Huh?”

“What about now,” you repeated, “I’m not a child anymore and after everything that happened, I haven’t been for a while. You could have told me at any point over the last few years and you didn’t. Why?” George froze, clearly unsure of how to answer. You felt tears rise to your eyes at his silence, taking it as confirmation of his rejection. You took one last look at him and stormed out.

Two weeks later you’re standing outside the Burrow. Ginny and Harry’s engagement party was in full swing but you had no desire to be there. Sure, you wanted to be there for your best friend, but you knew George would be there and you weren’t ready to face him. He hadn’t attempted to contact you in the time since you’d seen him and the rejection stung. So you stuck to the same lie that he had; you told everyone that you were soulmateless. You took a deep breath and fiddled with the leather band that covered George’s name and stepped inside.

The Burrow was loud and bustling with people. Family members and school friends filled the space, leaving barely any room to breathe. People shot you sad smiles as you pushed through the crowd, all of them having heard of your predicament. You ignored them as you searched for Ginny.

Eventually, you found her near the kitchen, leaning against Harry, his hand on her waist. Your smile dropped for a moment, jealousy rippling through your body. It was the kind of quiet intimacy that you wanted with your soulmate. With George.

Ginny looked up and caught your eye, making her way over to wrap you in a hug.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, “it’s not like you to be late I was getting worried.”

“Sorry about that!” you apologized. Ginny just shook her head and dragged you over to where she had been standing. She snaked an arm around Harry’s waist, jumping right back into the conversation.

Harry was talking to Fred and Angelina about quidditch when you arrived. You sent them a quick wave and Angelina sent you a warm smile. Fred sent you an apologetic look which you ignored. You tried to immerse yourself in the conversation but you kept catching yourself scanning the room for George. You felt Ginny nudge your shoulder.

“You alright?” she whispered just loud enough for you to hear. You sent her a quick smile and a nod, hoping to convince her that you were fine. You subconsciously pulled your sleeve down farther.

As the party wore on you couldn’t seem to spot George. You didn’t know why you kept looking for him, it was obvious that he didn’t want to see you anyway.

You made your way into the kitchen, hoping you could pour yourself a drink. As soon as you stepped in you froze. There he was, leaning against the countertop, a glass in his hand. His eyes met yours and his body tensed. He seemed to be in just as bad of shape as you; he had evident eye bags under his eyes and his clothes were rumpled and unkempt.

You sent him a polite smile before grabbing a glass from the cabinet. You walked across the kitchen to where the bottle of firewhiskey was sitting, which was, unfortunately, very close to George. You reached for the bottle but you were interrupted by him grabbing your wrist. You looked up, shocked, only to see him staring down at the leather band that covered his name, running his fingers over it.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, his breath fanning across your face. You pulled your wrist back.

“Whatever George,” you replied, “it’s in the past now.” George screwed his eyes shut and ran a hand over his face.

“But what if I don’t want it to be in the past,” he whispered. You stared at him, your mouth agape.

“What?” you whimpered. He reached for your hand again and you let him hold it.

“I don’t want to pretend that it never happened,” he said breathily, “I don’t want to pretend that we aren’t made for each other.” You scoffed slightly.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” you asked, bitterness seeping into your voice. George lifted your hand up so it was resting on his heart. You could feel it hammering in his chest.

“When I first found out that we were soulmates I didn’t tell you for all the reasons that I said. We were at different stages of our lives and I didn’t want to spring that on you. But then… But then as you got older I just- I didn’t know what to say. How could I tell you something like that after hiding it so long? I spent so long trying to figure out how to tell you but then time just caught up with me and it was too late,” he said, a new intensity in his eyes.

“George…” you whispered. He shook his head and spoke.

“Let me finish. Please,” he pleaded. You nodded your head. “Every time I saw you, you became more and more beautiful and more and more as I had always imagined my soulmate to be. You laugh at my stupid jokes and you always know what to say and you’re so much smarter than me… I couldn’t hope for a better other half than you,” he finished. You stared into his warm eyes, trying to decipher if he meant what he said. You could still feel his heart racing under your hand and his eyes were slowly filling with tears.

“Please forgive me,” he breathed. Without thinking you leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed the corner of his mouth. You stepped back, removing your hand from his heart and wrapping your arms around yourself. He stared at you, shock written all across his face.

“You’re my soulmate, George,” you whispered, “I can’t stay mad at you forever.” George smiled widely before stepping forward and scooping you up into a hug.

“Thank you,” he muttered into your hair. The two of you stayed like that for a moment. Your body flushed against his, his hands wrapped around your waist and yours slinked around his neck. When you pulled back you spoke.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me at first,” you admit, “I was just a kid.” He brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“But you’re not anymore and I should have told you sooner. I’ll never forgive myself for the years I wasted without you,” he said softly. You smiled shyly at him, seemingly returning to the schoolgirl crush that you had harbored for years.

“I’m glad it’s you,” You said. George smiled at the ground.

“I’m glad too.”

[novamirmirsblog]

No more bed

Word count: 2113

Genre: Not actually sure :3

Request: No

Warnings: Swearing, kissing?

A/N that's the end of the only one bed trope. Technically requests are now closed but if you think of another overused trope you want me to write then feel free to send it in!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You didn't eat that night and went straight to bed when you got too tired to focus on the words. You had made sure the pillow wall was twice the size it was to begin with. You turned off your light when you heard Natasha's footsteps come to the door, turning your back to her and pretending to be asleep. Your breaths were deep and completely even, there was no way Natasha could have guessed you were still awake. You felt her hesitate over you and the smell of reheated food invaded your nose and then heard her walk away.

The words she said back in that forest shouldn't have hurt you as much but they did. You shouldn't care what she thinks. It doesn't matter that she doesn't believe in your skills as an agent, that she doesn't think you're pretty enough to grab someone's attention.

If Natasha thought the bickering and coolness was bad at the start of the week, she was in for a shock. When she finally came back to that tiny, godforsaken bed and did her usual trick of sliding her foot over the pillow wall, you got up, took a pillow and the spare blanket and went to sleep on the rug in the living room.

When morning rolled around, you couldn't even be bothered to talk to her, focusing much more on the task ahead, just wanting this week to be over. It wasn't even the hurt you were feeling, it was the frustration that you felt hurt that drove you to stop talking to her. You hated her. She was annoying. She had no respect for anything anyone does.

You spent most the day preparing for the party that evening. Sure, it shouldn't take you over half a day to get ready but you had finished your paperwork early and you wanted to try on every single dress and suit SHIELD had supplied you with. You ended up choosing a navy blue, off the shoulder ball gown. Thinking logistically, it was quite possibly one of the worst things you could have worn. A pantsuit would have been a much more suitable choice and yet you looked and - more importantly - felt hot in the dress.

~~~~~

"You're not seriously wearing that are you?" Natasha asked as we both began to change into our formal wear. She had let you splurge out on a taxi but only after you had to walk what felt like 500 miles so no one would know where you were staying.

"Why not?" You asked with a fakeness in your voice "It's a no contact mission, plus, no one would look at me anyway, right?"

"Y/n, that's not what I-"

"Oh look. We're here." You get out the cab before Natasha can finish what she's saying.

Ivan might be an evil person, but he sure does know how to throw a party. It was elegant and high class and he made his way over to you as soon as he saw you. You had both agreed that you would keep him distracted while Natasha grabbed the relevant information.

"Dorogaya, u tebya poluchilos!" (Darling, you made it!) Ivan opened his arms wide, grabbed you by the shoulders and placed a kiss on both of your cheeks.

"Konechno, kak ya mog ignorirovat' takuyu ​​zagadku?" (Of course, how could I ignore something so mysterious?) You laughed and he moved his arm to around your waist.

"Prikhodite, prikhodite, yest' lyudi, kotorykh vy dolzhny vstretit'" (Come, come, there are people you should meet)

~~~~~

Ivan spent most the night introducing you to different 'modelling' agencies. You knew what he was doing, he was showing you off to potential buyers. Ivan ran a human trafficking ring along with some other not so nice business. You weren't worried - not in the slightest. Although, as the night drew on and Natasha still hadn't said anything, you were getting a little more... concerned.

You managed to excuse yourself to the bathroom. Once inside, you tapped the earpiece repeatedly, praying Natasha would answer you.

"Romanoff where are you? Have you got the data?"

Silence

"Seriously, I'm sorry I've been ignoring you but this is childish now."

More silence

"I'll let you have the bed?"

Static rang out in your ear.

Of course SHIELD gave you a crappy ear piece. It was ridiculous. They provided you with three million dresses but couldn't give you a working piece of tech.

Just as you pulled out the burner phone, you felt a needle slide into your neck and the world went black.

~~~~~

"Y/n I have the data."

Nothing. Maybe you were still mad at her.

"Y/n do you copy?"

Still nothing.

"Y/n?"

Natasha's heart beat a little faster.

"Come on Y/n. I'm sorry. I'll let you have the bed?" Her burner phone pinged. It was your location. Shit.

~~~~~

You woke up and looked around, seeing that you were in the rundown hideout, you put your head back on the pillow. Everything felt heavy.

"You were drugged." Natasha states, standing in the corner of the room, her arms crossed and eyes never leaving you.

"Oh." It was all you could muster up the energy to say.

"We leave tomorrow morning."

You push yourself up into a sitting position. "How long was I out?"

"3 hours."

You looked at Natasha, really looked at her. "Then why are you still covered in blood?"

Everything of Natasha's had some kind of bloodstain. She hadn't even washed her hands. It may have been dark in the corner she was standing in, having only the side lamp to illuminate the room, but her skin seemingly glowed, making the blood stand out.

She turned around and left, heading towards the bathroom. You wanted to get up to follow her but while your mouth worked again, your legs did not. Apparently whatever they used on you was a lot stronger than you thought because you fell out of the bed. Again. Natasha rushed out, getting to you in an instant, except this time there were no sly remarks.

"Careful princess, people might think you care." You grin, only for it to drop immediately when you saw a slight wetness to the corners of her eyes. "Hey, it's okay." You said softly. If she wasn't as close to you, Natasha would have missed it.

"I didn't know where you were. I-I thought you had gone off to try and prove something and then I saw you lying there, in some basement Ivan had. You-you looked so... dead."

"But I'm not." you reached up and gingerly stroked her hair, not wanting to spook her. "And look!" You gestured to your toes that were wiggling "I can feel my legs again!"

Natasha let out a slightly wet laugh. "I'm really sorry."

"For what? These things happen all the time. Although I will say, you seem to be unlucky because my missions always go wrong with you." You nudged her shoulder, crossing your legs so you faced her, both of you still on the floor.

"For making you think you weren't attractive. For basically drugging you myself."

"Don't be ridiculous Natasha. You didn't drug me."

"I might as well have done! If I had just agreed with you instead of fighting you, then you wouldn't have felt like you had to prove anything."

"You think I'm attractive?"

"Seriously? That's what we're choosing to focus on now."

"Umm yes? I know it wasn't your fault at all but now I want to hear about how attractive I am." You smirked and Natasha stood up abruptly.

"I'm having a shower."

"Is that a nice cold shower for you to try to get over me?" You shouted as she slammed the door shut.

~~~~~

Natasha came out of the shower half an hour later, towel drying her hair.

"I think you're attractive too." You whispered out, half hoping Natasha wouldn't hear it.

She stilled. Looking at you, trying to see if you were lying.

"Then why do you hate me?"

"I don't think I do. Not anymore."

Natasha stayed silent, encouraging you to continue.

"I didn't like the avengers in general. You guys all act like you're so much better than us. You get all the perks of looking good and none of the paperwork. You don't know the amount of times I've seen top level agents filling out avenger paperwork when they should be out in the field. I thought you were all lazy but spending this week with you... well it made me realise that maybe you're not all that bad."

Natasha had moved herself to the bed, just watching you speak. You looked over to her, signalling that you had finished all that you wanted to say.

"I'm sorry I ever made you doubt yourself. I'll talk to the team about actually doing their paperwork. Who's the worst?" She asked, curiosity laced in her tone

"Steve."

Natasha let out a full blown laugh at that. "Wait seriously?"

"Yup. I see him all the time, constantly trying to offload his paperwork to someone else. I always thought it would be Tony but it's definitely Steve, then Bruce. Then it's probably Tony."

"I promise I'll try to make them stop."

"I wouldn't make promises you can't keep." You laughed.

"Why...why did you doubt me?" You asked, a little more serious than before.

"It's not that I doubted you... I guess I just didn't like the way you spoke to Ivan..."

"You mean the flirting?"

"Maybe..."

You sat in silence for a bit, you couldn't figure out why. It's not like it was against any rules and it all worked in your favour. Then, it clicked.

"Natasha Romanoff were you jealous!" You let out a slight gasp and grinned at her.

"No. No of course not." Natasha got defensive. There was no way she was jealous of that old, wrinkly, nasty smelling man.

"Aww princess!" You adjusted yourself so you were completely facing her. "I can flirt with you too if you want." Your voice got slightly lower and your eyelids dropped a fraction, making your pupils seem bigger. While you raised your voice a few octaves for Ivan, you knew that to seduce a woman you had to lower it a little.

"Stop it." Natasha hit you.

"But why baby?" You grabbed her chin and tilted her face towards you. "Now you don't have to be jealous." You sent her a wink and let her chin go, watching as her eyes got a little darker.

"Go away. I want nothing to do with you or your terrible flirting."

"You say my flirting is terrible" Your voice now back to normal, "But your body is saying something different."

"Wrong. My body is saying nothing."

"No?"

No."

"Okay then! Night night princess." You leant over to switch off the light when Natasha grabbed your arm, causing you to look back over to her.

"Calling me princess... it - ugh... well it -" Natasha looked conflicted before glancing up to you, looking at your lips and kissing you.

You were shocked. You knew you shouldn't have been. All the signs were there and you were a very good flirt but actually feeling her lips on yours made your brain short-circuit. You kissed her back and climbed into her lap.

"We're not doing it here." You said when you both broke the kiss

"Why not?" Natasha looked at you, her hands running all over you.

"Because I'm 90% sure there are rats and I really don't want to catch something"

Natasha laughed and kissed you a little more. "Fair enough. We should stop this now then."

You kissed her neck. "Yes. We should definitely stop now."

~~~~~

Just before you were due to leave, you called Natasha into the bedroom.

"Y/n, we have to go."

"I know I know but watch." You bounced excitedly as you threw a match at the bed.

"Y/n what the hell!?"

"Well, if you remember correctly, I said that if you crossed the pillow divide, I would burn the bed with you in it. As you can see, I'm generously leaving you out of the bed. You're welcome."

Natasha just looked at you. "I can't believe I like you."

"Aww you like me? That's kind of embarrassing for you." You laughed as you linked arms with her, walking to the jet, but not before Natasha convinced you to put out the fire on the bed.

You watched as the fire fizzled out and silently thanked that damn bed for bringing you and Natasha closer. Literally. It didn't mean you weren't going to have a long chat with Fury about proper size beds though.

[creepychan08]

Oikawa x reader - A married life

"Now I'm asking you, what is this?" You shoved the screen of your phone,  towards your husband as he squinted his eyes at the sudden action.

"I told you,  I was at the company party and I-" Oikawa stopped. The picture showed him kissing a woman clad in revealing dress. His hands covered her cheeks as it looked like he was gladly returning the affection.

"Yn,  I know what it looks like but I promise you its not what it seems like to you."

"Then why are you kissing her!?" You threw your hands in the air,  frustrated at your husband. It didn't help that your hormones were skyrocketing and out of place. You were 3 months pregnant, after all.

"Look, she grabbed me out of nowhere and just forced herself on me. I was trying to push her that's why my hands were around her head. Baby, I wouldn't do that to you. You know I only love you."

You were rendered speechless at his explanation. The ache in your chest dispersing as you calm down. He wrapped his arms around you, running his hands through your soft hair.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, hiding your face in his chest. He smell so good beneath the smooth texture of his suit. Unknowingly to you, Oikawa's eyes were tightly shut as he bit his lips guiltily.

"It's just whenever I go to your workplace, I always see her sauntering around you. She's obviously trying to seduce you. That's why I asked you again and again to avoid her as much as possible. I don't want to lose you" Voicing out your insecurities made you feel vulnerable. But you know that being in a relationship require two parties involved to be honest with each other. Communication and trust remains the strong foundation of your marriage.

"I know,  sweetheart. But tell me, who sent that picture to you?" He pulled back and just when you were about to answer,  another chime from your phone took both of your attention.

You clicked it open. Oikawa right by your side as he curiously look at your text. You didn't mind it. There was nothing to hide from him anyway.

The message opened to reveal a video. Tapping the play button, it shows your husband furiously making out with the same girl in the earlier photo. They were situated in a corner,  away from everyone as some of his coworkers were busily drinking.

You hands started shaking as tears unconsciously poured from your eyes. Feeling your husband tense from beside you only confirms your theory. The video soon ended and there was tense silence.

You looked up to see Oikawa with his head bowed, hair covering his eyes. Even from your position, you couldn't see his expression. But it didn't matter. The video says it all. You didn't bother asking for explanation this time.

Slowly, you begun untangling his arms around you. Letting out a hollow laugh, you shook your head in dismay.

Funny how you always laugh at those cliche movies whenever a girl experiences heartbreak. They always portray it as a physical pain, symtoms similar to a heart attack. But you deem it as bullshit. Sure, it hurts. But its impossible to feel that much pain just from losing the one you love, right?

So why does it feel like you're dying now? Your heart still beats. But it feels as if it was literally torn and stamp repeatedly. You tried to breath normally but something lodge in your throat and why can't you breath properly?  Why does your lungs seem to stop working right when you need it most?

"Yn!"

"YN!!!"

Choking back a gasp, you return to reality as you see Oikawa panicking as he held you.

"Are you okay? Breath slowly, baby" He instructed, rubbing his hand soothingly on your back as you tried to regain your senses.

"Why, Tooru?" You finally gathered the courage to ask. The feeling of betrayal rang loud and clear on your hoarse voice and he winced from it.

"I'm sorry Yn. I'm sorry for lying. I got pretty drunk at the party. I lose control. We haven't done it for a while after you got pregnant and she was there and just flaunting around and kept rubbing me, saying things how she's going to make me feel good and I just- I!" He rambled, truth finally spilling from those lips you loved so much. His eyes were everywhere but you.

You didn't know what to feel. You asked for the truth, right? But you feel so much worse now.

"Are you blaming me for being pregnant, Tooru?"

"Shit,  no Yn-"

"We planned this together! You said you wanted to build a family with me. And we both decided to refrain from any sexual activities while I'm in my early pregnancy to avoid any possible complications while the baby is being developed. We talked about it and we both agreed! So why are you turning it against me now?"

"I know it wasn't an excuse, Yn! And I know I'm wrong. God,  I'm so wrong.Please, forgive me." Oikawa sobbed, tears cascading down the smooth expanse of his cheeks as he begged for your forgiveness.

"If you can't help yourself then maybe I shouldn't have agreed to have a baby with you!" You cried, anger radiating off you in waves.

"All those nights you came home late. Was it because you were taking your sweet time with her? Hm?" You smiled at him mockingly and his eyes widened in protest.

"No, Yn!" He tightly clutched your arms, desperately forcing you to hear him out, "Listen to me. I took all those overtime to gain extra money. That was in preparation for when our baby comes! Please believe me when I say it was for us!"

You looked at him with dull eyes. The aftermath of the fight just leaves you exhausted. You didn't know what to believe anymore. This was the man you had vowed to be with for the rest of your life. This was the man you wholeheartedly love and respect. Trust had always been your foundation,  hasn't it? 

Where has all the trust gone to?

You placed your hand on your belly. Wondering if he or she can feel the pain their father just bestowed to you. Hopefully not. You never want any harm nor pain come to your baby.

"I'm going to sleep. I'm tired." Coming up with a lame excuse, you turn to walk away when a hand firmly grasp your arms, not in a painful way.

"Lets talk about this, Yn. I don't want us to go to sleep tonight without resolving this issue." Oikawa pleaded with you, eyes begging for a chance. Any time, you will easily give in but after what happened, you don't know how to face him.

"I don't know what to say anymore, Tooru. I just want to rest." You smiled at him resignedly. Oikawa gritted his teeth. His heart throb painfully. How can you say that with such look on your face? Knowing that he caused your pain only increased the frustration and guilt running through his veins.

With a sigh,  he unwillingly yielded to your request. Letting go of your hand,  he watched your back face him as you slowly walked further away from him.

He will later learn that that was the biggest mistake of his life.

That night, both of you slept in the same bed as usual. Although a few inches only separates you, both your hearts were distanced with an invisible barrier. One trying to forget the pain it experienced,  while the other trying to find ways to have you back to him.

It was dead silent. You were tilting in between reality and dreams when a sudden, sharp pain tore through your abdomen and you screamed in pain. Startling your husband who immediately checked on you.

"Yn-chan,  are you okay?  What happened!?" Oikawa asked,  panic covering his features as he took in your pain filled expression. He felt the sheets wet and he clicked the bedside lamp open to see your side in bed covered in blood.

Your pupils dilated as you took in the sight. Another stabbing pain washed over you and you keeled in agony, stifling your screams. You barely felt Oikawa whisper comforting words to you before quickly lifting you up to bring you to the hospital.

My baby. No,  I can't lose him/her. Was the only thought going through your mind.

"It hurts" you groaned in pain as Oikawa comfortingly grip your hand with one of his own as he drive with one hand. (AN: Not safe. Don't do this guys. Always drive safely)

"Take deep breaths, love"

"My baby" Sobbing in distress, you held on your stomach and Oikawa felt like vomiting. A lot has happened in the past couple of hours and the thought of something happening to your unborn child didn't help the queasy feeling in his gut.

"I'm here, Yn. Nothing will happen to you nor our baby." Pretending to be strong for the both of you, he forcefully blinked the tears forming on his eyes.

Everything happened fast after that. It was like everything was a blur for him. You were quickly taken in the emergency room before you were transferred to the operating room. The doctor and nurses explained what was happening to you and what they were about to do. He numbly agreed to what they say. Only repeated over and over again that they must save you.

Before long he found himself waiting outside the operating theatre. His ears were ringing as he looked at his surroundings. It was surreal. Like his body was there but his consciousness somewhere else. He was only brought back to reality when he felt harsh tugging on his shoulder.

"Oi,  Oikawa get a grip on yourself!"

"Iwa-...chan..? How did you get here? "

"You texted me,  did you forget?"

"Ah.. Right" Oikawa mumbled, blankly staring at nowhere in particular. He felt drained but the anxiety running on his body did not allow him to even get an ounce of rest as he waited for the news on his wife and baby.

Iwaizumi frowned. It was unusual to see his bestfriend so distraught. He still didn't know what happened after all, Oikawa only texted him that he was in the hospital after something happened to his wife. But he felt asking would be too insensitive on his part so he stay silent and tried to just be there for his bestfriend.

"It was my fault,  y'know" Oikawa finally spoke after some time.

Iwaizumi patiently waited for him to continue, silently confused on Oikawa blaming himself.

"We had a fight. She saw me making out with the girl she hated from our company. Somebody sent her a video of it."

Iwaizumi was shocked. He knew Oikawa was a huge flirt back in their high school days but that he also outgrew it when he fall in love with Yn Ln. They were happy together and rarely had a fight as much as he knew. Or was it all a facade?

Suddenly,  he felt anger rush through him at the foolishness of his bestfriend. Messing around when he knew his wife was pregnant! Iwaizumi opened his mouth to curse at his close friend when he was frozen at the sight.

Oikawa was staring at him with regret painted all over his face. Tears continuously fall on his cheeks. The usual light in his warm, soft eyes was gone and all that was left was an endless pit of misery and hopelessness.

"I screwed up, Iwa-chan" He whispered, defeated.

Flinching in response, Iwaizumi's anger quickly switch into sympathy for his friend as he assessed his poor condition.

"She's strong. Stop thinking on the worst scenario. Just focus on what you will do after this." While giving him a reassurring pat on the back. Oikawa released a shaky breath as he nodded at his friends' advice.

Suddenly,  the doors to the operating room opened and a doctor wearing scrubs came out. Two nurses were by his side.

"We're looking for the husband of Yn, Ln"

"That is me"

Oikawa quickly stand up from his seat and approach the doctor. He was then escorted to an empty room where the two nurses silently left him and the doctor to discuss the aftermath of the procedure.

With his heart beating loudly, Oikawa eagerly fired questions to the doctor.

"How is she?  How's my wife?  My baby?  Were you able to save them?  When can I see them?"

The doctor resignedly took of his mask.

"I'm sorry to inform you,  Oikawa-san but the baby didn't make it. Your wife had a spontaneous miscarriage. It has no specific cause. Women in their first trimester or early pregnancy are more prone to experience it that's why stress must be avoided at all times especially during this sensitive period in a womans' body."

Oikawa felt like being doused in cold water. He stayed frozen while staring at the doctor who looked grim. After seeing all that blood came out on his wife,  he already knew deep inside that they lost the baby but he simply refused to believe it. He hang on to that tiny hope that maybe their unborn baby can be saved.

He shakily gulped, feeling his heart break. The pain was intense. They were looking forward to the arrival of their first child and for this to happen-

"What about my wife? Can I see her now?" He was hurting. Greatly. But he couldn't imagine how his wife was faring. She was the one carrying their child, after all. He wanted to comfort her and be there for her.

"I-" the doctor stopped and cleared his throat. Oikawa felt something amiss. Like an impending doom but he quickly tried to shoo the thought away.

"Doctor, how is she? I want to talk to her as soon as possible."

"That is another matter I must discuss with you, Oikawa-san."

The nerves were killing him and it took all his self restraint to not jump across the table and force the surgeon to speak at once.

"There was.. a complication while we were taking the fetus out of her. The amount of blood was greater than what it should been. We quickly transfused blood into her but it wasn't enough. We tried to resuscitate her but in the end she.. died due to heamorrhagic shock."

For a moment, Oikawa forgot how to breath. The world around him turn to black and white and the only words resounding in his mind was that she's dead, she's dead repeatedly.

It didn't fully sink in yet. Until he saw his wife, his beloved Yn, lying still in the operating room. Her face was pale under the glare of OR lights. And if he didn't know any better, it looks as if she is only sleeping peacefully after a long day. But as he caress her cold cheeks, no more warmth emanating from those cheeks he love to kiss so much, he was slapped with the bitter reality that she's not coming back.

No more warm smiles and sweet kisses from his wife as he return home after a long day at work. No more delicious meals waiting for him at the table as they talked about what happened during their day. No more cuddles and whisper of i love you's in the darkness of the night as they lay entangled from the after event of making love.

The perfect picture of a happy family with their son/daughter shattered in his mind as he loudly grieved for the loss of his family.

Kami-sama if you are real,  please let me return back time. Let me be with my family again. Please give me a chance to make things right...

Oikawa loudly gasped as if coming back to land after drowning. He find himself gazing at the ceiling in their room. It was dark. Where was he?

A slight shuffle and then,

"Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare, Tooru?"

That sweet, melodious voice.

Oikawa slowly turn towards the source of sound to see, much to his relief, his beloved wife gazing at him with concern while rubbing the sleep out her eyes.

"Yn-chan" He choked, lunging at her to give her the tightest embrace.

"Woah there,  big guy" You chuckled,  patting his back. You stilled when you felt something wet trickled down your neck.

"I'm so glad! So glad to be with you, Yn!" The pure, raw emotion coming from your husband surprised you as he continued to sob on your neck, clinging to you like a lost baby.

"Please don't ever leave me again!  Kami-sama,  thank you for bringing her back to me!" Oikawa yelled, voice muffled as he continued to shove his face around your neck.

"What has happened to you, dear?" You worriedly asked and pull his face away to wipe some of his tears.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You suggested,  talking about his nightmare.

"No need, love. I just want to say that I *kiss* love *kiss* you *kiss* so damn much!"

You giggled at his affection, loving his kisses.

"Oh and how many months are you again?"

"Silly, did you forget? I'm just two months along. 7 months to go"

Oikawa heaved a sigh of relief. Turning to your stomach,  he leaned down and pulled up your shirt.

"Hey,  little one. I'm so excited to meet you. But for now,  be good for mommy, okay?" Placing a sweet kiss to your stomach,  you smiled at your husbands' attention as you run your fingers through his hair. Oikawa gladly reciprocate your smile with his own.

This time, I'll love you with all of my heart. I won't make the same mistakes again. We will be a happy family, Yn.

Extended ending:

"Yes you heard it right. You're fired." Oikawa coldly said to his assistant. The one who destroyed his past life and made him and his wife suffer.

"But! I-" she whined pathetically, trying to win his sympathy by acting like a pitiful slut. But Oikawa was having none of it.

"I said. Get. Out." The fiery glare in his eyes send shivers down her spine and she immediately booked her way out of his office,  whining like a bitch along the way.

Another extended ending:

7 months later, you tiredly smile at the little bundle of joy in your arms. After 18 hours of grueling labor, you finally had your healthy, baby boy.

"I'm so proud of you." Oikawa wiped the sweat along your forehead as he softly kissed you.

"Thank you for bringing our baby to this world. You make me the happiest person alive, Yn. I love you two so much and I swear to protect you both for the rest of my life." He whispered, tears springing in his eyes at the emotional moment.

"As do I,  Tooru. As do I." You swore,  sealing that promise with sweet kiss.

Fin

[vexillumalbum]

MLQC boys being interrupted while having sex w/Reader

I think the title is pretty self-explanatory. 

All I want to say is that I wrote it long ago so there might be some mistakes. Also please bear in mind that English is not my native language. Thank you! I hope you'll enjoy!

NSFW below!

Gavin

The orange rays of the setting sun warmed the naked skin of your back pleasantly from behind the windows. Your boyfriend's white button-up casually framed your waist, barely clinging to your forearms, previously sliding off your shoulders. You had to hold it with your hands to keep it from sliding completely off. 

In fact, in that position, Gavin had a perfect view of your bare curves, with the shirt or without it. 

He was lying on his back facing you, propped up on pillows with his arms behind his head. His watchful gaze never left your body, even for a moment. His amber eyes scanned your figure, gliding over your perky breasts, smooth skin glazed in orange and silky strands of hair dancing near your neck and collarbones with your every move. 

He licked his lips.

“Come here.” It wasn’t an order, but also not a plea. It sounded more like a request of a man so in love with his girl that he couldn’t bear not touching her anymore. 

You giggled - and Gavin could’ve sworn it was the prettiest sound in the whole universe - before wrapping your fingers around his outstretched hand, letting yourself be guided to his solid body. 

Minutes later you were a moaning mess, your hips pinned to the mattress by two calloused hands, the devilish sounds coming from between your legs mixing with heavenly whimpers of your boyfriend’s name that were leaving your bruised lips. 

The grip you had on Gavin’s hair tightened when he sucked on your clit in time with his fingers working magic inside your heat. In response you heard a growl as his hips started assaulting the mattress even faster. The beast has been awoken

Tingling on your skin came as a warning for the pleasure that was supposed to arrive next. Your muscles were squeezing Gavin’s fingers hard and he couldn’t wait for his cock to be enveloped by your wet warmth next. Heels dug into the mattress, fingers gripping white sheets, head thrown back with parted lips and ragged breath and—

Thump thump thump

“Are you guys okay in there?!” Minor’s concerned voice sounded from outside of the bedroom right after knocking. It startled you to the point where you jumped up, covering your bare figure with anything you could reach for, even though you were sure the doors were closed and the intruder wasn’t able to come inside the room. “I’ve heard some weird noises and I thought I’d check on you! You know, better safe than sorry!”

Gavin immediately looked over you, checking if you were alright, before turning his head to the door with a look that could kill. He palmed himself through his boxers, his erection still evident and painful. 

“We’re alright! Thanks, Minor.” After a brief moment of silence you managed to say, not knowing if you should laugh or cry or maybe both. You heard a quiet “okay” and some shuffling - the intruder left the area.

In a moment of passion both you and Gavin had forgotten that Minor was temporarily living in your apartment due to AC disfunction at his place. He wasn’t a perfect roommate but at the same his presence wasn’t overbearing and you didn’t have any complaints… up until now.

“I’ll beat him up.” Through clenched teeth Gavin’s voice was low as he was putting on some shorts he took out of the drawers, and he now resembled the Super-Scary-Officer-Gavin more  than Your-Loving-And-Doting-Boyfriend-Gavin. 

“Don’t be so harsh on him. He was concerned.” You giggled only to be met with a doubting look from your boyfriend. “As he said, better safe than sorry.”

“I’ll give him something to be sorry about.” Poor Minor

Victor

The last few weeks have been pure torture. You were very open about how much you hated these business trips that both you and Victor had to take all the time to different places in the world. Your boyfriend was less outspoken, however the days of longing were taking its toll on him as much as on you. Sleepless nights, lonely dinners, unfulfilled lust…

Therefore, when there were no meetings, reports and proposals to write or filming sites to visit on the horizon, you jumped almost literally at the opportunity and took Victor to the wellness center. 

It was a pleasant evening, the sun had recently set, but the heat was still there, aligned from time to time by the cool breeze. The white bathrobe your only cover as you and Victor relaxed on the private terrace of the apartment, with the sound of the bubbling jacuzzi in the background.

Sitting in his lap, your boyfriend was caressing your bare thigh with one of his hands, while the other was stroking your hair. It was an intimate moment shared between two lovers finally reunited and ready to spend some much needed relaxing time together. 

Until…

It started as an innocent kiss between sips of fine dry wine selected by Victor himself.

He had you almost fully naked on his lap, with your robe slipping down your back, threading fingers in your silky strands and tasting your lips - which he had to admit - were even tastier than his favorite crimson beverage.  

You were determined to get him naked, to free these gorgeous muscles from beneath the soft robe. With your nails scraping his skin lightly you were revealing more and more of his toned body earning sweet sighs from Victor as a reward. 

His skilled fingers moved from your hair to kneading your butt, making your already wet pussy to rub on his clothed hard length. The added friction was like a cherry on top of the whole make out session but you didn’t want to stop there. Why would you settle for just a cake when you can have a full four course meal, right?

“Victor, I need it, please.” You begged when he didn’t want to give you what you wanted well knowing what was it that you desired. 

“What is it, babygirl?” His question was whispered into the damp skin of your neck where Victor was leaving love bites. “Tell me what you need. You know I’ll give you everything.” He sounded so seductive, his low voice was making you shiver and you were sure your pussy was getting wetter and wetter with every word he said. “Just say it.”

“You.” You crumbled. “I want your cock. Please.”

He fulfilled his promise a few seconds later when you felt his girth stretching you out in the best way possible. Victor gripped your hips and with a look that was telling you to prepare for a ride, he started thrusting up while roughly bringing you down on his cock over and over. 

You gripped his shoulders with one hand while the other was clamped over your mouth to make sure no-one could hear the moans your boyfriend was bringing out of you.

So close, you were co close, and when his thumb pressed on your clit, you could swear you saw stars and—

Bzzt bzzt bzzt

You jumped at the sudden sound, fear taking place of lust and passion. With a quick look to the side you saw that Victor’s phone was ringing and the caller’s ID was “Financial Director”. Thinking it was important you exited his lap, sliding to the next chair. 

A low growl escaped him when you pulled away, his member still as hard as ever. His furrowed brows were the indicator of how much he didn’t like what you did, but you only smiled to him sheepishly and gestured to his phone. 

A part of him was impressed of how much you valued his work and that you knew how important it was. Yet, the other part was furious that your love making fucking got interrupted. 

He took a second or two or more who knows if he stopped time to admire your rosy cheeks and bruised lips and how you were panting after minutes of passion, before picking up his phone from the table and answering the call.

“Be quick.” The tone of his voice so much different than when he was talking to you, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched - he was mad. But that didn’t stop him from giving you a look that you could only describe one way: I’m not done with you yet.

Shaw

At times like this, you were immensely grateful for the almost deafening music that could be heard in the Live House all the time. 

Usually, it annoyed you that the rumble from the speakers drowned out any other noises - like when you were talking to others, but now you liked that you had the freedom to moan as Shaw's hips were pounding into you to the rhythm of the club song. 

Hands clutching his muscular arms, head tilted back repeatedly hitting the wall behind you, you were braced for a wild ride. Your boyfriend's hands tightly squeezing your ass supporting your weight, his hot lips nibbling at your neck marking you in every place he had access to, his cock driving into you with a reckless abandon.

And all of this caused by your short dress that showed a little too much skin in Shaw’s opinion (and he would never have thought that something like “too much skin showing” would be a problem for him but seeing every guy in the club eyeing you had his blood boiling) and your teasing ways.

During the break between songs, when Shaw had a chance to rehydrate himself for another hour on stage, your boyfriend decided to satisfy a different type of thirst. For your pussy

Sex with Shaw was always fun and wild and everything you ever wanted. But it was the best when he was hot and bothered and when envy was seeping through his body like a venom making him see red.

To be honest, you weren’t surprised when he grabbed your wrist right after exiting the stage and pulled you into the back room. You weren’t surprised when he pinned you to the wall, his lips already marking your collarbone as his hands were skillfully pushing your panties aside. You weren’t surprised when he unzipped his pants and pushed them down, freeing his hard cock.

And you sure as hell weren’t surprised when he slid into you with one sharp thrust while sucking on the sensitive skin below your ear.

“Tell me,” he panted in between the thrusts while his tongue was exploring your neck. “Do you enjoy making me jealous? Do you think it’s funny or something?”

As you were able to only whimper and moan, you didn’t respond. Of course you were enjoying making him jealous once in a while, especially when you were rewarded with his hips snapping into your in the back room of Live House.

“Answer. Me.” You swore he wanted to kill you with how intensely he was impaling you on his cock.

“Yes! Yes oh god yes!” You managed to choke out right before his fingers pinched your clit. Loud scream elected from your throat and you didn’t fail to notice the smirk Shaw was having plastered to his handsome face.

“Let me make this clear, baby.” He slowed a little as he leaned into you to have his mouth right next to your ear. “You are mine. Only mine.”

You wanted to respond. Say something, anything, but then—

“Shaw! We’re going back on the stage!” 

Adam’s voice broke through the music and your pants along with a few pound knocks. You jumped at the sudden intruder, your eyes wide and lips parted. 

Shaw on the other hand was totally unfazed when he started thrusting into you with a full speed again. And again. And again. And again. 

He didn’t even say anything back, he just went straight back into fucking your brains out.

“I told you, you’re mine.” He murmured into your sweaty skin when he saw how startled you were. “So focus on me and only me.”

Lucien

You liked surprising your boyfriend. For example when you visited him at the university with some tasty lunch and a big smile plastered to your face, or when you learned how to brew tea so you could make him the best beverages when he was particularly stressed with work, or when you memorized all scientific names of his favorite butterflies to feel closer to him through joined hobby…

Or when he came back to his office at the Research Center after a tiring laboratory work only to find you wearing very skimpy purple lingerie and his lab coat, sitting in his chair with a smug grin and a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

Part of him wanted to chide you for being reckless like that. After all, he would as much as kill, without even batting an eye, anyone who stumbled into his office with you being inside looking like that. 

But other part of him the freaky part already imagined taking you in various positions, against different surfaces during his whole lunch break. 

And so he started with face-fucking you on his desk, while pinning you to the mahogany wood with one hand as the other was palming himself through his trousers. Your panties torn and long forgotten on the floor, the lab coat loosely hugging your form with your legs wrapped around Lucien’s shoulders and hands grabbing his hair tightly. 

This man’s mouth could not only recite poetry and name every flower in the garden, but also it was able to make you cum in a record time. You had to bit your lip very very hard to control the volume of your moans.

Your second orgasm was delivered to you by the scientist’s long nibble fingers exploring your warm sensitive flesh like his life depended on it. And in a way it did, because you were the sole purpose of his existence and making you feel good was his mission, so…

Lucien was preparing you for the third one, when you decided that enough is enough. After all, you came there to make him feel good, not the other way around. 

So before your boyfriend could react you pushed him onto his chair and dropped to your knees with a grin, and when he stubbornly wanted to got up again, you batted your eyelashes a few times as you stroked his member through the fabric. He got the message and relaxed into the seat. But don’t be fooled, he was still in control.

“Such a good girl.” He praised you when you were undoing his belt. He gripped your hair guiding your face closer to his crotch.

You’ve given Lucien a blowjob so many times already, you knew exactly what to do. You licked, sucked, bobbed your head and massaged with your hands what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. 

Every sigh from the professor was making you shiver so you worked even harder to hear more of them until—

Knock knock knock

“Professor, excuse me…” From behind the door the head of one of Lucien’s assistants peeked out and before you could do anything he saw the position you and your boyfriend were in and immediately panicked. “Oh my— I’m—I’m so sorry!” 

He was long gone before you could even pull away from Lucien, but you didn’t miss the murderous stare professor had while looking at now - fortunately - closed door. You didn’t know if you should laugh or collapse into the ground from embarrassment. 

You were sure your face was redder than a tomato. Luckily, knowing Lucien’s reputation no-one would be so stupid to tell anyone about this situation. Or so you hoped so.

Before you decided on your final reaction to the intruder, Lucien’s palm grabbed a handful of your hair and he brought your head closer again so that your nose was brushing his hard moist cock. 

“I believe we have some unfinished business here, butterfly.”

Weirdly, you never saw this assistant in the Research Center ever again…

Kiro 

Kiro loved music almost as much as he loved you and his snacks.

So he was taking every opportunity he could to show you around his studio, write music with you and compose. 

And do other, less appropriate deeds.

For the longest time Sunshine Boy couldn’t find inspiration for his newest song. He tossed and turned in his bed every night and skipped meals because of it. He didn’t want to disappoint his fans and you, his greatest biggest fan!

But only if he knew that bringing you with him to the studio would be the cure for his lack of inspiration, he would’ve done it already days ago. Why didn’t he think of it sooner? You were his muse after all! Your moans were the greatest music to his ears!

So that’s how you ended up with Kiro pounding into you from behind tightly gripping your hair to guide your head nearer to the microphone so that every one of your whimpers could be recorded properly. 

The speed of his thrust was setting a rhythm that he wanted his new song to be in which gave him a plethora of sounds escaping your mouth. Oh how much he loved those sounds.

Gripping your hips he angled you a little more so that he could go even deeper, take you even better. He was sure he was leaving bruises on your skin with the force of his grip, but he didn’t care. He would smother them with kisses later. 

“More, Miss Chips. I wanna hear you more.” He murmured as his hand circled your waist and his fingertips pressed onto your swollen clit. If you didn’t know better, you would think that he wanted to kill you from the sheer amount of pleasure he was causing you. 

Your moans were getting higher and higher and Kiro knew it was because you were getting closer to your release. He loved that moment, right before your orgasm when your muscles were clasping around his cock trying to milk him from everything that he had, and your eyes were rolling onto the back of your head and you legs were shaking like leaves on a windy day and—

Bam bam bam

“Kiro, what are you doing in there?! Our recording session starts soon!” Savin’s voice sounded from the other side of the door and Kiro cursed under his breath that he was interrupting his own recording session.

You on the other hand squealed and tried to move away from your boyfriend but he didn’t let you.

He slowed down his thrusts and clamped a hand over your mouth.

“We’ll be there in a minute!” Kiro answered but his agent didn’t seem to be convinced because he insisted on waiting for you two at the door.

When you wanted to move away again, disappointed that you wouldn’t be getting the realest that you wanted, Kiro brought you closer to himself again and started snapping his hips into your once again. His hand still clamped tightly over your mouth. 

“Well, maybe our recording is over but we can at least finish this.”

____________________________________________________

thank you so much for reading!

if you want to read more of my works they are here

[say-narry]

Ride it

Characters: Harry!husband x Reader

Word count: ~1.8K

Warnings: insinuations, oral sex, explicit sex

Author's note: I don't know much about basketball, but here it is. Again, English is not my first language.

Versão em PT-BR

***

I felt that sometimes Harry didn't learn how competitive I was, even after years of marriage. We had a bet on which of our favorite basketball teams would win tonight and well, I won.

We were at an NBA championship game, me rooting for my big Lakers and Harry for the Celtics.

Between dunks and shots, Lakers won 81-71. It was a good game for both teams and even better for me.

I avoided my little victory dance so as not to hurt Harry, he hated to lose and I knew how hurt he was like a kid without dessert, so since he had lost, I just clapped my hands and smiled.

After leaving the crowd that came to take a picture with Harry, even the Lakers fans, we had made it into the car. I just glared suggestively at Harry and he just ignored me or stuck out his tongue like a tantruming child.

What can I do? He invented this and also the payment of the bet, my team just did their job.

We put on our seat belts and Harry started the car.

Harry hummed softly and I bit the ligaments in my fingers with my elbow against the car door, while H drove through the streets of Los Angeles.

The music had changed from quiet to more upbeat, I loved it, and like cartoons, a light bulb went on above my head.

I still hadn't thought for sure what my prize would be, but Harry, if I had won we would have to do heavier banter in public, since I was very reserved being a kindergarten teacher, but I think I might go further tonight.

"Let it be, let it be, let it be known..." I began "Touching and teasing me, telling me no, but this time I need to feel you..." I held Harry's hand that rested on the backrest between us. He pulled it lightly and kissed it, without taking his lips off the road, I couldn't wait to have fun tonight.

***

We arrived a few minutes later, I went to the bathroom in our suite while Harry activated our house alarm.

I literally ran through the shower, grabbed the lilac silk camisole that barely covered my buttocks. I had bought it the day after we had placed the bet, but I hadn't told Harry, I wanted him to have fun too if I won.

Grabbing my perfume from the huge shelf in our bathroom, I sprayed it on my neck, between my breasts and wrists. I untied my hair and that was it.

A beautiful hot girl.

I lay down in the middle of our bed and crossed my legs waiting for Harry to arrive, I grabbed my cell phone that I had left on the bedside table and looked for a song in the playlist setting it on the TV installed on the wall of the room.

"Babe, how about we plant..." Harry opened the door and faced me "...Daisies outside, but what's that? I lost the bet..." His mischievous grin appeared in moments.

"We can both win the bet, Mr. Styles." I blinked returning the smile.

Harry was wearing a white button down shirt with sleeves, there was a Celtics logo printed on it with dark maroon pants matching the top and black all stars.

His hand hooked on the first button of his blouse, but I stopped him.

"No sir... I want to see you take off your clothes, but slowly and with background music." I lifted my body and spread my legs a little, giving Harry the view to see that I was wearing the panties he loved most on my body.

Grabbing the TV remote, I put the music on. Harry had his hands resting on his waist, his cheeks had blushed repeatedly and his head was shaking negatively.

"Come on, baby... This will be my prize," I whimpered a little.

"A strip tease, honey? You swear?" He laughed nervously, he really didn't expect it.

"I've already done it for you and you know how much I like this song. I stood up and went bouncing over to Harry, his hands sliding from my waist to my buttocks, where I could feel his fingers pressing hard into my flesh to the point where I could feel the frosting of his rings.

Kissing the jaw that I idolized so much, I moved slowly down to Harry's neck, and he closed his eyes with a sigh and nodded.

I kissed him and turned my back to the edge of the bed, biting my lips to hold back my victory shout.

I went back to the music from the beginning after groping around the bed for my cell phone, Harry had dimmed the light even more, letting only the brightness of the full moon shining through the glass illuminate his body.

Harry's fingers slowly unbuttoned his shirt, slowly revealing the tattoo of birds and the butterfly on top of his belly.

He looked down at me, his eyes staring into mine as I felt my breathing become heavy. I didn't deny how much power Harry had over me, nothing to do with S&M, but he exuded sympathy and sensuality, and it held me in a surprising way.

As soon as he finished unbuttoning his shirt, it fell from his shoulders to the floor, I don't know if he had done it on purpose as I rambled on, but the V-shaped line giving the path to my happiness was showing in conjunction with the branch tattoos.

I could feel my panties getting wet. Harry blinked slowly at me, which made me bite my lips as a reflex.

Holding the button of his pants like it was the heaviest thing in the world, Harry brought out his tattooed biceps, I wanted him to hold me tight with those arms and I had Harry's physical trainer to thank for that, he really went all out with his training routines.

The button on his pants was like a signal to come back from my thoughts "Stop dreaming and focus on me, (Y/N), I'm here and I'm your man!"

Okay, I am no longer feeling my legs, only the river that had formed between them.

Walking slowly over to me, Harry held my face tilting it so that I could look at him. I struggled to find words due to the closeness and warmth being emanated from the palm of his hands. "I'm just admiring you, Hazz..."

Leaning his face up to my ear, Harry let out "I make you hot, baby girl?" I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I noticed his erection strongly marking his pants, making my mouth water, I just moaned softly in agreement.

With that, he planted a kiss just below my ear before continuing down my neck and along my collarbone. His teeth brushed against my skin a few times, but the feel of his tongue soothing each spot made me cry out for him between softer moans.

Over the top of the sweater, he reached for my breasts, Harry kneading them, until his fingers laced through the shoulder straps and down my arms.

Putting one knee between my legs, Harry slipped his arm around my waist and pushed my body to the middle of the bed.

Lying on top of me and with my breasts already showing, he deftly caressed one while his mouth worked on another nipple, gently flicking and swirling his tongue around it.

I arched my back involuntarily and my fingers tugged at his hair with the sensation. "Harry." I sighed his name between the faint moans escaping my lips.

"You are as sweet as your scent, my woman," he murmurs against my skin. "I need to taste you for the rest of my life, know this."

"Hmm" I murmur as he moves to stand between my legs, gently pulling my panties down in one swift motion. He settles into place, kissing the inside of my thigh, stopping before where I needed it most, doing the same with my other thigh. "Stop teasing," I beg.

Harry chuckled lightly. "Patience, dear."

But as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he runs his finger through my folds, stopping at my clit, applying enough pressure to make my head fall back against the pillow.

He quickly replaces his finger with his mouth, kissing my clit before sliding his tongue down my slit, teasing my already wet entrance.

Harry places his mouth back on my clit, swirling his tongue around and flicking it. He hums against me, enjoying the noises he is causing in me, and my back arches out of the bed.

"Don't stop," I exhale with my eyes closed.

I feel him shove two fingers inside me, and from that moment on, I that I wouldn't last much longer. As he pumped his fingers firmly, I could feel that euphoria approaching fast.

"I'm going to cum," I grunted. "Fuck!"

"Mhm," he hums against me, "But already, my love?"

My eyes close harder as the orgasm coursed through my body.

My thighs trembled as Harry continues to work. He slowed the movement of his fingers and used his other hand to rub his side gently.

When I opened my eyes again, his face was in front of me. "Hi," he whispers and leans in for a brief kiss.

Time to reciprocate, I thought already stretching my hand towards his member, he interrupts me by grabbing my wrist and I face him "Today is about the winner...," he says. "And now, I need to be inside you." "I like that, love..." I confessed. With a teasing laugh, Harry kneels between my legs and removes his pants with his underwear, leaving his cock pointed up and with its lubricated little head in my field of vision.

Without time to think much, my admiration turns into a groan as I feel him begin to thrust into me.

"Great game, lovie!" he teases and I let out a gasping laugh. He gives me a second to relax and adjust, nudging his side and taking my hand, intertwining my fingers with his.

"Still with me?"

I exhale and smile at him. "Yes, keep going."

It takes a few strokes before he is fully in me, Harry sets a steady pace, and I revel in the pleasure.

"Shit," he utters. "Do you feel as good as I do, baby?"

I can't say much except moan as I feel him stretching me taut. Harry places his thumb on my clit and begins rubbing in tight circles. My eyes almost roll back, and I can feel the next orgasm growing inside me.

"I'm close," he groans hoarsely. "I want you to cum with me, baby."

I whimper as I hear his tone and nod my head. His movements become faster and his breathing becomes more irregular.

"Oh, God," I say choking, as my body begins to tremble with his second orgasm. "So good, Harry..."

The supreme sensation makes me involuntarily squeeze his member inside me. Harry stands still and settles down, and with a groan, I feel him release himself inside me.

He rests his forehead against my shoulder as we both try to catch our breath. I rub his back slowly, feeling my fingernails leave some marks.

When he lifts his head, Harry had a few drops of sweat all over his face, but without taking my beloved smile away... "I never thought I would say this, but I hope the Lakers win more often from now on."

I give a muffled laugh stealing a kiss.

Lakers... win again, please.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey you! If you like it, please tell me to keep encouraging me.

[light-yaers]

Sweet Escape: Chapter Seven

Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: banterous flirting that may or may not crack your teeth, slight injury, alcohol, and OSCAR FUCKIN ISAAC

A/N: Honestly this is a bit of a filler, but I was having too much fun writing Poe and her's interactions that I simply couldn't stop. I didn't want to have such a large chapter, so I stuck with this little filler just for funzies. They do be getting closer doe....

Find the Masterpost here

Word Count - 2.5k

Chapter Seven: Blush

The first feeling upon gaining consciousness was ouch. Even opening your eyes made your muscles throb. The slow realisation that you were in the base’s med-bay, lying in a bed, came to you in waves. First, you let out an internal groan. Then, you let out an actual groan, as you tried to hoist yourself up to a sitting position.

Your body objected, rushing your limbs with an aching sort of pain that felt like you’d been training for 48 straight hours, but nevertheless you managed to sit up. The bay was quiet and collected, like a library, and only a few beds were actually occupied.

You felt her before you even saw her—Leia strolled round the corner then, eyes fixing upon you instantly. She gave you immediate comfort, despite your internal bruising and the anxiety that had started to bubble within your gut when you thought about what you’d just done.

The cat was out of the hypothetical bag. Your Force abilities weren’t just known now; you’d given the base an entire fucking demonstration. Brilliant.

“That was quite a show,” Leia said as she approached your bedside. You gave her a tired and half-hearted smile. “Thank you,” she added, and the seriousness in her voice was apparent. You nodded at her in response, not yet knowing what you could even say.

There was a silence that radiated from her—an intelligent and knowing quiet that told you all you needed to know; if you hadn’t of done what you did, many would have died. The base would have been all but destroyed.

“Are you okay?” she asked then, trickling her kind words over you softly.

“I feel like I’ve been punched all over my body, repeatedly,” you let out. A small scoff burst from her lips.

“I understand. The Force takes a lot out of you,”

“You could say that again,” you replied, testing out the movement of your arms. You stretched them out slowly, and your elbows clicked noisily. “Is everyone okay?”

“Some are more shaken up than others, but everyone’s just fine. Thanks to you,” Leia said, raising her brows at you in understanding. “Dameron’s waiting outside,” she added, causing you to whip your gaze to her suddenly. You let out a groan in pain as you brought a hand to rest on your stiff neck.

“Dameron?” you winced. Leia only nodded.

“I’ve never seen him be so proactive. He carried you here after you collapsed,”

You looked to your lap, overcome by a feeling half-way between wanting to vomit, and wanting to smile. Sure, you’d just revealed your gift and saved the damn Resistance, but you’d fainted afterwards—embarrassment wasn’t something that you dealt with well, as much as you shouldn’t have cared.

“Great,” you whispered to yourself. Leia let out another comforting chuckle, before placing a reassuring and gentle hand on your shoulder. You looked at her then, not even trying to cover up the absolute fear and anxiety on your face. Leia could feel your Force; she would have known your true feelings even if you had the strength to try and hide it from your expression.

“Shall I tell him to come back later?” she asked, but you were already shaking your head.

“No, no. He can see me,” the confidence in your tone was more prominent than you’d expected it to be, but maybe it was because it was him. It wasn’t Heidi or Lynx, who, as much as you liked them, were still closed books. Poe, though—

You already shared a room. What was one more?

Leia left after giving you a small nod. You took the few seconds it took her to leave the med-bay to mentally prepare yourself. You needed a nap, or ten naps, and you needed to keep it together. You’d never used your Force this way, nor had you been expecting to. The entire situation was a lot to take in.

But everyone was fine. You were fine. And that’s all that mattered.

Poe bound in before you could even slide yourself up the bed to lean against the wall. The first thing you noted about him was his expression; it wasn’t what you’d been expecting. His eyes were wide, his brow dotted with sweat, his shoulders hunched and tense and rigid. Maker forbid, the pilot was scared.

He grabbed a chair on his way over and sat down on it immediately, tucking himself in next to your bed as you fumbled with sitting.

“I’m fine, Dameron,” you said, as an involuntary chuckle escaped your lips.

“You sure?” he questioned, just double-checking. You nodded at him firmly, and then he visibly relaxed. He let out a large sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair and wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. “Had us worried there,”

“Had you worried,” you replied, shooting him a smile. It felt good.

“Hey, you’re the one that blacked the fuck out,” he let out, and you bit on your tongue as a wave of anxiety rushed through your gut. Dameron’s demeanour changed then, as an understanding settled onto his face. “Why didn’t you tell me you could use the Force?”

You swallowed uncomfortably, knowing that he’d obviously have questions. “Don’t take it personally. I haven’t told anyone before,”

“Why?” he repeated, looking at you with those big pretty boy eyes and delving deep into your damn soul. You didn’t realise just how hard it would be, being put in this position, but it was your own doing. You’d chosen to act.

“It was always easier to keep it a secret, okay? I wasn’t planning to ever use it in front of any of you, but—,” the breath hitched in the back of your throat as the image of the hurtling TIE hit your mind.

“The TIE followed Green-Two through hyperspace. It got hit and entered the atmosphere,” Poe explained. “They didn’t have time to realise what was happening and destroy it from the sky,”

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling overexposed and vulnerable and all of the feelings that you hated.

Your brain pelted thoughts at you then, as you tried to keep it together. It told you that everyone would look at you differently, even though you were all fighting for the same thing. It told you that you’d only become the brunt of another joke, that everything you despised about cadet life like this would be all-encompassing.

It told you that pilots would look at you like you had an unfair advantage; like you didn’t work to become as skilled as you were. It told you that Poe would think the same.

You fiddled with your fingers as Poe’s stare stayed glue to the side of your face. You didn’t want him to see that you were almost trembling, so you sucked it up. You forced yourself to perk up, to put on a blunt face, to ignore how close to screaming you were.

“I understand if you choose to take me off Black squadron,” you said plainly. Poe’s expression changed quicker than you could blink.

“Why the hell would I take you off my squad?” he replied. His squad.

“Unfair advantage and all that shit. Like I cheated or something,” you replied. Poe shifted in his chair and clenched his jaw.

“Did you use the Force on rank day?” he asked plainly. You immediately furrowed your brows at him, slightly angry.

“Fuck no. I don’t use it when piloting. I never usually use it—,”

“Then why the fuck would you take you off my squad, Ten?” he repeated, sterner this time. You let his words sink through your skin as you focused on calming your raging emotions. You were torn between kicking a wall, throwing a chair or crying on the floor like a baby. All three options sounded appealing to you.

“Even if you did use the Force to fly, I wouldn’t change your rank,” he added. “You’re a fucking good pilot. That shit can’t be learned just because you possess the Force. Unfair advantage my ass, Ten,”

The blush crept into your cheeks before you had the chance to look away. Poe’s lips curled into a small smirk—his most punchable expression. You had to speak away the tension before it consumed you.

“Can you go back to teasing me or horrendously hitting on me, now? All this mushy stuff is insufferable. It’s not like I fucking died,” you let out, trying to subvert his gaze away from your blotched cheeks. This was the second time the pilot had made you blush today—you didn’t want it to become a fucking daily occurrence.

You froze when Poe’s fingers reached out and touched your face. Your stare was upon him in an instant, watching the gentle way his eyes looked from cheek to cheek.

“I call you a good pilot once and you start blushing, huh?” he said lowly, sensually.

He was doing it on fucking purpose.

The redness of your face immediately elevated, but you’d grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm within seconds of taking in his words. He yelped in pain as you twisted his arm over the bed, causing him to stand from the chair and lean forward as you jerked him painfully.

That’s when you grabbed him by the collar, pulling his face close to your own and shooting him with a stare that only communicated one thing—death.

“If you want to keep this pretty boy face then I suggest you tread carefully, Dameron,” you said unapologetically, ignoring the pain in your limbs. Poe started to relax more now that your grip wasn’t on his arm. Hell, maybe he fucking enjoyed being threatened this way, because the smirk didn’t wipe off of his face at all.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re hot when you’re angry?” he said it as clear as day with no hesitation.

You dropped him immediately, causing his upper body to whack onto the mattress and spring back into his chair. He fell back into the chair and almost twisted onto the floor, but he regained his balance as chuckles fell from his lips boyishly. “Hey, you asked for this,” he said, raising his arms defensively at the unamused look on your face.

You pinched the bridge of your nose quickly, clamping your eyes shut as the hammering heartbeat beneath your ribs all but consumed you. “You—you—,”

“I really rile you up, don’t I?” Poe cut you off, crossing his arms smugly as you started to calm down slightly. You composed yourself as best as you could, not removing your angry stare from his pretty boy face. He thrived off of this, that much was certain. But it was true—you had just asked for it.

You just hadn’t expected reacting this way when your guards weren’t all the way up. There was something about being here with Poe, alone, after knowing that he’d been the one to place you on this bed himself, that hit you harder than you’d ever fucking admit.

These weeks hadn’t exactly been easy; being in the Resistance was literally the hardest job in the galaxy; but Poe had been a constant that you were only now realising. He was there when you went to bed, he was there when you woke up. His smug face was there whenever the subject of sex arose, or whenever he was ready to push your buttons, but his anger and rage was there whenever someone crossed you, as well.

Maker, it was almost like he cared.

And you weren’t used to that. You weren’t used to that at all.

Apparently, all of your thoughts had just made themselves known through your face, as Poe let out a soft scoff, eating up your expression.

“I’ll take that as a yes. What can I say? There’s no one like me,” he spoke so easily, so happily and upbeat. You could tell he was just trying to tease you more, but he was right.

“There is no one like you,” you repeated his words, jaw clenched. It wasn’t a compliment, and he knew that.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Poe said, waving his hand in the air. He leaned forward then, perking a brow at you questioningly, overly confident to the point that you were almost jealous of how open he was. “Does this mean there’s a tiny, minuscule, microscopic part of you that actually likes me?”

You rolled your eyes immediately, as you began to twist your legs to dangle over the side of the mattress. You placed your feet on the floor gently, applying pressure to them to see if you could stand.

Poe stood quickly, pushing back the chair as he got out of your way. You stood, leaning against the bed for subtle support, but other than the aches and internal bruises in your muscles, you were just fine.

“Don’t hold your breath, Dameron,” you said, as you started to stroll towards the med-bay exit. Dameron was at your side, cautiously staying close while also somehow keeping his distance. He was hyper-vigilant to make sure you weren’t about to fall.

When you both reached the door, Poe gently took hold of your forearm. All prior playfulness was gone from his face. “Thank you, for stopping the TIE. A crash like that... it would have ruined us,” he said sincerely.

“We’re all fighting for the same thing,” you replied. “I’m glad I could be of service,”

He smiled at you genuinely, and you couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your gut from spreading all over your body. As much as he teased and toyed and you had this back and forth; somewhere between hatred and likeness and flirting and fighting; you were both fighting the same war, performing the same jobs, living the same life.

He nodded once, before the two of you made your way down the corridor slowly. He stayed at your pace, not complaining as you got used to your creaky and stiff limbs or winced at the way your body pulsed with every step.

“So, no chance of a beer tonight, then?” he spoke up, perking a brow at you. You perked one back at him as an unexpected smirk curled onto your lips.

“I exposed my Force abilities, moved a crashing TIE with my mind and blacked the fuck out today. I think I’ll take a fucking beer,” you said. Poe chuckled to himself and you couldn’t help it when you joined him.

Slowly, he brought his arm to wrap around your shoulders. He shoved you into his chest playfully, just once, before gently pushing you back and removing his grip from you. “That’s what I wanted to hear,”

You and Dameron headed for the dorm together, shoulders often swiping against each other. Tension still hovered in the air, but it was as if both of you were slowly getting used to it. Maybe that was something that should have been scary to you, but when your Force wrapped itself around Poe when you both entered your dorm, exposing the gentle and fond way he was thinking of you—

All you felt was peace.

@foxilayde @onceuponathreetwoone @ecuadorlady @voidmalfoy @20th-centu-fairy-girl @frickfrackpattywhacktictac @baueoud @300nightmare003 @lilitrth @salome-c @youre-a-wallflower-charlie

I know this chapter is a bit short, but when I tell you big these are coming then please believe me.... get ready. <3

[gouged-out-eyes]

From The Stars, Part 9

Summary: Kira moved out of town for isolation and peace and quiet. But that quickly gets turned on its head when a spaceship crash lands not far from her house and a strange creature decides she's its new queen. Luck had never been on Kira's side, but things are going to get a lot worse for her as she's forced into this new role and everything her new alien subject thinks it entails.

Warnings: Lying, shady parents, some hinted at violence at the end.

Authors Note: Again, this has been up on my Ao3 since like February. Link is in my masterlist if you prefer to follow there and get updates sooner. There’s going to be only a couple more parts to this one however, so might not even matter. 

MASTERLIST

Kira watches the SUV roll down the hill and into the lake. It’s cloudy, the moon and stars covered, bathing the trees in darkness. Kira’s only light is from the flashlight in her hand, aimed at the SUV currently sinking in the lake. She won’t move until it’s gone under completely, not wanting anyone to see what’s happening.

Two months ago if you had told her she would be standing in the woods in the middle of the night sinking a federal agent’s SUV in the lake to cover up their murder by her alien babies, she would have thought you were insane. But now she felt nothing. Her babies needed to eat and it was just unfortunate that the Feds happened to be the first to show up.

Kira waits until the bubbles have stopped before turning, making her way up the hill and back to the road. It’s a bit of a hike back to her house, the air cold enough she can see her breath fog in front of her. Her mind goes to her children and if they’re warm enough in the barn. Her alien hadn’t shown any signs of minding the cold, but her children were obviously different than him, and she can’t help but wonder if they can tell the temperature difference.

She feels a sense of urgency as she gets closer to her house, hating being apart from her family. They were her family now. Her children, their father. She doesn’t understand the relationship between them, she doesn’t even know if it’s biologically possible for her to love an alien. Humans could feel emotions towards animals, inanimate objects. Emotions including love. Who’s to say it’s not possible to feel the same for an alien lifeform she has no communication with who had forcibly impregnated her with his eggs. Maybe it’s only the oxytocin talking, the immediate motherly instinct she had felt over her babies that was drawing her closer to her alien. Or maybe it was because around him, she felt safe.  

Kira opens the door to her barn when she returns to her property, quickly closing it behind her as her babies run up to her. They’re hip-height now, growing faster than she thought possible. All eight of them surround her, bumping her gently with their heads. She smiles down at them, patting them each on their smooth heads. They let out content little cries, warming Kira’s heart. Her alien approaches her, nudging her gently with his own head. She gently strokes its elongated head, leaning against him.

Her eyes drift closed, her brain buzzing with energy. She focuses on it more and finds she can see with her eyes closed. The barn looks distorted like she’s seeing out of a fish-eye lens. The colors are darker, not quite as vibrant with her own eyes, but she can hear every small sound wave bouncing off the walls. She can hear something speaking, not words but a sort of idea in her mind. She can feel her eight babies around her, all of them like strings connected to her mind.

She wants to lose herself in the sensations, bury herself in them, and never come out, but her phone vibrating in her pocket snaps her out of it. She pulls away from her alien, her brain reeling for a moment before she centers herself back on Earth.

“I have to take this. I’ll be back.” She says, backing away from her babies and her alien.

She leaves them in the barn, heading back towards her house. She looks at her phone. She doesn’t want to answer, but she knows she has to.

“Hello?”

“Kira? God, I thought something had happened to you! I was going to come and check on you but...you sounded so sick when we talked last and then you weren’t answering.”

Kira feels a pang of guilt in her chest. “I’m sorry, dad. I was on some heavy meds. It was some kind of viral thing. Wiped me out for a few days. I didn’t even think to look at my phone. I’m doing better now though.”

“That’s good. That’s...really good.”

“Do you want to come over? Catch up a little?”

“Yes. That would be great.”

*********

Kira sets the cups of coffee on the kitchen table before taking a seat. Her dad looks old. Older than the last time she saw him. He’s had something on his mind. She can tell by how messy his hair looks. He would always run his fingers through his hair repeatedly when he was thinking hard. Her mother used to joke he’d go bald from doing it one day. Now that she looked at him, Kira can see his hair is thinning. There are dark circles under his eyes and he looks about as bad as she does, but she doesn't think he birthed alien eggs days ago.

“Kira...I’ve had a lot on my mind recently. About you. About this place.”

Kira sips her coffee. It’s scalding but she can’t bring herself to care. She hums in response, letting him continue.

He runs his finger in a circle around the rim of the cup. It’s an old habit. It means bad news. “You’re all alone out here. I shouldn’t have left you out here by yourself. But...your mother...I just couldn’t...”

Kira reaches out, putting a hand over his. It feels strange to her, to touch human skin again. She almost doesn’t like it. “It’s okay. I know.”

Her dad stares into her eyes for a moment, taking her in. “There’s so much she wanted to tell you. She begged me to tell you, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t face the truth. I didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t sure you’d believe me.”

Kira frowns, her stomach churning. She doesn't like his words. “Dad...what are you talking about?”

He sighs, taking a long drink of his coffee, staring out the back door. “I remember it like it was yesterday. Right out there. Where the roses are. It used to be hydrangeas before...before you arrived.” He runs a hand over his face. “God, I should have told you this years ago Kira...”

“Dad...you’re scaring me.” Kira’s hands are shaking as she sets her coffee cup down.

Her dad turns back to look at her, holding her gaze. “You’re not ours.”

Kira’s body goes cold at his words, a strange feeling running through her. Her whole life she’d been told they were her parents. This was her dad sitting across from her. And now...

“W-What?” She pulls her hands into her lap, squeezing them into fists to stop them from shaking.

“We don’t know where you came from. Well...we sort of knew...” Her dad glances back out at the garden before looking at her again. “Kira...you fell from the sky.”

Kira can’t say anything. None of it was making sense. Her brain was buzzing, churning, his words seeming like a foreign language. Thankfully he doesn’t wait for her to respond.

“It happened almost twenty years ago. It was almost dark. Your mother was outside planting tulips on the other side of the garden. I was making dinner. Grilling, like I used to. Everything was quiet like it gets out here, but then...the sky exploded. Blew the windows out, it was so loud. Came down in a ball of fire right into your mother’s hydrangeas. I thought it was the end of the world for a moment, but then...your mother was always so quick to act. Put the fire out with the garden hose. I thought it was some kind of meteor, but once the flames died, I could see what it was. It was...some sort of space pod. We tried and tried to get it open, see inside. Eventually, we managed to pry it open and inside...You couldn’t have been more than four years old. Teary-eyed and sucking your thumb. You looked so human.”

He runs a hand down his face. Kira can see the tears in his eyes.

“The feds were on us almost immediately. I wanted to turn you over to them, but your mother refused. She knew what would happen to you if we did. So we hid you. Made up some bullshit story. The feds didn’t believe us, but we were insistent.”

Kira’s mind begins to work at high speed. The visits from the feds suddenly didn’t seem so strange anymore.

“You were so human in every way. Almost every way. You never got sick. Kids always got sick but you never did. You could bend metal with your bare hands and you could hear things miles away. Your mother taught you to control it. She was better at that than I was. I made it my job to make you feel as normal as possible. She dealt with all the...strangeness. That’s why when you told me you were sick...I knew something had to be wrong. Something was going on. You’ve never been sick before.”

Kira clenches her fists tighter, taking in her father’s words. She had arrived on Earth in a spaceship? She supposedly had superpowers? He was right in one thing...she had never been sick before. She just thought it was a good immune system. But apparently, it was something else. Something more.

“Kira...please say something.”

“I don’t...” Kira bites her lip, breathing deeply. “You expect me to believe that? That I fell out of the sky in a spaceship and...I’m supposed to be what, Superman?”

“No, it’s...” Her dad sighs, looking down at his coffee. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. I wanted your mother to tell you from the beginning but...she thought it would be best...if you thought you were normal...”

Kira stands from the table, unable to sit anymore. “Bullshit. I call bullshit.” She makes her way to the back door, looking out at the roses. The place she supposedly crash-landed on Earth. “You had an affair, didn’t you? I was never my mother’s child and you couldn’t live with that so you made up some bullshit story to hide it! That’s why you couldn’t stay!”

“Kira, you know I would never have...”

“I don’t know anything anymore.” She clenches her fists again, glaring at him. “I don’t know what’s more unbelievable. The story that might be true or that you would spew some bullshit to try and hide something else you did to fuck up.”

“Kira, I loved your mother!” Her father stands from the table, knocking over the chair. “I loved her more than anything. But we couldn’t...” He takes a deep breath. “We tried. We tried so many times. She wanted so badly...but we couldn’t. Then you fell out of the sky like an answer to our prayers.”

Kira feels tears prick behind her eyes. The story is starting to sound not so fake the more she thinks about it. She had an alien hiding in her barn with her babies she had birthed after mating with him. An alien that had crashed to Earth and found her and chosen her. If she was also an alien...it would make her new reality not quite so strange anymore.

“Kira...I’m sorry...”

“I want you to leave.” She says, her voice shaking. She hates it. She turns back to face her dad. “Get out. Go home. Don’t come back here.”

Her father stares at her brokenly for a moment before grabbing his coat and heading towards the door. Kira stays where she is until she hears his car door shut before heading out to the barn. She’s shaking by the time she reaches the door, slipping inside quickly and closing the door.

She takes a few steps into the darkness before dropping to her knees, tears falling down her cheeks. She’s overwhelmed, not knowing what to believe or even what to think. If the story was true, then so much of what had happened made perfect sense. But if her dad was lying to her to cover up something else...either way he had lied to her. He had hidden the truth about her for her entire life. She feels anger bubble up inside her.

Her children are by her side in seconds, snuggling up to her. She reaches out to them, touching them, solidifying herself in reality. She should have died. She had carried eight eggs to term and birthed them. She had lost so much blood...too much blood. But here she was, mostly healthy with no medical help. She had never been sick a day in her life. She had managed to tame an alien simply with her presence. She had seen what he was capable of. He could have killed her instantly that night, but something about her had stopped him.

Maybe she was alien.

Kira is on her feet as soon as the barn door slides open. It hits the other side with a slam, the shadow of her father standing in the doorway. Her heart leaps to her throat, the buzzing of her babies loud in her ears.

“Kira...what the hell?”

“Dad...you should have just gone home.”

[brelione]

And It Felt Great To Be A Liar (700 Celebration)

Ok so I based this off of this prompt:Hi there! I hope you’re doing well. I just have a request for JJ maybank. Would you be able to write one where y/n is apart of the kooks and is dating Rafe and Jj and her hate eachother. One day everyone is at a party and JJ and y/n are fighting with eachother as usual in a bedroom and he pins her against the wall and all of a sudden they start kissing eachother and they end up having really rough sex against the wall or a desk in the room with lots of dirty talk, choking and JJ making y/n admit he fucks her better than her boyfriend and gets her to beg for him If you have any time to write it I would be very appreciative, thank you so much x 

and it really fit with the poll results for the celebration so enjoy this master piece <3

Warnings:Choking, Spanking, Bondage, Sub and Dom behavior, cheating, no condom, degrading, swearing.

Rafe’s arms were around your waist, his hot breath fanning against your neck as he nipped at the skin. “We should stay here tonight.”He suggested, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt, his hands slipping under the thin material and onto your skin.

 “We cant, we already told Kelce and Top that we’d show.”You reminded him, peeling his hands away from you. He pouted, grabbing his keys. “Fine, we’ll play later.”He winked, opening his door and going down the stairs, shouting a goodbye to Wheezie and flipping off his dad.

 You cringed at his words, not looking forward to coming back after the party. You were getting bored of Rafe, there was really only so much of his drama that you could take. You were hoping he’d get bored of you soon too or maybe even move on to someone else and forget about you.

 But you stayed anyways, hoping he’d become less boring or maybe you’d stay around long enough to truly mean something to him. You followed him, sitting in the passengers seat of his truck. It reeked of alcohol and weed, his hand gipping your thigh. You rolled your eyes, looking out the window as he drove. 

“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?”He asked. You hummed, not replying. You grabbed his hand, resting your elbow on the arm rest. There wasnt much to look forward to these days. Nothing new, nothing fun, nothing interesting. The kook life got so boring so quick. 

Your only options on most days were to go golfing, shopping or a party if you were lucky. Everything was blurred together, feeling the exact same.He lifted his hand, pulling yours with it before pressing a kiss to your hand. It was a romantic gesture that you werent used to. 

He was like this at the beginning of the relationship, the romance slowly fading away as he became more obsessed with you instead of loving you. He was trying his best to convince you that he still loved you but you knew that you were just holding on to broken pieces at this point, wishing you had something different. 

You could hear the crashing of the waves, lifting your head and widening your eyes for a moment. The party was at Kelce’s beach house that wasnt really a house, it was really just a second mansion. You grinned at Rafe, sliding your phone in your pocket before hopping out of the truck, biting your tongue when he squeezed your ass.

 “Im gonna go look for Sar, okay?”You asked. He nodded, pulling you in for a quick kiss, watching as you jogged up the stairs. You could feel him watching you, slipping into a hallway and hoping for the best. You were sure that Sarah wasnt even at this party, it wasnt really her type of place. 

Sure, she was a party girl but even this was too much. You figured you should just lay low until Rafe was busy catching up with Kelce and Topper that he wouldnt notice if you went ot get yourself a drink. You werent in the mood for him to drag you over to his friend group and start bragging. 

You tested each door knob, searching for a bedroom or a bathroom for you to sit in for a while, grinning once one of them finally turned.      As soon as you were in the room you closed it behind you, locking it because you didnt feel like having your alone time interrupted by some drunk couple. 

As soon as you turned around you regretted it, seeing noone other than JJ Maybank shirtless in the middle of the room. He was staring back at you, stuck in place. You and JJ had problems that dated back to eighth grade. He had gotten into a huge fight with a kook and you were the only witness, watching as the boy hit JJ repeatedly in the ribs.

 JJ had eventually won the fight, blood running from his nose and staining his shirt, a layer of sweat covering his face as he stared at you. Since then he had nothing but anger and hate for you, giving you dirty looks in public and talking shit about you at parties. Of course you always found out about it. 

How he called you a whore, a gold digger and a bitch.  “Get out.”Was all he had to say, tossing his shirt onto the floor in the corner. It made a slight sloshing sound and you could only assume that he had bumped into someone and got something spilled on him. Or maybe he had been a bitch and got something thrown at him. 

“No.”You replied, staring back at him with a glare. He matched your energy, jaw clenching as he looked you up and down. “What are you hiding from, (Y/N)? You maniac of a boyfriend?”He asked, causing your blood to boil. Of course he was right but you’d never admit it. And of course Rafe was an absolute maniac but so was JJ and all of his friends.

 “He’s not a maniac, JJ.”You replied, knowing that it didnt sound right. You had never been great at lying. “Aww, thats cute that you try to stick up for your crazy boyfriend? If hes not a fucking maniac then explain what he did to Pope and I. You think a sane person would do that?”He asked.

 You stared back at him, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to think of something to say. He shook his head, chuckling. “See, you cant even defend him anymore. God, I hope he fucking dumps your ass!”he exclaimed, letting out a sigh. You gulped, staring at him.

 “Shut up!”You shouted in response, only making him smirk. “Face it, (Y/N)!The boy you call your boyfriend is a shitty, disgusting person. You’re so much worse for being with him!”He shouted back at you. “Excuse me?”You asked, somehow surprised that he would say it to your face. 

“Come on, (Y/N). You’re not that fucking stupid. He’s using you and you know it. But you like being used, dont you?”He asked, causing you to go silent. For once you didnt know what to do or what to say. He was getting closer to you, gripping your wrists and pushing you against the door in a swift movement, your back hitting the wood hard. 

His eyes stayed on you, raising an eyebrow. “Answer the question, princess.”He demanded. You stared back at him, feeling his grip tighten. “Sometimes.”You replied, not wanting to give him the satisfaction he craved. 

“Dont lie to yourself, sweetheart. You’re a little maniac that likes to be used.”He spoke into your ear, leaning down and kissing you roughly.You were struggling to keep up, so much happening so fast. His hands were under your shirt, sloppy kisses being dragged up and down your neck. 

“Do you want me?”He asked you, fingernails digging into your skin. You nodded eagerly, feeling a sense of relief when he pulled you over and onto the bed, glad that you werent trapped against the wood surface. He didnt let you lay down, pushing you onto your knees as you stared up at him. 

He guided one of your hands to his belt, making you press against him before letting go, biting his lip as you palmed him through his pants, carefully undoing his belt with slightly shaky hands. 

He let you take your time, grinning at how nervous he made you, watching you struggle with his zipper. He chuckled, pushing you back and undoing his pants, getting on top of you, parting your legs. “Does Rafe make you this nervous?”He asked, seeming pleased with himself. 

You shook your head, not sure you could answer properly. He grinned, kissing you again. He lifted your shirt over your head quickly, tossing it. “Im flattered that I have such an effect on you.”He muttered, tugging your shorts off, his hand wrapping around your neck not soon after. 

His blue eyes were staring into you, squeezing harder for a moment. He was testing how much you could take, his thumb pressing into a spot right below your jaw. His hand dragged from your neck to the end of your hair, tugging harshly and causing you to let out a low shout. 

He chuckled, letting go and unclasping your bra. “There’s so many things I could do to you…. We’ve got four hours until Rafe remembers you…..”He muttered, tugging down your underwear and keeping your thighs open with his hands, settling between them. 

“Can you last four hours?”He asked. You nodded, moaning when his tongue slid through your folds. He chuckled, his fingernails leaving little crescent moons into your skin as he lapped at your entrance. You already already shaking from his tongue alone, your hands going to his hair and whimpering when he pulled away. 

“No, no, princess. You dont get to touch me.”He told you, grabbing his belt off the floor. “Give me your wrists.”He told you, grinning when you put them out for him. He had so much power over you, holding your wrists to the headboard and securing them with the belt. He settled back between your thighs, his tongue darting in and out of you, pressing his thumb against your clit. 

He could feel you were about to get close, pulling away before you could reach your high. You whined, moving against the belt. “What? You dont like that, princess?”He asked, moving up again so that his nose was against yours. “JJ, please.”You whispered, thinking that maybe he would change even just for a moment when he kissed you. 

“Not. A. Chance.”He replied. “This isnt fair!”You exclaimed, moaning again when he licked your nipple. “Not fair?”He asked, beginning to suck. He moved his hand up to pinch your other nipple, rolling his thumb over it. “I think its pretty fair, (Y/N).”He replied, turning you over so that your stomach was against the mattress and you had to turn your head to breathe properly. His palm collided with your ass, sending a shock through your body. 

“You okay?”He asked, moving your hair aside and pressinga  kiss to you cheek. He was only calm for a moment before he smacked you again, making you take a shaky breath. “Anthony hit me twelve times….you get fifteen. Count.”He told you, rubbing your ass before lifting up his hand again, the hit making a loud noise.

 “One.”You whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as he hit you again. You’d never let Rafe do this to you. You didnt like most things Rafe did especially in the bedroom. He just couldnt do what you wanted and if he did he just couldnt do it well. You didnt know when you got to ten, tears streaming down your cheeks. “JJ…. I dont think I can take more.”You sobbed. 

He took in a deep breath, leaning down. “Hmm…. you’re doing so good, princess. Only five more left, promise I wont be too rough.”He whispered, his fingertips grazing over your thighs, waiting for an answer. You nodded, biting your lip as you waited, his palm hitting you again but not nearly as hard as the others. He spanked you again, rubbing the area after carefully. 

You werent too worried anymore, whispering after he hit you the last time. He gave you a moment to recover, his fingers rubbing your thigh and sides, kissing your shoulder. He turned you over a few moments later, staring down at you. He pressed a kiss to your lips, the act much more gentle than before. 

He pulled away after a second, his hand back at your throat as he pushed into you. You gasped, your head falling against the pillows as he bottomed out. He chuckled, tugging at your hair and forcing your head back some more, leaning down and nipping at your shoulder, only letting go when you whimpered. 

It wasnt hard enough for you to bleed but his teeth left imprints in your skin, a satisfied smile on his face before he sped up. “Does Rafe fuck you like this?”He asked, hitting a spot so deep inside of you that you hadnt even known that it existed. You moaned loudly, feeling him tug your hair again. 

“JJ!”You shouted from the pain against your scalp. “Answer the question.”He told you. You licked your lips, an idea sparking in your mind. “Rafe’s better.”You lied. He looked down at you, fingers pressing hard against your neck. “You want me to stop? You wanna go back to Rafe?”He asked, thrusting in and out of you. You shook your head quickly, wrapping your legs around his torso.

 “Thats what I though, you fucking liar.”He muttered, slowing when he heard a knock at the door. “Anyone in there?”A voice shouted. It was Rafe’s. “Make a sound and im done with you.”He told you, picking up the pace. 

“Rafe, man. Im busy!”He shouted. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and trying your best not to make any noises. You heard a loud groan before heavy footsteps thumped down the hall. JJ chuckled, noticing your relief. “Aww, the poor slut doesnt wanna go back to her boyfriend.”He grinned, biting your neck again. 

You knew Rafe would see the marks but you didnt really care, eyes widening as you clenched around JJ. He let go of you, pulling out and cumming on your bare stomach. He panted, kissing you gently before freeing your wrists, kissing the skin gently. For someone who hated you he was being surprisingly sweet, especially after what just happened.

 It didnt last long before he got up and put his clothes back on, your suspicions confirmed when you noticed a large stain across his shirt. “See you around, kook.”He winked at you before leaving the room. You laid down on the bed, pain running through your body. You felt guilty for feeling so good, your wrists stinging slightly and your heart dropping when you realised Rafe would see.

@outerbongs​  @copper-boom​  @httpstarkey​ @teenwaywardasgardian @deionswannabegirl​​ @simonsbluee   @jiaraendgame  @khiaraaa-in-spacee​  @on-socks-off​  @abbiesthings​ @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @nas-marie-loves-u​ @28cnn​ @sexytholland​  @yuxsh06   @ifilwtmfc​  @cherryobx​ @poguestarkey​ @n1ghtsh4d3-67​  @poguestyleskye​ @judayyyw​  @sunwardsss @meaganjm​ @sarcasticsagittarius1998​ @jj-fic-recs​ @homophobicclownmoviestan​ @jj-iz-bae​ @natalie-kate-98​ @negativity4you​ @nxsmss​ @ofmaybankheart​ @broken-jj​ @joshy-obx  @curroptbunnie​ @outerbnx-stiles​ @angelreyesgirl100​  @hannahhh-marie @sadnessrehab @purple-vodka-99 @annmariek8 @harryswigss @imagines-07 @pink-meringues​  @lostaurorax​ @batcat46​

add yourself to my taglist

[julemmaes]

The Seven Of Us

Cassian and Nesta Archeron modern au - morning cuddles

A/N: THIS. WAS. HAARD. AS FUCK TO WRITE. BUT IT IS FLUFF. A LOT OF IT. AND IT’S FOR MY ONE AND ONLY GIRL, NINA. I LOVE YOU HONEY AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN, I HOPE THIS DOES SOMETHING TO SHOW YOU HOW MUCH I APPRECCIATE YOU AND GUYS SEND PROMPTS FOR THIS AU CAUSE I’M ALREADY IMAGINING EVERYTHING POSSIBLE IN THIS UNIVERSE SO YEAH, ENJOY!!

Word count: 3,584

Nesta liked to sleep in late on the weekends. Especially on Sundays, when she was sure they wouldn't be busy and she could lounge in bed, under the comforter, without the dread of hearing her phone ring at any moment.

What Nesta didn't like was her insistent husband of no less than sixteen years caressing her bare side at an hour far too close to dawn after he'd had the audacity to keep her up all night for a good time.

"Cass." Nesta gave a first warning. She heard him chuckle behind her, but kept her eyes closed.

When the feather-light touch didn't stop tracing its path across her skin, tickling her side, she sighed, "Cass, stop."

She felt him move closer and the warmth radiating from his body was already starting to wrap around her. She could have fallen back asleep in half a second, but he had other plans. Her hand snapped to grasp his wrist and Cassian chuckled again, saying in a sleep-filled voice, "Sweetheart, you're squeezing too hard." with that he moved his fingers over her skin applying more pressure and up to her armpit, where she was particularly ticklish and Nesta jerked, accidentally making the back of her head collide with her husband's nose.

The reaction from both of them was instantaneous. Cassian grunted, turning away from her, bringing his hands to his nose, while Nesta whimpered, raising herself up on one elbow so she could glare at him.

He burst out laughing, trying not to make too much noise, but when he turned back around, his eyes were glazed with tears and he was rubbing the bridge of his nose, squeezing it between his thumb and forefinger.

Nesta felt a little guilty. But only a little.

"I get that you like pain, but I thought you'd be a little more forgiving after tonight," he joked in a muffled voice from his hand, with an amused glint in his eyes. Nesta knew there would be an arrogant grin under that hand, showing the purely male satisfaction for what they had done.

The frown on her face deepened, but her cheeks flushed nonetheless at the memory of him blocking her airways to prevent everyone from hearing her come for the umpteenth time even down the street.

After all, as he had reminded her several times during their little game that lasted hours and hours, they weren't alone in that house either. She still insisted after so many years on receiving those lonely and sacred hours together with her husband, and Cassian always told her that they both deserved it, that with all the work they did during the week, they needed to feel the hands of the other on their bodies without anything or anyone disturbing them. The fact that they had to take advantage of the nighttime hours between Saturdays and Sundays didn't mean they would ever give up sex.

Nesta pressed her lips together in a thin line, "I would have been more forgiving if you hadn't decided to wake me up by torturing me," she whispered.

Cassian made a bewildered face, chuckling softly, "I was giving you an under arm massage, no torture." he pretended not to understand. Then he moved his hand to her side once more, pulling her flush against him, and that cocky smirk appeared on his lips, "Although you didn't seem to mind the torture so much last night either. I don't see what the big deal is about doing it now."

He was teasing her and she knew it.

Nesta let her head fall forward, pushing her forehead against his chest now resigned that she would never sleep through that morning, "Please stop."

His other arm wrapped around her waist as well, pulling her even more until she was completely lying on top of him. Nesta pouted upon feeling that he'd put on his pajama pants and, casting a quick glance at her body from over her shoulder, she noticed she was wearing a tank top and underwear.

She turned around smiling shyly at Cassian, "Thank you for putting clothes on me."

It often happened that their recreational activities would end up exhausting her and she would fall asleep soon after, too tired to even slip into a pair of panties and t-shirt for the night.

He smiled back at her, "I would never want anyone to walk into the room and be traumatized for life by seeing us naked and tangled under the covers."

She looked away, beginning to trace the lines of his tattoos, "Although," she brushed one of his pecs with her lips, "right now I would love for you to be naked."

Her mouth left faint kisses and bites in the places she knew were sensitive, and as she began to slide lower, with a clear goal in mind, she felt Cassian catch his breath before releasing the air through his nostrils.

His hands began to caress her back, in a very different way from what he was doing a few minutes before, "We can't." he murmured with a longing voice, taking her hips and blocking her thrusting movements.

Nesta lifted her head, breathing irregularly despite the fact that they hadn't even come close to her goal, and when she met his gaze, she knew what he was thinking. She sulked again, groaning, "I just want to be able to have sex whenever I want, how long until all this shit is over?"

Cassian's chest jerked repeatedly beneath her as he laughed, "Legally speaking, in fourteen years, my love." he pulled her up until their noses were touching. He caressed her cheek, brushing her mouth with his, "Realistically, it'll never end."

Nesta shook her head, "I hate you when you use logic." she whispered, kissing him properly. His lips parted and he moaned against her when Nesta made their tongues collide.

They broke away suddenly when they heard a laugh coming from down the hall. Cassian cackled as he saw Nesta's terrified expression, "If you hadn't been so sure of yourself eleven years ago, the sex would only be three years away now," he murmured, hurrying to speak when the sound of three pairs of rushing feet began to echo throughout the house, getting closer and closer.

Huffing annoyed that Cassian was right again, she pulled herself up on his lap, pressing her hips against his just out of spite and he groaned, biting down on a fist and closing his eyes. She smiled in satisfaction, shifting from on top of him.

The second Nesta settled back into her side with her back against the headboard, the door swung open and three little girls came screaming in excitedly. A beaming smile spread across the woman's face as she opened her arms wide, ready to welcome her daughters.

"Mommy!"

"Dada!"

Andra, oddly enough, was the first of the group and was the first to reach the bed, but with her only four years of age, she was still too short to make it onto the bed and Cassian, who was smiling mischievously at her and was ready to get up and help her, thanked every saint in heaven for his third-born, Nora, when she pushed her onto the mattress.

Celia, the second of the girls, was already at Nesta's feet and was now climbing through all the blankets to reach her mom.

"Come here, Lia," Nesta said to her, extending a hand. The little girl's tiny fingers tightened around hers and then the two were hugging each other in a bone-crashing hug, "Good morning mommy." murmured the little girl. Nesta kissed her forehead over and over again.

Nora was still helping Andra to walk on that unstable ground when Cassian pulled himself up to sit down - too impatient to wait until they would get to him on their own - and grabbed them both by the waist, pulling them onto him. The two little girls burst out laughing immediately when their daddy started giving them the same attention their mother was giving Celia.

"I had the strangest dream daddy!" cried the oldest one.

Cassian's eyes lit up at those words and as Celia settled herself astride Nesta's legs and laid her head between her breasts, wrapping her hips with her short arms, Andra had managed to escape her father's grasp and was smiling at her mom. She extended her little hands toward her and Nesta reached out to take the latest addition to the Navarro-Archeron family as well and settle her behind her older sister on her lap, but not before showering her with kisses.

"Oh yeah?" asked Cassian, turning Nora around so that she was looking at the other three as well, "Nothing bad I hope." he joked, looking at them all quickly with a funny grimace on his face.

Celia giggled and Cassian's head snapped in her direction. His smile grew even bigger and Nesta suddenly remembered why she had asked her husband for a second child almost eleven years ago. And then another. And another. And another.

Because of that look the man of her life reserved for each and every one of their children.

"You didn't give me any kisses, cutie," he pointed out to her. Celia pulled away from Nesta's chest and leaned in just enough for Cassian to leave a kiss on her nose. When everyone was back in their seats, Nora nodded excitedly.

"We were supposed to have a competition," she began, "and I was in the group with Ezra, Lia, and Dad, while Andra, Mom, and Cal were on the other team."

Now that the commotion was over and no one was moving on the bed, Nesta could get a good look at them. All three of them had what they called the barely-awake-wig on and she felt like laughing, but she restrained herself because she knew full well that if she even made a sound, Nora would start over to tell the dream.

In the common language it could be translated into "my hair is so tangled and knotted that it looks like a bird's nest" and the sight of their three daughters entering their room every Sunday looking like a bunch of strays never ceased to put a smile on Nesta's face.

"...And then Ezra called these huge animals that flew though they had butterfly wings and of course we got there first." she said proudly, high-fiving Cassian who had just raised his hand.

Nesta shook her head, "I'm sorry honey I didn't get where we were going?"

Nora huffed annoyed, crossing her arms over her chest and wearing a twin expression to her own, "To Terrasen, Mom."

Cassian nodded beside her, giving her a faux-offended look, "Yes, Nes, to Terrasen of course."

"Sorry potato, mom's just really tired," she brushed a hand across her face, "because dad kept her up all night," Nesta reminded, widening her eyes slightly at her husband.

Celia pulled herself up sharply, knocking Andra off balance who was leaning over her and fell over Nesta's legs, "Did you have a sleepover?" squealed Celia.

Cassian chuckled, reaching out to grab Andra and the little girl smiled at him in amusement. She started crawling towards him and Nora, "I don't have a dream." stammered the littlest one.

"Me neither baby." said Cassian to reassure her as he sat her down between him and Nesta.

Celia waved her little hands in midair, risking hitting her mom in the face and getting everyone's attention, "Why do you guys always have sleepovers and we never get to?"

Nesta frowned, "What do you mean you never have them?" she asked in amazement, "You're always at Aunt Gwyn's and Uncle Azriel's house." he pointed out to her.

Celia shook her head, snapping her tongue against her palate, "Yes but we never have them with you." she pouted, "Can we have one tonight?" she asked hopefully. Nora and Andra began to nod frantically as well. "And let's watch the princess and the frog!"

"I don't think so," said a voice from the door, "We own the television tonight and we have to watch that new movie on Prime."

"Good morning guys." Nesta smiled affectionately at her two sons, both obviously just waking up with their eyes half closed, as they leaned on each other for support.

Cassian burst out laughing at his daughters' shocked expressions.

Celia was shaking her head indignantly and stood up on the mattress to retort to her brother.

Nesta already knew how this was going to end and casting a quick glance towards her husband, she knew Cassian was thinking the same thing.

"Noooo!" shouted Celia. Andra stood up in turn, keeping a small hand on Cassian's shoulder so she wouldn't risk falling. "The TV is ours."

Ezra yawned as he stepped forward into the room and sat down at the bottom of Nesta's feet, before falling face forward onto the mattress and muttering something incomprehensible.

Cal had remained standing next to the bed on his father's side and was looking at his sister with an equally combative expression, ready to defend his and his brother's TV night, "No, Celia," Cassian grimaced at the use of his full name, "It's Sunday and TV is ours to have. You girls got it last night."

"I want to have a sleepover!"

Cassian loved all of his children equally, but Celia's tone of voice was too high for her to be allowed to speak on Sunday mornings before ten o'clock and if he didn't intervene, that high-pitched squeal would turn into a cry and he knew it wouldn't take them even half a second to throw themselves at each other's throats.

Casting a quick glance at all the children, he saw that Andra seemed just as convinced as her older sister and Nora was sighing so frequently that it didn't take a genius to figure out that she, too, didn't want to hear them fight so early. Ezra seemed to have fallen back asleep with his head in his mother's lap and Cassian felt a surge of affection for his son.

They were the perfect family picture.

When Nesta had told him she'd gotten pregnant almost sixteen years ago, he hadn't believed it. They had only been married a few months and weren't exactly trying to have children. Not that they were taking precautions to avoid it, but it had been unexpected. He had cried at the prospect that in only nine months he would be a father.

Then Ezra had been born, his hair the same shade as his mother's and his gray eyes the exact copy of those of the woman he loved, and Cassian had fallen completely in love all over again. In love with that tiny little creature who already had so much power over him and who he would have died for without a blink. And he hadn't been able to stop himself from thinking that he wished he had more. That if Nesta wanted, they would give Ezra a brother or sister as soon as possible.

As he had held him for the first time, crying as if his life had just begun, Cassian had thought that the love he felt for his son was too much, that the feeling would overwhelm him one day if he didn't find a way to share it and give it to others. For that reason, when Nesta had announced her second pregnancy to him three years later, he had been relieved that he would finally be able to share his love for Ezra with a second child.

He'd been wrong.

Cal was born when Ezra was four and was the exact physical copy of his father. Dark eyes and hair the exact color of Cassian's and the love had only doubled and totally crushed him. He had become as much a slave to the feeling as an addict to the next fix.

Nesta had joked that they were finally even, one child each, a genetic copy of both of them, and for two years all had been calm. Cal and Erza were growing up as fast as any other child and to Cassian it seemed like life was perfect, complete.

He'd been wrong again.

Nora had arrived three years after Cal and Celia only the year after Nora and Cassian had cried for days. Crying in front of those beauties so pure. And they were his and Nesta's. It was he and Nesta who had given life to those little balls of black hair and dark eyes that jumped on their bed every morning, welcoming them into the world every day with love and affection.

However, Nesta had never seen Cassian cry as much as he did the day Andra was born.

Andra, the last of the girls in the entire family, even smaller than the children of their brothers and sisters, had been born only four years earlier, three years apart from Celia.

Nesta had been shocked to see Cassian's reaction when he had first held the baby girl in his arms. She had been seriously worried when his body had started to shake with sobs and she had had to beg him to tell her it was okay, to give her a sign that he wasn't about to die choking on his own tears.

Cassian had looked at her amidst the crying and smiled, sniffling, "She looks just like you."

At that point, even Nesta hadn't been able to hold back her tears and had joined him in the land of the hyper sensitive parents.

It was true. Up to that point, for ten years, only Ezra had acquired physical features from his mother. The other three, though from a character standpoint they were the farthest thing from their father there could be, were the exact physical copy of him. Cal, Nora, and Celia had been mistaken for twins more times than Nesta could remember.

And although Cassian saw his wife every time he looked at his children, especially their first child, when Andra had arrived, the resemblance had been such that he'd simply burst.

Now they were complete.

A frustrated scream interrupted his train of memories and he felt Andra's tiny hand squeeze his shoulder.

He focused all his attention on Celia, who was trying to climb over him to reach Cal with her arms stretched forward - surely intending to rip her brother's face off.

The son had a grin identical to the one Nesta had when she teased him, and he took a deep breath, thinking that no one would really blame him if he accidentally knocked all his kids off the bed.

A smack on the arm made him turn to Nesta, who was looking at him hard, "Either you stop dreaming about throwing your kids out of bed and make yourself useful by stopping the upcoming fight or next Saturday no sleepover for you." then, before he could retort by saying she could stop them just as easily, she pointed to her legs pinned down by the growing body of their fourteen-year-old son, who seemed completely undisturbed by the sisters' high-pitched screams as they circled Cal, "I'd do it, but I'm stuck."

Cassian sighed as he stood up, making his way through the three little girls who seemed to be chanting some satanic ritual and picked up his son, saving him from what would have been certain death. The boy wrapped his arms around his neck and smiled down smugly at his sisters.

"That's enough." he instructed in the authoritative tone that only a father could have, "We have three TVs in this house." then he turned to the three pink and white girls, each with an adorable pout on their faces, "Tonight it's Cal and Ezra's turn to use the one in the living room and I'm sure you can all watch whatever they choose together." he took a deep breath, "But just in case not, you can come over to mom and dad's big bed and watch the princess and the frog here, okay?"

Celia looked on the verge of tears, always the most temperamental of the five, but she nodded once.

Nora took her hand and told her to follow her to their room and Cal wriggled out of Cassian's grasp, following them silently. Surely in five minutes he would have to get up and split them up again, but he cared little as he scooped Andra up off the floor and lay down on the bed holding the little one in his arms.

Nesta was stroking Ezra's hair absentmindedly and looking at him with such feeling in her eyes that Cassian only realized an in later that he had spoken.

"I love you, too," she replied, looking up at him from under her lashes.

Andra flapped her small hands laughing, "Me too."

Cassian looked at her smiling widely, "Come here baby."

The little girl burst out laughing, begging her daddy to let her go and Ezra stretched, extending one arm towards his mom and the other towards his dad.

He looked confused when he opened his eyes, but grunted something gibberish and closed them again soon after.

Nesta's hand stopped in his hair, "What did you say love?"

Ezra pulled himself up on his elbows, looking at her with eyes bright with amusement and Cassian knew immediately that whatever was going to come out of his mouth, he wasn't going to like it.

"Next time you have a sleepover, remember to close the window as well."  

acotar tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send an ask)

@sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien29 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @ladywitchling @nahthanks @archeron-queen @sleeping-and-books @bri-loves-sunflowers @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @queenestarcheron @oop-theregoesgravity @simping4bookboisngrls

[seriouslysam8]

Legerdemain Sneak Peek

Chapter Seven: The One with the Autograph

Harry sighed as he collapsed onto his bed. He stared up at the swirl pattern on the ceiling, his mind wandering to Remus needing a procedure to Albus proposing. Running a hand through his thick and graying hair, he wondered where the time went. It felt like just yesterday that Lily had been a toddler and conning him into having tea parties with her, Albus was playing football, James was pranking everyone in sight with Freddie, and Teddy had been the peacekeeper who seemed to find time to play with all of his siblings. Now, they were all married or proposing (save for his little Lily), having kids of their own, having their own adult problems. Harry was just watching from the outside.

He couldn’t explain why he felt that way. Teddy had told him immediately about the procedure, brushed it off as no big deal. Albus had included him on his plans to propose. Him. Albus had told him. It was a miracle given how tight-lipped and private his youngest son could be. James had been by his office more times than he could count to ask for his opinion on his Inferi case, and Harry would be lying if he said he didn’t miss being an Auror and in the thick of the action. It was only Lily who seemed to give him smiles and sweet-talk him, getting out of telling him anything really. Ginny suspected she had a boyfriend and the boys had certainly upped their teasing by talking about hot cocoa all the time when they were together. Harry, for the life of him, had tried and failed repeatedly to understand that reference.

Jackalope, their three-legged ginger cat, jumped up towards the bed and nearly didn’t make it. His claws dug into the mattress as he scrambled to make his way up. He meowed as he made his way up the bed. Jack sniffed Harry before settling down near his head, his butt pressing against Harry’s neck. He reached up and scratched the old cat under the chin. Though he liked to give Ginny a hard time about the damn cat, he had grown rather fond of him over the sixteen years they’d had him. He was a part of the family at this point, and a little pang of panic settled in his chest at the very thought of Jack getting up there in years. He didn’t think he wanted to lose another pet companion, especially one that had considered Harry his best friend.

“You’re a pain in the arse, Jack,” Harry said affectionately.

Jack rolled onto his back, causing Harry to get a mouthful of fur. Jack laid his front paw across Harry’s forehead and started to lick his hair. It was the cat’s favorite pastime, bathing Harry. Sighing, he waited patiently for Ginny to finish up in the bathroom so they could start their nightly ritual of talking entirely too long in bed with a good cuddle and either shagging or fooling around for a bit. He treasured those times alone with Ginny when it was just the two of them. No work, no kids, nothing except for their annoying cat.

Ginny exited the bathroom, her hands rubbing lotion on her arms as she made her way to the bed. He raised his eyebrow as he saw her in one of his old Auror Academy t-shirts with no pants on. She reached up, tugging her hair from its bun. The shirt rode up as she did so and he caught a glimpse of her lacy red knickers. He smiled.

“I thought you already showered,” Ginny commented with a smirk.

Harry tried to bat Jack away from his head, but he stubbornly adjusted to lay more of his weight against Harry’s head to continue licking his hair. “Your cat never leaves me alone.”

Ginny smiled as she sank down onto the mattress, sliding her legs under the covers. “He hasn’t been my cat since the moment I brought him home. He likes you more.”

“I don’t know why.”

Ginny shrugged, leaning down to peck Harry on the lips and receiving a low growl from Jack. “You’re just that loveable.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Do you know why Lily wants to have dinner tomorrow night with us? She said she wanted to talk to us about something.”

Opening up his arms, he waited for Ginny to join him in a cuddle. She laid down and scooted her body into his welcoming arms. Her cheek pressed against his chest as her fingers danced along the long and puffy procedure scar he had acquired what seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Merlin only knows what that child wants to talk about,” Ginny replied with a heavy sigh, crossing her leg over his.

She molded against him, fitting perfectly into his side. He ran his fingers through her long hair, his fingertips massaging her scalp. She made a little noise of contentment which only encouraged him to continue the motion. Jack hissed in his ear before jumping off of the bed and thumping across the room in a huff. Turning his head, Harry pressed his lips against her forehead.

“Apparently, Albus is coming,” Harry continued as his free hand reached down to rub her thigh. “He said that he was excited. I think I saw the first true smile on his face in a while.”

Ginny shifted so she could look up at him. “Yeah? When did you see Albus?”

“He asked me to lunch,” Harry replied, his fingers toying with the elastic of her knickers. “He took the day off of work and talked about something other than Hidden Passions for a change. It was nice.”

“Oh, I bet you were disappointed, weren’t you?” Ginny teased. “I know you’ve been trying to catch up on the reruns.”

“Gin, that show has been on since before I was even born. I will never catch up… sadly,” Harry said with a grin. “It’s addictive.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “What did Albus want to talk about?”

“How excited he was for dinner tomorrow,” Harry said with a shrug. “I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be…”

“Entertaining?” Ginny supplied.

“More than entertaining if Albus is that excited. I can’t even fathom what Lily could possibly have to say that has Albus in such a state. He’s almost manic.”

“I have a feeling that we’re going to be hearing about a new boyfriend,” Ginny said with a smirk.

“Shut that mouth of yours, Ginevra Potter,” Harry said in a playful tone. “My daughter doesn’t have a boyfriend. She would have already told me.”

“Harry, I hate to break it to you, but I’m guessing she’s been dating this boy for a while,” Ginny said gently.

Harry scowled. “Why do you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Remus talking about Lily’s friend named Ko that minded them once. Teddy, James, and Albus teasing her about hot cocoa all the time. Ko… cocoa… come on, Harry, it doesn’t take a Brain Healer to figure this one out.”

Harry only frowned. He suddenly had the urge to go into work and look up every single boy in all of the United Kingdom named Ko. Ginny would tell him he was being overbearing and overprotective and he should just wait patiently for her to introduce them to her new boyfriend, but Harry hated waiting and he was definitely not patient. He needed to know what kind of wizard was near his baby girl.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Ash.”

A couple people were showing some interest in other Alien characters aboard the ship, and I thought I would give you all some insight into that. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you all have a great day. 

“You have ruined this family.”

“What have you done!” 

“The war is the only thing left for you now, so make yourself useful and die.”

-

Etium slowly lifted his head from the computer where he sat staring blankly at the accounting spreadsheet on the screen. Beside him, the other two Tesraki’s chairs were empty. He sighed, and slowly turned back to the accounting. They had likely finished their half of the books hours ago, leaving him to sit in the darkness alone with his own strange thoughts. His four fingered hands clicked at the keys of the human made keyboard,

He was good at typing, pretty fast for someone who was missing two requisite fingers, but he was nothing in comparison to the others.

He was nothing in comparison to most Tesraki.

Etium was slow when it came to doing the books, repeatedly checking every line and ever string of numbers for any possible mistake that could have been made. The process took him hours longer than it should have, but finally he stood, pushing back his chair and hopping down to the floor. The human ship whirred softly in the distance. It was a comforting sound, but he had always found some measure of comfort in humanity.

Etium had been hit the hardest by the huminization phenomenon. It didn’t surprise him all that much. He had fought side by side with humans since the Drev war, and the changes in him had taken a long time to develop. They ran deep now through his body as sure as his blood. WIth skills honed in human war, and being one of few survivors, he was quick to react to sounds, followed movement more easily, and could read body language better than almost any other alien he knew.

Dr Krill wasn’t even as good as he considered himself.

That’s what war did to a person.

He reached up to his torn ear and shivered at the smell of smoke that seemed to waft up from his fur. He could never get the smell of ash out of his head no matter how hard he tried.

Etium knew there was something wrong with him, but he kept that to himself. The others tended to avoid him, and that was alright. He was friends with the Finnari, and while they were a bit sensitive, he supposed that was ok. He didn’t need anyone asking questions about what he was doing and why he was there.

He ducked through one of the maintenance corridors, and into the hallway behind the rec room.

He could hear humans and Drev talking and laughing on the other side, but when he passed through the next door, he found the hall opened into a large-ish storage room that was lined in boxes and crates. Inside was what remained of the Omen crew. Tesraki, Finnari, Celzex and Yeb. They had a little place here for those aliens who found it difficult to constantly interact with humans.

Yeb was a bit of a special case as she seemed to hop between both without much trouble. She lounged on one of the crates, her tail swishing back and forth against the box below her, bright green fur along her back, waving slightly in the air currents.

Etium leaned against the wall making no noise, and interacting with no one.

He wouldn’t have minded hanging out with humans, and drev, but….. Every time he did he just couldn’t shake the smell of smoke.

Why was he here?

Because he had seen a human boldly risk his life for two wounded alien soldiers.

Etium remembered the red sky above and the ash covered ground beneath. He remembered the wounded Rundi soldier at his side as the creature stalked towards them from the darkness. He remembered the flash of blue, and then an animal howl as the human came charging from nowhere.

When he closed his eyes, he could still hear the blood curdling scream of pain the human had given off as his limbs were ripped from his body.

He shook himself trying to shake the smoke away.

“Clan is more important than anything else.”

Etium lifted his head, arms still crossed over his chest.

“Then mean nothing.” Yeb was saying, “My parents abandoned me in an ice cave when I was just a cub.”

“Not our fault your species is defective.” Lord Avex was saying.

The burg lifted his hands in an attempt to keep the piece, technicolor wings flickering behind him, “Not now, all of you we must remember that as different species we all have different beliefs and needs. He pressed his hands together. The Burg do find clan very important, but it was for our survival for the longest time. There are plenty of other species that don’t need such things, like the Vrul or the Gibb for example, who are solitary creatures.”

The group of three finnari huddled close together and nodded.

They wouldn’t be likely to argue, they hated conflict and tried to keep the peace as much as it was possible.

He glanced over to the side surprised to find Waffles, the dog, lying with her head on her paws, around her neck, the snake creature Jeffery hung like a boa scarf.

He supposed she had any right to be here like the rest of them, she wasn’t human and neither was the snake. Though neither of them were classified as sentient and didn’t have the intelligence to speak. Waffles licked at her paws and Jeffery lifted his head turning to look at the speakers as if he was listening intently.

“This is not about biology, this is about the facts. There is strength in numbers, and numbers can win out over force anyday. Humans are the best example of this and you all know it. They managed to survive on a death world by making packs.”

Lord Avex did have a point, but lord Avex was also known for being an egotistical asshole.

That was sort of the defining feature of Celzex.

The furry little creatures were very proud, and very loyal, so they were both a blessing and an absolute pain to have on your side.

Most of the time they just liked causing problems for the sake of causing problems.

“There is nothing wrong with a solitary existence. My species has been living as single occupants inside a distanced society for a very long time.”

Lord Avex snorted, “Might I also point out that you society is a fascist Authoritarian dictatorship recovering from a pandemic crisis and refuses to join the GA to control their own citizens?”

The hair on the back of her body stood up, “Oh like your planet is any better. Roving warring clans who eat their own children.”

“Please, Peace.” THe burg was saying.

“You have no place in this. The burg have lived under a corrupted monarchy for ages.”

Etium sighed and closed his eyes.

Apparently, he had sighed much louder than he intended, and when he opened his eyes the entire room was looking at him,

“You got something to say.” Avex growled, “Anything to offer from a corporate capitalist hellscape.”

Etium pushed himself off from the wall, “No, I have nothing to say.”

Avex bristled, and when he did he got even fluffier, “I don’t think we are done here. I want to hear what you have to say.”

Etium sighed, knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of this one, “I think that all of our societies suck, they just all do it equally.”

The room bristled, but he kept going. He had stuck his foot in it and now he was going to have to deal. He looked at yeb and Avex, “Both of you are true about the other, same with the burg sorry to say.” He nodded over at the winged creature, “But think about it, all of us suck in some way or another,. My species destroyed our own natural habitats in the name of progress, He looked at the Finnari, No cohesive leadership, and a societal wide inability to make decisions. The Vrul live under a corrupted communist system and the Rundi are all politicians, so guess where that leads us. The Drev are a fractured group of clans bent on killing each other for no other reason than the fact that it is honorable. And don’t even get me started on humans, they are the worst of us all, since they can do everything we can and more.”

He sort of expected the uproar that followed, but kept his head low to avoid having to deal with it. He brushed a hand through his fur, attempting, mostly to brush the ash from it, and despite being able to feel it with his fingertips, he saw none break loose.

The room grew louder and louder until a sharp bark broke the silence.

The room went very quiet very suddenly.

He turned to see waffles had risen up into a sitting position, her hackles raised.

She growled low in her throat , and the entire room calmed down very quickly after that, Jeffery opened his mouth and turned his head like a periscope around the room.

Waffles slid back onto the floor and rested her chin on her paws ears sticking straight up as she sighed.

The room was only slowly able to return to its former discussion, though everyone remained mostly quiet.

Etium slumped back against the wall. He could see the other Tesraki across the room staring at him. He tried to ignore them for the most part, he didn’t really fit in with them to any sort of degree. He didn’t blame them.

He wasn’t particularly good with finances.

He didn’t have to be though, most humans were pretty poort at it too, so any ability whatsoever was considered good. That was another reason why he was here. If he was slow and ok at handling money, then he was going to be fine. If he tried to work anywhere else as a Tesraki….

He'd be fired

Or disowned…

Etium quietly slipped from the room, out and down the hallway. He knew where he was going, and followed his own memory down through the hallways until he came to a door. He knocked once.

“Come in.”

The door slid open and he stepped into a room lit by soft yellow light. Dr Adric was sitting at his desk, skin glowing a pale yellow in the dim lighting. He looked up, and when he smiled his teeth flashed white.

“Etium, it is good to see you. I didn’t expect you till our session tomorrow.”

Etium wandered into the room glancing down at the diagrams on the wall, and the large books on the shelves beside the desk. “Do you want me to leave.”

“No, of course not, take a seat.”

He did and stared up at the ceiling with a sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Etium was quiet for a while, but finally opened his mouth to speak, “I can still smell the ash sometimes, Feel it in my fur when I go to bed. It…. doesn't really bother me most of the time, and I know it’s not real, but it certainly feels that way.”

Dr Adtric leaned on his desk and nodded, “Did you know somatic hallucinations are extremely common In Tesraki.”

He rubbed his fur, “Really?”

“Yes, at least one in twenty report small things. Feelings of items brushing over their fur even when nothing is there. If it starts to bother you, come to me and we will look into helping it. Otherwise just remember the exercises I taught you.”

He shifted in his seat and absently looked at the wall, “So if Somatic hallucinations are common in Tesraki….. Than what about everyone else?”

Dr Adric smiled at him. His expression, both charming and calming at the same time. He had an eir about him that just seemed to make things slow down and relax. It was a nice feeling to have.

“Well both Vrul and Gibb are prone to psychosis with obsessive and grandiosity characteristics. Most Vrul I know could be classified as having some sort of anxiety. Rundi are commonly seen with OCD. Celzex presents with characteristics of Antisocial personality disorder.  Finnari can commonly be seen with dependent personality disorders. Both the Drevb and the Starborn, have a high rate of narcissism. In the case of the starborn, they have a 100% rate at this time…. Though to be fair we only have one starborn”

Etium couldn’t help but smile just a little. “Humans have all of those things I guess, since you have a name for all of them.”

“Yes. Though, I would say that I work most closely with Post Traumatic Stress.”

“Like what I have?”

“Similarly yes, though yours presents differently.”

“That’s what the Admiral’s dog is for? He said she was a PTSD dog.”

“That would be correct.”

Etium leaned back in his seat and stared out the window behind Adric. The man said he presented with listlessness, difficulty concentrating, and emotional detachment. He didn’t have flashbacks or stress associated, which is why he couldn't be entirely diagnosed, bu7t the two of them were pretty sure whatever he had was similar. They had thought about depression on one or two occasions, but he didn’t have trouble getting out of bed, or doing things that he enjoyed. He just got listless and distracted a lot.

Adric thought it might be an entirely different issue from what humans could get, but as of yet, there wasn’t enough research to determine that. They were working on it in their own right now, and he had been feeling a little more present, but he still wasn’t really there yet.

He hoped that soon he would be out of the rut he was stuck in.,

“Have you managed to tell the Admiral, like we had been talking about.”

Etium picked at the fur on his arm, “He seems…. Too busy to talk to me and I…. well I don’t know what it would accomplish.”

“I think it would be good for you to talk to someone who experienced the war.”

Etium sighed, “I didn’t really do much in the war. I sat there and just… was scared. The humans did everything.”

“I think you might find there are humans that feel the same way you do. I encourage you to talk to him. Knowing the man myself, I have no doubt that he will be accepting  of your story.” He held up his hands, “I don’t want to push you, but I do encourage you to let him know.”

I think it would be good for both of you

[nitrochiralfan]

The Day is Dawning [Tokiakari]

All credit to the transualtion of the novel chapter belongs to memera and their hard work don’t repost without crediting them.

That day it had rained since morning. That’s why for the entire day, the sky had been so dark you could not tell if it was noon or night. Right now the time was 2am. Akira breathed out a sigh as he gazed out the window. Occasionally, a straight line of light from the east flashed through the rain.

Isn’t he kind of late?

As Motomi worked as a journalist, it wasn’t surprising that he often came home after midnight, but today’s case was supposed to be a simple one.

Akira’s eyes darted over and over to the clock hanging on the wall.

So slow.

In this room lighted by only a small lamp, Akira had lost count of how many times he had sighed as he looked at the empty road outside through his own reflection on the window. They had moved here for only a month, but it wouldn’t be long before they moved again.

What’s the next case? Your work seems to be going smoothly.

At first Akira had simply been cluelessly following along, but he had quickly become a proper assistant. It had been years since the happenings in Toshima. It wasn’t always peaceful, but their life had never had any serious problems.

Travelling around with Motomi had been quite exciting and fun.At one point he even thought he could do this forever.However, sometimes the little flickers of doubt would cross his mind.

There’s no such thing as forever. Surely someday, something bad would happen.

Usually Akira could erase those thoughts quickly, but today, he couldn’t even push them away. The thoughts were quickly piling up instead.

I hate this feeling, but what if something bad had really happened?

Unable to suppress the bad feelings, Akira clenched his teeth as he stood in the dark watching the rain fall outside.

It was then that it happened. A faint sound came from the front door. Was it the sound of footsteps? It seemed too uneven and irregular for that. Just as Akira was cautiously approaching the door, an unnatural sound thumped against the door.

“….!”

Akira tensed up. He pinned his eyes at the door instinctively. The door stood in the dimly lit hall way, as the sound of someone shaking the door repeatedly could be heard.

Is it a robber or a thug?

Akira held his breath and watched silently as the door unlocked and slowly opened. Akira concentrated hard, his body ready to pounce.

The silhouette that the dim lights were showing was——

Akira breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that face.

It was Motomi.

Was that unsteady gait because he’s drunk?

Motomi’s brows were furrowed as he tried to call out Akira’s name.

Motomi did not seem to enter the room. His posture was unnatural, and he leaned heavily against the door. A droplet dripped down from his right side. At first Akira had thought it was a raindrop, but as soon as the light in the room hit Motomi, Akira knew he was wrong.

——It was blood.

“Old man…!?”

“Akira… sorry but… could you lend me a hand?”

Motomi’s voice was slow and unconcerned, a tone completely opposite to the severity of the situation. Akira immediately went up and put Motomi’s outstretched arm around his shoulder. The dark orange shirt he wore under his coat had a huge black stain on it. Just that alone drew Akira’s attention to the blood.

Motomi leaned against Akira and they moved slowly, his face frowning and his one eye squeezed shut in pain. Motomi gave a bitter laugh.

“Ow…ouch ouch. They really did me in this time.”

“What in the world happened?”

“Mm, well, you know…”

The talk can wait. Right now the important thing was to tend to these wounds. Carefully supporting this body so much bigger than his, Akira led Motomi to the bedroom.

“Man, I’m beat.”

Motomi breathed out a large puff of smoke from the cigarette he had taken a deep puff from, and fell onto the bed he was leaning on. Akira took out some bandages from the first aid kit and sighed as he closed the lid. They had prepared this kit in case of any injuries on their travels.

The hospital was closed at this hour of night, but thankfully his injuries were not too serious.

Rest for now, we can go see a doctor tomorrow.

Motomi’s right torso had been slashed with a knife.

Akira had since wrapped it in bandages cleanly. Motomi had been bleeding so bad before the bandages, yet now after it was so nicely wrapped up in white, it almost looked like there hadn’t been a wound at all. But one look at the blood-soaked towel used to clean the wounds, and you would know that wasn’t true.

“So?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me.”

Akira glared at Motomi, who was lying on the bed acting like there wasn’t a problem. Even without using words, it was obvious Akira had a billion questions he was demanding answers to. Akira haphazardly left the first aid kit on the side table and sat down lightly on the bed.

“Mmm? Well yeah…” Motomi scratched his nose with the hand holding his cigarette and replied lazily, “Maybe it was just a random attacker or somethin’. I dunno.”

——Something must’ve definitely happened, Akira thought.

If Motomi was brushing it off like that, it must’ve been something he found hard to talk about. But that was also why the silence that Akira returned was filled with serious anger. He wasn’t mad that Motomi was pretending to make light of the situation, he was mad that it was something so bad that would make Motomi clamp up in silence. Motomi peaked at Akira, saw his glare, and quickly looked away.

Silence.

Akira held his glare steady, never looking away. The smoke from Motomi’s cigarette filled the space between them.

Motomi emptied his cigarette ashes into an empty can on the side table. Even a movement as light as this, sounded extremely loud in their silence. It was a brief minute, but it felt like an endless moment of tension and nerves.

“Geez, I just don’t know what to do with you.”

Motomi let out a laugh of defeat as he put out his cigarette on the brim of the empty can. His brows were furrowed as he tried to get up.

“Does it hurt?”

“…Sort of. But I’m fine.”

Motomi supported himself up with an elbow on the edge of the bed, and leaned against the wall. He looked straight into Akira’s eyes. “Well, the situation was like this. I was attacked suddenly. There was a back alley, away from the main road. It was dark and narrow. They hit me from the back when I was passing through.”

“Did you see their face?”

“It was too dark and too sudden. I didn’t. …But well my guess is…”

Motomi stopped there, rubbing his chin like he was thinking of something.

“Your guess is…?”

“Nah, it just feels like it was a face I had seen before somewhere. …My guess is it’s someone from Rabbit, maybe.”

“Rabbit…”

——The pharmaceutical company, Rabbit. A big-named company that everyone knew. In reality, it was a coverup for the research institute ENED, that was the cause of all the tragedies in Toshima.

“But why would they do that to you, old man?”

“Well, I can think of a million reasons why. After all, I am a journalist of the truth, ya know?”

Saying that, Motomi shrugged his shoulders in a joking way.

I want to bring to light the truths that were twisted or silenced —— That motto of his was what led Motomi to do this line of work even to this day. Of course, he had also tried to reveal as much as he could about what had happened in Toshima, even though that had put his life at risk. It was also the reason why they never stayed put in one place too long. But because they had never actually gotten seriously injured before, Akira had grown complacent and ignored all the occasional little worries that would appear in his head.

If only we could just keep on living like this peacefully and carefree, he had thought.

But of course…

“Well, this could also be considered a scoop! ‘Employee of a seemingly-good company, attacks a civilian!’ or something like that.”

“Is it really the time to be joking?”

“Mm?”

The words that escaped Akira’s lips sounded calm, but inside he was mad at how Motomi always acted like everything was a joke and nothing was serious to him. Like his wound just now. Even though it wasn’t a deep injury, he had lost a lot of blood.

So much blood.

…Blood…

“…Hey. Akira?”

The sight of Motomi’s bandages was wavering in Akira’s vision.

Motomi was frowning as he peaked at Akira’s face.

Under all that white bandage, was all red. The white hides the red; the color of emptiness. Suddenly, Akira’s anger evaporated and he felt absolutely nothing. He felt separated from his vision and from his consciousness, as if he had gone into someone else’s body. An image appeared, overlapping with what his eyes were actually seeing before him. A world covered in red. A reality that felt so far away. The scene that was flashing before his eyes was not that of the room he was in.

It was dark, and dirty; a scene of Toshima.

“Oi! What’s wrong?!”

Motomi’s voice was far, far away. Akira felt like his consciousness was being swallowed up. A nausea started to bubble up in him. It felt intolerable.

“Akira? Akira!”

When Akira’s eyes opened, the first thing he saw was the beige ceiling, dimly lit by the room lamp.

—— This isn’t Toshima.

When Akira realized this, he slowly let out the breath he had been holding.

Akira had covered his eyes with an arm. When he blocked his sight this way, he could feel his heartbeat was pounding faster than usual. On that same arm, Akira felt something dry and warm touch him.

“…Are you alright?”

When Akira uncovered his eyes, he was looking right into Motomi’s gentle eyes above him.

“…Old man, what about your wound?”

“Idiot. Worry about yourself right now, not me.”

Even though Motomi’s words sounded surprised, it was dipped with concern. Motomi lifted the hand he was holding Akira’s arm with, and touched his forehead.

“You don’t seem to have a fever. How are you feeling?”

“I’m ok.”

“Do you want to eat something?”

“No.”

“But let me guess, you haven’t eaten a thing since morning right? The contents of the fridge and the food stocked up haven’t changed since I left.” Motomi looked so brusque, yet because of his work he had a surprising eye for detail.

Weirdly touched by this thought, Akira shook his head.

Although Akira had always been this way, always having little to no appetite, it was especially so when he was left alone. He just simply did not feel like eating when he was alone, and he often went the whole day without food.

Although he was usually alright without food, today he just felt rather out of it. He was starting to feel like he might have a fever.

“Even if it’s just a bite, you have to eat something. Hang on.”

This time Motomi really sounded teasing. He got up as if to go to the kitchen, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned around, looking surprised.

Confused, Akira followed Motomi’s eyes right down to…

Akira quickly let go of his hand.

Instinctively, he had grabbed Motomi’s shirt. Maybe it was the fever frying his brain, but he himself had not realized what he had done.

——He’s going to tease me…

Although Akira had braced himself, Motomi said nothing, but instead cracked a small smile. He lowered his big hand and patted Akira’s head.

“What’s wrong? Are you worried?”

“…….”

“Well we did have a smooth trip so far.”

Even though Akira did not say a word, Motomi probably knew what he was thinking. Motomi sat back down on the bed. The bed springs bounced lightly. Because he was wearing a shirt, the badges on his torso were not visible.

“Well, anyway, I kinda figured something like that would happen one day. …But really, relax! It’s nothing for you worry about at all!”

His rugged fingertips brushed against Akira’s cheek.

“I said I would bring you with me, even to my grave, right? A man never goes back on his words. Anyway you’re the dangerous one.”

“What the heck does that mean?”

“It means I can’t leave you alone. You’re always so freaking stubborn, yet also surprisingly frail.”

Akira opened his mouth to argue, but he could not find the words, so he averted his eyes instead. He could not disagree. After all, he had just passed out for no reason.

“I won’t die that easily even if I’m killed.” Motomi laughed.

Akira glared at him. “Stop that.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t talk about dying and stuff.”

Motomi might have been trying to be funny, but Akira thought it was extremely unpleasant. It was not something Akira thought one should be joking about. Motomi looked surprised for one second, then he quickly resumed his smile.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Two thick arms slid around Akira, and carefully pulled him into a huge hug.

Akira instinctively wanted to struggle against it, but his body went limp as it was engulfed in Motomi’s.

I almost forgot he was injured. Better not struggle.

But even if Motomi had not been injured, Akira somehow guessed that he would probably not have struggled either. Akira rested his chin on the strong shoulders before him. Usually at this point, Motomi would be teasing Akira, but instead of doing that, he was quietly and gently patting Akira’s back.

“Ok, how about this. I won’t die. You won’t die either. Until the day you tell us to go and die, we will keep living on for a hundred, no, a thousand years. Yeah?”

“I don’t want to live for that long.”

“Haha, I see.”

Akira could feel Motomi’s warmth from the arm he was resting his cheek on. He was wrapped in Motomi’s smell.

To be honest, Akira was surprised at himself. Despite that bad memory that had flooded his head just as he was about to pass out, Akira suddenly felt like everything was ok now. He felt like he could “exist together” with this memory. But it was just too vivid to think that way. Without losing its color, the pain would slowly but gradually overflow.

But was that alright? Akira thought. No, more like, it is alright. These wounds embedded deeply in him from all that he had lost, Akira had decided to accept and live with them from the day he left Toshima.

And thus, this pain and this fear, they were necessary. He must never forget them. They were the undeniable proof that right now, he was breathing and living.

And right now, he had someone who could share his pain and support him. Just this alone filled Akira with joy.

If Motomi said he was ok, then Akira wanted to accept that and wanted to believe in him.

Akira found it funny and a little strange that he was now able to to think this way. The large hand that was patting Akira’s back, moved up to caress his cheek. The distance between them shortened.

Akira waited for Motomi’s gentle eyes to close, then he too, did the same.

“…nn…”

They touched. Their lips met again and again. Slowly Akira got used to the prodding tongue that carefully pushed into his mouth. Motomi’s rugged fingers treated Akira like he was glass, occasionally a bit rough, but always gentle. These fingers ran through Akira’s hair, clasping. The occasional wet sounds made Akira feel embarrassed, but their intertwining, fluttering tongues quickly made that embarrassment disappear.

“…I can’t get enough of you, seriously.”

The words that Motomi had blurted out in the heat of their kiss lit a fire in the pits of Akira’s belly.

He’s always like that. He always says things that he knew would embarrass Akira. And worse, he always knew the worst time to do it.

“…That’s enough.”

Akira had pushed his arms out, trying to get away, but even his entire resistance was swallowed up in an embrace.

“Let go.”

“Sure, sure.”

“I’m telling you to let go.”

“Well that’s going to be a problem. ‘Cause I’m mad…”

“…Mad about what?”

“This old man. Is mad. About you.”

“…….”

Clearly Akira’s words were not getting into Motomi’s head. He was starting to feel super annoyed, and he let out a loud sigh. As if to scoop up all of Akira’s sighs, Motomi broke into a small smile as he pressed their lips together again.

As Akira slowly gave in, he thought, I don’t exactly hate this.

When did I start to feel comfortable with this feeling of excitement?

When did I start to feel relief whenever Motomi’s hands touched me?

This is how two people shared their feelings and accepted one another.

Since when did I start to realize this?

After a long kiss, Akira felt the springs of the bed on his back. He took in a deep breath.

———

“You know, I’ve always thought this.”

“Thought what?”

“That your cooking is really bad, you know….?”

“……”

Akira pouted and muttered unhappily to himself.

“Well fine, then don’t eat it.” Akira said, as he slammed the table with one hand and stood up.

Who was it that said they were busy so they wanted me to cook?

When they had just come back from the hospital, a work call had come in. Akira had tried to tell Motomi he should rest instead, but it was a major client so Motomi could not refuse. Akira narrowed his eyes at the gentle sunshine coming in from the window. The sky was so clear today that the dark rain from yesterday felt like a lie. Ever since he started living with Motomi, he had tried to do housework. Maybe it was because Akira never had a homely lifestyle before, but no matter how he tried he just could not get better at it.

Especially when it came to food.

Akira had always felt he was ok even if he didn’t eat. Needless to say, he did not care about the taste either.

Motomi raised a brow and seemed to want to say something but he couldn’t decide how to put it.

“Well I mean……, the person who marries you is gonna suffer.”

“Not really. It’s not confirmed that I’ll be the one doing the cooking.”

“Hey you never know. Housework and child raising is too hard for only one party. It’s important to share the workload, you know?”

After swallowing the ‘thing’ on his spoon, Motomi made a weird face. He then pressed his index finger to his wrinkled brow in a deliberate manner. It got on Akira’s nerves the way Motomi was talking him to like he was arguing with a child.

“In the first place, who would I even marry?”

“Hmm, who knows?”

“……”

Hearing that answer, Akira grew increasingly irritated.

When he said they would be together to the grave, didn’t he mean they’d be together till death do us part? Wasn’t it Motomi who said that?

But despite that, it’s not like Akira had ever gave any thought about their relationship or anything like that. It’s not like Akira had ever expected ‘Forever’ or other words like that. He just thought he wanted them to be together, for as long as possible. That was all. However, hearing such words and their vague meaning wasn’t pleasant at all.

Was it ok for the two of them to be together? Or was it actually not ok, but they just kind of ended up together? Such thoughts started to flood Akira’s head. Leaning with one elbow on the table, Motomi looked up at Akira, grinning.

“Ohh what a poor thing! I feel so sorry for the poor person who has to marry you.”

Listening to what was Motomi’s obvious teasing, Akira’s irritation turned into anger.

I was an idiot to think about our relationship so seriously!

“Old man.”

“Hm?”

“Are you done?”

“With what?”

“…Are you DONE—“

With a swoop, Motomi had suddenly stood up and slipped his arm under Akira’s thigh and arm. Akira was so shocked he forgot what he was about to say, letting his guard down. In a scoop, Motomi picked Akira right up.

“……oof, you’re really heavy.”

“Yeah no shit. PUT ME DOWN!”

Motomi grimaced and gave a bitter laugh.

He was injured just yesterday. It wouldn’t be a surprise if doing this was painful. “Ow ow ow. Don’t struggle, it makes my wound hurt more. Well anyway, don’t you think there’s at least one of these poor sobs in the world who would? Huh Akira?”

“…What?”

“I mean if it was me I’d even cook delicious food.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Akira was so busy trying to figure out how to get down that he was not really getting what Motomi was talking about. In fact, Motomi’s words were going in his right ear and exiting right out the left.

Motomi happily squinted at Akira struggling in his arms and the corners of his mouth raised  into a grin.

“In fact, how about we get married right now?”

“!?”

The words were so shocking that it snapped Akira right back into attention. He stared at Motomi’s face.

What the heck was this old man talking about?

…Was my cooking that bad that it had made him go strange?

While these thoughts were racing through Akira’s mind, Motomi’s grin got wider and wider. Akira suddenly got really mad, and ignoring Motomi’s injuries he struggled wildly to get out of Motomi’s grip.

Motomi watched Akira’s reaction but continue going on about how painful his wound was, as he quietly adjusted his balance and tightened his grip so that Akira could not get away.

“Idiot! Let go!”

“Hahaha!”

Motomi’s joyful laughter reverberated from the rampaging Akira under his chin, all the way out the open window, into the bright blue sky.

END

First Publication: Cool-B 2005 vol. 3 / 2005 August 4th

——

The Day is Dawning Explanation

This was a short story published in Cool-B. The theme was Motomi and Akira.

I was trying to write that Akira, who was completely indifferent to the warmth and connection to other people, gradually beginning to realize that it was ‘good thing” after being near Motomi. And once he slowly began to accept it, he would start to try approaching people on his own accord. Akira would also start to worry about how vague the future is, and I think this shows a change in how he thinks now.

I also did not plan for Motomi to say “Let’s get married” at all, but somehow Motomi just ended up saying it (LOL). When it comes to Motomi, he seems to write himself often, just like his “Bring you with me to the grave” words.

I chose this title (Tokiakari) after seeing the dictionary explanation: “As dawn breaks, the eastern sky becomes slightly brighter, or, when it’s raining, the clouds occasionally part, and the sky become brighter”.

—Fuchii Kabura

[tllthesundies]

Anonymous said:

hi! i love the entertainment fic :) can you please write the part when they are celebrating louis’ birthday together, from harry’s pov?

–––––––

Harry hears the front door open, then close.

He remains indifferent as he stirs the small pot with pesto sauce in it to keep it from burning. He, also, keeps his eye on the boiling noodles in the bigger pot. But he’s listening to Louis’s footsteps and the jingling of keys in his pocket.

“Okay, rockstar,” he hears Louis’s voice, becoming louder the closer he approaches. “I know I take care of everything, and I recognise that you live in the middle of no man’s land, but I didn't actually think I'd have to include a lesson plan on keeping your doors locked. Things happen, even out here.” He pauses, and although Harry keeps his vision on the food, he sees Louis in his peripheral lean against the counter beside him. He’s wearing his jean jacket, some grey band t-shirt on underneath, and pairing it with boyfriend jeans. “I mean, it's California.” Harry can’t help sparing him a brief look, anyhow, quirking an eyebrow as he stirs the pesto. He doesn't respond to Louis. Louis watches for a moment before pushing himself away from the counter to instead lean his hip against it. He sighs. “What are you doing?”

“Making dinner,” quietly and casually replies Harry. He turns the heat for the spaghetti off. “I thought we could eat while we plan. Are you hungry?”

Louis nods.

“Haven't had anything since lunch.”

Harry glances back at a cabinet somewhere behind Louis and points to it. “Do you mind grabbing plates for us and setting the table? They're in that cabinet.”

“Yeah, sure.” When Louis disappears, Harry takes the pot to drain the noodles. “Do you want a specific colour?” he decides to ask Harry.

“Um,” hums Harry over the sound of pouring hot water and wet noodles being dumped into a strainer. “Honestly? I'm feeling teal.”

As Harry finishes draining the noodles, pours pesto sauce on them and mixes them, and finishes the vegetables, he glances repeatedly, briefly, at Louis. He sees him with teal and olive green plates and sets them up on Harry’s table. He, also, tries offering help, but Harry shuts him down immediately, each time, and sends him to just sit at the table. His hands shake just a little bit when he puts each food back into their respective pots–the ends of his nerves are on burning ice and he can’t make himself look at Louis for very long, if at all. He’s just on edge for the truth he hasn’t told him, but he takes a silent breath to clear his head.

“Most of everything,” Harry says, after he’s set everything on the table and gently plops into the seat beside Louis.

Louis blinks up at him.

“What?”

Spooning noodles onto his plate carefully, Harry repeats, “Most. You take care of most things.” He offers the spoon to Louis with a small smirk ghosting his lips.

Louis breathes out a soft chuckle, taking the utensil from Harry.

He shakes his head in reply.

He waits until everything is on their plates to take off his jean jacket. Harry watches him remove paper from inside a pocket, then hangs it on the back of his chair. Louis unfolds it, glancing up at him. “I don't know what you've got planned,” he begins, “or anything, but I made a list, anyway, to help jumpstart ideas. You know Calista, so, I kind of presume you know what she likes. But—just in case.”

Tentatively, Harry takes the list Louis gives him. He swallows as invisible as possible, and his eyes roam over all of the ideas Louis’s written down: Frozen themed - extremely popular concept still; Pink strawberry theme; Typical animal zoo theme; the birthday party concepts keep going on and on, and the longer Harry continues reading the list, the more those icy ends of his nerves burn more. It becomes overwhelming for his chest, and–he has to tell the truth. There’s too much devotion and dedication in this list to keep his façade going. Leaning back into his chair, he finally gathers the courage to look at Louis, and says, “This list isn’t going to be useful. Don't be mad at me.” Eyebrows narrowing, a puzzled look comes across Louis’s face. “I lied to you.”

The fork in Louis’ hand halts.

He blinks slowly at Harry.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “Why am I here, then?”

For a split second, Harry’s confidence wavers. There’s a hesitancy he can’t help having, and one he’s not used to controlling – and as observant as Louis is, he probably sees the moment he wavers. And the controlling side of Harry hates that possibility. But he looks Louis directly in the eye, runs a hand through his hair, and speaks in a quiet voice. “It’s your birthday in just a few days. I—I wanted to . . . give you some kind of celebration to show my”–the words continue getting stuck in his throat; he has to spit them out, to warm them up–“. . . appreciation for everything you’ve done.” He pauses, to gauge Louis’s reaction. He looks–unsure; wondering; still confused, albeit a little more understanding. “Look, I’m not the best at, uh—expressing my feelings for people. Not that I have feelings. But”—he rubs an eye with his knuckle, becoming frustrated with himself—“you know what I mean.”

He took Rachel’s advice, but maybe he went too far this time. He lied to get Louis to agree to this. He lied because he didn’t know any other way to go about this. He doesn’t know how to just–outright ask someone such a simple thing like hey, I want to celebrate your birthday, would you like to come over? And it’s far more awkward because he purposely hasn’t been the most pleasant to the exact person he wants to celebrate.

He’s trying.

Probably in his own twisted way, but he’s trying.

And the silence from Louis stretches for far too long – to the point Harry gets uncomfortable. But he doesn’t show it.

“I don’t know what to say,” Louis says, after some time, words just above a whisper.

“Say nothing,” Harry chooses for him. “Consider this a . . . I recognise your hard work, Louis. You’re always on time, prepared, and organised. I’ve never had to tell you how to do your job, and that takes a lot of pressure off of me. So, thank you.” That last part stings his throat when it comes out. But not in the wrong way. “Again, consider this a congratulatory party for two. Nothing more.”

Louis stares at him.

“How did you know?”

“Résumé,” Harry simply answers.

A small beat of silence.

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “I never put my age or date of birth on any résumé.”

“Résumé,” Harry repeats, intentionally curt.

Harry’s not going to tell him from which source he acquired the information from. He wouldn’t blow Niall’s cover like that. Niall had questioned him plenty enough when he had called him. Why do you want to know? Niall asked, even though he had already given the information to Harry. I just want to be nice, is all Harry answered with.

He wasn’t lying.

“Fine,” Louis replies cooly. “Creep.”

Harry puts on an unimpressed look, staring directly into Louis’s eyes as he chews his food. After swallowing, he says, “That’s a big accusation coming from someone I could fire.”

Louis smiles, smug.

“See, that’s the beautiful thing . . . you can’t fire me,” he retorts.

Harry shakes his head, and he fights the muscles in his face that are around his mouth that desperately are trying to lift his lips at Louis’s reply. He can’t let that happen. His mind races with other topics to bring; with other distractions.

“Listen,” Harry says, “I have a cake for you.”

“Where?”

Harry shakes his head again.

“We have to make it,” he tells him.

Louis looks cautious. “What flavour?”

“Chocolate.”

A pleasantly surprised look crosses his features. “That’s my favourite,” he says. “Lucky guess?”

“You could say that.”

Dinner continues quietly. The ends of Harry’s nerves have started to warm up, evaporating the icy burn and replacing it with a normal temperature. His heart stops beating inconsistently and begins functioning like a normal human being. However, the same icy feeling starts to show itself in Harry’s mouth; words flow uncontrollably out of his mouth. Harry’s not a talker. He knows how to talk. He knows how to respond to people, and how to maintain conversation, but he doesn’t generally start the conversations unless he has no choice. Louis looks a little amused by him, but he does his best to ignore it. He, also, tries to get Louis to talk about himself, so, that he has some semblance of control over his mouth, but it doesn’t work.

Harry notices Dolly sauntering into the kitchen in his peripheral as he loads the dishwasher. She has her mustard yellow turtleneck on still that Harry had put on her this morning, her collar matching impeccably. She comes right over to Harry and peers into the dishwasher, but Harry scratches behind her ear as a warning before gently swatting her away.

She mews loudly at him, offended, she wanders over Louis.

Harry rolls his eyes at her.

“Look what you've done,” Louis speaks up.

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he messes with the controls on the top of the dishwasher.

Snorting, Harry opens a drawer and slings a clean dish cloth over his shoulder before making his way over to Louis. “She's just mad I wanted to keep her from hurting herself,” he tells Louis. “She'll come around in ten minutes and act like it never happened.” He lifts a hand and gently caresses Dolly’s neck. But Dolly tries to hide from him by burying her face into Louis's armpit.

Louis laughs, surprised.

“Oh, no.”

Harry just puckers his lips and gives her an air kiss, and chuckles, smiling. “She always comes back.”

Louis bends his head and drops his gaze to Dolly. Harry watches the gentle way he rubs the top of her head and the rest of her body. He’s so much more familiar with her than when he had first met Dolly. He had been jumpy, a little scared. Now, they’re friends. Harry turns his head away and walks to the pantry.

“So, I've got,” Harry begins, and stops. He grabs the chocolate cake box he sees hiding on the top shelf, and stretches his arm up to get it. The matching frosting container is nearby, and he grabs it, too. He reads the back of it before continuing speaking. “Chocolate frosting. And”—he draws out the word until Louis rolls his eyes, telling him to get on with it; Harry's composure breaks, a grin breaking across his face as he stammers out his words because of his breathy laugh—“could you get the eggs out, please?”

Louis probably thinks he’s annoying.

It’s all on purpose.

Louis squats down to release Dolly from his arms. She jumps out of his grip, but remains by his feet. He washes his hands, first, then puts the eggs he retrieved from the fridge on the island.

Harry comes up beside Louis who’s reading the instructions on the back very carefully, and just dumps the oil, cake mix box, and frosting next to the eggs

Harry finds his measuring cup, and gives it to Louis to use for the oil and water. Louis asks him senseless questions; if he wants to do the eggs, et cetera. Louis has him sniff the inside of the cake mix bake to see if it smells good. It’s very chocolatey. And while he lets Louis do whatever he wants with the cake, he searches through his playlist to find music to fill the silence, so, he doesn’t have to talk too much. He finds Louis a bowl, a pan to fit the mixture into, and preheats the oven.

Harry sticks his finger in the bowl last minute, making a pop sound upon releasing his finger from between his lips.

“That’s really tasty,” he says.

Louis’s unimpressed.

“Tell me that when you get salmonella.”

“Can't wait.”

Louis shakes his head.

As they wait for the cake to fully bake, they work together cleaning all of the dirty utensils and bowls. They clean the island. Dolly stays silently crowding their feet. Harry can feel Dolly rubbing her head against his ankles, then attempts to climb onto his feet to lay down on them. Harry internally sighs.

“Look,” murmurs Louis.

Harry hears a smile reflecting in his voice.

He doesn't remove his gaze from the whisk he's washing.

“I know she's there. I'm ignoring her.”

Then it happens very fast:

Harry feels a small puddle gather on his feet and the bottom of his pants that cling to his skin. He hears Louis’s shocked laughter, but he doesn’t look at him as he breathes in a sharp breath to calm himself. Every fucking time.

“She—”

Harry's eyes close in pain. “I know. I wish I could say this hasn't happened before.”

While Louis’s still giggling and picks Dolly up from his feet, Harry excuses himself to go change his pants, then reemerges to find Louis feeding Dolly from the palm of his hand.

Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, a single eyebrow raised.

“Better?” he asks.

“No,” Harry answers immediately. He pulls out the chair beside Louis, turns it around to sit backwards in it. He crosses his arms on the back of it, and gives Dolly an annoyed look that she ignores entirely in favour of the food she nibbles on in Louis's outstretched hand.

Still highly amused, Louis smiles, looking at Harry. “She's fine. Why'd she do that?”

“She does it when I'm absent too much” Harry explains. “In her cat mind, she thinks if she vomits on me, I'll be forced to clean up after her and take care of her. I don't know. Cats are—they have strange minds. I just think it’s only my cat because she has anxiety problems.”

Closing his parted lips, Louis shifts his gaze over to Dolly. She's trying to bite down on a hard piece she got. Harry watches them both. “Did you want to, like, watch something?” Louis asks, glancing briefly at Harry. “While the cake bakes?”

Harry nods.

“What do you have in mind?”

Shrugging, once, feebly, Louis says, “I don't know. Maybe a movie? Comedies are nice.”

Harry stands from his chair, and pushes it back in normally. “It’s your birthday; you get all the privileges of picking and holding the remote.” He walks past behind Louis and into the front room, and sits down in the left corner of his settee.

After letting Dolly tackle the last couple of pieces of her cat food into her mouth, Louis picks her up and takes her with. He tucks his left leg underneath his right one when he sits down on the settee. There's a space between their bodies that isn’t too enclosed to make Harry uncomfortable; and he averts his gaze to the television, so, that he won’t continuously stare at Louis in his peripheral vision. He can’t keep doing that. He can’t keep–looking at him more than he needs to.

It’s dangerous.

Harry places the remote in Louis's outstretched palm.

Louis shifts through channels for too long; and when he enters Netflix, he spends too much time reading each and every description.

“By this rate,” says Harry, breaking their long held silence, “the cake will be ready before you settle on something.”

Louis turns his head, tilting his head in a look. “Well, I'm not much of a TV person, to be honest,” Louis admits. “What do you recommend?”

“I told you,” says Harry, staring straight at the television still, “your birthday, your choice. . . . But . . . if you really want a recommendation . . . There's Something About Mary is a very good romantic comedy.”

Louis blinks. “What's it about?”

“This guy Ted — Ben Stiller plays him — wants to reconnect with his old prom date back from high school he had a massive crush on, so, he hires somebody to track her down and . . . it's, like, really messy, but what rom-com isn’t? It's a hundred times better than it sounds,” Harry promises him.

Louis seems to consider it.

Then he nods.

“Sure. Let's watch that.”

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he stands from the settee. “You sure?” he asks.

Harry kneels in front of his small but wide bookcase full of DVDs. He quickly looks over every case until he finds the one he’s looking for. Turning the player on and popping in the disc, he returns to his spot on the sofa. Harry’s seen this romcom a thousand times, so, though he keeps his eye on the television, he doesn’t try to catch up with everything that plays out. Instead, he listens to Louis’s laughter, and distracts himself by dragging his forefinger across his lips for something to do. When the stove timer goes off, he jumps up to get it, and Dolly follows behind him.

“It's done,” Harry calls out. After he puts the cake on the counter on top of a dish cloth, he tests the idle with a toothpick. When he looks up to see where Louis is, he finds him by Harry’s walls of picture frames, cradling Dolly in his arms as his gaze roams. Harry decides to act indifferent and let a hard feeling pass through his stomach, and raids through his pantry to find the frosting. “Louis. Where's the frosting?” Harry feels Louis come up beside him a moment later. “I gave it to you. Where could it have disappeared to?”

Taking a step back, Louis stretches an arm out to open the freezer door. He reaches in, and then he closes it to hold the small container of frosting towards Harry, in the air. “Right here,” he says, wiggling it when Harry looks at him, gaze falling on the container. “I put it in the freezer.”

Harry pauses, lips parting. “Why did you put it in the freezer?”

Louis raises both brows at him in a way that the answer should be obvious. “Because room temperature frosting is disgusting? It's only good when it's cold.”

Gently, he tosses it on the island.

Harry's eyebrows pull together as he steps back and pulls the pantry door closed. “Uh—I hate to inform you, but frosting is good no matter what temperature it is,” he says in a vaguely defensive voice.

“Now you're just being gross,” comments Louis, looking briefly at Harry when he situates himself in front the cake, his lightheartedness subtle. Harry chooses to just busy himself with removing the cake from the pan, turning his back to Louis. “Oh, no.”

Harry turns around.

“What?” Harry asks.

He sets the plate full of cake beside Louis on the island and peeks at what Louis has in his hand.

Louis turns his body in an angle, towards Harry, and demonstrates the issue. Holding a knife in his hand to scope some of the chocolate frosting out, he goes at it — but he's stopped, and it's impossible to get any, because the knife is met with nothing but brick. “It's frozen,” Louis says.

Harry blinks a few times.

“Really?”

“Shut up,” he retorts. He glances around before walking over to a cabinet to retrieve a bowl. “Couldn't we use a microwave? Unless you're willing to wait an hour for it to thaw. I know I rather not.” Setting the bowl down, next to the frosting, Louis takes it in his hands and attempts to shake it out into the bowl first. Harry just watches him – and he pauses for a second, because he notices a small freckle on the upper part of the side of his neck. He’s lost count, now, how many freckles Louis has.

“I thought you hated warm frosting.”

“I do, but if we put it in for just a few seconds it won't matter,” Louis reasons.

Harry watches him shake it and realise that method doesn’t work. He proceeds to lay it upside down on the lid and hits it hard. Then he tries squeezing it before attempting to pry the container from the edges of the frosting.

The corners of his mouth tilt downwards in a frown.

“It's going to take more than a few seconds,” Harry comments, and takes the frosting from Louis. He bangs it against the edge of the island, the sound visibly startling Louis. The solid block of frosting falls right into the bowl Louis had gotten. Harry gives him a smile as he walks past Louis to the microwave that sits on the counter to the left of the refrigerator and slides it in. Harry doesn't take it out until it looks like it's thawed entirely, then pulls it out with a hot pad. Coming up beside Louis, he pokes his index finger in the frosting and sucks it into his mouth. “Not that warm.”

He pokes another finger in it.

Louis waves his fingers away from the frosting, and he uses the knife from before to taste it. The temperature appears to be okay with him, judging by the pleased look on his face.

“It's really good,” he confesses quietly to Harry. He puts his knife in the dishwasher full of other dirty utensils and grabs clean knives and forks to use and separate plates for Harry and him. “I don't want to put any frosting on it, by the way,” he adds.

Harry pauses.

“What? Why?” He pulls his eyebrows together in confusion, and looks at Louis instead of the cake. What kind of person doesn’t want frosting on their cake?

“I prefer to have it on the side and dip the cake in the frosting,” Louis explains. “It tastes better to me that way.”

For a few moments, Harry stares at him, and Louis stares back, a little challenge in his face. His assistant is weird. But he can work around it. So, he nods, saying, “We can do that, no problem.” Then he remembers: “Wait.” He walks over to a drawer a few feet from them and rummages through it until he pulls out two things: a large pack of single candle sticks, and candle numbers 2 and 7. “Can't forget these.” Harry sticks the numbers right in the centre, then surrounds it with twenty-seven of the fifty count of blue candles. It's a very crowded cake, and crumbly and has new cracks added into the old ones because of the force of all the candles. It’s ugly, in Harry’s opinion; the cake, the stereotypical candles, how bare and destroyed it all is – but when he lifts his head to look at Louis, into his blue eyes that have specks of green and grey, his chest eases. Stops. Momentarily. This . . . isn’t so ugly.

Quickly, he lights all of the candles. “Okay,” he says upon lighting the last one, and sets down the lighter. “Make a wish.”

Louis ends up staring at his face instead of blowing out the candles right away. He searches Harry’s face. And Harry doesn’t know what to do besides stare right back. Finally, Louis tears his eyes away and leans down, blowing out the candles. They leave a trail of smoke in the air and a very distinct candle stench that Harry hates. But Harry pretends, and chooses to clap him for and whistle. Louis laughs at him, something soft and something high that pulls at Harry’s chest. He starts picking the candles out of the cake, and Harry notices a soft tinge of pink colouring the apples of his cheeks.

Harry doesn’t know why, so, he ignores it.

Louis cuts the cake and gives the first slice to Harry, then gives one to himself. Harry suffocates his slice in frosting very carelessly. Dolly retreats back to them and tries to rub her face in the bowl of chocolate and what's on their plates, but Harry grabs her with both of his hands and tucks her underneath his arm. She struggles to free herself the entire time; Harry ignores it. Even when they sit back down on the sofa to continue watching their movie. Harry doesn’t see it coming when Dolly whips her paw around and slashes at his skin, causing a long and bright red scratch down his forearm. He lets her go immediately, pissed off.

He sees Dolly strut right into Louis's lap, and walks in circles before settling down to rest on his thighs. Her relaxed exterior pisses him off more.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, concerned, eyes full of concern.

Harry’s jaw tenses. “It burns,” he answers truthfully, “but I’m fine. She's just in a mood today.” He rolls his eyes.

There’s a frown on Louis’s face when he glances down at Dolly, but he doesn’t say anything further. Harry chooses to suck it up and finish eating his cake while ignoring Dolly. The scratch thankfully never bleeds, as they finish the rest of their movie, eating the entire cake by themselves. Louis doesn’t finish the next slice he eats, but Harry has no problem eating the rest of it for the both of them.

Harry's licking the icing off his fork when he looks at Louis. The half piece of pure cake is still there on Louis’s plate. “What did you think?”

Louis's eyes flicker up at him, meeting his gaze. Breathing in a soft breath, he nods his head.

“It was good; I liked it. I love Cameron Diaz.”

“Me, too,” Harry admits. “She's very nice.”

“Have you met her?”

Humming, Harry nods once. “Met her on the red carpet at some award show. I think I have a picture.” Louis huffs out a chuckle. “Do you want to watch another movie?”

Louis stays silent for a moment, then shrugs and rests a hand on Dolly, whom lays sleeping in his lap. “Sure. But you pick this time.”

“It's still your choice,” Harry reminds him.

Breathing out a purposely heavy annoyed sigh, he says, “I choose you to pick the next thing we watch.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Sure, it is. It's my birthday.”

Harry stares at Louis, pressing his lips together. It becomes a staring contest between them. It goes on for several moments until Harry blinks and looks away. “I can't argue that,” he says, finally.

“Exactly,” quips Louis, as he gently drops the remote in Harry's outstretched hand, palm turned up.

They watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s, then when Harry turns on Meet the Parents, he notices Louis’s eyes start closing. He repetitively glances out of the corner of his eyes at Louis, watching him nod off until he’s sound asleep. Harry’s chest grows soft as he stares at Louis’s tired, pale face. His thin lips are slightly parted, like he should be snoring. Him and Dolly both sound asleep on each other is a rather humourous sight. He decides to leave Louis be and turns his attention to the television to watch the movie. There’s something . . . oddly comforting about the silence; Louis sleeping beside him, the hum of the telly, the filling sensation that encompasses the silence. It’s not so lonely–not so what Harry’s used to. By the end of the movie, he grabs his own plate and stands up, then does his best to grab Louis’s without disturbing him. But Louis’s eyes flutter open at the accidental brush of contact that Harry internally curses himself for. Louis straightens out his very tilted sleeping position, and looks up at him through squinted eyes.

Harry gives Louis a genuine apologetic look, and quietly says, “Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

Louis delicately rubs his eye with the back of his right hand, and stretches his legs, breathing out a tired sigh. He blinks his eyes a few times to adjust. “It's fine,” he rasps. “Sorry I'm falling asleep.”

“Don't apologise,” Harry gently tells him.

He continues off to the kitchen. After scraping off pieces into the rubbish and rinsing off their plates, he lays them on the counter, then hesitates. The image of the gift bag still in the other room floats to the forefront of his mind. He looks over his shoulder at Louis, and finds him distracted by Dolly, and makes a quick decision. Harry speed walks to the other room on silent heels and grabs Louis’ gift bag, then makes his way back into the front room. Louis looks up the exact moment Harry approaches him, and the movements of his hand combing Dolly’s fur stop when his eyes fall down and spot a white bag in Harry's left hand.

“What ‘ave you got there?” His tone is careful.

Harry sets the shopping bag right in his spot, close enough for Louis to reach into. Harry sits on the edge of the settee on the other side of Louis, at an angle facing Louis, and he looks him directly in the eyes. “I thought I'd give this to you, before you completely black out on me,” he says. “It's not really a celebration without gifts, too.”

Louis pushes himself up to sit straighter. “Harry . . .” He looks at a loss for words – lips parted on nothing; uncertainty scaling his face and eyes; touching the bag’s thin, black handles like it’ll burn him. “You didn't have to get me anything. Dinner, movies, the cake, I'm perfectly content just with that.”

Harry presses his lips together lightly and nods. “I know,” he says, forcing his gaze to not leave Louis's. “But I want to do this for you. Don’t make me repeat myself; I’m not good with complimenting people. Just accept it.”

“Harry—”

“Fucking accept it,” he says.

Glancing between Harry's face and the bag, Louis touches it again.

He leans forward and peeks inside. It’s covered by black, decorative tissue paper, and Harry watches him use both hands to remove all the tissue paper.

He knows the second Louis sees it. He pauses, gaze unblinking and widening just enough for Harry to catch. He sees the backpack from Givenchy Harry had gotten him. That was . . . another thing he managed to get out of Niall. Louis’s allegedly been so back and forth about buying it for himself that Harry decided to choose for him. It was extremely easy to find, and even easier to buy. It was probably the easiest gift Harry’s ever had to shop for. But–he didn’t think it was enough; he had bought a bag of Reese’s, as well as wrote a check out for Louis and put that in the backpack for him. Maybe it would make up for everything, Harry’s hoping–maybe it’ll . . . Harry shouldn’t be hoping for anything, really. But after Rachel had a talk with him and made him feel like a shitty person, he’s hoping this’ll convey Harry’s guilt. Or apology. Louis might not recognise it as that, but that’s okay.

“Open it,” Harry instructs softly.

Louis quits just staring at the bag and unzips it. Suddenly, he looks up at Harry and smiles at him, face glowing in happiness. Harry can’t help the smile he gives him in return. Louis backs down and–a little laugh is pulled out of him. Harry’s eyebrow furrow, a little, in wonder.

“What's so funny?” Harry asks.

Louis pulls the bag of candy out to show Harry, without speaking.

Harry's gaze shifts from Louis to the treat, a confused but amused smile splitting across his lips. He . . . doesn’t understand. It’s candy. Harry shrugs like what about it? and Louis shakes his head in response and mumbles never mind. Setting the candy down beside Dolly, he grabs the check.

Louis scoffs, shaking his head as he begins to read it, and asks, “How much is this?”

But he abruptly stops, face falling.

“Five thousand dollars,” Harry casually answers, despite his heart picking up pace again. Louis lifts his head to look at him, but he doesn't say anything. Is it too much? Is it too forward? Did Harry cross a line? Maybe he was wrong for buying Louis his dream backpack and a check. But if he just stuck with the candy, then Harry would look like he put in the least amount of effort in. And this is the line he struggles with: either going too far, or not doing enough. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Louis answers immediately. Then he releases a breath, knowing he’s full of it.  “This is too much, Harry.”

Harry blinks, then stamps on his racing heart and pulls out his detached face. “Louis,” he begins, stern, “don’t even start. That?”—he points to the check—“That is pocket change to me. We’ve gone over this. I have more money than I’ll ever know what to do with. I don’t see better use for it than for charity and for using it to buy whatever you want. Don’t feel bad about me using my own money. Eat the rich, or whatever they say.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Louis asks.

Harry pauses.

“Yes and no. But that’s a different conversation for another day.”

Louis blinks, breaking his gaze from Harry. Harry watches him closely, and waits for something. Louis’s face is concentrated; furrowed eyebrows, a far away look in his crystal clear eyes. He’s thinking something, and as much as Harry would love to get inside that pretty little head of his, he merely settles for waiting. Dolly comes poking through, however, weaving herself effortlessly and expertly through Louis's arms. She throws her arms up to cling to the opened backpack, and stands on her hind legs to peer inside. She stuffs her entire head in it, and it breaks Louis out of whatever it was, making him chuckle.

Harry just shakes his head.

Louis wraps his fingers around her legs to pull her back out of his backpack, but she clings hard. Harry  finds himself laughing softly at the image before him, and he intervenes quickly. He softly scratches behind Dolly's head, then transitions into wrapping his hands around her bottom. He picks her up upside down, successfully having Dolly let go.

Harry pulls her to his chest.

Louis's small chuckle turns into a giggle, and he shakes his head. He reaches for his phone on the coffee table, and Harry watches his face change to realisation.

“I have to go,” he announces.

Dolly falls out of Harry’s grip and runs away.

He looks at Harry.

Harry puts on an unreadable face. “You have to go?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Louis responds as he stands up. “I have a flight in the morning. Remember? I have to get up really early, and triple check all my belongings. It’s a long flight, so, I’ll need some proper rest.”

“All right,” Harry agrees. He walks first to the door, with Louis following suit, after placing his backpack back into the bag, along with the check. “When's your flight?”

“Hm,” Louis hums. “I think 7.45 in the morning.”

“Harsh,” Harry comments lightly. He lifts his hand to rub at his neck a moment. “I hope it's good. Tell your mum I said hello.”

Louis nods. “I will. And I hope it is, too.” There's a slightly awkward pause, on Louis's end. But it doesn’t last. “Listen . . . I want to thank you for—”

Harry interrupts him.

“No problem.”

“You didn't have to,” Louis points out. He's clearly not going to let Harry wave it off. “You didn't have to do anything at all, but you did. I just want you to know that it's one of the nicest things someone's ever done for me, and that I really, really appreciate it.”

Louis looks at with the most serene face, conviction in his tone. It causes Harry to be temporarily weak.

“You're welcome,” he says in response, hands clasped behind his back for something to hold on to.

Harry doesn’t see it coming – Louis steps forward with confidence, coming into Harry’s personal space, and raises himself onto his toes to wrap his arms around Harry’s shoulders. Those icy nerves return alight and burn him. He’s paralysed for several moments; all he registers is the faint scent of floral notes reaching into his nostrils and brushing against his nose hairs. It’s not overwhelming; it’s the perfect aroma of flowers and fruitiness. Based on his own colognes he’s sampled and bought before, this one could be YSL – or maybe it’s ones he’s seen, such as Lancome. They carry a lot of floral perfumes. Either way, it’s very pleasing. And before he can think, he sneaks his arms around Louis’s small waist–it’s much smaller and slimmer than it looks–and spreads his fingers across the bottom of his spine and the middle of his back.

It’s only a moment later Louis pulls back.

Even though Louis doesn’t look at him, he can’t stop staring at Louis, completely dumbfounded.

“I'll see you in a couple weeks,” says Louis, smiling, when he looks up at Harry. “I'm a text and phone call away if you need anything, okay?” Louis raises a pointed eyebrow at him, giving Harry a look. “Don't hesitate, okay? I won't mind.”

Harry nods.

He’s not going to, but he’ll pretend for Louis.

“Got it,” he says, pressing his lips together.

The pointed look remains on Louis's face.

“I mean it,” he presses, to ensure his message is across.

Harry rolls his eyes and straightens out his posture. “I know,” he sighs. “I’ve survived nearly a decade without you, so, I don't think anything I can't handle is going to happen in the time you'll be gone.”

Louis throws his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, I didn't say you couldn't handle any one thing. I implied quite the opposite, actually,” he corrects.

Harry plays along.

“No need to rub my already swollen ego.”

Louis smiles, huffing out a small laugh. It’s the softest expression he’s ever seen on a face. It’s so caring. Harry doesn’t–understand how he can be so gentle. “Never happy with anything, are you?” he teases.

Harry smiles. “Nope,” he says. “Comes with being a perfectionist. And just being me, in general.”

“I see.” There's silence that falls over them like a blanket. Harry’s hoping Louis will take the cue and leave, but he stays. “What do you plan to do for Christmas?”

Harry blinks.

“I don't know,” he answers. “I don't do much for Christmas, really. I don't celebrate it.”

Louis raises an inquiring brow. “Because of religious reasons, or . . . ?”

Harry shrugs. He doesn’t talk about it with anyone. He’s certainly not going to discuss it with Louis. “Nah. Just don't celebrate it, that's all,” he answers, giving Louis a small smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Not even with your parents?” Harry shakes his head, choosing not to say anything more. With that, Louis drops the subject. “Don't forget to—”

“I'm kicking you out,” Harry says, tone flat, and a finger pointed to the door behind Louis.

He walks around him and opens it.

“You're kicking me out?” Louis repeats,, smiling and now standing so close to the door frame, as he keeps his gaze on Harry, whom now leans against the side of the red door, arms crossed and one foot hooked around the other.

Harry nods vigorously, eyebrows risen.

“Get out. Right now.”

“Fine, I'll leave,” says Louis, raising his hands as he walks out onto the stone walkway, “but not because you're threatening me; but because I want to.” He keeps on walking down the small set of stone steps and across the path leading to the driveway.

“Louis,” Harry calls out without thinking, just going on the feeling of restricted air in his chest. Louis looks over his shoulder, as his hand pulls his car keys out of his pants pocket, and his strides slow. He stares at Harry with patience, and it’s the last thing Harry wants to see in his face, because he won’t be seeing him for a while. “Merry Christmas. Happy birthday. Have a safe flight.”

Louis’s mouth curves up in a gentle, genuine smile.

“Thank you. Happy New Year,” he calls back.

Harry closes the door two-thirds of the way, not willing to let go of the sight of Louis quite yet. He needs to see him get safely in his car and drive away – he can’t let that feeling go. The restriction in his chest worsens when he watches Louis open his car door, but it eases slowly when Louis looks back. In fear of coming off creepy, he closes the door. But he stays behind it to listen to the engine start – to see the red lights reflect against the windows and the distant sound of his car fade until Harry can’t hear anything anymore. Then he turns around, inhaling a deep breath when his vision lands on Dolly sitting on her bum patiently by the stairs, watching him.

“Dolly,” he says – she tilts her head – “Am I too much?”

Dolly mews and walks off.

He’s always changing himself, changing his style, his image. He’s either always too much or not enough; there’s no healthy balance. Maybe he’ll try working on it in Louis’s absence, so, he doesn’t have to fret over it every time he says or does something he’s not familiar with. He doesn’t want to scare Louis off.