#i dropped my lasagna so i spend the rest of the night making a self indulgent gifset to cheer myself up

[wrenthemoralfander]

My Dc Au

Gotham: Jaded City (this is where I just ramble facts about the DC characters in the story.)

Trigger Warning: mentions of murder, referenced child abuse, theft, burning someone alive, mutilation, forced drugging, suicide, damage of property, toxic family are mentioned

(Two Face)

Best friends with the Riddler. Like these two are best friends. They have known each other since high school.

Two Face hates Amanda Waller because she keeps screwing him over.

Harvey Is rich, due to his hard work in college, and his work as a lawyer. Harvey spends his money. Two Face, unlike Harvey, is smart enough to save the money and hide in a place where Harvey can’t find it.

Hates Cobblepot, but seemingly likes tolerates Sionis.

Loves Lasagna. Like he would eat that shit for days. 

Has an allergy to cumin. He doesn’t know why he has this allergy, but he does. 

Harvey usually cleaned his coin after he flipped it too much to make a decision. If however it starts to get rusty, he replaces it. This seems to satisfy Two-Face

Doesn’t trust Lady Shiva. Why? He’s worried she’s going to hurt his best friend. Two Face hasn’t killed her, yet…

(The Riddler)

Full name is Edward “Luis” Alonzo Nashton.

Is of Latino heritage.

Had a bad upbringing.

Is a single father of a young boy named Cody. Cody’s mother is dead, after committing self termination.

Is one of the more feared villains in Gotham. For a few good reasons. 

Is one of the few Gotham villains who have managed to capture the Batman, but one of the the only two Gotham villains who successfully made the Batman question his thoughts on Riddler.

Killed the villain Killer Frost, all because she tried to hit his son. When the Batman asked why, he said “So… here’s the thing, Batman. I don’t like kids, can’t stand them. Yet, even I wouldn’t stoop so low. You see where I came from, if you hit a kid, and that kid was your own flesh and blood, it meant you were teaching them discipline. If you hit a kid, and that kid wasn’t your own… Well nobody stuck around to find out what that meant. The people who hit kids that weren’t theirs? They were dealt with. I learned that from the elders. As to why? She tried to hurt a kid, and besides… I was just doing what the elders taught me.” He stopped her, knocked her out, chained her up, poured a lithium formula on her, surrounded her with wood, and lit the wood on the fire. She couldn’t use her powers because her hands were covered in an antifreeze like powder. He dragged her death out and laughed as she started screaming.

Used to work in the law industry. No longer does as he went to pursue his own path.

Despite not liking kids, he’s actually a really good dad. Makes Cody some lunch, takes care of him when he’s sick, helps Cody with school, praises Cody for his drawings/accomplishments, tries not to be out committing crimes so much, speaks highly of Cody’s mother, and tells Cody she would’ve been proud of him, and will drop everything for his child.

Yet, Ed worries he is not a good fighter. The reason he’s worried he’s not a good father, is due to Edward’s relationship with his own father and sometimes he has nightmares. His nightmares will go from beating his father to death, to finding Cody near dead in the old man’s place. Due to these nightmares, he often wakes up in a panic, checks on Cody before locking himself in his office, not sleeping for the whole night.

Steals money and saves half of it to put it in a bank account to support his son for college. A quarter of that money goes to bills, and the rest is for Riddler.

Has severe religious trauma. Like he will not attend church, but he’s very polite and respectful about it.

He hates leaving his son alone, sometimes he’ll skip the criminal activity, but if his work truly demands him, he’ll hire a babysitter and pay them a generous amount if they do a good job.

He has killed several innocent people. Some of these people skipped babysitting in favor of going to a party. These people who were found brutally mutilated and deceased in alleyways. He’s also killed people who witnessed crime scenes, because he keeps getting told ‘not to leave any witnesses.’

Actively make sure his son is safe and happy. Ed doesn’t involve his son any crimes because it’s the fastest way to ensure Cody either gets killed or taken away from him. 

His cane is a weaponized cane. He can go from a cane to a taser, to a full blown sword. Yes, he has stabbed people with this. No, he is not sorry.

Has slaughtered a room full of cops before, but have left no clues, as with the GCPD…? He doesn’t take the risk. 

Riddler’s victims if they are smart, but failed to use their brains, are often killed in gory and gruesome ways, so sometimes they are left mutilated. This is because he expects his victims to be aware they cannot afford to screw up, as he reminds them constantly that their lives are on the line.

Ed also doesn’t like playing with his food, unless his victims are interesting, he does not like it.

Has a thing for Lady Shiva and for Jason Todd.

(Poison Ivy)

Her outfit is a live floral ball gown. I am literally not joking, it can turn into a literal poison ball gown. Her outfit is made of nature despite being a ball gown.

Pamela is Poison Ivy by tradition. All the woman and her family before her happen poison ivy since her great grandmother. She is the only one who isn’t evil.

Pamela loves kids, absolutely adores them. She doesn’t like adults, because of what they teach the kids.

Works as a daycare worker and as a gardener.

Has three types of pollen. The first is special pollen that can help people understand her plants. The second is pollen that cure is the person of any ailment/wound. The third is a toxin that allows her to hypnotize people. She is working on the fourth one which will be the powder that poisons her enemies.

Has a PhD in English, botany, and biology. 

Despite what people say about her, she’s not a villain. She’s an antihero. She does not believe in following the rules of the GCPD but she wants to help Gotham.

Has little fireflies in a lantern on her belt that she freeze every night. Surprisingly however, they always come back to the lantern.

Makes snacks for people.

Often styles her hair because she doesn’t like people touching it. It makes her uncomfortable for some odd reason. She normally doesn’t mind Selina doing it but anyone else? If anyone else does it, and they may get poisoned.

The first time Batman met her, she had saved a young Dick Grayson from meeting his fate by penguin’s men. She healed him and patched him up, so when Dick told her she was grateful for her help, Pamela told him it was no big deal.

Batman was skeptical of her. She understood as Gotham was full of tricks and surprises, and trusting others was risky.

Loves the rain. She doesn’t like when it storms but she loves it when it rains. She will dance and play in the rain, often getting soaked much to the disappointment of her roommates Selina.

Her roommate is Selina Kyle. They talk about everything.

(Johnathan Crane)

Is arguably one of the scariest villains in Gotham.

He was scientist who’s work was mocked by the people of Gotham, and due to his family’s peer pressure to be perfect, he slowly went berserk.

Has made people go insane from his fear toxin.

Is an anarchist, and loves when his fear can invoke riots.

With how much he loathes the city, one would think scarecrow could never find happiness. This is far from true, as he has a fiancé named Alicia.

Alicia is the one woman that brings him happiness.

Alicia does not know he’s a criminal. He would prefer it if it stayed that way. (Although he doesn’t know she’s a criminal either)

Alicia and Jonathan have both agreed if they do have kids, they will have two kids. So far, both are uncertain if they want kids.

He has a M.D. in medicine, psychology, and in Crainotomy (surgery of head trauma). 

Due to being diagnosed with strider, he has a raspy voice and is unable to breathe as well.

Respects and fears Riddler and for good reason. Listen, you would think that Scarecrow, Gotham’s bringer of fear and paranoia, would not fear someone as petty as Edward? The thing is, there’s only so far Jonathan would go. Jonathan was there when Riddler murdered Killer Frost. While he respects Riddler for handling Frost’s powers correctly and preventing her from hurting a child, he fears Riddler due to how brutal and how long Ed drew her death out.

While Crane plays with his food to better understands his victims, Edward does not. So when he dragged out her death, Crane was scared for his life.



(Deadshot)

Gotham’s greatest assassin. 

Is efficient with firearms, blades, and poison.

Floyd does have two sons, and one daughter.

His wife, Wyona is working as hard as she can to support the family. Despite’s Wyona’s job paying super well, she’s always worried about what if they don’t have enough. Floyd actually tries his hardest to be there. Unlike Riddler, he’s not great at time management, but does manage as best he can.

Can poison a drink without notice, and cover his tracks. This is to ensure his targets (and GCPD) won’t trace it back to him.

Thanks to his line of work, and being born into the rich class, Floyd and his wife are rich. His wife keeps telling them even though they are wealthy, they should not take it for granted.

Despite being born into the wealthy class though, Deadshot does not like the upper class, so he targets them on a semi-weekly basis.

One of his sons, Devine (Da-vee-en) has autism, and is non verbal. Floyd uses a device to help his son communicate what he wants, yet he reminds his son that Devine does not have to use it if he does not want to.

Floyd is afraid of spiders. They make him uncomfortable. He can’t stand them, but he does like them when it’s a plush one that his son gives him.

When he’s not killing people, he’s making plushies for his kids… Especially his son Devine.

He has told his kids they are never too old for a stuffed animal.

He sews his kids clothes as some store bought fabrics makes the itchy. His other son, Terrence, likes wearing dresses. His daughter, Sierra loves fancy hats.

(Wyona “Anne” James Lawton/“Serenity”)

Deadshot’s wife, and the retired Gotham hero “Serenity”.

They met in a church and as she was turning to leave after a prayer, she walked up to Floyd and whispered in his ear, “I’m very grateful for the assassin who took Carmine Falcone’s life.” 

Her family in severe debt thanks to Don Falcone, but when he was assassinated, they no longer owed him and his men anything.

They had three kids despite being told by doctors that Wyona would never make it through the pregnancy.

She is very hard-working, very responsible, and always knows to plan ahead.

She changed her name to Wyona to cut off her family. Mainly because of her father, Felix. The main two being that one, Wyona’s family didn’t come to her wedding because Felix, her father said Floyd fidn’t have his blessing. The second reason was because her father tried to get her to give all her savings to him, and when she didn’t, he destroyed her laptop. Floyd, when he found out why Wyona couldn’t communicate with him, bought her a new laptop pro with a four year warranty on it. Thankfully, she never lost hope that she would escape a terrible place… and in a way, she did escape.

Due to the neglect and abuse that Wyona faced of a child, she has leg issues, and has a vision impairment which makes it hard to see. 

She hasn’t told her husband she was once a Gotham hero.

She knows Floyd is Deadshot. She knows he is Gotham’s greatest assassin, but is worried that he’ll be upset with her.

She is in and out of hospitals due to having poor health, and feels terrible for her husband, but he is patient with her because he knows it’s not her fault. 

Wyona struggles with self-love. Her husband is there for her though. 

Bonus: She is only retired due to her vision impairment which got worse as time went on, which made her job significantly harder. Her leg was not an issue for her as she found a way to manage the pain it caused her.

————————

Part two will contain the following:

Alicia Grey

Alfred Pennyworth

Zatanna Zatara

Jervis Tetch/Mad Hatter

Detective Nora Fries of GCPD

Mr. Freeze





















[contact-right]

"A platoon commander's situational awareness doesn't extend very far."

"Far enough, sir."

[jadelynlace]

ink drinker / Modern Vikings AU, Ivar x F!Reader, Chapter 3

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

author’s note & content warning: mentions of depression, self harm and suicidal thoughts; all pertaining to Ivar, not reader. mentions of therapy, medication and past history of self inflicted & blooming trauma. please read at your own risk. my messages are always, always open for anyone who may ever need a listener. anything in italics indicates a flash back. there are so many fucking feelings in this chapter that I just, am apologizing now. but there’s smut!

✎

It was gloomy the morning you remembered finally catching a glimpse of Ivar’s scars. Adorned and nearly smothered by him in his bed, the small snores from him somewhere draped across your skin, traveling over the plains in warm boulders. You were always drawn to the artwork on his limbs, there was always a smaller detail you missed and found within your next search but through the endless gazes you finally caught sight of the jagged white flesh. The since healed lacerations and your medical knowledge took full force of your mind. They were scars, they were healed scars, but they were scars from the straight edge of a razor blade. With such precision and such aftermath you knew they were the scars with one intent within their making. And they were there to tell you the secret horrors Ivar had not yet spoken—that there was a point where he felt his heart should no longer beat, and his lungs should no longer fill and that his life was meaningless. And that he should end it.

*

“Can I ask you something?” You finally find yourself mumbling; words floating through the cabin of the parked ambulance on stand by. Hvitserk’s coffee halfway through to his stomach when you peep in such a meek voice he almost coughs the molten liquid back out.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N,”

“How bad is Ivar’s depression?” And you simply ask. No foreword to the speech, no coating of sugar or dusting of fake joy. As blunt as you had been trained to voice the death of a loved one to their family. “I saw the medication in his cabinet, and I saw the scars on his wrists. I know it’s none of my business because he’s your brother, but…” and you can’t find a lie to justify it. Not ready to spill to your partner about the times Ivar had spilled into the condoms with you.

“Bad,” Hvitserk says, and just as bluntly. “He…he tried to kill himself in college. I don’t know if you’ve noticed how he’s never available Saturdays from eleven to noon, but that’s when he has therapy. I had been trying to convince him since high school to see someone, and Floki finally got through to him not too long ago,” He adds. “When I got that phone call from mom that he was in the hospital—I felt like such a failure, Y/N, because I knew it was coming and I did nothing to stop it,” Your hand goes to his wrist for a second, a quick squeeze of added support as you listen.

“Sometimes people refuse what’s good for them, Hvitty,” You start. “You should know that—how many times have we explained to someone why they should go to the hospital with us, but they still refuse?” He finally cracks a smile at that. “Do you think he’s in a better place now, mentally?”

“Either that, or he’s just stable. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Ivar doesn’t like to talk about his feelings…”

“Wow Hvitserk, I had no idea,” You tease, nudging him with both your elbow and sarcastic tone as the voice on the radio fills into the cabin. Your stand by is over and the conversation is dropped as you leave the scene.

*

There had been instances where you think he might be ready; he might understand that the new gifting of your relationship status might help him to realize you aren’t joking when you offer to listen. You’d listen to Ivar talk until he ran out of things to say if it came to that. More times now the words perched themselves on his lips, ready to spring forwards but he keeps pulling them back. He keeps swallowing them because they’re mixed like bile and stew and far too gross, far too un-human for him to even want to try to speak them to you. And then Ivar kicks himself for drowning these demons who have started to learn to swim and he sees you in your uniform and remembers that nothing phases you. You watch open heart surgery on the television while you eat his mother’s lasagna without a care in the world or a realization that what you were doing is unusual. 

“Can I talk to you?” Ivar says bluntly, sitting like a cowered dog in the living room and you’re hardly through his front door when he asks. You can feel how your head rises slowly, a quick snarky word to come back but you bite down on your tongue so roughly you can taste blood as you just look at him. You have never seen a man of his stature try to look so small, try to be so invisible. Worry comes to your face just as quickly as the next breath passes through your diaphragm and you’re on the couch before you even take your shoes off. “It’s messy,” He finally admits. Shallow and dead and you can see the broken boy that has tried to hide himself through the bulked muscles and the tattoos; the glare through his blue eyes and the curved lip.

“Most of what involves the human body is messy, Ivar,” You find yourself saying back, and it sounds pathetic to your ears. It sounds like you’re trying to tell the parent of a dead child that you know how they feel but you don’t. And you never will. But Ivar shedding this skin for you feels like you’re walking through the motions on a call, eyes from crowds of people crawling over and stuck on your every move. And every move that comes next like they’re watching a soap opera with their dinner and they’ve disconnect that what is happening is real, it’s someones life. Just like how you have to disconnect. But in this moment it’s Ivar, and you’re present. 

“Like paint,” Ivar mumbles next. 

“Yeah, like paint,” You repeat and there’s a smile on your lips for a second. “Ivar? You don’t do that anymore, do you?” You finally find the courage to ask.

“No,” Ivar says as he glances down at his right hand’s wrist, shoving the skin next to the sweatshirt he’s wearing as if rubbing it on the gray cotton will make those scars dissipate. “I get tattoos instead,” That causes a sick button to click in your consciousness as to why Ivar is so heavily covered from his shoulders to his ankles in artwork. How the sting of the needle dawning the creations reminded him of the blade he tried to use to make the mess of thoughts fly away. To make the demons come free through his skin and leave him with peace, if only a moment. 

“What helps? What helps you stay present?” You ask. Ivar blinks far too many times, sorting through his brain for the answers as if it’s a container of memorabilia that’s so unorganized even his mother can’t stand the sight of it.

“My brothers help, sometimes,” He says. “I think about how devastated my mom would be. I think about Floki. I think about all of the people in my life who say they want me here even when my mind is trying to tell me I don’t deserve to be.”

“I want you here, Ivar.” You say back and catch how he looks at you when you admit such.

“Why? Have you seen yourself, Y/N? You could have anyone you want and you choose me…” The sentence breaks your heart but you now know the darkness the climbs between his ears. The seed planted so long ago in the depths of brown ground somewhere and you want to pull it from the mental garden. You want to rip the roots right from the soil and burn them so they never have a chance to infest any farther.

“No one makes me feel the way you do, Ivar,” Are the first words from your mouth. “You make me smile, you make me feel important—you remind me how to escape. Even on the worst possible days I can have, you bring me back to reality.” You want to tell him how he’s addicting, how there’s a quality to him you can’t articulate but always keeps you coming back. How you want to keep coming back because both your mind, and your body know it’s safe. How he was someone so mysterious from the outside but past every highly built wall is a man who is just so simply himself. “Because you’re you, Ivar. With the bachelor’s degree in calculus, and the copious amounts of tattoos, and a heart of gold that…you forget that you have,” You finally add. “You’re someone different to the rest of the world, but you’re the real Ivar around me,” You worry that the silence that over takes him is a sign of something else. A sign that you spoke too much, again, and scarred him for more than he could withstand. And then he smiles. 

But you can’t understand why—why he smiles for someone like you. The one who let him design your first ever tattoo to his heart’s content. The one who has the same twisted sense of humor. The one who will bicker back and challenge him. The one who gets to see him fall apart between your legs. The one who makes him hard, and has him make those noises. The moans, the heavy panting and rasped groans as he bottoms out and moves through you. The one who gets to watch how his eyes snap shut, and his mouth drops open when you clench around him; how his entire back tenses when he’s close. How he holds you as he fills the rubber with everything he has. The man who loves your nails trailing on his skin. The man who smothers you every night that he spends with you, and every morning when you wake and he’s still there. Making you coffee and cooking you breakfast. How he knows your takeout order from your favorite places, and your work schedule. What food to have at his own apartment, and what movies he should have on demand. The spare clothes he keeps there for when you come over after work, ready to take the ambulance grime from your skin. The pads that are in his bathroom closet, the painkillers. The bottle of “girly white wine” that he won’t admit to drinking too, because it is damn good wine. The man who knows to check in with you during the day, and again to make sure you really are alright. The same man who knows if you don’t text him back, you and Hvitserk have gone knee deep into either a bullshit call, or a tragic one. As shocked as you were that he was listening to what you were saying—and taking it to heart—you were stunned that you hadn’t caught on to how obvious it was that Ivar was in love with you. Even with all of the time you spend crammed between your own thoughts.

“There’s a lot to sort through,” Ivar says again.

“That’s okay, Ivar,” You remind him, your head resting on his shoulder and you feel him shift, move his arm to encompass you as you curl against his side.

“You smell like bleach,” He softly laughs, his nose deep against your hair and you snort, reminded of the decontamination duties you were gifted from the calls today.

“Better than Hvitserk, who got puked on,” You reply. “Shower?” And you can feel Ivar nod against you. 

His hands don’t move rapidly to shed your clothing, or to shed his own. There’s a certain calmness through his motions as he waits for the water to warm, slipping your polo from your shoulders, and planting his lips in its wake. Against the base of your neck, your spine, hugging your body flush against his in front of the mirror. Your eyes catch sight of his hands coming back around you, squeezing your breasts and you can’t stop the moan that crawls from your mouth. The traces of artwork on his fingers as his lips move from your neck, to the shell of your ear and graze your pulse point. There’s a push from your backside against his groin, and Ivar growls in response, humming not far after as you feel how his cock hardens the farther his hands roam.   

Down your sides, your abdomen, swirling through your folds and dipping between them to catch your juices. Circling against the bundle of nerves he knows so precisely and you moan twice as loudly, and he does too as you moisten to his fingers. Your hands move to grab at him, anywhere they can and you find one hand holding his neck and the other wrapping around his length. Your nails crawl to his hair, pulling the locks down as his fingers take to moving quickly, spreading your womanhood and arousal and you suddenly can’t wait much longer to have him. And he can tell by how you whimper, whisper to him about how you want to feel him inside of you and there’s no fight anywhere on his body to try to deny the tone of your begging. Ivar’s eyes catch yours in the mirror as he finally pushes into you, the cold porcelain sink calming the heat of your skin as he bottoms out and rests his body against yours. There’s a sinful moan that comes through his lips as his eyes bore into yours, with the squeeze from your walls and warmth you spread through him and at first he can’t move, he only wants to savor it. His eyes finally close as he slips away from you, pushing in once more as your body rocks to the sink, singing back to him as the steam from the forgotten shower starts to fog against the mirror. Your name is through his lips as he moves, tattooed hands coming to find yours as he moves your body with each thrust, each timed sensation and you feel your own orgasm approaching. His mouth open on your ear, eyes screwed shut between love and ecstasy as his breath tickles down your face and you’re close now, far closer and far faster than you’ve ever been

“Ivar—” comes your voice and there’s only a hum in response, wordlessly pleading for you to let go because he’s got you, and you know that. Your knuckles white washed against his as you finish, shaking against the sink and you miss how Ivar’s eyes watch you unfold. Studying the pleasure laced in your features. 

“Where, baby?” He says quickly, and you shudder as you remember he’s bare now, condom long since forgotten but there are still the small pills you swallow. Still working somewhere you know of, but the accuracy decreases when you take them irregularly—and there’s a big part of your life that calls for that to happen. The alarming lights and loud tones. But you know that you’re safe. With Ivar you’re always safe.

“Inside,” You finally say, his hips stopping to starve off the inevitable as he waits for you to be sure, as he waits to see the seriousness on your face so he knows you aren’t lying in the heat of the moment. And you have to say it again for him to start up again, remind him that you have a safety net. The sensitivity in your cunt melts as he keeps moving and you can tell another orgasm is starting to build. Ivar reaches from your hand quickly and starts his fingers against your clit, quick circles as you hear him get louder, feel his other arm move to crush you and you catch his face as he finishes. The sight searing in your vision and colliding with how he moves with you and your second release rolls through you. His seed spilling and you both moan, his lips still plastered against your ear and you can feel the shake through his whole body as he floats back down. The tense in his thighs pushing you against the counter. There’s a whimper next from him, as he stills, wrapping tightly to hold you there, like it was all a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. 

“I love you,” You hear him say against your skin and you’re right there to repeat it back to him. “You don’t have to mean it,” He then tries and you already know what he’s doing.

“I do, Ivar,” You say back, trying to make him look at you through the mirror but his eyes are still closed. He slowly slips from you, his release sticking between your thighs as he slides away and you’re only then able to turn in his arms. Reaching forwards to pull his mouth against his. “I love you. You and me Ivar, against the world,” You say and he hums at that, a small snicker not far after. 

“I like how that sounds, baby,” His smile comes next, dopey and boyish as he finally looks into your eyes and understands that you don’t doubt any part of him. You love it all—the good and the bad and the evil things he may think about himself. You love them all because you know he feels the same way when it comes to you. “The hot water’s going to run out soon,” He mumbles as he holds you. And standing in the shower is not much more different, still wrapped up safely in his arms as you both feel the troubles melt down the drain.

Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @victoria-styles @queen-sarang   @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @youbloodymadgenius @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @walkxthexmoon  @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @love-all-things-writing @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @quantumlocked310

*please message me to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series are welcomed, as well as feedback!*

full masterlist can be found here.

[tinyyoungblood]

a night in | peter parker

summary: queens’ coolest friends group of smarty pants is back with fun sing-alongs, some life advice and a few hilarious childhood stories while peter can’t keep his hands off you

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: swearing and quick mentions of violence and vandalism

word count: 2.2k

song: Boys Ain’t Shit (feat. Tate McRae & Audrey Mika) by SAYGRACE

a/n: this is for everyone out there who would like some company on a boring friday night. just hang out with peter and the gang:)

↳ masterlist

* * *

“These boys ain’t shit, I’m not here for it,” you sang on top of your lungs while holding the white blanket around the nape of your neck, hips moving to the beat.

“If you want me, act like it. Act like it!” MJ sang the next line and twirled around the kitchen counter while carelessly throwing her hands up in the air. You met halfway and locked eyes with each other, a sparkling gleam dancing in them.

“These boys get pissed. ‘Cause I won’t stand for it.” MJ threw her hair over her shoulder and you cheered her on, “If you want the sweet life then act like it!” The LED lights dunked your skin in vibrating pink.

You were just two careless girls, dancing and singing their hearts out on a Friday night while the music was blasting through the speakers. “Run it backwards, don’t be such an asshole, run it backwards, run it, run it back— “

Suddenly the joyful moment ended when the music was abruptly turned off. Your heads snapped to the door, ready to cuss out the person who cruelly paused your music.

When the harsh lights were switched on, you could see them standing in the doorway: Your very confused boyfriend and his amused best friend, each of them holding bags of food.

“So this is what you do when we’re gone for ten minutes?” Ned asked with a grin on his face while setting his stuff on the kitchen counter. MJ rolled her eyes at him and fished out a can of soda, replying, “Always. Next thing on the list would be a pillow fight and a makeover.”

You walked to the living room to put away your fluffy blanket and called out, “Don’t forget sneaking out to meet up with leather jacket-wearing biker gangs.” As you turned back around, two strong arms slung around your waist and the familiar curls were nestled into the side of your face as Peter placed soft kisses on your neck.

Melting into his embrace right away, you smiled at his affectionate greeting. “Missed me?”

“You tell me,” he mumbled into your neck and you giggled slightly at the vibration, “I’m gone for two seconds and my girlfriend sings about boys not being shit.”

You gently removed him from your neck before he could reach your sweet spot and rested your hands at the back of his neck to face him. A sweet pout was resting on his puckered lips and you couldn’t help but peck them, immediately conjuring a smile.

“I was just jamming out to a song with MJ.” He cocked his head to the side to mutely question the song choice, but you just shrugged. “Besides,” you said with a smirk while playing with his hair, “you know, you ain’t shit, Parker.”

He gasped at you and placed his hand over his chest, making you laugh at his dramatic gesture. “But I love you anyway.” You leaned forward and captured his cold lips with yours.

The familiar warmth promptly welcomed you and rose from your stomach to your chest and the distinct chatter of your friends quickly vanished into the background. Peter melted into the kiss and you smiled at the impact you had on him.

When you pulled back, he instantly pressed your waist closer, prolonging the soft-lipped kiss. Not wanting to let go either, you moved your lips with his whilst soft curls slipped through your fingertips.

When his tongue glided over your bottom lip to ask for permission to enter, you had to fight everything in you to not let him take control and instead, reluctantly pulled away, leaving your lips disappointedly cold again.

“We wanted to spend the evening with MJ and Ned, remember?”

“They have food in there, they’ll be fine,” he waved you off and went in for another kiss, but you turned your head to the side, making him peck your cheek instead.

“Come on Pete, we promised them.” Groaning slightly, he pouted again and you wanted nothing more than to just plant thousands of kisses on his soft lips. Instead, you dragged him back into the kitchen.

And that’s how the four of you ended up on the living room floor, eating takeout pizza and exchanging embarrassing childhood stories.

You were cuddled in between your boyfriend’s legs and listening to Ned’s funny memory as Peter mindlessly drew circles on your waist with his fingers.

“And because nobody was paying attention to him, I had no other choice but to scream out his name while preparing myself for the impact!”

“You had to prepare yourself for the impact?” you laughed and MJ shook her head with a look of disapproval on her face, though she couldn’t help but grin herself, “You yeeted the poor blind kid across the playground!” You burst out laughing.

“Dude, pushing over a blind guy is not cool,” Peter chocked out between his laughter, your back feeling his chest vibrate.

“I was on a swing!” Ned defended, still aware that it was all kinds of messed up, “What kindergarten teacher lets a blind kid walk up to the swings?! That’s child neglectment!”

Everyone burst out laughing again, tears were almost streaming down your face. Eyeing your half-eaten pizza, you turned your head and handed it to Peter who wordlessly grabbed it and took a bite off it.

You smiled up at him and loved how he had a great time. He deserved every second of joy and happiness. Noticing you stare at him, he curiously looked down at you and you just silently exchanged warm smiles. A sparkling gleam was dancing in your eyes and Peter felt his heart flutter again.

Sometimes he couldn’t get over the fact that you were his. The funniest, smartest and kindest girl out there was sitting in between his legs, sharing her pizza with him. God, he was lucky.

He bent down and pecked your lips. Your nose scrunched at the heavy taste of onions, but Peter just gave you a lopsided grin.

“So what happened next?” MJ asked and picked up a bag of skittles off the floor, ripping it open to hand it to Ned.

It was an unspoken rule in your group that he always gets the bag first since he only eats the red skittles.

“Our parents were called in and I was expelled for the rest of the day,” Ned explained sheepishly and picked out his skittles.

“Getting expelled in kindergarten,” you chuckled, “Ned Leeds, you are a wild one.” He shrugged with a huge grin on his face, returning the bag of sweets to MJ.

“Well, if you want to talk about being a wild one, how about you share a story now, babe?” Peter nudged your side and you grimaced, nibbling on your bottom lip.

MJ nodded while leaning back on her arms, “It’s your turn.”

“Yeah,” Ned agreed, “I know like nothing about your childhood.”

You snatched the skittles bag from MJ and acted like you were deeply invested in picking out a specific colored skittle. “Because there’s nothing to tell,” you mumbled, clearly embarrassed of your younger self, but as always, Peter caught it with his enhanced hearing.

“Your mom told me what you were like as a child. There’s plenty to tell!” he urged and you elbowed him, but he just snickered, finding it adorable that you believed you could hurt him in any way.

“You seriously need to stop having dinner with my mom.” You deadpanned but you just felt him shrug.

“She makes the best lasagna.”

The others agreed, “She really does.”

“Bless that woman’s lasagna.”

You groaned and threw the bag in the middle of the floor for the others to grab. “Since when is everybody having dinner with my mom?”

“You wouldn’t know, you’re never home.” MJ shrugged, causing a pang of guilt in your chest.

“I get it, I’m too busy,” you mumbled while playing with the sweets in your hands.

“Well,” Ned eyed you and glanced at Peter who was absentmindedly playing with your hair, “you do have a lot on your plate with all the extracurriculars. You can always drop some, you know.”

Sensing the growing discomfort, Peter let go of your hair and hugged you from behind, pressing you against his chest. You naturally melted into his embrace and his heartbeat calmed you down.

“I guess I could drop one or two,” you mumbled and the others gazed at you knowingly.

“You know,” MJ spoke up in her monotonous voice that indicated that she tried to be gentle, “there’s nothing wrong with giving up on something if you don’t enjoy it anymore. No shame in that.”

“She’s right,” Peter encouraged, “babe, you don’t have to keep going just because you don’t want to let other people down. Whether it is the marching band or the speech and debate team, they’ll be fine without you. Do what makes you happy.”

The others agreed and the corners of your mouth turned up. You were grateful for moments like these with your friends.

They were right, you haven’t had dinner at home with your mom for a while now and you couldn’t even remember the last time you properly talked to her or even to your friends. You were always out, always doing something and always trying to please somebody.

“Thanks guys, I really needed this.”

MJ gave you a two-finger way and Ned beamed at you. You felt Peter place a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you honestly never wanted this evening to end.

“Anyway,” Ned announced loudly, “before we got all emotional, it was Y/n’s turn to share an embarrassing childhood story.”

The others nodded and you plastered a smile on your face, deciding on telling them a rather harmless story of your childhood. They would get to hear the cooler ones eventually.

“So,” you clapped your hands together and set the scene, “when I was 6 years old, I had to pop into the store around the corner to get some eggs for my mom since she was sick and on bed rest. But on my way home, I ran into this boy who I had a crush on and I was super embarrassed because I was wearing these pink barbie pajamas that I really did not want him to see me in.” You rolled your eyes at your younger self.

“But there was no way to hide from him since he was coming my way and I had to go down the street from the direction that he came from.”

“Very thrilling,” Ned commented while popping mini pretzels into his mouth. MJ swatted him with her hand to shut him up. You smiled at that motion and continued,

“But to my luck, a police car just pulled up and what my 6-year-old super brain immediately came up with was that instead of letting him think that I was a girly wimp, I could be a super cool badass right in front of him.”

“Of course what every 6-year-old aspires to be,” Peter snorted and Ned added, “Understandably.”

You jokingly rolled your eyes at them. “So I pulled out the eggs and threw them on the windshield of that police car while also making sure that the boy witnessed it all.”

Ned slapped his hand on his forehead, staring at you bewildered, whereas MJ just proudly grinned at you.

“Obviously, the cops jumped out of the car and chased me down. Clearly haven’t thought it through, I ran as fast as I could to escape them but when I passed the boy, he tripped me!”

A collective gasp left their mouths as they gaped at you with wide eyes.

“Turns out, he was the cop’s son,” you paused for dramatic effect, “and he was disgustingly proud of having stopped me.” Peter let out an irritated huff and you mindlessly rubbed circles into his arm.

“When the cops asked me why I did what I did, I obviously told them the truth because you know I suck at lying. The boy, of course, had to hear all of it and was just as awkward about it as me.” A small laugh escaped your lips as you remembered the memory clearly. “To my luck, they found it adorable, so they just drove me home with a simple warning,” you ended your story and popped another skittle into your mouth.

Ned shook his head at you comically, “Nope Y/n, I take everything back. You are the wild one. Shoving a blind kid doesn’t sound that bad anymore compared to your story.”

“It’s still just as bad, Ned,” MJ interjected and gave him a pointed look.

Peter leaned forward to catch your gaze. “I can’t believe you did that.” He smiled at you amused but you just shrugged it off and grinned at him.

“It’s nice to be wanted, you know?”

He stared at you horrified as everybody laughed. “Not by the law!” 

* * *

quarantine sucks, i miss my friends:( anyway, this was a lot of fun to write so feel free to leave some feedback, send in requests or talk to me!

check out more of my stuff on my masterlist and if you don’t, that’s fine too. buh-bye! 

[wolfflock]

Please, Keep Love Hole (final chapter)

Read all 21 chapters over at AO3 (explicit, 42k).

Chapter Summary: S-E-X. With feelings. And teeth.

They have been officially dating for months when Derek tells Stiles that they need to talk. At first Stiles is nervous about it (damn all those romcoms where this sentence always means something bad) but then he gets over it. They are doing great and Derek isn’t like that anyway, he would tell him straight to his face if something was wrong.

The only thing that isn’t so great for Stiles is that it’s been long goddamn months and they still haven’t had sex. Sure, they have watched each other jerk off a couple of times and they have been dry humping each other like teenagers, but Derek always stopped him when he wanted to go further, when he wanted to take Derek’s clothes off. Stiles is in no rush, though, so he didn’t make a big deal out of it, but he’s getting frustrated with constantly having blue balls and having to take long showers after being over at Derek’s. Scott is giving him knowing looks.

So Stiles is a bit worried about what this talk will be about, but he is keeping an open mind.

When he arrives to Derek’s apartment, the place smells great. Derek’s been cooking which, okay, he didn’t expect. Maybe the romcom drama is not going to happen.

“Something smells great,” Stiles whistles as he walks up to the stove where Derek, in an apron with puppies all over, is putting food on two plates.

“I made lasagna, I hope you like it,” Derek replies as he turns his head so Stiles can kiss his cheeks.

“You kidding? I love it,” he says and sniffs the delicious food, followed by an appreciative sigh. “So what is it that you wanted to talk about?” Stiles has always been very patient.

“After dinner, okay? Let’s eat just now,” Derek looks up at him, a shy smile on his face.

Stiles digs in and starts talking about the latest YouTube videos he saw and forgets about the talk.

When they finish eating, they clean up and then head to the living room to get comfortable on the couch. Stiles really doesn’t want to push it but he’s getting restless and Derek can probably sense this because he takes a deep breath and begins.

“You probably have been wondering why I always stop you when you want to undress me.”

And yes, that is an understatement. Stiles, at the first few times this happened, was obsessing over this, trying to figure out if Derek didn’t like him, or didn’t want him, or didn’t trust him. But Derek was always down to kiss and touch through clothes so Stiles thought he might have been just shy or self-conscious.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first time?” Derek asks, and Stiles needs to think about that for a while.

Derek helps him out and starts explaining that when he was 16, he fell for someone older. Stiles can remember this much, but what Derek tells him next is a shock to his system.

In a quiet voice, Derek tells him that the woman tied him up, gagged him, spanked him, fucking cut him with a knife and then left him there for two days. Then he talks about the long weeks he was bedridden because of healing injuries, but more importantly the emotional trauma he suffered, with the added baggage of all this happening in Derek’s teen years when he was still trying to figure out who he was, which high school gossip really fucking didn’t help. Stiles’ stomach is turning, he’s seeing red and getting angry with every quiet word leaving Derek’s lips.

But when Derek stands and takes his shirt off, it’s like a bucket of ice being dumped on him. He can see the cuts still, so many years later. They weren’t deep, Derek explains in a clinically cold voice, so they healed alright, but they stand out pale against Derek’s tanned skin. Almost a dozen long lines from his chest to his hips and arms, all different in length and shape.

Stiles lets out a shaky breath and unconsciously reaches out to touch but his hand freezes midair as he looks up at Derek.

“Can I?” he asks.

Derek moves closer, within reach. Stiles shuffles to the edge of the couch so Derek can stand between his legs and puts his hands on Derek’s hips, not touching his skin. When Derek buries his hands in Stiles’ hair and nods, Stiles begins to trail his fingertips over the white lines. Derek tenses, but with a rattling breath he relaxes and lets Stiles explore.

He traces each and every cut with his fingers, trying to change the memory of pain to a memory of gentleness. When he’s touched all of them, he leans in and places the smallest of kisses against the one that goes from Derek’s right hipbone towards his groin. Then he slowly rises to his feet. Holding Derek’s chin in his hand, he looks him in the eye and whispers thank you to let Derek know how much he appreciates this. Him, his honesty, his straightforwardness, his trust.

With the force of a storm, Derek leans forward and kisses Stiles with everything he’s got. Stiles tries to follow him but the intensity with which Derek tries to convey his emotions knocks the wind out of him and he can’t do much more than allow Derek to kiss him however he wants to, he just responds in earnest.

After minutes, both panting, Stiles breaks the kiss and looks Derek in the eye.

“Is it okay?” He needs to make sure that Derek doesn’t feel pressured.

Derek nods, and pushes him backwards until his legs hit the couch and he has to sit down. Derek is on his knees in no time and is already working on Stiles’ zipper when Stiles catches his hands.

“Hey, Derek, slow down. I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving you,” he says, and caresses Derek’s cheek.

“I know,” Derek replies, placing a kiss on Stiles’ palm. “I know,” he repeats, trying to center himself, let him believe what he’s saying.

Stiles cups Derek’s face and with a murmured “Come here” he pulls him up to kiss him again. This time it’s slower, sweet and perfect. There’s no rush to it, just heat and want. Derek shudders when Stiles flicks his fingers over his nipples, but Stiles just smirks against his lips and does it again.

“Fuck,” Derek breathes deeply and plants a wet kiss on Stiles’ neck.

This gives enough time for Stiles to rearrange them; Derek’s head is resting against the cushions by the armrest, his legs splayed open so Stiles can kneel between them. He looks down at Derek’s beautiful naked torso and pulls his shirt before leaning forward to steal another kiss. Their hands are roaming the other’s body, mapping muscles, scars, birthmarks, trying to memorize as much as they can.

“Let me take care of you first,” Stiles whispers in Derek’s ear which earns him a deep moan and a hurried “Yeah, okay.”

Stiles can’t help himself and steals another quick kiss before he trails down Derek’s body, stopping at his nipples to give them some attention as Derek seems to enjoy it. Sure enough, Derek’s hand grabs a handful of Stiles’ hair and his fingers flex reflexively. As much as he would love to spend a whole night kissing and playing with Derek’s nipples, he continues his way down to Derek’s thighs. The runs his hands up and down Derek’s muscular legs, scraping his fingernails across the fabric of his jeans, which puts a teasing line of pressure going from his knees up to his hips and Derek chuckles a bit as it tickles him.

Placing another kiss on the scar by Derek’s hip, Stiles unbuttons his jeans and when Derek lifts his hips, he pulls them down as much as he can. He quickly pulls those and his own jeans off, leaving them in nothing but underwear, both of them showing obvious signs of their interest in the proceedings. Derek sits up and pulls him in close to kiss him, and then he’s leading the way to his bedroom. Stiles can’t help but stare at Derek’s gorgeous body; his toned back, round ass and strong legs. He can’t wait to feel those wrapped around him as he has Derek under him.

When they reach the room, Derek gracefully sits back by the headboard and waves his hand in the direction of his open, bent legs, obscenely presenting himself.

“As you were,” he says cheekily, and Stiles is on him in a second, his hands touching everywhere and his lips whatever snarky comment Derek wanted to add.

When the kiss ends, he looks at Derek, aiming for a deadpan expression but probably looking more excited and eager than anything else. “Lube?”

Derek twists around to reach for the nightstand which Stiles takes advantage of and pushes Derek down on the bed so he’s lying on his front and Stiles has his extremely shapely ass inches from his face. Derek just laughs but lets him do it, pulling a pillow under his head and trying to look over his shoulder as much as he can. He drops a bottle and a condom on the bed.

Stiles, whether with girls or guys, has always loved eating ass. Acquired taste or not, it has always been the perfect mix of shouldn’t like it and love it anyway. He kisses all over Derek’s lower back and thighs, placing biting kisses wherever he reaches, which has Derek growl slightly, clearly frustrated about the teasing.

“Is this okay?” Stiles asks, after he bites Derek’s ass cheek hard.

“Hhhnnng---yesss,” Derek hisses as he instinctively arches his back to silently as for more.

Stiles just smiles and places both of his hands on Derek. His gentle kisses turn hungrier with teeth and more saliva the closer he gets to Derek’s hole. Without hesitation or teasing, he places his mouth around it and kisses it, alternating between long licks, kisses, sucking and kitten licks. Derek is growing louder by the minute, his hands fisting the pillow, biting the corner as his eyes close from pleasure.

As much as Stiles enjoys this, his need has been increasing with every moan and sigh Derek made. He’s dreamt about this, in vivid details, how he would take Derek apart with his mouth on his cock, his ass, his nipples. But this has to wait because Stiles wants to make this last. With a heavy sigh, he reaches out for the forgotten bottle of lube and pours some of it on his fingers, warming it before reaching towards Derek.

“Still okay?” he asks, but Derek’s relaxed expression and curt nod comes before he could even finish those two words.

He gently rubs his finger around Derek’s rim and when Derek sighs, he pushes in. The sigh turns into a moan and that spurs Stiles on to continue his movement without pausing. He starts a gentle but steady rhythm and as soon as he can, adds a second finger. Derek only wiggles around the get a better position, adjusting so with Stiles’ pushes, his dick is gently nudged against the bed.

It doesn’t take long for Derek to relax and sigh with every touch, non-verbal voices leaving his lips in an endless stream. Stiles then bites his ass one more time, slaps him gently before reaching for the condom and putting it on with shaking hands. He smears some more lube on his shaft before putting his hands on the bed by Derek’s hips. He leans down to kiss and bite Derek’s shoulder as he grabs his cock to guide it into Derek’s waiting body.

Pushing in only a few inches, he stops to steady himself, Derek’s heat and tightness overwhelming him suddenly. He hangs his head, forehead touching Derek’s shoulder, as he takes a few deep breaths. Derek, though, is impatient, and shifts so he can take over, arching his back so he can move his hips and slowly inch his way back down on Stiles’ cock. It’s an intoxicating sight, his ass greedily sinking down on his erection.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, Derek,” he whispers, then groans when Derek clamps down on him. “Show off,” he chuckles, but leans down to awkwardly kiss Derek in his twisted position.

As retaliation, Stiles sneaks a hand around Derek’s throat to keep him in place and finally starts moving. Derek chokes on a chuckle and his mouth falls open as Stiles slides out and then back in. Stiles keeps a steady and slow pace, trying to draw the teasing out before he knows he lose his patients and picks up speed.

“Stiles, come on, don’t tease, just give it to me,” Derek keens, his fingers whitening in the sheets as he’s trying to hold himself up to kiss Stiles.

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles groans and falls forward, still holding Derek’s throat gently, as his other hand comes to rest on Derek’s legs to pull them up until Derek’s ass is higher up and the angle is just right, judging by the choked off groan escaping Derek’s lips.

And Stiles gives it to Derek, his pace becoming faster and faster, the only sound in the room is skin on skin and their curses and moans. Stiles bites Derek’s ear and Derek shouts his name, surprised and turned on even more.

“You have no idea how many times I imagined this, what it would be like to fuck you,” Stiles whispers in Derek’s ear. “Seeing you in those tight jeans outlining your ass… why do you think I was sitting in the first row every time? Fuck, I wanted to bend you over your meticulously organized desk and fuck you until you made a mess all over it.” Stiles is hand tightens for a second around Derek’s neck and that has Derek wheezing for all deities to help him because he’s falling apart.

“Touch yourself,” Stiles instructs, and Derek scrambles to reach down between his legs to cup his straining erection, ignored for so long and so desperate for attention.

“Yes, fuck, Stiles, please,” Derek whines and starts stroking himself in earnest.

“I want you to come first so I can feel your orgasm while I’m still inside you,” Stiles grunts and places a kiss on Derek’s neck.

Derek’s breath hitches, his body goes rigid and he’s coming over his hands, ass clenching down on Stiles, tightening even more. That throws Stiles’ rhythm, his hips staggering a few more times and then he’s coming, biting on Derek’s shoulder gently, and then letting go of him.

He pulls his hand away from Derek’s neck, petting his hair in apology as he’s sure there will be red fingerprints for a few hours. As Derek goes lax underneath him, he relaxes, and his heavy limbs refuse to hold him up any longer.

He falls on Derek’s back with an oomph, and for a minute or two they just try to get their heartbeats back to normal. Then he pulls out, kneading Derek’s ass before leaning down to place a kiss on one ass cheek. He goes to Derek’s bathroom to discard of the condom, clean up and get a wet towel.

When he walks back, Derek is lying on his back, his forearm over his face. His cheeks are flushed, he’s covered in sweat and his neck is red in what seems to be in the distinctive shape of a palm. He looks beautiful.

Stiles climbs up next to him, pulls his arm away so he can kiss him. Gently, with emotion, as they are both sated now, so this kiss is just a reminder that they have each other. He cleans Derek off, then, and after throwing the towel on the floor, he cuddles Derek.

After a lazy shower together, they curl up in bed and fall asleep in no time.

---

The next morning, there are two things out of the usual, when Stiles wakes up. One, it’s bright, like, really bright. Did he leave the lights on last night?

No, he’s not in his dorm.

Right. The talk with Derek.

And oddly enough, being in Derek’s bed is not the second unusual thing.

That has to be Derek between his legs, his face really close to Stiles’ morning wood, giving it a kitten lick.

“Morning,” Derek declares, with a playful look on his face.

“Apparently,” Stiles blushes, but he can’t look away.

“Can I?” He asks, almost unsure.

And if he wasn’t already hard, Stiles’ dick would have jumped at that hungry voice coming out of such red lips so freaking close to a hard cock.

“Fuck, yes,” is all Stiles can muster. He props himself up on pillows so his head is lifted, and he can watch Derek scoot closer to kiss and lick.

Wrapping his hand around Stiles’ cock, he places open mouthed kisses all over, like he’s appreciating some rare art form.

“You have a really nice dick,” Derek says, looking at it, turning his head this and that way. Having his mouth on his dick didn’t but this definitely makes Stiles blush. “I’m a bit sad that I didn’t get to play with it first before I had it in me,” he muses, and Stiles groans and curses.

“Can you come from words alone?” He laughs awkwardly, when Derek looks at him. “Because I might if you keep up the worshiping.”

“Guess we have to see that later. For science,” Derek smirks and goes back to kissing Stiles’ cock.

After peppering it with kisses, he switches to licking it, with long swipes of his tongue, up and down. Stiles, being the college student he is, is not used to languid blowjobs that last more than 5 minutes and are done in dark corners, so he is having a hard time keeping his hands from just grabbing Derek’s head and pulling him down on his dick. So, he flexes his fingers a few times by his side and grabs the sheets to hold on.

Derek must see his frustration, though, because he puts his lips around the head and slowly, but without stopping, takes him as deep as he can. That is when Stiles needs to reach out for purchase, though, so he grabs a handful of Derek’s hair as he moves to pull up.

This jostles his head enough to accidentally scrape Derek’s teeth on the underside of Stiles’ dick who moans out loud with a deep “Fuck, yes, do that again.” Derek looks up at him, but Stiles’ eyes are closed, and his mouth is open as he is panting loudly.

So, Derek does it again, cautiously at first, just pushing his lower teeth against the underside of Stiles’ shaft but Stiles just groans, and his hands tighten in Derek’s hair. Confident that Stiles is actually enjoying this, Derek bobs up and down a few times before, out of nowhere, he pulls off to bite the side of Stiles’ cock hard.

Stiles lets out a garbled mess of noises and syllables as his head jacks up and the look he gives Derek is hungry and on fire. Derek goes back to sucking him off in earnest now, moving fast and sucking hard. Stiles is getting closer, his muscles tightening so Derek quickly pulls off, bites him one more time and takes him down his throat. Stiles holds his head as he fucks into his mouth once, twice and he’s coming down Derek’s throat with a loud “fuck”. Derek swallows everything and when he lets Stiles’ cock slip from his mouth, he just nuzzles in, face resting against Stiles’ hip.

Panting hard, trying to catch his breath, Stiles plays with Derek’s hair, and then he’s laughing.

“You know, for a long time I didn’t understand what the big deal about blowjobs was,” he explains and Derek just hums, so he continuous. “Like, the ones I got were fine, but nothing amazing. But guess what. I like it on the rough side, with biting and teeth. And I needed to go to a damn glory hole in a gay bar a few towns over to find it out! My friends dragged me there, no, they actually dared me, and I was kind of wasted but, you know, not that drunk that I couldn’t get it up. Anyway, the dude there was good, Jesus, like not as good as you, because hot damn. But anyway, I was so awkward I gave him a thumbs up through the hole and ---- Derek?”

Derek’s face is flushed now, way more than it was when he had Stiles down his throat. He has a sheepish smile on his lips as he thumps his head against Stiles’ stomach, which ouch.

“I…” Derek clears his throat. “I remember you,” he mumbles against Stiles’ skin and Stiles is just staring at him. Then he connects the dots.

And then he’s laughing, which makes Derek’s head rise and fall on his stomach, so he looks up, into Stiles’ tear-filled eyes as he’s laughing with his whole body.

“Professor Hale in a glory hole? I would have never seen that coming,” he wheezes as he’s gulping for air between hiccuping giggles.

“Shut up. I didn’t always cope with emotions in the healthiest ways. Cheap sex was one of them, you know that,” Derek says quietly, looking away, but Stiles can’t let this turn sour, so he reaches out to run his thumb along Derek’s cheekbones.

“Danny also said the glory hole guy haven’t been there for a while, the timing of which is suspiciously close to when we started seeing each other,” Stiles whispers and pulls Derek up for a kiss. “And that is all I need,” he confesses and looks Derek in the eyes. “I love you, Derek, as you are.”

There’s a moment’s silence as Derek’s mouth turns downward, his lips pouting, and Stiles can see his eyes filling up with tears as Derek launches himself at Stiles, hiding his face in his neck.

“I love you so much, Stiles. I was so afraid this could come between us and I didn’t know how to tell you this.”

“Well, I guess, this was one way for it to come out,” Stiles chuckles and kisses Derek. Their naked bodies curling around each other, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes, they enjoy their lazy morning in.

[beautifulletdownfics]

Twenty Good Reasons :: Part Two

Hello! Welcome to the ‘Someday, Someday’ sequel! I hope you’ll enjoy your time here! Before you start, make sure you check out the Harry & Nina Chronology page to catch up on a few of the drabbles and novellas that slot in the gap between ‘Someday, Someday’ and ‘Twenty Good Reasons’. As always, please don’t be strangers, posting into the void is a terrifying thing! Love K x

+++

As soon as Harry sent me a text saying he was getting on the plane home I got flighttracker.com up on the television set in the lounge room.

It took sitting staring at the screen for the twenty minutes I ate my breakfast before I let out a loud groan and decided I really couldn’t sit on the sofa all day watching Harry’s eighteen hour flight move painstakingly slowly across the screen. I spent the whole previous day cleaning the house from top to toe, and even got on top of the weeding in the garden. I was driving myself mad.

Laykn came over just after lunchtime to return Harry's Xbox console that he borrowed the day Harry left. I made him stay for a cup of tea and forced answers out of him about how every aspect of his life was going. It turned out University Lakyn wasn't always keen on filling in his big sister in on things. I rang my parents afterward, telling my mother everything I'd been able to get out of her son, and comparing notes from the last time she spoke to him.

After I took all of my own questioning from her, I spent an hour walking down to the high street and picking up a few food items I didn't keep in the house while Harry was away. When I got back I distracted myself by making a vegetable lasagna that would still be nice for Harry to reheat later on.

Friends reruns were playing on the telly but after three episodes I found myself spending more time checking the time than I did concentrating on Ross and Chandler's romantic weekend away together. It was well and truly dark outside, and I knew that Harry would be between phones right now, not quite fully tuned into his personal until the work one was off.

At ten pm—an hour after his flight was due to land—I gave up on flighttracker which decided to freeze and refused to let me reload the page. Optimistically, I put the kettle on and set out tea for two, ascending up to the bathroom and getting ready for bed as slowly as I could make myself. I returned to the kitchen and made the tea, taking both mugs with me up to the bedroom and setting Harry's on his bedside table. I remembered pulling back the covers, getting in and flicking through to where I was up to in the book I was reading.

The next thing I knew, I was startling awake with a kink in my neck, my book open on my chest and the morning sunlight streaming through the windows at the foot of the bed.  

"Harry?"

He wasn't in the bed next to me, and when I sat up there wasn't any luggage anywhere to be seen.

I swallowed thickly and kicked myself out of bed, stumbling around the corner of the bed and holding out my hand to keep from falling over. I legged it out and down the hall, skipping down the stairs as quickly as I could, running a hand through my hair when the entrance hall was empty of all traces of Harry as well.

It was in that exact moment that I scolded myself for not picking up my phone and seeing if there was anything there, but I left it on the loudest setting and told myself I would have woken up from its disturbance had it rung.

Just when I started running through a list of serious but not life-threatening things that might've gone wrong with the flight I stopped dead in my tracks and took a few deep breaths.

He was asleep on the sofa.

Lying on his tummy with his face pressed into the seat, his cheeks pink and hair a mess. I dropped the hand from my own hair and slumped my shoulders, he was okay.

Comatose, but okay.

Home

I readjusted my pyjamas, suddenly nervous but a slow building happiness was also rising. I was wearing an old Clavin Klein windcheater of Harry's and my own pair of sleep shorts that hardly poked out underneath the jumper. I'd take the time to shave my legs the previous morning and bit my lip through a small smile as I approached the sofa. I rested one knee at Harry's hip and slowly lay down, half on top of him.

"You're in trouble, Mister," I said, pressing a warm kiss to the shell of his ear.

A noise rumbled through Harry's chest and he puffed out a breath as he woke, "Hmmm ... Hi."

I smiled against his skin at the croak in his voice, "I didn't wake up to you, why are you down here?"

"Didn't wanna wake you up," He managed to get out, sounding only slightly more awake. His words slurred and they weren't laced with the affection I was used to when Harry had just arrived back home.

"How about me waking up to an empty bed when your flight was supposed to get in last night?" I whispered, thinking it might lull the affection I desired out of him.

But maybe it was too much to expect, too soon.

His voice was blunt, “Nina, I'm exhausted and jet lagged and a little hungover."

“Oh—

“—And a bit grumpy," He finished over me, sounding exactly as he had described himself.

"Okay then," I backed myself up and pushed up on my hands to leave him be, disappointment and hurt rippling through my chest.

"No," He blindly waved an arm about to try and grab hold of me but failed, "Where are you goin'?"

"Go back to sleep," I said, standing over him and considering whether or not I had the emotional strength to tell him to go up to bed.

I decided I didn't and allowed the cruel idea of letting him sleep poorly on the sofa be his punishment for hurting my feelings. I didn’t care if he was tired and hungover, I missed my boyfriend and he was finally home. I wanted a loving moment from him.

When I got into the kitchen I barely looked up out the window at the kitchen sink, slowly filing the kettle with water, when a tall body pressed heavily up against my back. I watched his tattooed arms come out in front of us, one winding around my tummy while the other turned the tap off.

“I’m a shit.”

I let out a long sigh and let Harry hold me, also allowing his statement to hang over us. I shut my eyes when he dropped his forehead to my shoulder, resting it there for a few moments before eventually giving my tummy a tight squeeze and then pressing his lips to the crown of my head.

“I love you,” He said, “I’m sorry … That was a terrible homecoming.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I didn’t say anything, just letting the moment happen silently as my throat clogged up. I covered his arms with my own though and did my best to hug him back, both of us facing the garden. After a moment I reached forward and turned the tap back on. Harry didn’t step away from me, instead, he kept our bodies pressed together and moved with me as I leaned over to put the kettle on the holder and then reached for tea bags, Harry opened the cupboard above and got the mugs.

I could feel Harry’s eyes on my every movement as we waited quietly for the kettle to boil and I then set about pouring the hot water. I ducked out underneath Harry’s arm to go to the fridge for milk, smiling when he hadn’t moved from his spot and wordlessly held up his elbow so I could slip back in front of him.

“Hungry?” I asked quietly, turning my neck only half of the way back to look at him before tugging on the string of my teabag as a distraction.

I felt Harry nodding against my head, “I need food and ibuprofen and about three years sleep. Neens, I really am sorry.”

“I know you are,” I put him out of his misery, turning around and resting my tailbone against the bench while holding my steaming mug between our chests.

“I’m home, Nina,” Harry declared softly, “Like, home home. Proper home … Long home, not little home. Me and home, we’re in it for the long haul. Eight weeks of no work phone, that’s gotta be almost silver anniversary status, yeah?”

His self banter made me giggle, and his eyes lit up as mine did, “Do you and home need a moment?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “But my girlfriend and I do.”

Our mugs were set behind us on the counter and it was then that Harry and I finally got our moment of reunion together. Even though he tasted stale from travel, it was still Harry and I kissed him with all I had.

"You need to shower," I scrunched my nose at him when we pulled apart, watching as Harry tangled our hands together.

"Rude," Harry scoffed back. I raised my eyebrows at him. "Come wash my hair?" He asked through a sheepish smile, raising my hand to hip lips and pressing a kiss to my wrist.

“No,” I said petulantly, turning my head away from him, “You’ve killed the mood and I shaved my legs for nothing.”

Harry tilted his head back and let out a fabulous, loud belly laugh. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched him, my heart fluttering from seeing him so happy but trying to keep my face straight. He leaned forward, languidly pulling my body against his and pressing his mouth to the shell of my ear, “I can get the mood back real quick, trust me.”

My toes curled on the tiles below us and I followed him up to the bathroom when he pulled on my arm, a glint in his eye.

+++

Afterwards, Harry refused to have a nap and instead followed me back into the kitchen in just a pair of sleep shorts and a headband I hadn’t the heart to tell him was actually mine, not one of his.

Harry hands rested on my hips as I started the kettle again for tea, but his fingers ghosted around and ended up firmly pressed against my bum, forcing me closer to him as his kisses down the back of my neck became more heated. He let out a breathy laugh against my lips when I flicked some water at him, breaking the contact of his lips on my skin. I let out a definite squeak after Harry gave my backside a hearty squeeze.

“Gotcha,” He taunted quietly, looking quite proud of himself.

I settled myself back on the heels of my feet and turned around to face him, “I don’t appreciate being man handled!”

“Aw,” Harry pressed a kiss to my nose, “But I’m your man, baby. And I’m home.”

I laughed at the megawatt grin on his face, he looked more than proud of himself, “Eggs?”

“Please!” He finally stepped away from me and patted at his non-existent tummy for dramatic effect.

“Sit up,” I gestured to the stools behind the breakfast bar, “I’ll make them now.”

I knew he was watching me, but I soon forgot and let myself focus on assembling everything for eggs on toast. Everything was set out and I was waiting for the pan to heat up on the hob, Harry cleared his throat and when I looked up at him he only raised his eyebrows at me.

“Why aren’t you talking?” He asked after a beat of me looking at him, unsure what he was getting at.

“Huh?”

He pointed to the frypan to remind me it was on the heat, I turned back to it but Harry spoke behind me, “You usually talk to me when you’re cooking.”

“Oh,” I shrugged, cracking three eggs for Harry and two for me into the sizzling butter, “You’re tired and worn out … Figured you could use the quiet.”

“Talk, please,” He responded quickly, without letting my last word hang. “I was a grumpy jerk earlier. I want to chat.”

“Well,” I started slowly, deciding what story might be best to launch into, “I think your Mum had a nice time down here last week for her birthday—

“—She did” Harry interrupted quickly, “She told me multiple times she loved staying with you.”

I moved around to face Harry and bit at the tip of my thumb, “Yeah … She might’ve called me a few days after to reiterate that.”

Harry’s eyes crinkled with a proud smile.

“Um,” I thought for a second, squishing my lips together as I pondered and set out the toast on our plates, “Laykn had a second date with that economics student, Rosie. Won’t tell me anything about it though …”

“I’ll get on it and go for a drink with him, see if I can get more out of him,” Harry winked at me, reaching for the plate I was holding out to him.

I boosted myself up onto the chair next to him, waiting a moment to watch Harry take his first mouthful. When he didn’t have an adverse reaction I was happy to eat myself, it wasn’t unusual that I’d have to get up for salt and pepper to redeem my attempts. Unsurprisingly, he ended up scoffing down his food and then reaching over to fish bits off my plate when I was a little slower than him. Harry always picked at plane food and came off  nearly every flight hungry.

"So ... What are we gonna do with all our freedom?” Harry's warm hand pressed down on my shoulder so I'd sit down when I started gathering up our empty plates, instead he stood and walked them over to the sink, “We have weeks to get thoroughly sick of each other.”

"I figured you'd sleep most of the day today and ... And maybe tonight we could just go for a walk and get Indian or something easy for dinner?"

I watched for Harry's reaction as he rinsed off the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher, "Let's get in the car and drive ... End up somewhere by the sea."

"Tonight?" I asked, confused.

"No," He shook his head and stuck his left arm up to scratch at his right shoulder, "I mean let's go right now. We'll pack and go away for a few days."

"Harry," I laughed, "You've just been away from home for five months."

"Not with you," He replied quickly.

"I'm going to be here!"

“You don’t have anything planned for the next few days, do you?”

“Well, no,” I began, “I thought it would be nice to have a few free days with you—

“—Exactly! Neens, I just want to go and have a few days somewhere where it's just us … I just don't want to feel like the rest of London is watching us all the time. I'm sick of being watched, please?"

He had made his way back around to me, and I turned in my chair so that he could stand between my legs and make his appeal directly to me. I ran my hands over his cheeks and then back up over his head as far as I could reach, scratching at his scalp carefully. I understood what he meant, being on tour was a fishbowl and photos of Harry were streaming in by the minute; the fans and the rest of the world were completely saturated with what felt like his every movement.

"Okay," I agreed, "Whatever you want ... Do you want me to call your mum and tell her we'll be there later—

“—No," He said quickly, "No, I don't want to go to my Mum’s ... Or your parent’s place. I don’t want to see anybody else, I just want us for a bit,” He leant in and kissed my lips slowly, pulling back but only to rest his forehead against mine and watch me.

“Okay,” I nodded.

Harry smiled, “Good. Let’s be on the road by ten.”

*******

In the end, it was more like eleven thirty by the time we got ourselves sorted.

I had expected Harry to collapse on the bed at some point after we were dressed, or while we were packing, but he never did. He never grumbled again, or outwardly looked tired, he was lighthearted and silly and seemed genuinely excited to be heading out of the city with me. I wouldn’t have blamed him for changing the plans in lieu of sleeping once he realised how tired he was. I saw him take two ibuprofen and then it was like the complaints he’d had when I woke him up vanished. Usually, when he got home off a tour he slept for seventeen hours, ate a few meals worth of food, showered when I made him and then passed out on the sofa.

When we started packing our bags, he loudly made a 'no fancy clothes' rule because we weren't going to be going out anywhere while we were away. I thought I was being helpful when I put his Blackberry charger on the bed to be packed but he dramatically snatched it up and threw it across the room.

"Not taking that stupid thing," He muttered, turning on his heel and going into the bathroom to collect our toothbrushes.

When he came back out I was still looking at the cord on the floor near the door, I couldn't remember the last time Harry hadn't obsessed over making sure the charger was with us. He never let his work phone run out of charge.

"No phones," Harry said sternly, frowning when he considered the best thing to pack our toiletries in, "I'm going to put my iPhone on aeroplane mode and just use it for the camera. If someone really needs to reach me they can go through you, and if they don't have your number they don't know me well enough to need me."

"Harry," I said softly, "Is something going on? I mean, is something wrong?”

“What? No,” He responded loudly, the kind of loud that meant he was lying. His stance got defensive and his eyes were wide as he shook his head at me like what I had suggested was preposterous.

“Harry,” I started carefully, “You’re kind of frantic right now. It’s understandable that you’re tired and I get that you want to be away from people, I really do, but the sea will still be there tomorrow after you’ve slept.”

His shoulders slumped, "I'm freaking out a bit, yeah?"

"Just a bit," I nodded, waiting for him to find the words to explain and also giving myself a moment to breathe through the tight feeling that had bubbled up in my chest.

"I got a car back with Tim last night and ... And he's not doing so well, Neens. It made me really sad, then it just made me desperate for ... For not having that happen to us. I mean," Harry tossed his electric shaver onto the bed haphazardly and looked defeated, "Like, he's going home to an empty house for the first time. It sucks."

"H," I went to reach for his hand but it was already on its way up into his hair.

"I know, we're not Tim and Alexis but at the start of the tour they were fine, just like us and now ..."

"It's awful, Harry, I know."

He looked up at me then with red, glassy eyes, "It fucking sucks, Neens."

"So we're going away for a few days," I said simply, hoping he saw that I understood now. Over the course of a few years, Harry had grown to love and trust his tour bassist, Tim who had broken up with his girlfriend shortly after Harry returned to the Asia leg from seeing me in London. Harry found it hard to navigate to to best be a friend to Tim during it all and I’d had my suspicions that Harry had been shaken by it for his own reasons as well.

"Yeah," Harry sniffed. "I don't know exactly what went wrong for them ... But I just need to know that you know I'm gonna be here. And if you every needed me to come back, I would. But also just that ... That I always want to be with you. Always."

"I know," I said, taking the few steps to him and slipping my arms around his waist. "I know you do."

"Good," He nodded, roughly fisting at his eyes where a few tears had fallen. "Fuck, Post Tour Teary Harry, how spectacular."

"Do you want to cuddle and nap before we go?" I whispered. "You're exhausted, Harry."

"No, I want to go find a disgustingly quintessential English seaside cottage and cuddle there."

I silently nodded against his chest, squeezing him once and placing a kiss against his sternum, "Let's get a wriggle on then."

Harry wanted to drive, claiming to have missed his car. And if we were being honest I missed him driving, I hated trying to navigate the stupid thing. I thought he might give it up though, being so tired, but he insisted he was okay.

The first hour up and out of London was spent with Harry expelling story after story from the last few days of tour, which were always especially fun. I laughed along with them all because it was nice hearing stories from someone who was getting paid to do what they loved; even if his job meant he was away a lot it was worth it to see Harry so happy with his lot in life.

Laughing helped the ache in my chest as well.

Driving with no intended destination was interesting, but Harry was filled with a boyish joy every time we got to a major intersection and we picked one way or the other. He was quick to reject any sign that pointed to the areas of the Midlands that were familiar to him. And even though we ended up heading in the same direction up the country, it was nice to be going through different villages to what the main highways take.

"Okay," Harry rested my phone on the bonnet of the car and angled it towards me. We had stopped for lunch about four hours into our drive, "There's a place about an hour away that looks nice, should I call?"

I saw two photos of lake views and a huge bathtub, "Yes. Walks and baths, perfect."

His eyebrows scrunched together, "It's too far to walk to the beach from though, are we okay with driving to the beach?"

"Harry," I latched my hand around his forearm and drew his eyes my way, "It looks perfect."

He paused for a second and then smiled, "Great. Gimme a kiss and then I'll call while you go get some more car snacks."

I reached up on my tippy toes and planted a kiss right in the middle of his lips, "Back in a minute."

I turned around and waited for some traffic before crossing the road to where the little line of shops that made up this small village were. I briefly heard Harry politely greeting someone on the other end of the phone line before I started considering my options for prime road trip munchies.

When I got back to the car Harry was leaning against it, facing the direction I was coming from, with his head tilted back to catch the warmth from the sun. He had pushed his black Ray Bans up to the crown of his head and his legs were casually crossed at his ankles.

"Working on your tan?" I said by way of greeting.

He didn't open his eyes straight away but a lazy smile turned up his face, "Yeah. Some of us get colour when in the sun, you wouldn't know about that though, Miss Pasty.” I swatted at his stomach and he was quick enough to catch my hand and pull me into his chest, "Don't worry, I love you anyway."

"How big of you," I said sarcastically.

“Naw, don’t be nasty, Neens,” Harry kissed my temple and left his lips to rest warmly against my skin. “You smell nice.”

“Thank you,” I smiled up at him and watched as the decision to kiss me played out on his face.

When someone driving past gave their car horn a little toot at us, Harry pulled away with a goofy grin on his face, smacking his lips together where they had just been caught with mine. By the time he got around to his side of the car my blush had subsided and I let Harry take my hand in his as he pulled out into the road again.

It was still light when we got to the neighbouring village to the cottage Harry booked. He pulled up at one of the houses in town and kissed me quick on the cheek, saying he’d be right back. I watched as he jumped up the steps and knocked on the front door. He talked briefly with an older gentleman who looked around Harry at me at one point, I held up my hand in a wave. Harry took a key and piece of paper from him, shook his hand and then made his way back to the car.

“So the house is about ten minutes away on the lake,” Harry began, handing me the map and crossing his seatbelt back across his body, “He said his wife went out there earlier to put the lights on for us, and a few basics in the fridge for tonight and tomorrow morning. He said there’s a Tesco in the village that opens at eight a.m.”

“Right, well, I can guarantee we won’t be there at that time,” I said quickly.

Harry laughed briefly but was then the picture of concentration when I started pointing out the little streets and back roads we needed to be taking. Eventually, we were crawling up a tree lined driveway towards the dull light from a beautiful, white house.

“This place is so much bigger in real life,” I marvelled, leaning forward in my seat as more and more of the cottage came into view.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry began, “I really should have told you the phone screen wasn’t to scale.”

I hit him in the arm, “Don’t be a git.”

Once we had figured out the locks on the door and dumped all our luggage in the lounge area, it took the two of us all of three minutes to spread out across the entire house and find the best bits. There were four bedrooms, two living areas, three bathrooms and a strange library conservatory hybrid in the centre of the second floor.

I found Harry lying flat on his back on the floor of the master bedroom ensuite.

“Wow,” I leaned against the doorframe, “Having a good time there?”

“I was just standing …” He said, his eyes not opening as he let out a slow breath of air, “And then I thought, ‘Harry, it’s time to lie down, you’re tired, mate.’ So now I’m lying down and Neens, it’s really nice.”

“Ah, okay,” I sang lightly, stepping into the room and crouching onto my knees next to him, it was obvious his exhaustion hit him all at once, “I think it’s time for bed, yeah?”

“Nina,” His palm landed on my knee and when Harry turned his head to me his eyes were open, “I’m really happy right now. Let’s sleep here.”

“That’s a terrible idea, Harry,” I whispered, covering his hand with my own, “Let’s count backwards from thirty and by the time we’re done you’ll be in bed and half asleep. Ready? Thirty … Twenty nine …”

“Oh,” He faked crying, but pushed himself up onto his elbows, “You’re so awful to me.”

“I truly am … Twenty eight,” I stood up and braced as much of Harry’s weight as I could manage, “Twenty seven.”

When he was standing he loped his arms heavily over my shoulders and leaned against me clumsily, “Nina, you don’t have to keep counting.”

“Twenty six …” I said, “I feel like now that I’ve started it’s something I’ve got to finish.”

“You don’t,” Harry said softly, leaning out and dropping his head down to my level for a slow kiss, “You got me off the floor,” I sucked in a breath as his fingers slotted into the top of my jeans, skirting around to my hips and then back to the zipper, “Let’s shower before bed, hmm?”

“We showered this morning at home,” I said hoarsely.

“We definitely need to shower again.”

I could only look up and watch Harry’s eyes as his long fingers expertly popped the button of my jeans and slowly shimmied them down over my hips. He kissed my knee on the way back up and I braced my hands on his shoulders as he stood. Harry silently tugged on the bottom of my shirt, prompting me to lift my arms so he could remove it too, when it was gone he traced the outlines of my bra with the backs of his fingers.

“God, I’ve missed you,” He breathed out, voice cracking as he looked back up and just blinked at me. “Does it make me a dick to say that when I’m getting you naked?”

I shook my head back and forth twice, never breaking eye contact but slowly reaching out for Harry’s t-shirt, I gripped the material at his shoulders and pulled it up. Harry’s hands went down to pull it over his head and he backstopped out of his jeans when I tugged them down his legs.

When I was standing upright again Harry’s hands came up to my face and held it carefully, looking across my features carefully before pulling me in for a languid, hot kiss. A kiss that moved into our bodies pressed against each other and Harry slowly removing our final pieces of clothing. My breathing was getting heavier and Harry noticed, because he wrapped his arms around me to still us.

“I’m sorry,” He kissed the hollow of my ear, “I know I started this … But I’m so tired nothing we do from here will be any good for either of us.”

I let out a small laugh and leaned in to kiss his chest, “It’s alright. Tomorrow.”

Unlike earlier this morning, we showered together in the most innocent of ways, although this time he shampooed my hair. Once we were out Harry had just enough energy to pull back the duvet and roll himself underneath before he was out and completely unresponsive. It was still only early in the evening, so I took a few extra minutes to slip into some sleep shorts and a jumper, before unpacking a few of our things and trotting downstairs to make a cup of tea.

I did a slow walking tour of the house then, mug in hand and the fingers of my other hand dancing across surfaces and picking up trinkets to find their purpose. It felt magical, to be somewhere unfamiliar but homey with Harry. I found myself thinking he’d been quite astute in thinking we needed some isolated time together. By the time I was back upstairs, pulling back the covers on my side of the bed, Harry had already rearranged himself onto his stomach and kicked one leg out of the duvet and back on top of it.

I got in quietly, and held my breath for a moment to make sure that I hadn’t woken him up. When he didn’t move or make a sound I let my back sink into the mattress and took a moment to be fully comforted by the fact he was merely lying beside me. I thought of all the countess nights I’d fallen asleep on my own, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to trick myself into believing Harry was actually in the bed with me. But every morning I’d wake up alone and have to force myself into positivity again; force myself into being happy for him. So many nights I fell asleep to the sound of my own tears, and woke up in the morning to a headache from them. And for some unknown reason the overwhelming sense of relief I felt right now had me crying here too. Silent tears that rolled uncomfortably down my face and tickled my neck, and it was impossible to stop them so I let them go, breathing steadily but biting my lip to stop any sobs coming out.

It just felt so unreal to be in a moment I had held as a beacon of hope for so long. It felt like I’d been holding down the fought by myself for a lifetime, and all Harry had to do was walk in the door and suddenly I could breathe again. He was warranted in his fear of turning out like Tim and Alexis, because while he was away there was something about us that seemed so false, so conditional. I understood why them breaking up had shaken him so much, because while I had no reason to, there was something in every day that had me thinking perhaps today would be the day a delicate cord between Harry and I might be severed, taking everything down with it.

Sometimes, fragility was beautiful.

The rest of the time it was fucking terrifying.

*******

Harry didn’t wake up until almost two p.m. the following day.

I heard his heavy footsteps coming down the stairs from my spot cocooned in a rug on the sofa. They were slow at first but once he got to the top of the stairs he called out my name, I responded, and he jogged the rest of the way to me.

“It’s the afternoon!” He said, breathless and diving into the spot next to me, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Hello,” I said into his kiss, “I wanted you to rest. You obviously needed the sleep.”

“What have you done all day?” He asked, peeling the book out of my hands and not bothering to look where it ended up on the floor. At least he’d managed to slip my bookmark into the right page.

My eyes followed it momentarily but then Harry’s hands pulling apart my blankets distracted me, “Hey, I’m warm.”

“Wanna be warm with you,” He mumbled, frowning as he turned his body around and coaxed me into his lap with the blanket now over his shoulders and around me too. “Just been reading?”

“Yep,” I nodded, covering Harry’s cheek with my hand when he rested his head on my shoulder. “And I went into the Tescos earlier for some food type things, it’s a sweet little village. They only had the milk chocolate Digestives though—

—No,” Harry dramatically threw his head back against the sofa, “Milk chocolate sucks.”

I laughed for a second before he settled back against me, “You feeling better?”

“Positively refreshed … And starving,” He laughed, “But human again … Sorry about yesterday …”

“Sorry?” I questioned, trying to get a look at his face but Harry’s eyes were directed at his hands. “Harry,” I nudged him with my knee.

“You were crying last night,” He said in a small voice.

I looked away and rested my head back against the cushions, “You heard …”

“I woke up and I think you’d only just fallen asleep, but you left the lamp on and I could see your face. What was going on, Neens?”

“Just having a moment,” I smiled at him. Harry sat up next to me and took my hands into his lap. “I’m okay.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Nina. Why were you crying? ‘Cause I was a dick yesterday at home? ‘Cause I was crabby at you?”

“No,” I replied urgently, but my voice didn’t have any of the weight I wanted it to, it sounded pathetic.

“Nina,” He warned sternly.

“Okay,” I sighed, “You … It hurt when you didn’t … When you were less that excited I was there yesterday, it hurt that you didn’t make a fuss like you usually do. I mean, I know it was only four weeks ago that you came to London—

“—Stop,” Harry told me, “Don’t make excuses, I hurt your feelings.”

I felt like I was going to cry, “I missed you. And I know it takes a few days for you to switch out of tour mode, that you’re all go-go-go until you get off the plane at Heathrow and you collapse at home. I know your job is physically and mentally and emotionally taxing, Harry.”

“But …” He prompted, not looking defensive or accusatory.

“But … But when you’re away I’m at home counting down the days until you’re back,” I took a deep breath and tried not to let any tears escape, “I’m just holding onto the hope that in three months … In two weeks … today, will be the day you come back and I get to feel like you’re a real thing I get to have that’s special and mine and no one else’s … And then I guess, you come back ready to shut down to rehabilitate but I’m just gearing up to launch into just being together and … And it clashes a bit.”

“Neens,” Harry swallowed, and I heard the slightest sniff from him, “I don’t … I didn’t want to shut you out, that’s not what I was … I just … When I got back I …”

He had no idea what to say, and I didn’t know how to extend anything out to him to help.

“I was crying last night because I was relieved you were home, and I wasn’t alone anymore,” I said after a moment or two of silence. “It just caught up to me that you were safe and well and happy in the bed next to me. That’s all I ever want for you, Harry. And I know that towards the end of tour you’re often not those three things anymore like you are when you first leave me … I worry about you.”

Harry seemed to spend some time to take in what I had said, and after a few minutes he nodded solemnly, “I know you worry … And I think … I think sometimes people simplify it—and I go along with it—but they think the hardest part about being apart or me being ‘on tour’,” He used his pointer fingers as air commas, “They think it’s all about staying faithful, that the challenge is not cheating. But that’s a load of shit and quite frankly kind of insulting,” Harry’s frown was deep set, “It’s easy not cheating. It’s really, really easy being faithful,” He shrugged, “That part of it is simple. What isn’t simple is navigating emotions and anticipating your needs over the phone, or trying to figure out how tired you are over Skype. Trying to work out where you need motivation or encouragement from me in your life, and working out what you’re not saying when I don’t see everything. If I’ve had a shit day I can avoid you, or I can edit things to make you feel better about my being away. Or … Or I can blame you and lash out when you don’t automatically get stuff; when I have to explain through my frustrations.”

“It’s so much easier when we’re together,” I added at the end.

“Exactly,” He sighed, “We can’t always have the right conversation on different continents. Not properly.”

I thought carefully about whether or not to say the next thing, “Awhile ago when I saw her, before they broke up, Alexis said her and Tim weren’t talking anymore … Not like they used to. I didn’t think too much of it but I look back on it now …”

“I didn’t really notice he wasn’t mentioning her much anymore,” Harry nodded slowly, “Tim said it was too late when he was scrambling at the end to save it, that they’d both hurt each other too deeply to be able to fix it over Skype.”

“I don’t want that to ever be us, Harry,” I melted my body further into his, desperate for connection.

“I just don’t want us to hurt each other,” Harry agreed, “Or when I do you’ve got to tell me, Neens.”

“I knew you didn’t mean to hurt me yesterday,” I defended him.

“Who knows though,” He argued, “Maybe that’s where it starts. Maybe it starts with unintentional bumps that neither of us notice, or think are serious, and then …”

“… Then comes stuff I don’t want to sit here and think about any longer,” I finished.

Harry held me tightly then, "Let's go for a walk. Around the lake."

And just like that he was up, charging around the place getting warmer clothes and jackets, and finding walking boots and scarves even though it wasn't that cool out. He was suddenly giddy and excited about exploring, it was infectious and I laughed until my sides hurt as Harry layered us both up and swatted at my backside to get me out the door. But the time we were outside the whole sad mood had lifted from us, Harry's cheeks were red from the wind and his hand latched onto mine tightly.

We walked in silence for a long while, balancing on the edges of a one person path side by side. Whenever there was a puddle he would try and force me to lose my footing just before it, or blatantly try and push me into it. It always ended in a good cuddle though, because I'd scream and then grab hold of some part of Harry’s body which he would then manipulate into a side hug.

It was cold down on the lake, the wind coming off it tangled in my hair and made a shiver run down my spine. But it was beautiful because the sun's reflection was hitting it at just the right angle for beams to strike at the trees all around. It was the perfect evening with the ever present chill that covered Northern England.  

I knew from experience there wasn’t much in life Harry loved more than getting lost on long walks. Every time we went home to spend time with his mum, or with my family, he would always drag me out into the countryside to spend a few quiet hours together; palms, fingers and souls locked. Sometimes Harry would want to chat, but more often then not it was simply being together that was enough. Anne had told me once that as a kid—even a teenager—it wasn’t unusual for Harry to disappear for an afternoon and come home with muddy wellies and wind-chapped lips.

We stopped walking when the path came almost to the water’s edge, right in the centre of a wide opening in the trees that meant we had a breathtaking view of a wider area of the water. I adjusted myself in front of Harry, smiling to myself when he easily rested his arms over my shoulder and latched them together across my chest.

“What would you do if Nessie stuck her head of the water, right there?” I pointed out at the centre of the lake.

I felt Harry’s laugh against the crown of my head, “Definitely not tell Scotland, it would destroy them. Can you imagine?”

I turned around in his arms, “I think if I was Scotland I’d want to know my whole life had been a lie.”

“C’mon … There’s another clearing a little bit further ahead.”

It never occurred to me to question how Harry might know there was a second clearing coming up. But the path got a little rocky, and Harry backed himself down so he could hold my hands and help me keep my footing. I was staring at my feet the whole way and when we were finally at the bottom I looked around, but kept my eyes up where the was now a wall of trees around us and then a steep incline into the water. It looked like a spot that might be where people swam in summer.

I stumbled over as close as I could get to the edge without feeling like a might fall and just looked out over it all. This wasn’t the same was looking over the Themes, or even like watching the ocean in Blackpool, this water was calm and smooth. I wished there was some way to be sitting out in it.

“Nina.”

I turned back to look for Harry and just like that my calm, smooth thoughts were gone. He was still back where the trail ended and I hadn’t realised he wasn’t right behind me anymore.

Harry was down on one knee holding out a ring box in front of himself, his smile growing slowly as I took him in. I watched him for what felt like a long moment, but really it would have only been a few seconds. I noticed his hands shaking slightly and the way his very expensive jeans were covered in dirt.

My eyes went back up to where Harry hadn’t moved a muscle except when he waved me forward, coaxing me to come closer to him. Harry laughed when I stumbled a bit, my hands shaking but somehow completely ready for what was about to happen.

“Nina Mae,” He started formally, with a fondness that seeped straight to my tummy, “I love you … Beyond what I ever thought I could. And everyday with you is safe and happy and … And full of love. I feel like I already said that,” He backtracked quickly, but then seemed to snap back onto task, “But … It’s true. I’m an idiot who can’t remember what he wanted to say … Just that …” He took a deep breath and steadied himself, “I love you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” I said without any hesitation an barely giving him time to finish the question.

Harry’s eyes widened, “Yeah?”

My eyes went glassy so I nodded my head instead, “Yes.”

Harry gave me the most magnificent smile I think I’d ever seen, and as my own face cracked into happiness so too did the tears fall. I gave him my left hand when he reached for it, and tried to hold still enough as he plucked the ring from the box and fumbled his way into putting it on my finger. I couldn’t see though happy tears and it wasn’t until Harry launched up at me and picked me up into a hug that I looked over his shoulder at my hand.

“Harry what the fuck is this ring!”

When he put me down his face was right up to mine, I noted his tears and the way his smile hadn’t dropped a millimetre, “What?” But he instantaneously looked panic-stricken, “Do you not like it?”

He’d taken my hand in his and was holding it between us, “No, you idiot, it’s gorgeous, it just looks like it cost more than a car!”

Immediately he started shaking his head at me, “No, we’re not talking about how much it cost, only what it means. And it means that I get to see you wear it every day for the rest of our lives.”

I quietened, drinking his last words in, “The rest of our lives,” I mused.

His face exploded in a beaming grin again as his arms wound around my waist and rocked me, “Yeah. You like that?”

“I love it,” I said and hooked my hand around the base of his neck, pulling his lips down to where I could reach them.

Harry’s hands cradled my face as we kissed, but it was a hopeless way of expressing our happiness when breathy laughs and huge smiles were still our reactions. I didn’t care because surging through me—more than possibly any kiss could convey—was such a feeling of togetherness and just being completely in love with the man in front of me. I didn’t care if our lips were bumping and our noses were knocking each other out of reach.

Somehow though, we figured out how to express everything with our bodies. The kisses slowed down eventually, Harry’s hands lingered lower on my body. I might’ve liked to have taken in more of the lake, but that was before I climbed back up the hill Harry’s fiancé. I could hardly take my eyes off him for a second as we walked back, both our faces split in grins and red from happiness. Harry had his phone out and kept taking photos of me and of the two of us together.

It wasn’t long before my mind was suddenly rushing with a hundred questions for him.

“How long have you had the ring?

“Oh,” Harry breathed out slowly, swinging our joined hands between us, “I … Uh, I got it in New York.”

I pulled back quickly and had to squint through the growing sunset, “New York?”

Harry looked down at me dumbfounded, like he couldn’t understand why my tone had changed, “What’s the problem?”

I frowned, “That was months ago.”

My hips were convincingly pressed back against Harry’s then when he seemed to understand I was curious, not upset. He leaned down to kiss me once with smiling eyes, “Yeah, it was a while back. It was virtually just after you were with me for the first week of tour … I drove you to the airport then went straight into the jeweller and picked it out.”

“Harry …”

“I’ve had it in my luggage for five months and been terrified something would happen and I’d lose my bags, or you’d find it. It’s been a petrifying secret to have, trust me.”

He waited for a few moments, watching me as I thought about all the time that had passed with Harry having this magnificent thing hidden in with his stupid t-shirts and smelly socks. Eventually though, he leaned down again and snuck his hands underneath my shirt before guiding me into another brilliant kiss.

“What about our families?”

Harry hummed a laugh, “They knew. I rang your dad in a panic the minute I left the shop.”

“My dad?” I looked over at him as we started walking again.

“Well,” He took a deep breath and had a glint in his eyes that told me story time was beginning, “Last Christmas when I told him I wanted to ask you to marry me he requested to see the ring, which at that stage I didn’t have, so when I had it I just sort of felt like I had to tell him first.”

“What did he say?” I asked. “Wait, last Christmas? As in, more than a year ago you told my dad you wanted to marry me?”

Harry smiled broadly, “I knew well before last Christmas, but yeah. It was a year ago I started properly thinking about it. I waited until now thought because I didn’t want to propose and then fuck off for six months, that felt unfair.”

I tilted my head to one side, “I’d have said yes a year ago.”

“I know,” Harry replied simply. “Back then your dad told me I’d be stupid not to ask you, and that he knew the first time he met me that one day I’d want to marry you.”

“Really?” I grinned.

“Yeah, your dad’s an old softie.” Harry squeezed my hand, “And when I called him from New York he asked me if I was scared. I told him I was petrified!” He laughed, “And I showed my mum and Gem the ring a few months later when they visited me in the States in summer, from then on basically any time I’ve been with any of them—my family or yours—I’ve just been getting harassed about when I was going to ask you.”

“They haven’t!” I was horrified at the thought.

“Oh my god,” Harry cried out dramatically, covering his eyes with his free hand for a moment, “I was sure you’d notice all the looks they were giving me at Christmas this year. The number of times I was positive you were about to walk in on a conversation I didn’t want you to overhear … I gave your brother a dead arm one morning because you walked in right as he asked me if I wanted him to ask you for me. Fucking idiot.”

“I didn’t realise at all!”

He squished up his nose, “I’m glad … But it was okay … They’re all just excited. Your brother has put himself in charge of my Stag do as well which I’m a bit scared for, if I’m honest. It’s been killing Gemma too, as soon as I told her she was furious at me for giving her a secret she couldn’t tell you.”

“I had no idea …”

“Good,” Harry looked over at me in mock seriousness, “‘Cause I told her if you ever got wind of anything she was the prime suspect, stinking tattletale.”

“You’ve all had this really big secret,” I pouted, but smiled when Harry leant over to kiss it away.

“T’was a good secret though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“I mean, also completely terrifying,” Harry added in a rush.

“Why terrifying?”

“Because I had no idea what to say!” He exclaimed, “How do you ask the most important person in your life to tether themselves to your tree forever?” I held back a laugh, loving the way Harry came out with the most ridiculous ways of saying things when he got passionate and silly like this, “There’s a lot of pressure to plan everything perfectly and then say the right thing, Neens."

I suddenly froze and grabbed his wrist, "Wait."

Harry paused and looked puzzled by my stopping, "What?"

"Is this ..." I pointed all around us, "This wasn't all just a last minute thing, was it? You had this place booked ages ago."

A slow smile crept over Harry's face, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Harry!" I cried out, "You knew we were coming here! It was all an act, convincing me to come, taking random turns all the way here. You'd already booked it and knew exactly where we were coming!"

"No comment."

"You're a liar!" I accused through a smile, jabbing my index finger to his chest.

Harry snatched my hand and squeezed his palm over it, "You really think I've had the ring for nearly a year but wouldn't plan the proposal?"

"You're the worst! I was worried about you packing us up in a flurry all anxious and jittery."

"Well the jitters weren't fake ..." He smiled at me, "I’ve been recording notes on my phone for months. In fact," He pulled on my arm and draped his over my shoulder, walking us back up the final path to the front door, "I very nearly asked you to marry me at 4am in that hotel room after your debut."


"You did?"
 "Yeah," Harry nodded, "I left you in the room and was downstairs waiting for my car and just thought, 'You idiot, Harry, why do you keep leaving this woman without her wearing that ring?' All I wanted to do was run back up and ask you right then, flight to Japan be damned."

"So many secrets," I shook my head playfully at him.

He kissed my palm in response, "No more now."

We made it to the house and when we pulled apart to take off our shoes and outer layers it wasn’t long before we were joined hands again and tugging on arms to get back to the house as quickly as we could.

“Can I listen to them?” I asked, almost tripping over the entrance-way mat when we fell through the front door together, Harry and I joined at the lips and his fingers tugging on the zip of my jeans again.

“Huh?” He forced out, walking himself backwards through he living room. His shirt was already off, with his jeans looking to follow soon.

“The voice recordings,” I reminded him, jumping slightly when his cold fingers slid against the skin around my hips.

“Nina,” He let out a deflating groan, “Later,” His lips traced the line from my ear, along my jaw and almost to the side of my mouth.

“Sorry,” I said quickly.

He whispered lowly, right into my ear, “I know you can be a curious little thing sometimes, but right now I’ve got other priorities. Because my beautiful, gorgeous, sexy girlfriend is now my fiancée ... So I’d really love to just spend some time—a lot of time really—just completely ravishing her, yeah?”

I blushed and nodded against his chest, feeling daft but in a warming, endearing way, “Yep, okay.”

“Alright,” He breathed out, his hands slipping underneath my jeans and moulding around my bum, “I love you.”

Harry slowly started lifting my layers of clothing off, pressing his lips over any newly exposed skin he deemed necessary to kiss. The joy bubbled in my stomach, not only at his contact, but every time my eye caught my left ring-finger my need to feel Harry got more urgent.

He wasn’t lying either when he said he wanted to take his time, although when it came down to it he still had weeks of exhaustion under his belt, mixed with the joy and celebration of the day. Movements were clumsy in spots, and awe giggled our way through a few mishaps. But Harry knew my body, and his forehead creased in beautiful concentration as he did everything he could to pleasure us both.

We could only last so long before I was snuggled into his side, trying to catch my breath completely content. It had been a funny back and forth between us, because while I was charged with the excitement of the engagement, Harry was slow and considered, enjoying the fact this was the kind of love that was made when we knew we wouldn’t be separated in a few days, and I supposed it was some kind of relief to him as well, that he'd been thinking about this moment for months and now he could enjoy it.  

I hadn’t noticed him fiddling with his phone until I heard Harry’s voice fill the room.

“Uh, okay. Proposal idea number one: Ask her at Brighton Pier … Like every other stupid boyfriend … No, no. Maybe Blackpool? The waterfront is nice there. You could have tea-light candles on the beach.”

“Stupid idea, candles wouldn't stay lit outside,” Realtime Harry said, rolling over onto his side to face me and holding the phone between us. I watched as he clicked on the next recording.

“No matter what you say, you’ve gotta start with ‘I love you’. Then something about how she makes everything better. And maybe something about the start, when she would hardly talk to you but it just made you want her so much more … And so you’ve always known having her in your life was a gift … A privilege. Ah shit, call Mum and ask her for ideas.”

I giggled at the last bit, knowing Harry definitely would’ve called Anne for help.

“Will you marry me … Will you do the honour of marrying me … The honour of becoming my wife … I want to be the man you call your husband … Shit, no … Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” I said aloud, smiling softly when Harry’s eyes met mine.

He had already hit play on another recording but I didn’t register what it was saying, instead I propped myself up on one elbow and leant over him. Harry naturally fell onto his back as I moved, letting me rest across his chest and tangle my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck.

“Are you happy?” He asked quietly, searching my face for the answer before I gave it.

“So happy,” I swallowed back emotion, “So, so happy. I can’t wait to be your wife. I mean, it sounds weird now, but happy weird, you know?”

“Yeah I know,” Harry grinned, “I’ve been picturing it for months now, like more than just the idea of it like when we were dating, really imagining what it would be like.”

"Hmmm," I pondered, "Being Harry Styles' wife ... Am I old enough to do that?"

"I certainly think so," Harry was quick to supply, and while I knew he wanted to say more I was much more pleased when he didn't. I didn't want to think about anyone else's opinion of this at all right now. I had been stupid to even mention what I had.

"Wife Nina," I mused slowly.

"I don't want to wait," Harry said, "You said you can't wait to be my wife and I know that's just an expression but ... Let's actually do it, Neens. I don't wanna be engaged forever. I want to be your husband, at your earliest convenience, of course," He finished with a silly voice but it took nothing away from his urgency at the beginning.

Let's actually do it ... I want to be your husband.

I had a thought that turned my cheeks pink and Harry noticed straight away, his knuckles came up to my face and pressed against the blush, “Stop,” I whined.

His green eyes met mine, “Did you think something naughty?”

“No!” I tugged on his hair, “I just thought that … I think you’ll be really hot as a husband.”

“I’d prefer if you interchanged ‘hot’ with ‘wonderful’,” Harry corrected, but he was smiling a cheeky smile that had me wanting to roll my eyes at him.

“That too,” I deadpanned, leaning back into him where we had naturally moved apart to talk.

Instead of starting another conversation though, I slotted my leg between Harry’s and smiled to myself when his eyes widened at the movement. I took my time leaning in for the kiss he knew was coming, holding myself over him and just grinning when he moved his head up to meet me and I pulled back ever so slightly.

When our lips finally met Harry wanted it, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders so I couldn’t move back again and before I could build the kiss up his teeth were already lightly tugging at my bottom lip, giving perfect access to his tongue tracing the bitten skin.

When I rearranged myself so my hips were further up the bed and I could control our movements better we were both startled by Harry’s voice continuing to come out of his phone. Harry looked down to where it had been wedged underneath is arm and was now where we could hear it again. I couldn't care less about the phone and instead focussed on nipping at a small patch of skin at Harry’s collarbone, he moaned and squeezed my hips.

“Neens,” He rasped, “I’m so completely down for what’s happening here, just … Just for god’s sake help me pause this stupid recording!” He was fumbling with the phone and the sheets and I laughed at his obvious distress, his breathing laboured and eyes wild in desire, “I can’t listen to myself talk while you’re naked on top of me and giving me a hickey.”

“Alright, okay,” I swatted his hand away and held the side button of his phone down, just resorting to turning the thing off completely. “There,” I heavily placed it in his hand to make a point.

“Brilliant, thanks,” He dropped the phone over his shoulder behind him, forgotten, and ghosted his fingers over the bare skin across my neck, “Hi, fiancé.”

I bit my lip and his hands worked back underneath the covers and went straight for the backs of my thighs, “Hi.”

+++

Author will do tricks (more chapters) for praise

[writemywaytoyourheart]

One → Two

a/n: guess who finally got a laptop mofos? when I say that this fic has given me grief.....I am in no way exaggerating,,,, but, the past is behind us! let’s just enjoy it now 😅 pls...I seriously hope y’all like this. technically it’s still Friday for some people ;) and I promise that the story will get better as we go along.

Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of alcohol consumption, a creeper dude, emotional abuse, insinuations of past sexual abuse, insinuations of self harm, language.

Word count: 3.7k

Trigger Warning: if you are easily triggered by this type of stuff, pls don't read it. I have some fluff on my account, you should enjoy that instead! Here's a link to my other works → BTS ML

Tag list: @melikeylikeyjimin

If you wanna be on the tag list, send me an ask or dm :)

Daisies in the Dark Masterlist

All stories have a beginning and all stories have an end.

But, how does one know where to start a story? And maybe, sometimes we don't want to know the end; since unfortunately, not all stories have a good finish. Perhaps we'd like to leave it unfinished and rewrite it in our minds, because all humans want a happy ending.

You're still reading so I guess you'd like to see for yourself how this story goes.

Have you ever heard the story of how the sun fell in love with the moon?

No?

Well, you're about to...

And I can't promise you that it's going to go the way you'd like.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

3 yrs before the incident

One more chance. I'll give her one more chance, you thought as you grit your teeth, watching your once best friend in the lunch line chatting it up with the annoying girl from history class.

Your breath caught in your throat when your former bff Lena made eye contact with you from across the cafeteria after filling her lunch tray. A small smile went to find it's way onto your face when Lena's eye contact lingered, but it was gone in a matter of seconds when she just twitched an eyebrow and sauntered off to sit at a table across the room; the conversation between Lena and her new bestie continuing as if nothing had happened.

So it was true, she'd left you for someone else. Like you were worth nothing more to that girl than a tissue; use it once and throw it away. Not a very good comparison at the time, but that's all you could think of as you watched them sit down; you were worth no more than a small used tissue.

Figures...

Your hands started to twitch awkwardly not knowing what to do with themselves now and you stared at the lasagna on your lunch tray; if you could even call it that–all it was was a lump of overcooked noodles drenched in sauce the color of a burnt tomato with who knows what posing as the ground beef, covered in a crispy layer of cheese.

You definitely weren't hungry, but staring at the sad excuse for lunch in front of you and contemplating life as nothing more than a wisp of a tissue floating through the air, not knowing where it might end up–was better than watching Lena start a new chapter without you.

It didn't make sense, you were best friends...weren't you? Guess it didn't matter now, since a friendship takes two people to make it work, and seeing as one was currently occupied elsewhere, you would have to make do with what you had, which was...a depressed piece of lasagna staring at you from it's home on the untouched tray. You poked at it with your fork and looked at it-thinking. Then you whispered to the disheartening meal,

"Oh well...at least you're not gonna leave me for that annoying- what was her name? I don't even know, but who cares, right?"

Then you suddenly realized what you were doing and looked up quickly in embarrassment, afraid someone had seen you. But the regular drone of kids talking, shouting and laughing was the same as always. Of course no one had noticed, because you were invisible.

And you were talking to a piece of lasagna.

Highschool was great....

You were a senior this year, at seventeen. At least this was the last year of hell, then you could do whatever you wanted. You had a lot of things you wanted to do and places to travel to, maybe you couldn't do them all but you'd be damned if you didn't at least try.

But one thing was for sure, you couldn't just sit there and stare at that fake lasagna pretending like Lena wasn't betraying you right across the room. So you got up and brought your uneaten food to the window where kids leave their empty lunch trays and put your tray down, but kept the small carton of chocolate milk. Then headed out of the cafeteria to spend the rest of your lunchbreak in the library. You fiddled with the unopened milk carton and mumbled to yourself while you walked,

"It's fine, I don't need her anyway."

Just numb the pain.

That wasn't the first or the last time.

-

-

2 yrs before the incident

"Uhhh, ya know what little missy? I think if you give me twenty-five percent off everything, maybe we could come to a compromise?"

This man......was going to die in a minute if he kept going on like this.

You tried your hardest not to just scream at this pervert to leave and say you wouldn't do a damn thing for him. You just settled for licking your dry lips while he started to smirk at you. He brought his hand up to rest against the counter, then started to slowly tap his fingers. You made eye contact with him and said sternly, "I'm sorry sir, but I can't do that."

"What if I give you my phone number? And we'll make it fifteen percent..." He tried again, not once breaking eye contact with you.

"Excuse me sir-"

"Yes, doll?"

"Do you have a coupon?"

"No, I don't bu-"

"Then no, we can't move the price down at all, would you like to pay the full price or leave sir?" You stared him dead in the eyes, this creep, you thought angrily, how dare he call me that? I hope he just leaves, I don't care if he doesn't buy anything. The man leaned over the cash register, "hmm, this isn't very good customer service. Maybe I won't come back." Please don't, you thought, but instead of saying that you settled for, "it's not about customer service, this is store policy, I'm sorry sir but I can't do anything."

"Ya know what? I like it when you call me sir- you say that a lot to me....what's a pretty little lady like you doing working in a rundown grocery store, hm? What about college? You're what, eighteen? If you'd like, I can give you my number and you won't have to worry about this job, I'll take care of you." He smirked and arched an eyebrow at you from the other side of the counter.

It was probably a good thing there was a big cash register between the two of you, since you weren't sure what would've happened if you had free range. By now your brain was just blurry and you saw nothing but blackness because of the fury settling inside. What a disgusting man. You didn't care if you got fired, you were gonna teach him a lesson or two about trying to get young girls to do stuff for him in exchange for money. You leaned forward which made him lean back in surprise, then you said loud enough for the other people in line to hear,

"If you do not pay the full price right here right now, then leave. If you think I'm looking for a sugar daddy then you are sadly mistaken. You have enough money to pay for a girl's life in exchange for your own personal services, so you have enough to pay the full thirty five dollars. There are people waiting behind you so make up your mind now, sir." You said the last word mockingly and raised an eyebrow at him in defiance. The man's eyes grew in shock, then he glared at you but he didn't say a word as he threw forty bucks in your direction, grabbed his bags and stomped out of the store.

You took a deep breath and smiled at the next customer who cautiously came forward with their items.

-

The second you stepped through the door after working a twelve hour shift you slumped against the wall and yanked your sneakers off; dropping them to the floor carelessly. The apartment was dark so you assumed your mom wasn't home- probably out drinking away her troubles again. Walking into the kitchen, you sighed at the sink full of dirty dishes, and the counters that were no better. The smell wasn't too bad, probably because your nose was used to it by now. You walked to a cupboard and rummaged around until you found a sleeve of saltine crackers. After that you grabbed the softened butter and a knife and walked to your room; stepping over and around the miscellaneous junk spread throughout the apartment.

After about an hour of sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone and munching on what your dinner was that night, you heard the door open and what you could only assume was your mother stumble inside. Your mother's heels clacked against the hard floor by the door, then a heavier pair of footsteps could be heard with them. You sighed deeply, but stayed as quiet as you could. Not again, you thought miserably. Just, please just go do whatever you're gonna do and leave me alone, you prayed silently squeezing your eyes shut.

There was a lot of stumbling and cursing and your chest was tight with anxiety, scared that at any moment they would drunkenly come into your room by accident. Eventually, your mother's bedroom door slammed shut and you let out the breath you had been holding. Thank you God, thank you, you clasped your hands and shook them, then carefully and as quietly as you could, you set the remaining crackers and butter on your nightstand. Then you shifted in bed to lie on your left side and tried to make sure the bed didn't creak at your movements– cringing a little when it squeaked a bit. It was gonna be alright, he–whoever he was, didn't know you were in the house.

You closed your eyes and tried to ignore the lingering feeling on your skin, even though it had been over a year since the last time. You stuffed your hands over your ears, willing yourself to sleep despite whatever was going on on the other side of the wall.

-

Morning came all too soon, and with it a massive pounding headache from the lack of sleep. You groaned when the sun hit your eyes and made the darkness an annoying shade of orangey red from behind your eyelids, your brain in a fog from the tiny bit of sleep you were able to get even though it was plagued by nightmares. Then you suddenly snapped awake and shot up in bed, grabbing your chest and feeling all around yourself frantically, breathing a sigh of relief when you felt your shirt still on your body. You were okay, it was just another nightmare. You tried to steady your breathing while taking deep breaths in and blowing them out slowly. Then you looked towards the door and cupped a hand by your ear; listening intently. After a minute or two of silence that didn't really prove anything, you sighed and swung your legs out of bed- planting your feet on the floor despite laundry being scattered everywhere. Sneaking towards the door you put an ear to it then slowly turned the knob. Normally you wouldn't even be risking going out of the safety of your room but you really had to pee, you would just have to be quick.

You scurried quietly to the bathroom and when you were finished you were on your way back when your mom's door swung open. You flinched and wrung your hands keeping your eyes downcast, too afraid to look up. But then you sighed in relief when it was only your mother that pushed past you to go to the bathroom. You decided to risk it and peeked into your mom's bedroom. A weight lifted off your chest at the sight of the empty bed–he must have left earlier.

-

"Aren't you supposed to be working or something? Why're you just sitting around reading?" Your mother scoffed at you from the doorway, after slamming your bedroom door open to confront you.

You set your book down–not ready for another fight, "they gave me today off, I'm back on the schedule tomorrow." Your mother just glared at you and crossed her arms, "oh, so you think we can afford to have you lying around, taking days off? Lazy ass." With that she turned and slammed the door shut, leaving you to sit there and scold your heart to stop hurting, because it just wasn't worth it.

You don't need her Y/n...

Just numb the pain.

So that's what you did.

-

-

1 1/2 yrs before the incident

You walked into the apartment after three classes in a row; each one being about two hours long. You dropped your backpack by the door with a thud then changed your mind and picked it up again, not wanting another fight when someone tripped over it in their drunken state. You decided just putting it in your room would be best. 

Canned vegetables with canned chicken really wasn't too bad if one could figure out the right stuff to put in it. After years of this, you had discovered your favorite seasonings and you were mixing yourself up a nice concoction for lunch before going to work, humming and talking to yourself as you did so–when there was loud pounding on the front door.

You weren't very alarmed, knowing exactly who it was, and so you opened the door and stepped aside as your mother staggered in, thankfully alone. Turning to look at you, your mother's eyes were a bit glassy as she spoke, "is there any food around here or do I have to do all the work for that too?" She wasn't drunk, but she wasn't too far away from it. You didn't say anything and just walked to the kitchen, took your lunch and handed it to your mother.

"I just made this for you, thought you'd be home soon."

Your mom just snatched it away and walked to her room calling over her shoulder, "almost nineteen years old and all you can do is make a half-assed meal for the woman that gave up everything for your lazy ass."

You just grabbed your bag and put your shoes on, trying to ignore the insistent hunger pangs in your stomach, then walked out the door for work.

-

"Y/n? May I speak with you please?" It was the next day and you were just leaving the history classroom when your professor called you over. Your grades were far from satisfactory, but you really did try. You walked over to Professor Kim's (who also happened to teach your Korean class as well) desk and tried not to hang your head, since you knew what was coming. She was a nice lady, but could also be strict at times.

"Y/n, I'm going to get straight to the point. I heard that you wanted to travel to South Korea. We both know you're struggling a bit in the academic department, but I know you're a good girl, and you speak Korean pretty well."

You looked up, utterly confused, this wasn't about you almost failing history class? Professor Kim just smiled and continued, "there is a scholarship program to go and stay in Seoul for a year, learning Korean and going to the university there. I thought you might be interested in it."

You were so shocked you couldn't speak for a full minute, just stuttering out nonsense until Professor Kim laughed and put her hand on your shoulder. Then she handed you a packet, telling you to fill it out and give it back to her as soon as possible.

This couldn't be happening. Good things didn't happen to you. Could this actually be your escape?

You thanked Professor Kim over and over then scurried out of the room before anything else could be said and possibly destroy this amazing opportunity. As you left there was a new lift to your step.

-

Two weeks had passed and no word from the scholarship people. You turned nineteen in those two weeks, but that didn't mean much to you. All you could think about was the scholarship. Things at home didn't change, they never did. Until one day when you were heading home from work, completely exhausted, and you saw the mailman at the front door knocking. You ran up the steps but your mother opened the door right when you got there. You said hello to the man and took the mail from him, being our to thank him. When you turned to go inside, your mother snatched all the mail from you and stalked off. You followed her cautiously, "uh, may I see that? I think I might have gotten something." Your mother turned and glared at you then spat, "and what could you have gotten in the mail? You don't even have friends, and the bills are in my name." You tried not to roll your eyes, even though the bills were in your mother's name, she wasn't the one paying them.

Scanning through the envelopes, your mother stopped when she saw one with the name Y/n Y/l/n on the front. She turned and looked at you accusingly, "what is this?" Before you had time to even process what you were doing you snatched the envelope out of her hands and dashed around her, running to your room. You shut the door and locked it, hearing the woman outside screaming horrible accusations and threats at you but not caring a single bit. The envelope was white–super white actually, almost looking unnatural. Your fingers shook as you gently tore it open, running a finger carefully along the top so you could pull the letter out. The paper inside was just as bright, and the bold black lettering stood out.

Your breathing hitched, was this actually happening? A second scan over the letter and a quick yet painful pinch to the arm confirmed that, yes, this was actually happening. Your hands trembled as you slowly pulled your phone out of your pocket and carefully typed in the number printed on the paper. The sounds of your mother screaming outside the door and hitting it, the cars outside, your own heart pounding in your ears- it all faded away to a dull thudding when you heared the ringing through the phone, once, twice, you held your breath, three rings in, four......click

"Hello? This is Jill Dunning, how can I help you?"

"H-hello? I- I was told to call you."

"Are you Y/n Y/l/n, by any chance?"

You cleared your throat nervously, then took a deep breath before answering.

"Yes, I am."

-

1 month later 

The flight there was extremely long and tiring so by the time you were getting off; you could’ve cried tears of joy, having felt like the plane ride really was going to last forever and you’d never step on solid ground again. But there you were; standing in the middle of the Seoul airport, completely and utterly free.

Not to mention, completely and utterly lost.

You looked around but couldn’t see anything other than a lot of people rushing around; businessmen and women, families with little children that stared at you with wide eyes, college students; and yet not a single soul that looked like they might help you find who you were looking for. You shifted your heavy backpack and decided to walk a bit, maybe you could find where the luggage came through and you could at least collect the rest of your bags. After you walked for another minute you saw a sign with a suitcase on it, hanging from the ceiling with an arrow pointing down. You hurried over to where it was pointing and saw a giant metal thing with suitcases going around on it, people looking at tags and grabbing them before hurrying off again. 

You walked over briskly and just in time too, because your two suitcases had just come around the bend in the giant machine. You double checked the tags and after confirming they were yours, you heaved them off the machine and caught your breath after setting them next to you. Then you had to figure out where you were and where your roommate, who was to be picking you up, was. You went to the name of your roommate in your contacts and pressed it before you held your phone to your ear. After one ring, the sweet voice of your roommate answered in Korean.

“Hello? Y/n?”

“Hey Eui, I just got here and I’m so lost. I just got my bags.”

“I’m so sorry Y/n! I’ll be there in less than five minutes. Traffic was awful, but I’m walking into the airport now. Just stay by the baggage area, ok?”

”Ok, thanks Eui.”

You had talked to her on the phone many times over the past four weeks and you really liked her, you couldn’t wait to meet in person. You hung up and looked around, watching everyone else go about their days; rushing to catch flights, leisurely browsing the shops in the airport, then you heard an excited squeal and turned to see a girl running and jumping into the arms of a boy who you assumed was her boyfriend. You just smiled and kept looking around- trying not to think about how badly you wished that was you.

“Y/n?”

You turned at the sound of Eui’s voice and smiled widely when she approached you with open arms. Eui wrapped her arms around you and then pulled away, still smiling, “welcome to Seoul, are you ready to start over?” That had to be the best sentence you ever heard in your life. You smiled back at her and grabbed one of your suitcases while Eui grabbed the other one.

“Definitely.”

And you were; a new place, a new school, a friendly face, and no people from your past. It was time to start over and let things go, because life just got a whole lot easier.

You had no idea that whether you liked it or not, your past would continue to haunt you, no matter how many miles away you ran.

“Let’s go.”

Preview → Next

[all-sortsa-stuff]

A little bit of home

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2129

Warning: Language and fluff

A/N:  An ask from another Tom Hiddleston fan.  “Where it’s his bday but he's not able to be with his family so you bake him a Colin the Caterpillar hoping it would raise his spirits, please and thank you”

 You sat at your laptop typing away while talking to your editor on the phone.  Finding the couch much more comfortable to work on a couple chapters of your book.  That was where you were for the last few hours trying to work on the next story in the trilogy you were writing.  Macey, your editor, had called to check up on you and the progress you were making. The two of you had been chatting for almost ten minutes when Tom came through the front door, bringing a gust of cold air behind him.  Shivering hard, you had forgotten how frigid it was outside.  

Tom was on location in Canada for another project.  It was one of the few times you were able to join him.  Most of the crew had been staying in this lovely area of British Columbia in log cabins.  Had your boyfriend not been so busy with the film, it would have been the perfect romantic retreat.  Instead, it was a good place for you to work in the beauty and quiet.  

After closing the door and peeling off his jacket and shoes, Tom walked past you towards the kitchen. He did not acknowledge you being there, or even really seem to notice you seated on the couch.  There was a distinct frown on his face as he looked to be in his own thoughts.  

“Macey can I call you tomorrow?”  When she agreed, you hung up the phone, watching Tom in the kitchen setting the kettle on the stove to make a cup of tea.  “Tom are you alright?”

Hearing your voice pulled him from the thoughts that were distracting him.  “Oh darling… Yes I’m sorry.”  He walked back towards you, wrapping his arms around you before leaning down to kiss your lips.  “It’s been a day, and I am utterly exhausted.”

“You have been working too hard, baby.  You need a day off with nothing to do but sleep and a cup of tea when you wake up.”

“As wonderful as that sounds, it won’t be for a few more days at least.  With the storms last week, we are behind schedule.  I swear, though, my first day off I refuse to leave bed.”  You grinned, before waggling your brows up at him.  

“I think that sounds like a perfect day off.  Maybe it will be for your birthday.”  His brows rose as though this was a new revelation to him.

“Bloody hell, I completely forgot my birthday is coming in a few days.”  Laughing you kissed his cheek before moving to the kitchen to retrieve two mugs.

“How does one forget their birthday?  Like, I have a whole birthday month.”  Tom sat at the kitchen table as you fixed the tea for you both.

“I remember darling. Anytime you wanted something or whined you said ‘but it’s my birthday month’.” Laughing loudly you sat the mug in front of him, taking the seat across from him.

“I do not whine…”  The look he sent you across the table had you laughing again.  As he sat quietly, drinking his tea you realized how truly tired and down he looked.  “Is there something you want to do for your birthday?”

“To be honest, I just want a quiet day to sleep and then a lovely dinner with you.  Something by the fire, perhaps.”  Last year on his birthday, it was the first time you met his family.  Tom had been so happy and wanted to show you around the place where he grew up.  Now looking at him this year he seemed the complete opposite.  You were unsure of how to take it.

The rest of the night his morose mood continued.  As much as you tried to get him to smile and laugh, nothing lasted.  He went to bed early and was out of the house before dawn. When he did not kiss you goodbye as he usually did, you knew it was time to pull him out of his dazed melancholy. When you got up in the morning the first thing you did was call his mom, Diana.

“Oh, [Y/N], darling I am so happy to hear from you.  How are you? Is my boy well?”  You sighed not sure how to begin.

“Actually that’s why I’m calling.  Tom has been completely unlike himself.  He is exhausted from work and just so down.  I wanted to do something to cheer him up and I needed to see if you had any ideas.  His birthday is in a few days and I don’t know what to do to make him feel better.”  Once you began, all the words just seemed to fall out quickly.  You could only hope Diana had understood you.

“Tom is such a hard worker. Even if it is to his detriment.”  She went on to tell you a few stories of Tom’s younger years and birthdays.  You realized this was the first birthday in many years that he was not home with his family for his birthday.  Spending time with those he loved was something so important to him.  Maybe it was one of the things that was causing the gloom.

Over the new three days, you went out of your way to spoil the shit out of your boyfriend.  The first day you surprised him on set with a thermos of his favorite tea and lunch.  Tom was surprised and gave you a beautiful smile when he saw you.  When he asked what the occasion was, your response was, “It’s your birthday week love.”

He laughed, calling you mad but telling you how much he loved you.  That night you made lasagna and apple crumb cake, two of his favorite recipes of yours.  From there it just continued until his actual birthday with a hot bath when he got home one of the nights, to a special breakfast before he went to work.  On February 9th, you got up around eight to start on the elaborate plans you had for the day.  Tom had not made it home until nearly 1am that morning and would not be coherent until much later in the day.  It was perfect for what you had to do.

After a coffee and bagel breakfast you set out to the shops to buy all the supplies you needed.  It ended up being far more than you had planned but isn’t that how it always goes? When you returned to the cabin and the groceries were put away, you got to work. The wine was chilling and chicken marinating for later.  The dinner prep was first.  You wanted to make sure it would be ready to just pop in to cook while you tried to wrangle the dessert preparation.  That would take the longest.

And long it did take. Several hours of baking, cutting,, careful rolling then icing before it was ready.  While it was not the prettiest thing you had ever made it still looked delicious.  You only hoped that Tom would like it, or would fake it if he did not.

The rest of the afternoon went by quietly, until it was time to start dinner.  As you placed the chicken to roast you heard the shower upstairs turn on, finally he was awake.  Everything was working out exactly as planned.  By the time Tom came downstairs the small dining area table had been set with candles and a small pretty centerpiece.  The food was still cooking but he looked happier than he had in weeks.  “Darling whatever it is you are cooking smells divine.  I can’t believe you have done all this.”

He walked up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist as you sautéed the asparagus.  The light kiss he placed on your neck sent a thrill through you.  “Tom, it’s your birthday.  I would have done far more if we were at home.  Would you like your birthday presents now or after dinner?”

“Presents?  As in more than one?”  Tom sound intrigued.  Taking the pan off the burner before you turned to look at him.

“Three actually.  Two you can open whenever you like, and the third… well that one is for much later.”  Winking, you stole a kiss before working on dishing up the meal.

“Oh I think that one will be my favorite present.  But I believe I will open up the others now.”  His classic laugh made you grin.

“They are on the coffee table if you want to grab them.”  Opening the smaller of the boxes, Tom looked like a child flipping it back and forth in his hands.

“What kind of contraption did you get me?  It looks like a watch.”  Laughing, you set the food on the table.

“It is a watch.  It’s an activity watch actually, and its water proof.”  He looked sheepish a moment as he had dropped his last watch in a puddle in London.  “With all your running and… well open the other one and see.”

He picked up the other box, shaking it gently.  As he opened it and saw the colorful cover of the book, he narrowed his eyes.  “A New Zealand travel guide?”

“Yes for when we go in a few months.  Hiking and glaciers… you are going to need that watch to keep up with what we do. Plus with all the waterfalls, we will need something waterproof.  Do you know how hard it was to find two weeks in your schedule where you aren’t busy? Trust me, it’s very hard.”  The surprise on his face made all the planning worth it.

“We are going to New Zealand?  Darling… this is wonderful.”  Tom jumped up to hug you close.  The kiss that followed made your toes curl.  Which made it far more difficult to pry yourself away from him after a few moments.

“Let’s eat before dinner gets cold.  We can finish that later.”  Dinner turned out lovely; Tom could not stop raving about it. Seeing the man who was normally so happy and easygoing back to his usual self, made your year. Once the dishes had been cleared, it gave you time to sit by the fire with wine in hand, skimming through the travel book.  There were several places he wanted to travel to after looking at the bright pictures. That would be something you were going to work on soon.  It would be a trip of a lifetime for you.

“Since it is my birthday… would there be perhaps be a bit of cake?”  You had almost forgotten about the cake, which had been safely stashed in one of the cabinets.

“Of course there is cake but you had to sit and close your eyes before I bring it out.”

“Close my eyes? Should I be worried?”  Taking him by the hand, you led him back to the table.

“No I think I should be worried you will hate it.  Now close them.”  Tom clasped his hands together in his lap with a mischievous smile on his face.  

“Yes, [Y/N] my love. I will close them.”  It took a minute but you pulled the cake from the cabinet and put it on the serving platter.  Placing a few little candles and lighting them you were ready.  You sang the birthday song as you walked into the dining area.  Setting the plate before him just as you finished.  

“Okay open them.”  As soon as he realized what was sitting before him, he covered his facing laughing.  

“Oh my God…  How did you… You called mum didn’t you?  [Y/N] I love it.”  In front of him was a Colin the Caterpillar cake.  The long chocolate frosted body was covered with mini M&M’s and the face made from yellow and more of the chocolate frosting.

“I know it’s isn’t the real thing but I couldn’t get it here fast enough from …” He turned around pulling you down onto his lap, kissing yours cheeks then nose and lastly your lips.

“This is one of the sweetest and most caring things anyone has ever done for me.  These were my favorite when I was a child.  Mum, would have them for me, every year after they started making them. Thank you so much, love.  I could not have asked for a better birthday.”  Hearing that made your heart swell.  It was exactly what you wanted, Tom to have a wonderful day.  

The cake tasted better than it looked thankfully.  However, there was no wrong with chocolate cake and chocolate frosting.  Tom’s mood had lifted, leaving behind the gloom. Now his thoughts were of how he would ever repay the thought and caring you had shown him this week and honestly the entire length of your relationship.  He could not wait until your next birthday “month”.

Tags: @feelmyroarrrr  @bolontiku  @aquabrie   @malindacath  @almondbuttercup  @ex-bookjunky  @frenchfrostpudding  @saraholdtheh972 @cute-mirei 

[xoheatherkw]

Good Intentions (and Mistletoe)

My first Timeless fic! 

Rufus cleared his throat, and the pair turned around. He simply pointed up to the little additional decoration hanging in between two of the lit snowflakes in Wyatt’s kitchen.

Wyatt and Lucy briefly looked up, seeing a sprig of leaves and a large red bow. Mistletoe.

...

Or where Rufus is determined to win the office bet that Lucy and Wyatt get together by Christmas.

...

Written for Timeless fanfic prompts. Prompt # 2, must include the following dialogue: “Your opinion wasn’t in the recipe.” “Friends don’t give friends fruitcake.” “That’s not mistletoe, that’s basil.” “That is the saddest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.”

Read on AO3 / FF 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Wyatt was putting the finishing touches on his Christmas tree. With everything that had been going on with Rittenhouse, he had enough time to put up his Christmas tree with lights and tinsel, but not ornaments.

 That was a week ago, when he received a call late in the evening that the Mothership had just jumped.

 So here he was, after a few hectic days at work (but when wasn’t it hectic with time travel) and a few days before Christmas, finally decorating his tree.

 The truth was, he hadn’t been in the Christmas spirit the last few years. Not without Jessica. She was always more into the holidays, insisting on the biggest (real) tree that they could fit in their house, and always baking from Thanksgiving all the way through the New Year. He didn’t want to deal with the upkeep on a real tree, and that was more at Jessica’s persistence anyway, so he invested in a fake tree at a reasonable, and manageable, six feet. With his star tree topper, anything higher would likely be grazing his ceiling.

 These past months working with the team, he realized that he had a family and a reason to celebrate with one another, rather than wallowing in self pity (for another year).

 It surprised him, at much as the rest of the team, when he suggested a Time Team (as Rufus so eloquently named their little group) Christmas get together.

 That’s how they settled on an unconventional celebration, for their unconventional little family. They ended up picking December 23rd to celebrate at Wyatt’s apartment.

 Rufus still had his family get together on Christmas Eve, and they were going to Jiya’s parents for Christmas Day. Denise and her wife had plans pretty much the entire week of Christmas, but they promised they would try to make it to their get together.

 And that left Wyatt and Lucy, with no other family and no other plans for Christmas. So, they arranged their own little get together, binging on Christmas movies and leftovers on Christmas Day. The thought caused a small smile to spread across his lips.

 His introspection was interrupted by a series of knocks on his door in a pattern that could only mean one person.

 Lucy.

 He closed the empty box from his decorations and crossed his living room to open the door.

 She smiled, taking in his slightly disheveled hair and the soft glow of Christmas decorations behind him.

 “Evening, ma’am,” he said.

 “Evening, sweetheart,” she replied with a drawl in her tone. They both laughed lightly. “So, are you going to invite me in, or what?”

 “Oh right, baby doll.” He winked at her and opened the door wider, stepping aside to let her in. “You know, I’m pretty sure you’re early.”

 “Well you know traffic this time of night,” she teased as he closed his apartment door.

 In actuality, she moved just across the hall and one door down from him in his apartment building a few months prior. Once she discovered that her mother was a member of Rittenhouse, she wanted to get as far away from her as possible. Lucy did everything from changing her number and moving, to coordinating with Denise on covering up the location of her new address.

 And if that meant spending more time with Wyatt, cuddled up for movie nights at least once a week, who was she to complain?

 “Your place looks great, by the way,” she added. She took in his apartment, decorated with garland over his fireplace, soft white lights around his windows, the miniature wreath and cranberries centerpiece with a red candle on his dining room table, and his Christmas tree in the corner of his living room. A Christmas tree that would put hers to shame, even if his tree was fake.

 “So, what are we making tonight?” She asked.

 He grinned at her and led her by the hand into his kitchen. “I was thinking pecan pie, apple crumb pie, chocolate chip cookies, and sugar cookies.”

 “That’s quite the list. Where do we start?”

 She looked up and noticed the string of snowflakes that he hung across his kitchen ceiling, and a snowman cookie jar on the counter. She had no idea that Wyatt, the brooding soldier she worked with, secretly loved Christmas. Not that she was complaining, she could use a little more festivity this year now that she cut ties with her mother.

 He dropped his grip on her hand, only then realizing that he still held onto her. “The pies first, then the cookies. And maybe watch some Christmas movies in between.”

 “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” she smirked.

 It wasn’t long before both pies were in the oven and they got started on the chocolate chip cookies.

 “I don’t even think you need me here, I feel like I’m just getting in the way,” she said. They had been dancing around each other, trying to coordinate in his small kitchen.

 “You’ve been a big help,” he insisted. Baking was always more fun with company anyway.

 He was getting out the few additional ingredients from the fridge, when he asked, “Can you get the vanilla extract and cinnamon from the cabinet?” He forgot about needing the vanilla extract after the pies, and asked Lucy to put it away just a few minutes prior.

 “What do we need cinnamon for?” Surely chocolate chip cookies and sugar cookies didn’t need cinnamon. Snickerdoodles? Of course, but chocolate chip cookies?

 “It’s the secret Logan family recipe. A dash of cinnamon goes into the chocolate chip cookies.” He got the remaining ingredients from the fridge and set them out on the counter, closing the fridge with his foot.

 “Cinnamon? I can’t say I’ve heard that one before,” she joked.

 He brought out the chocolate chip recipe that was written out on an index card, skimming it with his index finger. “Well let me double check. Sugar, eggs, flour, chocolate chips. Yup, I see it right here, a dash of cinnamon. There’s one thing I don’t see though.”

 “Oh yeah, and what’s that?” She placed a hand on her hip, awaiting his response.

 “I hate to break it to you Luce, but your opinion wasn’t in the recipe,” he said with a smirk.

 She started laughing and clutching her side, clearly not expecting such a cheeky remark from him. He joined in and chuckled at her, seeing her smile brighten.

 She calmed down after a moment and playfully swatted his shoulder. She said, “Well alright then, let’s see this famous Logan family recipe.”

 They spent the evening laughing and baking, and cuddling up watching Christmas movies in between baking times.

 And if there were lingering touches and glances between the pair all evening, neither one of them mentioned it.

 So, when Lucy fell asleep against his shoulder, Wyatt couldn’t bring himself to wake her. He pulled a blanket over them and shifted his arm, so it was wrapped around her.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 The next day, Wyatt and Lucy were putting the final layer of lasagna together. He set down the last layer of lasagna noodles and she topped it off with the ricotta layer and mozzarella. They kept bumping elbows and laughing. They heard a few knocks at his door.

 “It’s open,” he shouted.

 A few moments later, Rufus and Jiya stepped into their kitchen.

 “Hey guys,” Rufus said.

 “Don’t you two look cozy,” Jiya added. She looked over at the pair, touching from their arms down to their hips with wide smiles on their faces.

 And they expected them to believe nothing was going on. The office even had a pool of when they would get together. Jiya placed a bet that they would be dating by New Year’s Day, although Rufus had placed his bet by Christmas.

 Lucy blushed lightly and shifted her gaze to the lasagna, trying to even out the layers and not comment on what Jiya just said.

 “Hey man,” Wyatt responded.

 “Where can we set this stuff down?” Rufus asked, lifting his bag a bit for emphasis.

 “On the table is fine,” Wyatt answered.

 Jiya and Rufus took their respective tote bags and unloaded all the food on the dining room table. They were in charge of appetizers and alcohol, while Lucy and Wyatt made the main course, salad, and desserts.

 Rufus set out pigs in a blanket on a large serving platter, and fried ravioli on another large serving plate. Jiya carefully got out the deep bowl of barbeque meatballs. Having run low on room already, Rufus opted to set his last item in the kitchen.

 They picked up their other bag, which Rufus had set by the door, and returned to the kitchen.

 Rufus stealthily placed the fruitcake on the counter, while Jiya accepted the other bag and put away a bottle of wine and a six-pack of beer. She set the remaining bottle and second six-pack on the counter while she pulled out the corkscrew and two wine glasses for her and Lucy.

 Lucy put the lasagna in the oven and set the timer while Wyatt cleaned up. As he was wiping his hands on the kitchen towel, that’s when he noticed it, tucked away in the corner.

 “Rufus, I thought we talked about this,” he complained. “Friends don’t give friends fruitcake.”

 The girls chuckled, having heard this conversation at work the entire last week.

 “You should give it a chance,” Rufus insisted. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe. And if no one else eats it, then I will.”

 “I’m holding you to that,” Wyatt replied. “Now can I get a beer?”

 Rufus passed him one while grabbing another for himself. Jiya opened the first bottle of wine, and poured two very generous glasses for her and Lucy.

 “Here you go,” Jiya said, handing her a glass.

 “Thanks,” Lucy answered. “Oh, before I forget, Denise texted that they can’t make it. They needed to leave early to beat the snow on the way to her parents’ house.”

 The team knew she would have made it if she could, but sometimes things don’t work out quite like they planned.

 “That just means more lasagna for us,” Wyatt pointed out. “So, let’s get some appetizers going and watch some Christmas movies,” he proposed.

 “Let me just put the wine away for the girls,” Rufus insisted.

 Wyatt nodded and followed the girls into the next room.

 Rufus was determined to win this office pool, one way or another.

 He hastily set up in the kitchen, re-corked the wine and placed it back in the fridge with the remaining beer, and joined the team in the dining room.

 A little while later, they were enjoying each other’s company in the living room. Rufus had Jiya practically in his lap on Wyatt’s oversized lounge chair, while Lucy and Wyatt were sitting very close together on the couch.

 A buzz interrupted them, signaling that the lasagna was done. Lucy set down her now empty wine glass and pulled Wyatt up by the hand. “Come on, let’s check on dinner,” she said.

 They rushed off to the kitchen and Rufus turned to Jiya. “You’re not going to want to miss this,” he exclaimed. He placed a kiss on her cheek.  

 The mischievous grin on his face had her asking, “What did you do Rufus?”

 He just shrugged and headed off to the kitchen.

 She thought about it for a second, but ultimately the curiosity got the best of her and she trailed after Rufus into the kitchen.

 Wyatt and Lucy teamed up to get the food together. He got the lasagna out of the oven, and she got the salad out of the fridge. She nearly bumped into him when she set it next to the stovetop.

 Rufus cleared his throat, and the pair turned around. He simply pointed up to the little additional decoration hanging in between two of the lit snowflakes in Wyatt’s kitchen.

 Wyatt and Lucy briefly looked up, seeing a sprig of leaves and a large red bow. Mistletoe.

 Wyatt swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, while Lucy stared at her shoes. 

 "You guys know the rules," Rufus grinned. 

 Jiya elbowed him and added, "You really don't have to." They couldn't force it, no matter how much Rufus wanted to win the office pool. 

 Lucy looked up at Wyatt through her lashes. It could have been the wine, or she was just tired of their constant flirting and doing nothing about it... But she found herself leaning into his personal space. She brought her lips to his ears and whispered low enough that only he could hear, "I'm running out of reasons why we shouldn't." She pulled back to a few inches in front of him, looking for any indication of his response. 

 Wyatt was surprised by her sudden boldness. He didn't really want their first kiss to be like this, because they had to, and in front of their friends. Well, their first real kiss, considering he disregarded the one where they were undercover.

 But if what she said was any evidence of how she truly felt, maybe this was the perfect opportunity for the two of them to do something about it. Or maybe it was the liquid courage, but he couldn't fight her pull anymore. 

 Scratch that. It was, most definitely, the liquid courage.

 He leaned in and met her in the middle, pressing his lips gently to hers. She sighed happily into the kiss, and that only encouraged him further. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Her hands instinctively went up his neck and into his hair and she swiped her tongue across his bottom lip asking for access. He granted it and lifting her slightly to bring her closer to his level. What he intended to be a quick kiss turned heated quickly. His hands went underneath the hem of her shirt and immediately realized they still had company.

 He pulled back slowly, internally laughing at the sight groan from Lucy. He placed another gentle kiss against her lips and smoothed the back of her shirt down. 

 Her hand went to her lips, reveling in the slight tingle he left behind. It was definitely better than she had remembered.

 She took her other hand and interlaced their fingers together. "Wow," she whispered. She cleared her throat in an attempt to take the focus off them. "More wine?" 

 Jiya nodded her agreement and stepped over to the fridge to get another round of drinks. 

 Lucy leaned in closer and whispered to Wyatt, "We're revisiting this later." She winked at him. 

 "Yes ma'am," he agreed. 

 For some reason, the mistletoe grabbed Lucy's attention and she took a closer look. Her blissful smile faded to one of confusion once she came to a realization. "Rufus! That's not mistletoe, that's basil," she scolded. 

 Rufus shrugged sheepishly. "The store was out of mistletoe this close to Christmas and I had to improvise." The truth was that the entire office could see the way they looked at each other, completely oblivious to how the other one saw them. They just needed a gentle nudge in the right direction.

 Jiya handed him his beer rather roughly. "Rufus!" She set out another beer for Wyatt on the counter.

 Wyatt chuckled and said, "It's all good, man. I guess I should be thanking you." He pressed his lips to her hair and smiled. 

 "See. He appreciates my good intentions," he directed at Jiya. 

 She rolled her eyes at him, grabbed the bottle of wine, and led him back to the living room. "Let's give them a minute." 

 Wyatt turned to Lucy and took her other hand in his and instinctively interlaced them together. "So, you were running out of reasons why we shouldn't kiss, huh," he teased. 

 Suddenly self-conscious, she took a small step back but left their hands intertwined. "Well I figured you'd object if you didn't feel the same," she mumbled. 

 Wyatt released her hands, so he could wrap them around her waist and gently pulled her towards him. "Trust me, that is not the problem. Luce, I'm really glad Rufus tricked us. Because now I can finally ask you out on a date." 

 "You want to take me out on a date?" She clarified. 

 "Of course I do, Luce. I'm crazy about you. I thought you knew that." He bent down and gently nudged his nose against hers. 

 A smile danced across her lips and she looked up to meet his gaze. "Yeah. I'm crazy about you too." 

 "So, about that date. Tomorrow?" 

 "I think I'm free tomorrow," she teased. She leaned up and captured his lips in a gentle kiss. "Let's take the lasagna out to the table." 

 "Yeah, so we can kick them out of here faster," Wyatt remarked. 

 She laughed, but didn't disagree. 

 A few hours later, Rufus and Jiya were saying their goodbyes. They left all the leftovers since Wyatt and Lucy didn't have any other Christmas plans. Well, except the fruitcake, which no one touched but Rufus. 

 They hugged and said they'd see each other in a few days, assuming Rittenhouse was taking off for the holidays too. They could hope.

 Wyatt closed the door after them. 

 On the other side of his apartment door, Jiya said, "I can't believe you tampered with the office pool, so you could win the bet." She swatted him playfully.

 "You can't tell me you weren't planning on a New Year’s party, where I'm sure you had some secret plan to get them together," Rufus argued. 

 She glared at him before taking off down the hallway. 

 "I'm not hearing any argument." 

 She tried changing the subject. "I think we should just be happy that they're happy."

 He held up his hands in defeat. "Of course, that's all that matters." 

 Back in Wyatt’s apartment, he pulled her flush against him on the couch and brought up Netflix. "Another movie?" he suggested.

 "Ooh, can we watch Gremlins next?" She smiled excitedly and rested her hand on his knee, tracing invisible patterns with her fingertips. 

 That night, he intentionally wrapped his arm around hers and she snuggled into his side. 

 And if they stole a few kisses here and there, at least they didn’t have the peanut gallery to comment on it.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 The next day, Wyatt showed up to Lucy's door at lunchtime dressed in a nice suit and tie. He normally would have ordered a nice arrangement of flowers, but the few shops he called weren't taking on any additional orders the day before Christmas. So, he stopped by the grocery store down the street and picked out the nicest arrangement of roses and daisies he could find. 

 He held the flowers behind his back and knocked on her door. 

 She opened it within a few seconds and they each took in the other's appearance. Lucy had a tea length dress with off-the-shoulder straps in a striking red satin that was a perfect complement to her ivory skin and dark hair.

 "Luce, you look absolutely breathtaking." He grinned at her and offered up the flowers to her. 

 Wyatt had unknowingly matched her dress, opting for a slightly festive tie that was red with thin gold stripes. The dark grey of his suit brought out the steel grey-blue in his eyes, making them all that more stunning.

 "You don't look so bad yourself," she said. She accepted the flowers and gestured for him to come inside. She ran off to her kitchen to find a vase. She returned to find him struggling to keep in a laugh. 

 She feigned annoyance and said, "Is there something you'd like to say?" 

 He let out a chuckle, unable to contain it any longer. "It's just... That is the saddest Christmas tree I've ever seen." There were chunks of branches missing, and several branches were missing half of the needles. He could tell Lucy tried to hide its bald spots by adding more garland there. And the poor tree was even leaning slightly.

 She sent him a sobering look. "It was my tradition with Amy that we started when she was in college. Mom was sick, so we were kind of on our own if we wanted to decorate. We'd pick the saddest looking Christmas tree we could find, the one no one else would want. And we'd give it a second chance by going all out with decorations." 

 Wyatt pulled her into a tight hug. "We'll get her back, Luce." He didn’t want to give her false hope, but Jiya was close to devising a plan to go back and change history, to make it right. They already tried once. Their plan to reintroduce Lucy’s mother and Amy’s father backfired because Rittenhouse had intervened.

 "I know we will. Now are we going on that date, or do you want to make fun of my tree some more?" She pulled back and raised an eyebrow at him. 

 "No ma'am." 

 "If we're dating now, I think you should really stop calling me ma'am." Her playful tone suggested that she wasn't really mad. 

 "If you say so, ma'- I mean… if you say so sweetheart." He'd really need to try out new terms of endearment, but sweetheart was their go to. 

 They left her apartment, hand in hand for their first date.

 "Good choice, sweetheart," she echoed.

[spartanguard]

everyone loves Granny

my dearest darlingest @kat2609, my favorite and my best: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I hope you get showered with love and treats today and that this is just one contribution to an overall amazing day because you deserve all the best things! here’s a bit of Granny love to (hopefully) get your day going! I LOVE YOUUUUUUU!!!

Another day, another dollar, right? At least, that was what Granny told herself as she shuffled into the back of the diner, still yawning. Not that the money really mattered in Storybrooke, but at the very least, she had her reputation to uphold. That, and if she didn't feed everyone, who would?

Blearily, she flipped on the lights and headed through the kitchen to the main dining area to flip on the coffee makers, giving her a few minutes to catch a bit more rest. On days like these, she really missed having Ruby around—today especially—but certainly didn't begrudge her granddaughter a shot at True Love.

Nevertheless, she sighed heavily while the coffee percolated and the pleasing aroma began to fill the air. It did perk her up a little, and that's when she noticed something on the counter that certainly hadn't been there the night before.

At first, she thought someone came in and used one of her mugs. But this one was different; the handle of it was shaped like a crossbow and the cup had arrows all over it. And tucked inside was a note.

Written in chicken scratch that could only belong to a teenage boy,

Dear Granny—To the most badass crossbow wielder in the world. Have a fantastic day! —Henry

She paused for a moment—he didn't know, did he? How could he, though, she reminded herself. Plus, it was Henry—he was a thoughtful boy, so it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for him to drop off random gifts. Though she might have to say something to his mothers about B&E. Maybe he was spending too much time with Hook.

Regardless, she took another few minutes to enjoy a fresh cup of coffee in her new mug before getting a head start on cooking for the morning.

Barely a half hour later, she was in the middle of frying bacon when she smelled something else coming from the dining room. Now what was going on?

Whoever had snuck in must have had magic on their side, because she would have heard the door open and close. And given the fact that she could already tell there were bear claws in that box from the bakery, she had a pretty good idea which witch it was.

Treat yo self, Granny! love, Emma was scrawled across the top. Two very fresh pastries were inside. As she bit into one and took the other to the back for safekeeping, she decided that maybe it wasn't the pirate who was influencing Henry...and began to wonder what was really afoot.

She knew for sure that something was up when Leroy arrived with a smile on his face, asking how she was, praising her food, and wishing her a wonderful day. When Grumpy is anything but, there's something suspicious going on.

Actually, everyone was being really nice. Not that most of them weren't usually, but it was weird to see it even from those she didn't talk to often.  Part of her was tempted to torture it out of Happy, whatever was happening, but she couldn't complain when even Regina praised her lasagna (finally).

Toward the end of lunch rush, the prince came in bearing a beautiful bouquet of flowers. She assumed he was on his way home, but he slid them across the counter to her.

"What's this?" she asked, eyeing the arrangement suspiciously.

"Uh, well, I was walking past Game of Thorns and saw them and...thought you needed them," he stammered, scratching the back of his head and looking down the whole time.

She wasn't buying it. "Charming, I've known you long enough to know when you're full of it. Level with me. What's going on?"

He sighed. "I...may have made some not-so-nice comments about this place in the past." Damn right he had; she hadn't forgotten about the scrap heap incident. "Consider these an apology."

She squinted at him; he wasn't lying. So she took a sniff, and they were quite nice. "Apology accepted."

He breathed a sigh of relief; she was tickled to see he'd been scared, but he'd fought alongside her—and it was good to see he remembered that.

"And...thank you, Granny. I don't know where most of us would be without you," he continued sincerely.

Somone must have been chopping onions in the back then. Quickly, she waved him off, blurting out a watery "It's been my pleasure," and bustled off to put the flowers in a place of prominence near the bar.

Lunch rush passed by without issue, and then the customers trickled out until the diner was surprisingly empty come late afternoon. Usually, that was when dinner would slowly start, but everyone seemed to be walking past. She even checked that the "OPEN" sign hadn't burned out, but it was still lit. Odd.

She took advantage of the lull to clean some spots she couldn't typically get to, and maybe put one of her favorite songs on the jukebox while she cleaned its glass. The final notes of the song played as she finished dusting the top of it (and may have been shaking her hips), and that's when she heard the bell above the door jingle.

She came back to the dining room to see Hook making himself quite at home behind the counter, filling two glasses with a bottle of rum far mor expensive than anything she kept stocked.

He looked up when she approached. "Ah, Lady Lucas. Just the lass I was looking for."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "What's your game, pirate?"

"Is one not allowed to treat a dear friend to a drink on her birthday?"

So they did know. As she sat down on a stool, he slid a glass across to her. "How did you all find out?" she asked quietly. It wasn't something she chose to broadcast, not because she didn't like celebrating, but more because she had never really been able to. Even once things calmed down here, with Ruby gone, there was no one to really celebrate with, until recently, apparently.

Hook explained, "You've gone to such great lengths to look after all of us, to the point that everyone calls you Granny despite you only actually having one grandchild. We just thought it was time that we show our appreciation, and on what better day than the day of your birth?" Then he lifted his glass in a toast.

She couldn't help it: she was blushing. She clinked her glass against his and savored the aged, spiced rum, but as sweet as it was, it was no rival to the warm feeling in her heart at hearing that so many people actually did care. For all her sass, she found herself speechless.

"Now, my dear, everyone has decided you need the night off, so close shop, head home, and treat yourself. Aye?"

She smiled. "Aye-aye, Captain; I think I can manage that."

"Fantastic." He leaned over the counter and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Happy Birthday, milady." He gave her a nod and then walked toward the exit, winking as he headed through the door to leave. But he held the door open one extra second as a bird flew in—with a note in its clutch.

It had been years since she'd gotten a message in a pre-analog format. She thought at first it was from Snow—that had been her preferred method of communication for so long—but the handwriting was even more familiar than that.

Granny—

I'm so sorry I'm not there to celebrate your special day, but I wanted to let you know how much I love and miss you. I promise to visit as soon as we can, but until then: sending all my (our) love through the realms!

Hugs and kisses,

Ruby (and Dorothy)

Oh, that girl. Worlds away and still able to make her grandmother cry. Even if it had just been that note, the day would have been perfect. But she eyed the rum still on the counter, and had one more idea.

Quickly, she did as she'd been told and locked up, made sure everything was shut off in the kitchen, and headed home into the brisk night air.

One last surprise was waiting for her: Marco was at home, lighting a few candles on the table, where it appeared he'd made a home-cooked feast.

"Happy birthday, my love," he greeted her with a kiss.

"Thank you, darling," she said eventually. Then, holding the rum up with a wink, added, "Let's have some fun tonight."

[foxesbettingpool]

Andreil + A Daughter

(Someone asked for Andreil with a daughter so I wrote how they got the daughter and it turned into a seven page Google doc. It may have gotten a bit ooc...)

They’re not in the habit of asking much from one another. The world has already asked so much of both of them. So all they ask is for honesty, space when needed, and the proper time and patience to heal from their dirty pasts. So when Andrew brings up foster care, it doesn’t take long for Neil to consider all of the possibilities and then agree to try.

After working to get the license to foster and attending required classes, they are ready (and though neither will admit it, a bit nervous). They start by setting a few boundaries, things that perhaps no one thinks about but that Andrew knows to think about from experience. The first, is no one is allowed in bedroom of the foster child unless explicitly given permission. No physical contact unless there is explicit permission. And no pressing for information from the foster child. Consent is perhaps the most important aspect of their relationship with their foster kids. Any other rules come along with the child and the situation.

At first, Neil thinks it will get easier. That perhaps, it will be less painful to comfort a confused kid in the middle of the night. But it only gets harder each time. Because he knows. He knows what it’s like to be lost, to be left behind and ripped from a familiar world. He knows what it is like to watch nightmares come to life, to have them follow you during the day and haunt you at night.

Their first foster child, Marty, is six. He runs around the house and pulls the tails on both cats. He yells about everything, is a picky eater and refuses to shower (much to Andrew’s disgust). And yet, they try their hardest to give this kid a good home. Andrew lays off drinking for a while because the kid comes from a home broken apart by alcohol. Neil teaches him how to properly hold an Exy racquet and how to throw rebounds to himself. They only have Marty for a few months but when the little boy leaves, the house feels incredibly empty.

Their second foster child, Alicia, is a little older, though not by much. She’s eight years old and incredibly shy. She comes from a home where the mother has died and the father has been accused of negligence. Starved for touch, she clings desperately to whoever will hold her. At first, she is frightened of Neil and his scars but when she sees how gentle he is, she plants herself in his lap every night when watching television. Alicia is afraid of being alone, and when left to her own devices, becomes self destructive. So Andrew and Neil make a habit of spending plenty of time with her, and teaching her that being alone isn’t always bad. By the time she leaves their home, she has learned to entertain herself and calm herself down when she gets scared. Seven months is a long time and Neil and Andrew feel a hollow place where she used to be.

Their third foster child, Carter, is twelve and only with them for a week. He’s quiet, incredibly withdrawn and it is the first time that Neil and Andrew really use the “no entering the kid’s bedroom” rule. Though Carter shares meals with them and they give him rides to school, he doesn’t do much else with him. They do their best to respect that and though it tears them both apart, the closest they get to Carter’s room is outside the door in the middle of the night when he’s crying for his mother.

When the agency tells them about fostering a fourth child, Neil doesn’t think he can do it anymore. The stories that he’s heard about these kids’ situations is so hard. He can’t possibly bear sitting outside of that bedroom, listening to kids screaming or crying, confused and alone and scared. But he knows that if he got through it, they can too. Andrew tells him that the only thing they can give these kids is hope; hope for a better life.

“We have a better life. They should see it’s possible,” he says with a shrug. And so after a long night of fretful pacing and several hours of doubting and arguing, Neil agrees to continue fostering.

Astrid Montgomery is nine years old. She comes to them with a single bag, and red pigtails. At first, they know nothing about her. The agency just says they need an emergency placement and that they don’t really know how long she’ll be staying with Neil and Andrew. When the social worker drops Astrid off, she tells them that Astrid’s mother abandoned her at a hospital. After a long history with drugs and a string of violent lovers, Ms. Montgomery decided having a daughter is too expensive on her lifestyle.

The girl is both scared and incredibly angry, which is something Neil and Andrew understand entirely. They do their best to welcome her into the house. When they show her to her room, she shuts herself in and tells them to go away. Andrew backs off immediately and drags a very reluctant Neil away.

“You have some serious maternal instincts. But she wants to be left alone,” Andrew says sternly. When Neil begins to protest, he shuts him up with a firm kiss and a sharp tug towards the kitchen. “It’s almost dinner time.”

Neil sighs heavily and nods. “Okay, fine. I’ll make something.”

They spend the afternoon in the kitchen. Neil cooks, or tries too, and Andrew rescues the lasagna and cookies. After perhaps the fourth time throwing Sir and King off the counter, Neil looks up to find Astrid in the doorway. She’s taken her pigtails out and has her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Neil smiles and holds a very squirmy King out to her. “Do you want to hold him?”

Astrid takes a step closer, looks cautiously at the cat and then shakes her head. She goes back to her spot in the doorway. Andrew and Neil go back to their business, tossing plates to each other and setting the table for dinner. It’s something they’ve only recently gotten into the habit of doing. Growing older has made them moderately domestic, which is something they would have never seen coming.

“Are you hungry, Astrid?” Neil asks. He holds a plate out to her, trying to coax her from the doorway. She doesn’t take it and he makes a point of placing it within her reach. After retreating behind the counter, Neil grabs a glass from the cabinet and looks back at her. “Would you like water, juice or milk with your dinner?”

Andrew pulls the options from the fridge and places them on the counter so she can see them. They stay behind the counter, watching as she creeps forward to point timidly toward the carton of juice. When she retreats back to the door, Andrew pours her a sizable cup of juice and sets it on the table. He and Neil dish out food and then sit.

They are halfway through their meal when Astrid finally joins them. She scoots her chair to the end of the table, closer to the door and further away from Andrew and Neil. She eats quickly and quietly, watching for any sign that someone is coming for her. It breaks Neil’s heart and he can tell that Andrew is also struggling with Astrid’s habits. It hits close to home.

“What happened to your face?” Astrid asks. She watches Neil with her fork halfway to her mouth, unaware or uncaring of the cheese and meat that is slowly inching back towards her plate. Her voice is so small that it startles Neil and Andrew when she first speaks.

Neil exchanges a glance with Andrew. He turns back to Astrid and smiles. “I went through a very hard time. But I’m better now.”

Astrid frowns. “Hard times don’t do that to people.”

“No, people do that to people,” Andrew says. He shoves Sir off the table in vague annoyance.

“Bad people do that to people,” Astrid replies. She plays with her food before adding, “I’m scared they’ll hurt me again.”

Neil can feel Andrew bristling from across the table. Under the table, he reaches for Andrew’s hand. He can feel the bone-crushing grip as Andrew works to keep himself calm. After a brief moment, Neil turns back to Astrid. “Who are ‘they?’”

Astrid ducks her head, curls into herself and Neil can see himself in her for a moment. That instinct of flight; that instinct to keep quiet and secret to avoid getting hurt again. Neil bites his lip; he wants to keep asking questions but he knows they made rules and he needs to follow them. Finally Astrid casts a shy look back at Neil and says, “My momma’s boyfriends.”

Andrew shifts in his seat, clears his throat. He pulls his hand out of Neil’s before placing them flat on the table. Astrid flinches and Andrew forces himself to relax just a little. He watches her, jaw muscles ticking occasionally. His words are very carefully chosen. “Astrid, I don’t break promises. And I promise that I will do my very best to make sure that no one hurts you again.”

Astrid stares. “You can’t do that.”

“I can sure try,” Andrew says, voice hard. He looks at Neil and smiles, just barely. “We have a rule in this house. Do you know what consent means, Astrid?”

“No,” she says.

“It means that you need to have permission before anything happens,” Andrew explains. He points to Neil. “We do not touch one another without very clearly stated permission. And we will not touch you, no hugs or hand holding or pats on the back, nothing. Nothing happens without your permission. Do you understand?”

She nods once, drops her fork back onto the plate. “Yes.”

It’s the longest conversation they have for the rest of the week. Astrid keeps to herself, staying away from Neil and Andrew. Aside from the occasional question over dinner, she doesn’t say much. Car rides to school are very quiet; music makes her flinch. At night, she cries for her mother. Neil or Andrew take up post outside of her bedroom in case she calls for them. Sometimes it is both of them, slumped against the wall and curled against one another. They never once touch that door knob though, keeping their promise to each other and Astrid that she will have a safe place that is her own.

A month into her stay at the Minyard-Josten house, Astrid sits beside Neil on the couch. She is perched on the edge, still ready to run if things go south and he doesn’t blame her. Sometimes, he still feels like he needs to run. She watches the Exy game with a level of interest that Neil doesn’t understand but when she turns to him, he mutes the coverage and turns to look at her.

“What does home feel like?” she asks.

Neil hesitates before answering. “You know, Astrid, home is something different to everyone. When you get there, you’ll know.”

Astrid thinks for a moment. “And what is it for you?”

“Home is Andrew,” he says, smiling faintly. “Home is Andrew. It is a key fitting into a lock, waking up in a bed with him, falling asleep with him. It’s the cats and the plants. The safety.”

“Oh,” Astrid says. She gets up and leaves the room.

In the middle of the second month with Astrid, she runs away. Without a word, she slips away from her summer day camp. The phone call comes while Neil and Andrew are in Exy practice. Andrew lets the ball slip past him into the goal as he fishes in his pocket for his phone. He listens only for a moment before he pales and points toward the court door. Within seconds, he and Neil are peeling out of the parking lot, still in their gear with racquets abandoned by the goal.

“What happened?” Neil asks. He risks a look at Andrew, who has a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

Andrew speeds up. “She ran away. They were about to get on the bus to go to some museum and she just disappeared.”

Neil’s stomach drops. “Astrid?”

“Who else, Neil?” Andrew blows through a red-light without checking for cops. He flips off the honking cars and then turns so violently Neil is thrown against the window. He gives him a brief glance of apology.

“They won’t let us keep her,” Neil says. He feels his chest get tight at the thought of not having Astrid there. He chews on his knuckle before throwing another nervous glance out the window. “If we can’t find her, if she doesn’t come back. Andrew, they’re going to take her away. We made a promise.”

Andrew smacks the steering wheel. “Neil, I know! I know, okay?”

The car falls silent, tires squealing when they pull to a very hasty stop. The camp supervisor is in hysterics, attempting to explain the situation to a very angry man. When Andrew and Neil race up to her, she nearly faints. Neither of them look happy, though Neil looks more like a fretful mother than the furious father vibe that Andrew has going on.

“I paid for my kid to get taken to the museum today,” the man snaps, ignoring Neil and Andrew’s attempts to grab the attention of the supervisor. He waves his arms dramatically, nearly taking Neil’s head off. “Now I find out I spent twenty dollars on nothing because some stupid brat ran away.”

Neil bristles but Andrew has already beaten him to the punch. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” the man snaps. He gives Neil and Andrew a dramatic look over, lip curled. It’s clear he doesn’t care for them at all, though he has no right to judge. His toupe is about to fall off in the wind.

“That kid has been through hell,” Andrew snarls. Neil holds him back from hitting the man but he doesn’t bother to try and shut Andrew up. “She doesn’t have a permanent home, her life just fell apart, and now she has to deal with stupid people like you and your stupid brat. If you’re so concerned about your damn money, get a damn refund and shut your mouth.”

The man spins on his heels. He and his kid leave and Andrew and Neil get to looking for Astrid. They spend hours looking around town, in every area they can think of. When the sun goes down, Neil becomes more frantic, Andrew more tense. They spent several more hours driving everywhere they think of before finally giving up.

Neil, near tears, curls himself in the passenger seat and flips his phone open and shut. “We have to call Child Protective Services.”

Andrew reaches for his hand, grips it tightly and runs his thumb over Neil’s knuckles. His voice is rough. “When we get home.”

The drive home is tense. It seems like it takes hours and they watch the streetlights slice the car to pieces as they turn onto their street. Neil swallows hard and squeezes Andrew’s hand harder as they get closer to the house. When they turn into the driveway, Neil lets out a sharp gasp. The brakes slam on and his head flies into the dashboard.

“Andrew!”

Andrew only grunts. Neil doesn’t care. They’re flying out of the car, only pausing to make sure it’s actually in park. They stumble to a stop a safe distance away from the small figure huddled on the front porch. Neil covers his mouth, hands shaking. Andrew crowds in at his back, a small smile the only sign of his relief.

She stares up at them, tears staining her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Neil kneels in front of her. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re just glad you’re safe.”

“I’m so scared. But, I had nowhere else to go,” she whispers. She shivers. Andrew peels off his hoodie and tosses it to her.

Neil sits down on the sidewalk and folds his hands in his lap. “Astrid? I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I know how you feel.” And even though it is late and it’s getting cold, he tells her about his life on the run. How he was always scared, how he was always waiting for someone to hurt him and how in the end, after all that fear and pain, he found his home. “You may feel like you have nowhere to go, nowhere safe, I want to you know that here will always be a safe place. You can always come here.”

She starts crying again. Andrew lurches forward, almost like he can’t control himself and Neil grabs his leg. He shakes his head and Andrew reluctantly sits down beside him. Astrid didn’t give permission and they had a promise to uphold.

Three months later, Andrew and Neil decide to take a pause in fostering. Mostly because it has been a rough few months, and partially because they’ve decided they want to adopt. When Astrid comes home from school, they maneuver her to couch and sit down across from her.

Neil leans forward, smiling at little in satisfaction when she doesn’t pull back. “Astrid, we love having you here. You make us so happy and you make the cats happy. So we want to ask you a very important question.”

Astrid nods. She looks a little concerned but puts a brave face on. “Okay.”

Andrew smiles a little. “Astrid, we want you to stay with us. If you’re okay with it, we want you to become part of the family, officially. Do you want that?”

“Forever? Yes, please.” She nods vigorously, eyes filling with tears. Hesitantly, she holds out her arms and looks at Andrew and Neil. Timidly, she asks, “Can I have a hug?”

Andrew is off the couch before Neil can even say yes. He slows himself down enough to avoid startling the small girl but he wraps himself around her and holds her as she cries. Neil knows that type of touch; it spells out safety.

Later, as Andrew makes dinner and Neil watches the last bit of an Exy game, Astrid sits on the couch beside him, this time, much closer. She looks at him, he pauses the game and turns to listen to her. Astrid struggles to find the words but eventually, she does.

“Remember when I asked you what home feels like?” she asks. He nods and Astrid very tentatively scoots closer. She points to his side and he nods, lifting his arm up so she can sit right up against him.

It all feels strange. Only a few weeks ago, this girl wouldn’t let them touch her. And within several hours, she’d hugged Andrew and then made the choice to snuggle up against Neil. It is incredible seeing the change happen. He knows change can happen; it happened to him. But watching it happen is surreal.

“Home feels like this,” she says. And Neil believes it.

[lotsofdogs]

Things I’m Loving Friday #268

Hi friends! How are you doing? We had quite a week over here.

I hoped to share a recap of our weekend and then dive into some random musings from the week on the blog but that clearly didn’t happen because our house was hit hard with some kind of a bug. (I thankfully had Tuesday’s blog post about my favorite chicken thigh marinade pre-written.) Just when I thought we were going to escape cold and flu season without any sickness in our house, I went down hard on Monday (throwing up, achy, the works) and then nausea returned for most of the day again yesterday. Poor Chase has been out of school sick since Tuesday so we are quite the duo. By some miracle, Ryan and Ryder are both healthy and I’m crossing my fingers and toes it stays that way!

On the bright side of things, my father-in-law arrived in town yesterday and didn’t seem to be too phased by our less-than-healthy household (he’s a trooper) and Ryan was able to get off work earlier than usual so we enjoyed a nice Valentine’s Day at home as a family even if Chase and I were a little out of sorts.

(Chase was pretty excited to see the final heart on his door yesterday morning! I definitely see that becoming a Valentine’s Day tradition in our house!)

In today’s Friday post, I wanted to recap a little bit of last weekend’s fun since I didn’t get the chance to earlier this week and also share a few things that are currently making me smile. As always, I’d love for you to join in and share something you’re loving right now with me in the comments section of this post. I hope you all had a wonderful Valentine’s Day and have a fantastic weekend!

Things I’m Loving Friday

Valentine’s Day Secret Santa

I felt bad that Chase had to miss his preschool’s Valentine’s Day celebration because they did the cutest thing this year! Las week, every kid in his class drew one of their classmate’s names out of a hat for a sort of Valentine’s Day Secret Santa. The kids were then supposed to spend time making their classmate a homemade Valentine to go along with a simple little treat or toy ($5 or less). They did this in lieu of the usual candy/card exchange to emphasize the importance of thinking of others and I thought it was the sweetest idea.

Chase drew his best friend Claire’s name and took Claire’s gift selection very seriously. He had the best time making her a card and putting together her little surprise so we dropped it off at school and his teacher sent me home with a sweet gift for Chase from his friend Cayla. Chase couldn’t stop talking about the fact that Cayla made him a card and got him a special gift and seemed blown away by the whole thing!

Ryder’s Dedication + A Visit from My Parents

Last weekend, my parents came into town and were able to witness our family dedicating Ryder at our church! (You may read more about dedication vs. traditional baptism in this post about Chase’s dedication if you’re curious.) It was an incredibly special day for our family and I was so grateful my mom and dad could join us to celebrate.

The rest of our weekend with my family was a wonderful one, despite the fact that my mom and I both started to feel a little sick toward the end of the weekend. We ate at CAVA for the first time on Saturday night and it was fantastic (why have I waited so long to try that place!?), grabbed ice cream from Kilwin’s, hung out close to home and just enjoyed being together. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — I love where we live but man oh man I wish our families lived closer!

Vegan Spaghetti Squash Lasagna

Prior to my parents’ visit last weekend, I did a little digging and tried to find some new plant-based recipes to try since my mom and dad are currently sticking to a mostly plant-based diet at the moment. I stumbled upon a recipe for vegan spaghetti squash lasagna and was instantly intrigued by the faux-ricotta cheese made with soaked almonds, fresh basil, pressed tofu, lemon juice and spices. It was pretty easy to assemble and we all really liked the recipe. One tip if you make it: Serve it in bowls and stir everything up to maximize the faux-ricotta mixture in every bite!

Plant-Based Juniors: First Bites

I have a wonderful resource to share with any of you out there who may be on the cusp of or in the middle of introducing solids to your little ones. One of my blogging friends, Whitney, is a registered dietitian and self-proclaimed “science and research junkie” who adheres to a predominantly plant-based diet. After the birth of her son, she teamed up with Alex, a fellow registered dietitian and mother, to launch Plant-Based Juniors in an effort to share evidence-based nutrition advice to empower parents to make the best nutrition decisions for their families. Together, Whitney and Alex created Plant-Based Juniors: First Bites, an ebook created especially for those looking to introduce solids to their little ones in a healthy way. They sent a copy my way and I instantly LOVED it. Plant Based Juniors: First Bites is packed with information and I love the science-based approach to feeding babies, as well as the visual guides that make it easy to see what bites of real food for little ones should look like at such a young age. The picture tutorials were truly SO helpful, especially if you’re a visual person and want to see a simple photo of what bites of real food should look like for babies of a certain age.

The ebook breaks down baby led weaning in an easy-to-understand way and is only $12.99. I am doing a mix of real food and purees for Ryder (you may read more about my approach in this post: Beginning Solids with Baby) and have found the ebook incredibly helpful and a wonderful resource. I’ve already made a handful of the recipes in her book for Ryder (they’re kid-friendly and not just for babies!) and the cinnamon sweet potato sticks and mango chia pudding were both major hits with our little guy!

Friday Flashbacks

Coconut Hemp Seed Granola (I made a batch of this granola earlier this week and enjoyed it all week long on top of Greek yogurt with fresh berries.)

Beach Legs Workout (This leg workout incorporates lots of squats and lunges to target your quads, glutes and hamstrings and will make you feel the burn in only 15 minutes.)

Question of the Day

What is something that is making you smile this week? 

[Read More ...] https://www.pbfingers.com/things-im-loving-friday-268/

[xoheatherkw]

I’m So Tired (Promise You’ll Stay) - Bughead Fic

Summary: "I can't do this anymore," she continued. "I'm so tired. So fucking tired of this. I just can't do it anymore."

No, no, no. This can't be happening. She can't be breaking up with him.

She glanced down, accepting defeat. She wouldn't be the only one trying anymore, of feeling like she was the only one putting in any effort into their relationship.

Jughead couldn't believe what he heard. He wouldn't let this happen.

A/N: Ok bughead family, stick with me here! So this is based on some of the SDCC spoilers that Betty will be fighting for her man, but no real mention of Jughead fighting for her... but BEFORE I saw more info about how she's supported by her friends. So this is the result of my brain getting carried away with the idea that Betty is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and Jughead has shut her out. While I don't think like anything like this would happen on the show, we don't exactly expect that from fanfiction ;)

OH! Also trigger for self harm. Please don't read if Betty's self harm will trigger you. Stay safe friends!

Read on AO3 / FF

(There’s a keep reading, but it’s been glitching on me lately and not actually displaying the rest)

P.S. Thanks to @writing-as-tracey and @buggiekinsx for looking over this! And @your-girl-thursday for support. <3 my bughead fam

Betty Cooper was exhausted.

 No, exhausted wasn't even the correct description of how she felt. Fucking exhausted. Yup, that about covered it. Now, Betty rarely, if ever, cursed. But she figured after the month she had, it was an accurate description.

 It had been one month since Archie's dad has been shot.

 One month of the sheriff's department coming up with next to nothing for suspects.

 Three weeks since he stabilized and moved out of the ICU.

 And two weeks since he came home and was going through physical therapy.

 She spent as much spare time as possible supporting both Archie and his dad, offering to tutor Archie so he wouldn't fall behind in his classes and encouraging Mr. Andrews when he started physical therapy.

 And when that didn't feel like enough, she made sure both Andrews men were well fed. Pretty much anything beat take-out for Archie and hospital food for his dad. After the first week of casseroles, lasagna, chocolate chip cookies, and blueberry muffins, her mother stepped in and doubled all of the dinners to send half of it to the Andrews household.

 Betty still found herself baking the occasional pastry or dessert for the Andrews household, finding the process rather therapeutic. There was something about the predictability of following a recipe that brought a sense of calmness, if only for an hour.

 It had also been one month since her mother had dropped the bomb of an older brother given up for adoption. A few days after the Jubilee, she had asked her mother if she tried to reach out to him through the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Unfortunately it was a closed adoption and any attempts at reaching out to him were off limits. They could only find him if he reached out to his adoption services first.

 So on top of the River Vixens practice five days a week (and occasionally on weekends if a big game was coming up), brainstorming with Ethel and Kevin for the Christmas dance that was in two months, being the sole writer for the Blue and Gold, and the rigorous demand of her honors classes, she had also taken up volunteering at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy once a week to help the receptionist. She was hoping to go through some of their archived files to dig up information on her brother, but so far, she discovered records only went as far back as 2012. Their archived files must be stored in a different location, and she had yet to find them.

 Then on top of all of the usual craziness (plus searching for her brother), she didn't really have anyone to talk to. Veronica was always with Archie, stepping up as the supportive girlfriend while his father went through rehabilitation. She knew that Archie had his own problems to deal with, so she didn't want to bring him into her problems. Even Kevin was busy with the debate team; they had just won state finals and were preparing for regional's.

 Then there was Jughead, or the lack thereof. Ever since the night that Jughead accepted the Serpents jacket, things had been different. He had been closed off, secretive. Claiming that he didn't want to pull her into dangerous situations that she didn't need to be involved in.

 The first week went by without too many changes to their relationship. Sure, they didn't see each other throughout the day, but he brought her over for dinner and introduced her to his foster family. They texted nearly every day, now that his foster family had him on a reliable cell service. They made sure to make time for themselves, going to Pop's every few days and him sneaking into her room twice to spend time together for a few brief moments.

 The second week went by with fewer and fewer communications, and only once could he get away from the Serpents long enough for a milkshake at Pop's. But he received a text halfway through their planned date and he had to leave. He hadn't even stayed for his cheeseburger and fries, which were delivered minutes after he had left.

 The following two weeks had been minimal communication, only a handful of her texts were answered, and they hadn't seen each other at all.

 It just felt like there was so much going on that her brain couldn't comprehend dealing with one more thing on her plate. Everything felt like it was compounding and constantly weighing her down. She wished everything would just stop for one minute.

 It was all just too much.

 She had just gotten back from an evening run, desperate to clear her mind. She ran until her lungs burned and her legs felt that they would give out. It usually gave her clarity, at least for a little while. It hadn't worked today.

 So there she was on a Thursday night, staring into an open word document on her laptop, the cursor blinking away, taunting her with writer's block. She had notes and her tape recorder strewn across her floral duvet. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't come up with the perfect conclusion to the debate team's success in the state finals.

 She dug the palms of her hands above her eyelids, willing something -- anything -- to spill onto the document staring at her.

 Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a few minutes, the elusive words would come to her. She pushed her laptop aside and laid back on her pillows.

 She took slow breaths in and out, trying to force all of the thoughts to just be quiet... just for one damn minute.

Veronica could tell something was up with her blonde and ambitious BFF, the dark circles under her eyes, the curt responses whenever she or Archie had asked what was going on. The distracted and distant look in her eyes, whenever the conversation wasn't focused on her. She could see how frequently Betty's fists closed into her palms, knuckles turning white. She even thought she saw the slightest tint of red underneath her perfectly trimmed nails.

 But enough was enough. If Betty wouldn't open up to her, she would go to the next best source: Jughead.

 She pulled out her phone and sent off a quick text.

 Veronica: is Betty okay? She seems off...

 Jughead was in the midst of another Serpent meeting. This time they were going over initiation proceedings for some new members. Viper was just discussing the two new prospects. Neither were a legacy, so they had to prove their commitment to the Serpents. Usually by securing a small dealing, or shaking down someone that owed the Serpents money.

 Jughead had been considered a legacy to the Southside Serpents, and the only formal initiation was a verbal acknowledgement to the leaders, accepting the invitation to join them. It had taken place just a week after they offered him the leather jacket. He now felt the same sense of security wearing the jacket at Southside High, as he had wearing his beanie at Riverdale High. Not saying that he gave up his crown-shaped beanie, often wearing it outside of school.

 His phone went off in two quick tones, indicating a text message. He opened it quickly, intending to turn it on silent when the words made him pause. Betty.

 Jughead: what do you mean?

 The pair exchanged a quick conversation while Viper finalized the plan for the new possible members of the Serpents. He might as well have been speaking a foreign language, from the lack of attention Jughead had for the older Serpent.

 Veronica: something's clearly bothering her, but she's not opening up to me when I try to talk to her. I figured you would know what's up with her?

 Jughead: she hasn't mentioned anything.

 In fact, he couldn't recall the last conversation they had, let alone anything that was bothering her. He tried to think back on when they last had any sort of meaningful communication, coming up empty. He was so wrapped up in catching up on classes mid-semester, then the demands of being a Serpent, that two weeks had passed and he hadn't even seen her.

 He opened up his thread with Betty.  There were five messages he had read, but not answered. He meant to, he really did. But how could he express the level at which he missed Betty through a few words? He couldn't do it justice, so he just... hadn't answered.

 Betty, Saturday: Movie tomorrow? :)

 Betty, Sunday: I miss you

 Betty, Tuesday: I'm working at the Blue and Gold. Another late night trying to wrap up this week's publication. Wishing you were here instead of my mom...

 Betty, Wednesday:  Pop's after school on Friday?

 Betty, Thursday: Hope everything is okay :\

 The most recent one was from just a few hours earlier. Rereading those messages, his heart sank even further. He inadvertently closed himself off from the one person that stood by him, the one person he trusted completely; the shining light in his world of darkness.

 It was clear from Veronica's message that something was up with Betty, and he was determined to find out.

 He opened his thread with Veronica and sent a quick, final reply.

 Jughead: I'm not sure, but I'm going to find out. Wish me luck.

 After the lack of communication on his part, he could use all the luck he could find. He said a quick goodbye to Viper, Ferret, Venom, and Junior. He barely even registered Viper's questions as he bolted out of the backroom of the Whyte Wyrm.

Betty woke to a few quick taps on her window. It could only be one person at her window. The same person that she snuck into her room a few times after curfew, exchanging hushed words and kisses late into the night. But those fleeting moments seemed years away, not weeks.

 She uncurled her fingers from her fists, feeling the dry crusted blood in the middle of her palms. Not like that was the first time this happened. Apparently her subconscious had a way of working out her frustrations while she was asleep, that her conscious brain desperately tried to keep at bay. It was nearly a nightly occurrence these last two weeks.

 She didn't even bother grabbing a tissue to clean them off. She slid out of bed and crossed her room to unlock the window. She caught the brief flash of his gray crown-shaped beanie before turning around. She didn't wait for him to climb through before she sank back into the comfort of her mattress. She threw her arm over her eyes to shield her from the overhead light.

 "Betty," he started.

 He wasn't exactly sure how to continue when he caught the sight of four dark red semi-circles in the palm of her upturned hand, at a loss for words. She needed him, and he hadn't been there.

 A whole new set of questions ran through his mind. What had her so stressed out that she resorted to hurting herself? What darkness was she dealing with, and why hadn't she confided in him to help her through it?

 She let out an audible sigh. "What do you want Jughead?" she spat. Recently, he only ever came by when he needed her advice, her voice of reason. She wasn't in the mood to deal with it tonight.

 He took the few steps forward so he was standing at the foot of her bed. Her bed wasn't foreign territory, often used by them for cuddling and kissing. But with the sharp tone in her voice, he knew that her bed was off limits. It felt as if she were miles away, not mere feet from his grasp.

 "Look Jug, can you just say what you came here to say? So I can get back to my article," she continued. She glanced at her laptop's clock in her peripheral, 11:03pm. The last thing she remembered was pushing her laptop away around 8:30pm. "Or just go back to sleep."

 She pressed the palm of her hands into her temples, attempting to massage away the dull throb. She felt a weight depress the edge of her bed and she propped herself up with her elbows, finally landing her green eyes on the piercing blue sitting across from her.

 "Betts," he began. He lightly placed his hand on her knee, applying a gentle pressure back and forth with his thumb. "I missed you. What's been going on?" The 'what's wrong' went unsaid.

 She sat up at that, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend. "Oh so now you want to know what's going on with me?"

 She took a deep breath before continuing, not waiting for the beanie wearing boy to answer. "Well let's see. Between midterms and assignments, extracurriculars that I can't back out of, tracking down my older brother, and attempting to comprehend just how incompetent the sheriff's department is, all while trying to help out Archie and his dad.

 "I can't even talk to Veronica with everything she has going on since her father came back to town, and I don't want to bother Archie when he has so much going on with his dad's physical therapy. Then trying to reach out to my boyfriend who doesn't even have the decency to," She did the mental math -- yup it was about ten days since he'd answered one of her texts.

"-take five seconds out of his day to answer me in the last week and a half, I'm doing just great."

 Jughead didn't know how to process what she had just blurted out, all in one single breath, which was an accomplishment all on its own. The motion of his thumb had stopped completely, reeling over what she had laid out.

 He knew he screwed up. And by the fierce glint in her eyes, daring him to challenge her, she knew it as well.

 "Wait, since when do you have an older brother?" Of course that had to be the first thing out of his mouth. And yet again, it was the wrong choice.

 "Really?" she asked with narrowed eyes, her fingertips turning white from the grasp on her upper arms. A sweet smile played across her lips, but he could see the challenging glare flickering behind her eyes.

 That look was more unnerving than anything else he had seen from... well anyone, ever. Let alone the girl next door that he had come to love over the years.

 "That's the first thing you ask?!" Her voice raised a few octaves. She took a deep breath and continued, her voice a few decibels lower.

 "You would know if you bothered to ask. But whenever I see you, it's always about how you're doing at Southside High or problems with the Serpents." Or at least the barest minimum of information when it came to the Serpents. "When was the last time you even thought about how I was doing?"

 His eyes went wide and his shoulders drew back away. Apparently he was leaning in towards her, without realizing. He had always gravitated towards her, knowing he would find solace in her presence.

 He had never seen Betty like this, never this blunt. But she was right, and he knew he only had himself to blame. He had been so wrapped up in his new school and the expectations that came with being FP's son in the Serpents, that he inadvertently let down the most important person in his life.

 Her heart was pounding louder, and growing louder every passing second of silence in her bedroom. The anger boiling just below the surface, and she was refusing to let it show. All those years of perfection that were instilled in her, she wouldn't allow herself to show it, not even in front of Jughead.

 Those little intrusive thoughts were also growing louder, tempting her to dig into her palms and just pierce through the skin, give herself back some of the control that she desperately sought. She willed her fingers to stay put, grasping even harder at her upper arms.  

 "Betty, come on, talk to me. I'm worried about you." His hand caressed the skin just above her knee, and he saw some of the tension leave her shoulders. Maybe he was getting through to her.

 "Those are just words Jug." She forced her fingers to lessen their grip, returning some of the blood flow to her now tingling fingertips.

 "I can't do this anymore," she continued. "I'm so tired. So fucking tired of this. I just can't do it anymore."

 No, no, no. This can't be happening. She can't be breaking up with him.

 She glanced down, accepting defeat. She wouldn't be the only one trying anymore, of feeling like she was the only one putting in any effort into their relationship. 

 Jughead couldn't believe what he heard. He wouldn't let this happen. His fingertips ran up her arms and neck, settling on sides of her face so he could look into her eyes.

 "Don't do this, Betty," he began. "I know I've been a shitty boyfriend, I have. But you are the one thing that gets me through every day. You are the most important person in my life, and you're the one person I trust with everything."

 "--but I'm not anymore," she interrupted. "You don't tell me everything anymore. I barely know what's going on with you because you won't confide in me. You're shutting me out of your new life." 

 His heart sank even further at her admission. Shit. "You're right, Betts. I didn't want to involve you in Serpents dealings. I still want to keep you safe. The best way I could do that was not to involve you at all."

 His thumbs lightly brushed against her cheeks and her features softened ever so slightly. "Please don't break up with me. I'll do better, try harder. Just please don't give up on us."

 She glanced back up to see tears threatening to spill from his eyes. She let out a light laugh and brought her hands up to cover over his own. "Wow, maybe we do need to work on our communication more than I thought." 

 His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He couldn't fathom why her possibly breaking up with him would cause laughter of all things. 

 "Juggie, I'm not breaking up with you. I just meant that I was tired of being the only one putting in any effort. I felt like I was trying so hard to hold into what we have, and you were fine with just letting us go. I feel like I'm being taken for granted, and I don't like it." The sincerity in her voice was evident. She pulled their hands down so she could interlace their fingers. "I want to feel like we're in this together. A true partnership."

 He leaned in, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. "Betty, I promise this is the last time you'll feel like that with me. I want all of that and more, with you. I never want you to feel alone or that I'm taking you for granted."

 He leaned in closer, giving her plenty of opportunity to back away. "I love you." 

 He allowed her to take the lead and she closed the gap between them, her lips lightly brushing against his. It was brief, but when she whispered back "I love you too Juggie," he closed the gap again. 

 She immediately deepened the kiss, bringing herself closer and her hands framed his face. His fingers danced at the exposed skin from her tank top, lifting it slightly. He pulled her flush against him, causing a light sigh to escape her lips. He took her bottom lip between his teeth, reveling in the moan it elicited. He peppered kisses along her jaw line then turned to her hand, kissing each knuckle before circling her own hands in his.

 "Let me help you clean up," he offered. He kissed her knuckles again, silently cursing himself that he wasn't there to help her when she needed him.

 She took her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded. She wordlessly reached for tissues and a water bottle, handing them over to Jughead. (She wouldn't dare risk going down the hall to her bathroom, with her boyfriend hiding out in her room.)

 He very carefully tended to the crescent shaped marks in her palms, still dry and cracked from earlier. When he finished with her right hand, he placed kisses along each one before tending to her left hand.

 "I don't need you to protect me by the way," she whispered. "I'm completely capable of looking after myself."

 He smirked. "I'm well aware that Betty Cooper is a force of nature."

 He finished with her second hand, lightly running his lips across those crescent shaped marks before discarding the tissues in her trash. "I'll always want to protect you, but I promise not to keep anything from you. Even if I think it's dangerous. As long as you promise me one thing." He placed his hand on her thigh, lightly tracing patterns into her pajamas.

 "What's that?" She leaned against his shoulder, finding comfort in the scent she missed the past two weeks.

 "I need you to tell me when you need me. Please," he emphasized.

 "You drive a hard bargain, Jones. But deal."

 He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

 It was at that moment that a few rapid fire text notifications chimed on his phone. The way Betty tensed beneath him didn't go unnoticed.

 "Do you have to go?" she asked.

 He opened his phone, seeing a few texts from Viper, but it could wait until tomorrow. He knew he needed to shift his priorities, and he would make every effort to be present with her from now on. "No," he said simply.

 She kissed his cheek. "So you can stay?" she asked cautiously.

 He kissed her soundly and kicked off his boots (quietly) for good measure. "I can stay."

 She pulled him underneath her covers and was asleep within minutes, getting the best sleep she had in weeks.

 Surrounded by the familiar vanilla scent of her body wash and the comfort of her head against his chest, Jughead drifted off as well.

The next morning Jughead woke to a weight on his chest and legs intertwined with his own. He never woke up before her -- the few times she had snuck him into her room over the last few months of their relationship, and only when her mother had been out of town. He took a few moments to revel in just how peaceful she looked. No furrowed brows, no tense shoulders.

 Her fingers curled around his shirt.

 "So I wasn't dreaming," she muttered. She opened her eyes to find a huge grin on his face and his hair sticking out in literally every direction. She mirrored a wide grin back at him.

 He leaned in to place a soft kiss on her forehead. "Good morning, gorgeous," he whispered into her hair.

 Her cheeks flushed with color. "Can we just stay here all day?"

 He kissed her forehead once more. "Somehow I don't think Mrs. Cooper would appreciate finding us here together."

 She rolled her eyes, but accepted his reasoning. "Well, you better sneak back out the way you came in, before she does find you."

 He pulled her in just a little closer and traced small circles into her waist, making no movement to get out of her bed. "Can I walk you to school?"

 Her eyes brightened at the prospect of spending just a little more time together. "I'd like that."

 She all but shoved him out the window when she heard the kitchen cabinets opening and closing downstairs. Her parents were already awake.

 "Meet me around the corner? I'll bring you something for breakfast." She didn't even wait for an answer before closing her window.

 She snuck two blueberry muffins in her bag and took a larger than usual travel mug of coffee for the two of them to share. She was out of the house in record time and found him leaning against one of the large oak trees near the corner.

 She offered muffins in one hand and coffee in the other. He placed the muffins inside his large jacket pocket in favor of interlacing their fingers together instead.

 It was the one and only instance she could recall where Jughead willingly passed on food.

 The walk to Riverdale High was over too quickly, but it allowed enough time for him to promise a date to Pop's that evening, which was a promise he intended to keep. And a few other promises he hadn't said aloud, preferring to surprise her instead.

Jughead made a surprise appearance at lunch time and slid into the seat next to Betty. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder before giving her a quick peck on the lips. It had been the first time he'd set foot in Riverdale High since transferring, and he was here for her.

 She thought just maybe, they'd be okay.