#losing a distant big sister/aunt

[mintycurry]

It's such an odd feeling to lose contact almost entirely with the person I used to idolise and basically modelled my life to. It hurts that I had to realise that maybe I don't want my life to be like hers after all, but I can't help the part of me that still does.

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Hi I hope you’re well 😊 I’m here to request your thoughts on Tommy Shelby as a father. Like how many kids you’d think he would have had if he only had one love interest (no falling in love with Grace or marrying Lizzie). Or if you think he’d be a girl or boy dad (personally i’d like to think he’d be a girl dad and have a big family haha). You can make this headcanon or just simply respond to this ask however you’d like! Thank you for taking the time to read and answer 🥰

Thomas Shelby as a Father

Tommy x Fem!Reader

Trope: Wait till your father gets home Warnings: Angst, spoilers for most of the series, period-typical sexism, references to past ab-se.

What we see of Tommy as a father is that he's distant and seemingly detached. This, I feel, is because of his trauma in losing Grace and his growing obsession with obtaining power.

We do see that Tommy is aware of his children's emotional state but seems unable to comfort his son. He goes as far as to have Arthur be the one to talk to his son about why he had to shoot his horse.

Tommy clearly cares about his children. He runs through a field of landmines to save his son, when he had almost stepped on one to purposely end his own life. Tommy goes nearly mad when he finds out Alfie Solomons was involved with the enemy that kidnapped his son. He shot Alfie for that betrayal with the intent to kill.

When Ruby became ill and he thought was all due to a curse, Tommy hunted the woman down. He went on a bloody rampage because he thought it would save her. With all of this, we know he is a loving father. But without Grace, he doesn't seem to know how to show that love.

Let's say that there is no Grace, only you, and that no sapphire is ever put around your neck.

That Thomas might be different than the one we saw parenting Charles and Ruby. I think he would want more than two children. I think he would be the sort of man who would say "one is enough," but really he wants four.

He would never raise his voice in his home without good reason. Tommy knows what its like to have a father that rules through fear and honey. He won't be kind only when he wants something. He won't make his children afraid of him.

Personally, I do see him as prime girl-dad material. Like he would have one son and three girls. Regardless of the birthing order, he calls the boy his "heir," but spoils the girls. They each have their own horse, a wardrobe of beautiful clothing, and freedom to do literally whatever they want. He has opened his briefcase to find dollies and teacups from your youngest girl's tea set before. She thought he would be lonely at work.

His girls would be the sort to follow around staff and ask them intrusive questions. Tommy would not be immune. His daughters would probably ask him questions like: "Do you not grow hair on the back of your hand daddy? Is that why it's only on top?" At least one of his daughters would have a "I'm totally a witch," phase where she's flinging curses just like he used to. Only with her, it's cute because she's only nine.

The only son of Thomas Shelby would be safely tucked under his wing. At your imploring, he would take your boy on long car rides or out into town without his sisters to bond. The boy has a lot of pressure on him to succeed, Tommy doesn't always sympathize with that.

All four of his children would be little hellions. He would be dragged to see their school's headmaster on a near weekly basis. To the point where he isn't always sure which of his kids is in trouble sometimes. He just drops a donation to the school and the problem goes away. That's not to say your children are bratty or terribly spoiled. Well, they are, but not unbearably so...

Tommy makes sure his children understand where he came from. He brings them all to the Cut to watch the ships come through. Loves to leave them at Charlie's yard for an afternoon of mischief and bonding time with "Grandpa Charlie." They also get dropped off at Aunt Polly's home for weekends every now and again. The girls always come back with a new swear word.

They are new money, not old money. There are those who will look down upon them based on this alone. He makes sure his children are educated and well-rounded individuals. Tommy often worries about the state of the Shelby Empire after he dies. You remind him that he "isn't allowed to die," before you say so.

Tommy is still more distant than you would like him to be. He's so focused on his goals, it's like he forgets all about Arrow House and the family that lives there. The oldest two girls have said as much to his face once before. He took the family on holiday after that. You knew he would go right back to long nights in the office, but it was still sweet.

Life with him is hardly perfect, but it's closer to it than you could have with anybody else. And that's enough.

[metyouinthehallway]

Going Under - C. Sturniolo

Pt. 2

WC: 5085

A/N: actually not confident in this part at all LMAO i didnt know where to end it either so mb if its such a sudden ending. not proof read :)

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Friday night we're all gathered around a bonfire on the back patio, Ally is pestering Chris with questions about Matt since she's a proclaimed ‘Matt girl’. 

“Is Matt more funny in real life? Does he really hate ketchup that much? Is he a good driver?” She rambles, Anyone who knows Ally knows she's been a fan of the triplets since they first started on Youtube and she's definitely losing her mind over talking to the Chris Sturniolo right now.

“Eh, he's pretty funny. I’d say he's a decent driver too, hasn't gotten into a crash yet!” He laughs, genuinely interested in the bland conversation. 

“Masie, c’mere.” My mom whispers, pulling me into the kitchen with my aunt.

“Are you and Chris fighting or is he just really distant?” My mom asks, anyone who wasn't stupid could tell that Chris and I aren't showing as much affection as a normal couple does.

“Oh, he’s not too big on PDA, it’s not a big deal. Promise were still goin’ strong guys!” I exclaim, trying to make it sound believable.

“If he's not treating you right, let me know and I’ll put ‘em in his place.” Aunt Sarah jokingly threatens, throwing a fist in the air.

“No, no, no need for that! We're totally fine guys.” I fake a laugh, grabbing a soda out of the fridge for Chris. He’s still being entertained by Abby when I walk back outside. Taking a seat next to him, I hand him the soda. “Hey Ally, you wanna go play with your cousins?” I ask, taking the hint she walks off, joining James and Sophie in a game of cornhole.

“So… just had a fun conversation with my Mom and Aunt Sarah.” I state with a sigh. Chris looks at me cluelessly. “They said we aren't as affectionate as a normal couple.” I let out a dry laugh, He pulls out his phone to text me instead.

If you think im gonna kiss you n shit, your wrong

                                                                                *you're :) 

Stfu. not gonna kiss you, not gonna hold

your hand, not doin any of ts

                                                                                u suck

He sighs in defeat, putting an arm around me and pulling me close to him. Is it weird that I kind of liked it? Is it weird that he smelt good? I swear this altitude is fucking with my head.

“Better?” He whispers in my ear,  I try to hide the embarrassingly stupid grin on my face but fail. This almost felt… right?

“Yep.” I mumble under my breath, staring into the fire in front of us.

“Look how cute you guys are!” Mark coos, snapping a photo of us before we could process it.

I hope he sends that to me later.

“Thank you brother in law. Very appreciated.” I grin at him, my dry humor somehow entertaining him.

“Very welcome, sister in law.” Mark, along with most other adults are tipsy from all the drinks they’ve had tonight. With tomorrow being the wedding, you’d think they wanted to save all that shit for then but apparently not.

“Maise, tell us how you guys met.” My dad chimes in, at this point he’s had a few beers and that ‘big ol’ softie” in him really comes out after at least two beers.

“We met at a party! It was real sweet actually, this cutie wouldn't stop staring at me so I finally went up to him and asked for his number.” I gush about our fake encounter, hugging his waist.

“What can I say? I see a beautiful lady n’ I can't help but stare.” a hint of sarcasm in his voice but no one catches onto it.

“You’re a good man, Chris.” My dad preaches, taking another sip of his beer.

After another hour or so of conversation, I decide it's time for Chris and I to head to bed. Especially since we're gonna have to discuss the sleeping arrangement. We say our goodnights to everyone and head up to our room. 

“So…” I start, unsure of how to go about this.

“Just share the bed with me, Masie. It's not that difficult.” He sneers, reaching for his pajamas in the dresser and heading to the bathroom. Leaving me with the most confused look on my face.

 I decide that I should change too, while I have the chance. Very quickly, I throw on an old t-shirt and shorts, as if on cue, Chris walks out of the bathroom crawling into bed.

“You aren't gonna brush your teeth? Nasty ass.” I tease, heading to the bathroom to do just that. Chris groans, getting up again to join me in the bathroom.

I never really noticed our height difference until I was staring at us in the mirror. He’s a good six inches taller than me. Cute.

“Stop staring and brush your teeth.” He rolls his eyes at me, I feel the heat rise to my cheeks, embarrassed that he caught me eyeing him.

Heading to bed, I keep a safe distance from Chris at first, until a good twenty minutes later when I’m tossing and turning unable to fall asleep.

“Stop moving so much, holy shit.” he complains per usual. 

“Can’t sleep.” I fluff my pillow and tangle myself in the duvet in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

“We can talk, usually helps me fall asleep.” He suggests, turning his body to face me. “What’s keeping you up?” Chris mutters, fighting off his own tiredness

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I have to share a bed… with you.” I state coldly. Shifting my body a little bit closer to his.

“If you’re gonna be a bitch, I'm not gonna do this.” Although I can't see it, I can hear the eyeroll in his voice. We stay silent for a few moments before he speaks again. “Sorry. This is weird. You know I actually can't sleep without someone else being in the bed?” His poor attempt at sparking conversation actually works on me.

“Oh, that’s kinda cute actually.” I’m glad its dark in the room otherwise Chris would definitely be making fun of the pink tint that paints itself across my cheeks. “How do you like it so far? The trip, I know I kinda begged you to come but you seem to be having at least a little bit of fun.” I ramble. I wonder if he knows that he makes me a little nervous.

“It’s actually not as bad as I thought it’d be. Lowkey, excited to see what you're gonna wear to the wedding tomorrow.” He replies, I hadn't thought about that, but the idea of seeing Chris in a suit was almost impossible.

“Nothin’ special. I’m glad though. I get to meet Charity tomorrow, super stoked for that.” I smile at the thought of my baby cousin. With most of my family being in Colorado, it's heartbreaking that I don't get to see them as much as I’d like to but California is more convenient for my career path.

“Oh, yeah! A baby, huh? Not a big fan of those.” He laughs at his own stupid joke, propping his head on his hand. The moonlight peaking through the curtains making his features more prominent in the dark room. 

“Okay, weirdo.” I giggle, lifting my hand up to play with his hair. “Sorry, don’t know what made me want to do that.” my eyes widen once I realize what i'm doing, snatching my hand back down to my chest. 

Chris lets out a sigh in response. “Just couldn’t resist, hm?” He hums, turning to lay on his back. Guess we’re both having issues getting comfortable. We lay in silence for a little while longer, still keeping a dangerously safe distance from each other.

That's the last thing I remember before passing out. When I wake up, It’s daylight outside and I'm wrapped in a pair of arms.

“Chris,” I groan trying to escape his grip. He doesn't budge, How deep of a sleeper is this motherfucker? I decided to do the only logical thing I could think of and kick his shins.

“Ow! Asshole, I'm up!” He yelps, I assume he realizes that he's cuddling me because he almost instantly pulls away and I nearly shudder from the loss of his body heat.

“It’s wedding day!” I jump out of the bed, a huge grin plastered on my face as I walk toward the balcony of our room. The morning fog over the lake tells me it's still the early hours of the morning.

I sit for a little while, leaned up against the railing listening to the birds chirp, so serene. I’ll never be able to get used to the mornings I spend on the lake, no matter how many I have.

“It's like, six in the morning, I wanna go back to sleep.” Chris goans, ruins my peaceful moment with myself by walking his happy ass to the balcony to join me. 

“Then go back to sleep, I’m going to spend time with Amber on her wedding day.” I grunt, walking back into our room. I reach for an outfit from the dresser as Chris crawls back into the bed. More sleep does sound incredibly tempting but I really should go downstairs and spend time with my sister before she becomes a married woman.

“Come back to bed.” He whines, holding his arms out like a child.

“You're disgusting, I don’t wanna cuddle your ass.”  I retort, heading for the bathroom.

I change into a pair of jeans and a sweater, quickly brushing through my hair and walking back out to find Chris doomscrolling for what felt like the eight millionth time since we’ve been here.

“Get up and come socialize with my family. I’ll be downstairs.” I state before walking down to the kitchen to find my Mom and Amber already having their morning cup of coffee.

“Good Morning! It’s Your big day, How exciting!” I smile at my older sister, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

“I’m so nervous, what if I puke at the altar?” Amber stirs her spoon around in her mug, looking at me with weary eyes.

“Oh Amber, don’t say that!” My Mom Laughs, waiting for her toast to pop out of the toaster. Amber had shared her wedding plans with me and from the shared Pinterest board we have, I can tell it's gonna be beautiful. She's aiming for more of a rustic woodland theme since its gonna be right on the lake. I always knew she had taste.

“You’re gonna be fine! Plus I have an amazing Sister-Of-The-Bride speech.” I coo, I’ve been working on this speech since she told me she was engaged and I just know it's gonna make her cry.

“Good morning, ladies! Happy wedding day, Amber.” Chris shouts, Descending from the stairs. He’s still in his PJ’s. 

“Mornin’ Chris, come sit with us. There's still some coffee in the pot.” My Mom invites him to the kitchen island. Chris accepts, sitting next to me.

We sit and talk about the plans for the day for a bit,eventually James and Sophie come peering around the corner like it's christmas morning.

“Aunt Laurie, can you make us cereal?” James asks my Mom, getting up, she starts to make them breakfast and I decide that me and Chris should go for a walk around the property.

“C’mon, I wanna go for a walk.” I say to Chris, grabbing his hand. With my coffee mug still in hand, we start towards the woods.

“You excited?” He asks me, walking besides me, he’s careful to make sure there's no tripping hazards on the path.

“Yeah, I’m giving a speech tonight. Most excited for the food though.” I peer up at him, flashing a smile.

“A speech? Didn’t take you as much of a public speaker.” Chris jokes, intertwining my fingers with his. As taken by surprise as I am, I don’t react to the gesture.

“Me either, We’ll see how it goes.” I shrug. Chris was really starting to get on my good side and it's only Saturday. We still have two more days in Colorado and I truly can't wait to see how it all plays out. I was beginning to see the true Chris and he’s not the avoidant asshole I originally thought he was.

“Weddings are so weird to me. Love in general is weird to me.” He’s quick to change the subject, now swinging out arms back and forth as we continue to walk, he gives my hand a light squeeze.

“How so?” I furrow my brows, I get where he's coming from but I wanna see if I can break him out of his shell a bit more.

“I dunno,” He starts, his voice flat. “I mean, It’s so scary, the idea of being tied down to one person for the rest of your life. Like, I hate the idea of that.” He admits, the shell is cracking!

“So you’re scared of commitment?” I chime in, I’ll be the first to admit, I too, am terrified of commitment but I guess when the right person comes along, you just know.

“Yeah. Guess so.” Chris looks down at the dry ground beneath our feet, unsure of where else to look right now. I think about any past relationships he may have had and none come to mind. Has this kid ever even dated a girl? I know he’s had girls over. I’ve seen them and even spoken to a few of them when I stayed the night at the triplets house. But why was committing such a bizarre concept to him?

“Right, well, I’m right there with ya, I've only had one boyfriend, and I never even thought about wanting to marry him.” I blurt out, why am I opening up to Chris? I’m not sure but if I'm trying to get him to break out of his comfort zone with me, I should probably overshare with him too.

“Why’d you guys break up? You were pretty upset about it, you didn’t come over for almost a month after it happened.” Chris was finally actually making an effort to get to know me better. I like this, I like this side of him.

“He cheated on me three times and I only found out the last time.” I state, thinking back to that relationship. I really loved him but I guess he had commitment issues of his own.

“I’m sorry, Mase.” He calls me by my nickname for the first time ever. It sounds almost melodic coming from his lips. Mase, Mase, Mase. I keep replaying it in my head.

After Chris and I’s little heart to heart, we head back to the house to get ready. After stealing all the hot water in the shower, I sit on the counter of the bathroom, beginning to do my makeup.

Amber didn’t hire a makeup artist for the wedding and I honestly preferred it that way. I sat in silence except for the muffled sound of Chris’ music playing from the bedroom, I’m left with my thoughts. All I can think about is him. Chris playing nice with my cousins. Chris being a gentleman to me. Chris staying up to talk to me last night. 

I had to be going insane or something, I don’t like him. I can’t like him, It’s Chris. There’s simply no way.

Once I finish my makeup, I slip on the dress Amber had picked out for me, a pink silk mermaid halter dress. A beautiful one at that.

“Wow. You look beautiful, Masie.” Chris has a hard time keeping his jaw attached to his face when I finally walk out of the bathroom. His sincere compliment threw me for a bit of a loop.

“Thank you, You look pretty handsome too.” Chris in a suit. Something I never thought I’d live to see. He looked so proper it was actually pretty impressive how nice he cleaned up. “Here, lemme help.” I smirk, helping him adjust his tie. Straightening his tie out a little bit, I can feel him staring down at me as I fiddle with the fabric.

“What?” I question, A cheeky smile plastered on my face as I fold his collar down.

“Nothin’.” He’s so obviously lying, there's definitely something. We walked downstairs, met with everyone else staying in the house except Amber and Mark. I assume they're doing the first look deal right now.

“Ready?” My Dad asks, leading everyone to the driveway. Luckily it’s not very far from the house at all, about a twenty minute drive. Chris and I ride with my parents, Dad pestering Chris with more questions. I felt bad for him at this point.

“I wanna know what it’s like being famous, is it really all fun and games? Masie won't tell us a thing!” He exclaims, Famous was a stretch. I’d consider us public figures at best.

“We aren't really famous, It’s fun though, my brothers and I have a pretty solid fanbase. Masie has a cult though, I swear I see her fans post about her all the time.” Chris laughs, I notice him fiddling with his suit jacket, must be an anxious habit. I take his hand in mine and give it a gentle squeeze. Chris gives me a half assed smile and goes back to conversing with my dad.

The rest of the car ride, Chris continues talking to my parents while I’m zoning out, staring at the trees we drive past. Autumn in the mountain sides definitely trumps autumn on the west coast. 

Once we arrive at the venue, the rest of the family is there. Including my baby cousin Charity who I was most looking forward to seeing. I waste no time going to greet my uncle Theo but more importantly, Charity. 

“Uncle Theo, this is my boyfriend, Chris. Chris, this is uncle Theo.” I introduce the two men to each other. Chris holds out his hand for a handshake.

Chris and my uncle do their little introduction while I’m distracted by baby Charity.

“Hi sweet girl, I’m your favorite cousin, but don't tell the others.” I coo, watching as she wraps her little fingers around my big pointer. “You are just adorable aren't you?” I smile at her, noticing the miniature dress she's in. How cute is that?

“Can I hold her?” I ask, once he gives me the nod of approval, I pick her up from the stroller, holding the delicate baby in my arms. While I'm distracted by Charity, Theo goes to socialize with our family.

“She’s so tiny,” Chris comes up from behind me, Placing his hand on my hip while I coddle the baby. I look up at him for a moment, Feeling awkward, the two of us, like this, with a baby in my arms. Too intimate.

“Hi, I’m Chris.” He smiles at her, making Charity giggle at him

“I think she likes you.” I whisper, rocking her back and forth. “Theo, take her away, I’m getting major baby fever.” I panic, turning around to find my uncle, handing Charity back to him.

“Baby fever? You're only twenty!” He laughs, placing her back in the stroller.

“Yeah, that's why it's scary.” I purse my lips, turning back to Chris who has a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Thought you didn't like babies.” I confront him, playing with my bracelet.

“I liked seeing you with her, It was cute.” Chris coos, what the fuck has gotten into him? Everyone enters the cathedral after socializing for a bit. Chris and I took a seat next to my Mom up front, Music begins to play over a speaker, a Lana Del Ray instrumental. Never doubted for a second that my sister had taste. We all watch in awe as Sophie throws rose petals down the aisle, She makes the most adorable flower girl ever.

Everyone turns their heads to look at Amber as the door at the end of the aisle opens, She looked as if she were glowing. Her dress was almost identical to the one she would describe to me when we were growing up.

My Dad is very clearly trying not to cry as he walks her down the aisle. This whole moment felt so surreal for me I could only imagine how Amber was feeling right now.

Once she makes her way to the altar, my Dad takes a seat next to my Mom, I watch silently as she consoles him, Knowing that watching his daughter truly grow up was such a proud Dad moment for him.

Chris takes my hand in his again, this time, raising it up to place a kiss on the back of my hand. I look at him with the most confusing look ever. Why the hell did he do that?

“The fuck?” I mumble under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear but he ignores my comment, all of his attention on the couple at the altar.

They begin to exchange vows, Mark is trying his hardest to control his tears as he speaks. I can feel Chris’ eyes practically burning a hole into my side profile as he stares at me while my brother in law vows to always love my sister. Looking at Chris, I can tell that this isn't just a normal look. I’m not sure how he's looking at me or what emotions he's hiding behind those eyes, I can’t tell if I like it or not.

It's now Ambers turn to read her vows. She’s talking about how she'll always root for the Avalanches during every game and how she could never imagine herself with someone other than Mark. The vows to each other are short and sweet, once the officiant announces that he can now kiss the bride, I can't help but look away. I’ve managed seven years without seeing them kiss and I'm not letting today be the first time I see it.

After the ceremony, we’re all instructed to meet at a small winery for the reception. I still haven't spoken to my sister since this morning and that's all I was dying to do. Especially after the looks Chris was giving me.

“Hey,” Chris starts as everyone begins to stand up. “I wanna talk to you later if that's okay, like after the reception ‘n everything.” He looks at me with that stupid look in his eyes again and all I manage to do is smile and nod.

Once at the reception, we’re all served our food and I get to tell my speech. “Hello everyone, So, I’m Masie, the bride's sister. When we were younger, Amber would tell me non stop about her dream wedding. If you ask me, I’d say this is exactly what she described.” I speak into the microphone, looking at Amber. “Amber is my best friend and I love her to no end but, Mark, I’d have to say over the years, you have become my best friend too-” I feel myself start to choke up as the audience coos at my introduction

The love that my sister and Mark have for each other is the same love I’ve always wished to receive and being able to see my sister be treated the way she deserves to be treated is very bittersweet. “I know for a fact that Mark is her soulmate because no one else I know is willing to sit through a six hour car ride with her, listening to The Vamps on repeat.” The audience giggles at this and Amber is practically doubled over in laughter knowing that her obsession with Brad Simpson when we were younger carried on into adulthood too.

“You did so good.” Chris praises me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder when I sit back down. I watch as he brings the pad of his thumb up to my face, patting at the last of my happy tears that have fallen.

Once everyone gives their little speeches and we’re all full from the food, we all head to the dance floor, dancing to Amber and Mark's amazing playlist they’d made.

“Um, can I dance with your boyfriend?” Sophie tugs on my dress, I look at my ‘boyfriend’ for confirmation and he nods. Chris dances with Sophie to Hey Ya! By Outkast. He’s crouched down, holding her hands and spinning her around, It’s quite cute actually. The way he’s only known my family for two days and is already so comfortable with them.

I head to the table Amber and Mark are sitting at, talking to Mark’s parents. I need to talk to Amber or I might lose my mind.

“Congratulations! You're a wife now!” I exclaim, wrapping my arms around her.

“Thank you, your speech was so good it nearly made me cry, I love you so much.” Amber smiles at me, I feel like everytime Ive tried to talk to her this weekend, she's been too wrapped up in the stress of her wedding to stay focused on our conversation but now that we're here, her full attention is on me.

“I love you too, Look at Soph. She tell you about her little crush on Chris?” I giggle, pointing at them on the dance floor.

“Oh my god, that's so cute. She's a lil’ boyfriend stealer. You better go get your mans.” She jokes, I’m almost positive that Chris doesn't mind it at all though. “We’re gonna cut the cake soon, I’ll save you a big piece!” Amber nudges me, motioning for me to head back to the dance floor.

Eventually, Sophie gets distracted by some kids on Mark’s side of the family and wanders off with them. Chris and I are finally alone again and of course a slow song comes on.

Forever By The Beach Boys. Curse my sister and her good music taste.

“Wanna dance?” Chris asks, holding out his hand. I take his hand in mine, and he places the other one on the small of my back. “So, I wanted to talk to you after the fact but I think now is a good time too.” He begins, swaying us back and forth.

“Good talk or bad talk?” I let my other hand find its way to the back of his neck, waiting for him to respond.

“Not sure. Look, Masie, I’ve always been avoidant of you for a reason. I think you know why too.” He sighs. Oh my god is he gonna say what I think he's gonna say? “I guess I like you? I dunno, I’ve been texting Matt this whole trip tryna figure out how to tell you and I guess being straight up about it is the only way.” Chris rambles, surprisingly not stuttering once.

I stare at him in silence, truly at a loss for words because I’ve developed a crush on him too. It's only been two days but within those two days I’ve seen the side of him he often tries to hide from me and I really like it. I really like him.

“Oh.” Is all I manage to get out and he looks at me dumbfounded. “Sorry, I have to use the restroom.” I excuse myself, dramatically rushing off the dance floor and into the bathroom, immediately calling Nick.

“Nick, thank god. Listen, we’re at the reception right now and we're dancing, right? Chris just expressed his feelings for me and- Jesus I’m so…I’m gobsmacked!” I exclaim into my phone, barley letting Nick process the words that leave my lips.

“Okay, first of all, Gobsmacked? Are you ninety? Second of all, do you feel the same way?” He asks me, his voice sincere on the other end of the line. I rack my brain of the thought of liking Chris. I know there's a little bit of admiration there, I mean, he makes me nervous. He’s been really opening up to me today, He’s got the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen-

Oh my god. I do like him. 

“Yeah…” I reply, sighing in defeat waiting for Nick’s reaction.

“Okay, so why don't you tell him that? Like he obviously isn’t gonna be disgusted.” He suggests, Nick was right but I couldn't come to terms with my own feelings. Liking Chris felt so foreign to me and considering our commitment issues, it just didn't seem logical.

“I can’t tell him that. It’d be so weird for the rest of the trip.” If I reciprocate my feelings for him, the tension would be looming over us like some dark cloud right before a storm, a bad one at that.  On the other hand, If I didn’t tell him the truth, it’d be ten times worse. 

“Masie, Literally just tell him how you feel. It could lead to something great.” Nick urges, growing impatient with my indecision. I ultimately end the call with the oldest triplet, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror. My makeup has slowly melted away from the sweat and tears I've endured throughout the day and my skin felt cold to the touch. I take one last deep breath, wetting a paper towel and blotting it on my neck before walking back out to the dance floor.

I find Chris sitting at our table, patiently waiting for my return. He looked anxious, like he didn't want to be here any longer.

“Hey.” I squint, my eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the room. I take a seat next to Chris, waiting for the next words to leave his mouth.

“Sorry- ‘bout what I said.” He admits, playing with his fingers in his lap. I think for a moment, taking his hands in mine.

“No, don't apologize. It’s okay. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night, yeah?” I purse my lips. My heart is practically beating out of my chest as I speak to him. Thank god for timing because Amber and Mark are about to cut their cake.

Everyone takes their seats, watching the newly weds cut into the three tiered cake together. Wedding cake is served to the guests and while everyone is happily enjoying their dessert, the two of us are awkwardly picking at our food. Both of us too nervous to say a word.

After nearly another hour of partying, we eventually call it a night, ubering back to the lake house, still barely a squeak from either of us. I’m almost dreading sleeping in the same room as him tonight.

[hythlodaes]

and then came june

emile/leofard 9.2k words [read on ao3] explicit summary: modern AU. when leofard becomes friends with benefits with his university's star quarterback, he never expects to fall for him. (also ty @scionshtola for letting me borrow cori!! ♥)

Chapter One- Spring

Leofard has every reason to feel alone in this world.

He doesn't remember his parents, doesn't know what happened to them, only that he was left to grow up by himself. He used to wonder about his relatives—when other children would talk about grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, and he'd think, Where are mine? Why couldn't they take care of me?

He's long grown out of those thoughts. 

At nineteen, he loses the one person that he could call family. Not related by blood, Raimille still loves him as a son, still leaves him everything she has with only one request: that he graduates college. At nineteen, he moves across the country with the car he loves with all his heart, speakers blasting Nirvana the whole way. Years in foster care have taught him never to feel sorry for himself, only to chase the freedom that he finds out here. After watching Raimille waste away with sickness, he chooses life. 

And he never feels alone. He meets Stacia at orientation, and she instantly becomes the sister he always wished he had. Over the years he meets friends in classes, at parties, at work, and it becomes a new kind of family—silly, loud, and his. 

Then, early spring of his junior year, he meets Emile. 

—

It starts with a half joke between Leofard and Stacia at two in the morning, curled up on the couch of their apartment and barely awake after marathoning their favorite movies all day. We should throw a party, Leofard murmurs into the tv flashed dark, and Stacia—his usual voice of reason—doesn't say no. 

Their apartment ends up cramped with dozens of college students the next weekend, loud and messy and the kind of thing that makes Leofard laugh until his stomach hurts. He shines under the extra attention, his body warm from alcohol, and it’s the kind of happiness that feels just real enough. 

He runs into Stacia as the front door opens again. A bunch of tall, bulky guys spill through, and Leofard may not follow their school's football team the way Stacia does, but she's dragged him to enough games that he recognizes a few of them. 

She always says she comes from a football family, and well, that includes Leofard now too. 

"God, they're huge," he comments, and he's about to turn his attention away when his gaze catches the last of them ducking under the door. He’s a little taller than the rest, and dark brown hair falls to his chin but he tucks it behind his ear, big eyes searching the room before someone claps him on the shoulder. 

The guy smiles, eyes curving into half moons, and Leofard feels the corners of his lips threaten to raise. 

Stacia shakes her head. "Leo, I swear if you try to sleep with anyone on the football team..." 

"Who said anything about that?" he asks, but this time he lets his mouth pull into a grin. "I'm just appreciating the view." 

The night drags on, the music blurs from one song into the next. Leofard feels only slightly hazy—that sluggish kind of drunk that makes the room spin a little slower. He gives into it, hearing his own laughter as a loud and distant sound in his ears. 

He finds himself in the kitchen again, a full drink in his hand. Utata sits on the counter, singing along to the music at the top of her lungs, and Leofard keeps his focus on her for a moment too long. In hindsight, it's funny that he doesn't see it coming, but Leofard turns away, knocking into the person behind him, and the entirety of his drink spills onto their shirt on impact. 

He has to tilt his head back to meet wide brown eyes, shock evident in the gaze that looks down at him. Leofard recognizes him from when he came in, but he's even cuter up close, where he can make out the freckles on his cheeks, the pout of his lips as he glances down at his shirt. 

"Shit, sorry," Leofard says, wincing at the red splotch that trails from collar to hem. 

"It's okay," the guy says quickly. His voice is softer than Leofard expected and a little hard to hear over the music. He looks up over Leofard's head and into the kitchen. "I'll just rinse this off." 

Leofard almost laughs until he realizes he wasn’t joking.

"Hate to say it, but that's not coming out, baby," he yells over the music. "Come on, I'll get you a new one." 

"You'll—" he starts, but Leofard claps him on the back as he walks past him. He leaves no room for argument, and the guy follows him to his room. The door shuts behind them, quieting the party to a dull roar in the background. It grounds Leofard for a moment, steadies him against the blurriness of the alcohol in his system as he goes to his bureau. 

“You called me baby,” the guy says, and when Leofard glances over his shoulder, he’s looking around the room, pausing at his desk to pick up one of Leofard's records. He meets his gaze. “This is your apartment.” 

“Right on both counts," he answers, and the guy smiles at him. There’s a warmth in Leofard’s chest that has nothing to do with being drunk. "What's your name?"

"Emile." "I'm Leofard." 

"I know," he says, and clears his throat. "I've heard about you." 

Leofard’s hands still. "Really?" 

"Well...I've heard about your car." 

"Even better," he says, letting his lips split into a crooked grin. He turns his attention back to the bureau. "Given the obvious, I'm not sure if I have anything that'll fit you." 

"You really don't have to, I'm sure this will wash out." 

"As much as I enjoy the mental image, do you really want to walk around in a wet shirt the rest of the night?" he challenges, just as he finds an old band tee that's always been way too big for him. When he turns around, he has to smile at the pout on Emile's lips. It doesn't last long, but he continues to stare at Leofard for a moment before his shoulders slump in defeat.

Then he takes his ruined shirt off. 

Leofard has to bite down on his tongue—he should look away. He doesn't. His eyes roam along the thick muscle of Emile's chest and up to the line of his broad shoulders, back down the bulk of his arms. Lifting his gaze, he meets Emile's, who watches him watch, something not quite discernable in his eyes before he smiles shyly—it's the tilt of his chin, the curve of his lips... 

"Baby, you're something else," Leofard breathes out, and hands him the clean shirt. 

Emile rolls his eyes before he puts it on. It stretches around him—where it hangs loose on Leofard, it clings to Emile, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Thank you.” 

"Don't mention it," he says, and he shifts his weight between his feet, unwilling to let the moment go. "So what’s this you heard about my car?”

“Oh,” he says. “Some of the guys were talking about it on the way over—said you could hear it halfway across campus.”

Leofard raises his brows, grinning helplessly. “It’s not that loud. Shit, I thought it would be something good.”

"Like what?" 

"Like what? I've worked on that car for the last six years of my life, it's perfect. A thing of beauty."

Emile laughs, watching him for a moment longer before he asks, "Will you show it to me?”

That single question sets his mind racing. For a moment, he can see it so clearly: Emile's long legs in the passenger seat, Leofard's hand on his thigh. He'd roll the windows down, stealing glances at his loose hair blowing in the wind while the Shins play over the speakers.

He thinks he’d show Emile anything, if he asked. 

"Play your cards right," he says. "I'll even take you for a ride." 

Emile laughs again, something closer to a giggle. He must be just as drunk, but he's so cute in Leofard's shirt, his big eyes bright with amusement. “You're flirting with me.”

“Well, you’re the one wearing my shirt.”

“You spilled your drink on mine!”

Leofard grins. “And I almost wish I did it on purpose.” 

A blush colors Emile’s cheeks as he turns his head away. “I wouldn’t say no,” he murmurs, and when he looks back, he doesn’t hide the way his eyes cast down Leofard’s body and back up to meet his gaze. He clears his throat. “You know—to a ride.” 

Leofard swallows hard. Everything in him says to move closer, to reach out, to touch him, but he holds himself back. “Come on, let's get another drink.” 

The sound of the party passes over them as Emile follows him out of his room. They walk down the hall together, but as soon as Leofard makes it to the kitchen, someone wraps an arm around his neck and yells into his ear. Leofard makes out half of the words, but as he looks behind him, it seems that Emile is similarly lost in the crowd. 

The stab of disappointment lasts longer than he expects it to. 

The night grows weary, the music still plays. Leofard is definitely drunk but it only makes him tired. There are a few times throughout the night when Emile catches his eye across the room, and a small smile crosses his lips. It feels like something secret exists between them—something merely waiting for the right moment. 

They collide again. 

This time it’s Emile’s hand on his shoulder, holding himself steady as his body sways closer, as he leans down. Distance is a second thought when he fixes those brown eyes on Leofard, lips curving up at the edges in a shy smile.

“I thought you were going to show me your car," he says, his soft voice loud over the music, but all Leofard can focus on is the strength of his grip on his shoulder, and as he blinks at him through the blurry lights of the living room, the only thought on his mind is touch him. 

This time he doesn't hold back.

He reaches out to wrap his arm around Emile's waist, hand grazing along his own shirt clinging to his body. He bites down on a grin at the way Emile shifts into his touch, the way his eyes widen when Leofard inches his fingertips beneath the hem, teasing at his warm skin. With their faces this close, Leofard just has to tilt his chin towards him to be heard, keeping his voice deep, quiet. “All you have to do is ask, baby.” 

“Please?” Emile murmurs against his ear, and Leofard closes his eyes for a moment. That single word sets the room spinning, keeping in time with the way his heart pounds in his chest. He turns his head towards him, noses brushing for a moment, breath ghosting against each other's lips, and he swallows hard as he pulls away. 

“Come on.” Fresh air sounds like a good idea. 

He turns his gaze to the door, and Emile is a step behind him as they head outside. There's a few people smoking on the front steps, but in the fuzzy dark they hardly pay Emile and Leofard any mind as they slip around the corner. The streetlights barely reach them here, washing the yard in gray light while everything sits muted and quiet. Only the distant sound of music from the house can be heard, a beat that sinks under the surface of the night.

It's cold, but Emile's body is warm as he crowds him against the side of the house, the excuse of seeing his car all but forgotten. Leofard touches the hem of his shirt again as Emile's head bends towards his, and there's a certain sway to them both, something hazy but desperate, lingering at the boundary line between them. 

Leofard crosses first, reaching up to wrap his arms around Emile's shoulders and pull him down into his space, where he meets his mouth with his own. Emile tastes like sugary punch, and he kisses him softly until he parts his lips. Leofard gasps against him, tangling his fingers in his hair as he deepens the kiss, a sound caught in the back of his throat as Emile's hands skim down his back and pull his body against his.

It's the right kind of messy—lacking just enough control to satisfy that desire in his chest. It says I need you without holding back, and Leofard hates how much he wants that from a stranger familiar enough to give it to him. 

He pushes further, hands seeking the touch of his skin beneath his shirt, and he moans when Emile slots his thigh between his, as a rhythm begins to build, heavy breaths warming the air between them, and—

"Hey, Emile, are you out here?" comes a voice from the dark.

They break apart. Leofard doesn't recognize whoever calls out towards them, but he keeps his eyes closed as he catches his breath. Emile’s touch shifts to his waist as he leans back in, his voice just above a whisper. "That's my ride home." 

Leofard cracks his eyes open. "You're kidding." 

“I wish I was.”

He has the thought to offer to take Emile back himself, but he's too drunk to drive. His next thought is to offer to let him stay the night, but he dismisses it the second it comes to mind. The thought of Emile taking his hands off of him is unbearable in this state, but he can't think of another way out. 

“Okay, Cinderella,” he relents, and he can see the stretch of Emile’s smile even in the dark. "This was fun."

"It was," he agrees, and for a moment Leofard thinks he's going to kiss him again, but he just shakes his head. "Goodnight." 

Leofard watches him walk back towards the lights of the driveway, where the silhouettes of his friends wait for him. Leofard just stares, his head in a daze as he blinks into the night. Emile opens the door to the passenger side of an old jeep, throwing one last look over his shoulder before he gets in. 

Headlights pass over the yard and then disappear down the street. Leofard tilts his head back against the house, willing his body to calm down before he goes back inside, where the party slows to a stop. Stacia raises a brow when they meet in the kitchen, but he merely shrugs a shoulder at her despite the disappointment in his chest. 

When he finally makes it back to his room, he has to laugh at Emile's stained shirt left on his bed. Cinderella indeed. He tosses it into his closet and crawls under the blankets. The room still spins even when he closes his eyes, but he thinks about the warmth of Emile’s body along his, the press of his lips, and what could’ve happened if they had a little more time. 

He lets his hand drift down his stomach—an echo of Emile's touch—but almost isn’t quite enough. 

—

It doesn’t stay on his mind for long. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t keep an eye out for Emile on campus—he’d be hard to miss, anyway—but a week goes by, then another, and Leofard lets go of the idea of running into him again. He never mentions it to Stacia, who would only make fun of him for it anyway, he merely chalks it up as a missed opportunity, something that wasn't meant to be. 

Where he's content to let it stay, until a few weeks later. 

Utata invites him and Stacia over on a Friday night. She says she's throwing a small party, but they all know better. She's one of his only friends that lives with her family off campus, which means whenever her parents are out of town, they have the whole house to themselves. 

Leofard walks over with Stacia—they meant to show up early but they're both perpetually late, and the party is in full swing by the time they get there. Cars line the street and the yard, and inside the lights are low, skimming over the crowd in a blue haze. It smells like smoke and like someone spilled punch, which makes him think of a stained shirt, and—

"I'm going to grab a drink," he yells over the music, and Stacia nods at him before she disappears into the packed living room. 

He navigates through the crowded hall, and it’s funny how everyone feels a little familiar at this point, strangers faces that he can pick out from classes over the years, from this same party he's been to time and again. It's always the same and yet they keep doing this, keep repeating it because it's the smallest break from the stress of school, from the stress of figuring out what they're supposed to be doing with their lives.

At the end of the hall, he runs into Cori. 

They’re bent down in front of Utata’s dog—Pickles, a fluffy collie that's currently nuzzling his face into her lap as they scratch behind his ear. Leofard’s used to seeing them at school, their similar majors all but guaranteeing shared classes over the years, but they've become something like friends at this point. 

Mostly they share the same love of cars, which—and he would never admit this to anyone, not even Stacia—Cori is far more knowledgeable of. 

"Hey," he says, and a wave of hair cascades over their shoulder when they glance up at him. 

“Hi,” they return. "No one was paying attention to Pickles." 

“It's a good thing you're here, then," he says. "I was just going to grab a drink, do you want any—“

His voice cuts off as he glances into the kitchen, where his gaze lands on the one person he thought he'd never see again. Big brown eyes curve into half moons as he smiles, loose hair curves around his chin as he talks, the light of the kitchen makes his skin golden. 

Emile is here. 

“Leo?” It’s Cori who says it, and Leofard barely registers his own name.

"Sorry, I—" he starts, but then Emile looks over, brows lifting when he notices Leofard. A small smile crosses his lips, but someone grabs him by the arm, pulling him out of the kitchen. He lifts his drink towards Leofard for a moment and then he's gone again. 

"Someone you know?" Cori asks. 

"Yeah," he answers, and he clears his throat, forcing himself to look away. "I'll catch up with him later." 

He tells himself that he'll let it happen naturally, that if they run into each other again then he'll talk to him, but it's just a few minutes later that he finds himself fumbling over an excuse to Cori before heading in the same direction that Emile left in. 

The music has definitely gotten louder, and the sound of laughter and conversation has risen to match it. The living room is a mess of people dancing and silver balloons that get thrown into the air, skimming along hands raised from the crowd. Emile shouldn't be hard to find, but Leofard doesn't see him anywhere. Maybe he left already—

"Looking for someone?" Emile asks, and Leofard turns towards the sound of his voice. There's something so bright about his brown eyes as he grins. "Hi, Leofard." 

"Hi," he returns, and he catches himself smiling back. "I didn't think I'd see you again." 

"Me neither. I owe you a shirt." 

"Don't worry about it," he says. "Looked better on you, anyway." 

Emile glances away for a moment before huffing out a laugh. "You're so..."

"What—charming?" he suggests. 

"Something like that."

"Come on, let's dance." 

He immediately shakes his head. "Oh, I'm not much of a dancer." 

"No one's judging, baby," he says. "Besides, everyone's too drunk to care." 

"Are you?"

Leofard didn't even stop for a drink. "Not yet." 

"Me neither," he says. "I have a meeting with my coach first thing in the morning, I shouldn't even be here." 

"Miss me that much?" 

Emile laughs. "Yes Leo, I've actually spent all this time looking for you." 

"Well here I am," he returns. "May as well make the most of it." 

Leofard watches him press his lips together, the way his gaze shifts over him as he considers it. His shoulders lower the slightest bit and Leofard smiles, knowing his answer already.

"Fine," Emile says. "One song."

"Before you turn into a pumpkin, yes I remember," he says, and he takes him by the hand into the crowd. 

He was right, hardly anyone even looks over at them as they begin to move to the music. The beat is fast and heavy, pulsing through him as he keeps his eyes locked on Emile. They move closer and closer and impossibly closer, and  Emile puts his hands on Leofard, long fingers pressing into his waist. 

More.

Leofard raises a brow before he turns in his embrace, moving back until he fits against Emile’s chest. Emile’s hands skim down to rest low on his belly, and Leofard covers them with his own as he rolls his hips against him. 

Blue dimmed lights, the kiss of balloons against the ceiling, he blinks in and out of a dream. There’s something possessive about Emile’s touch, and Leofard lets his head fall back against his shoulder as the music beats through him. Are both of their hearts pounding? Emile’s head lowers to his neck, and he can feel the warmth of his breath as his lips ghost against his skin—

The song ends. 

For a moment, neither of them move. 

"You know," Leofard says, turning to face him. "We have unfinished business, Cinderella." 

"What do you mean?" he asks, but his hands are still on Leofard, and they inch the slightest bit lower.

"I mean," Leofard starts. "I never showed you my car." 

Amusement makes a home in Emile's gaze. “I don’t think that’s what we were doing.” 

“No? Maybe we’ll have to try again.”

Emile glances at his lips for a long moment before meeting his eyes again. The next song starts but they don't move, still standing too close, faces angled just right—all it would take is the slightest effort to kiss. 

It's been weeks, but it's the same feeling crawling up Leofard's chest. 

"Come on," he murmurs. The music drowns out his voice but Emile's hand finds his as he leads them through the crowd. Going outside didn't work for them last time, and he knows Utata would kill him if he took Emile to her room. Still, they go upstairs where the house is emptier, the music is still loud but the sound of voices dims to the background. 

They slip into the bathroom. 

Silver blue light streams in through the window, echoing across the tiled wall. The silhouette of Emile steps ahead of him, and they stay in the dark, bodies moving closer. Emile is so big and solid and yet he yields to Leofard, lets him crowd him against the sink. It's quiet enough that Leofard can hear the hitch in his breath, the small sound in the back of his throat when Leofard puts his hands on him. 

In the dark, their lips meet. 

It's better than his drunken memory, sharper without the haze of alcohol blurring the lines between them. His heart races as they rush into it, his own desperation climbing as they continue what was cut short. He kisses Emile's jaw, lips brushing along warm skin as he works down to his neck, and he has to hold back a grin as Emile's hands bunch at his shirt, pulling him closer. 

"Isn't this," Emile breathes out, "a bit of a risk?" 

"Maybe," Leofard returns, but he lets his hand skim down to Emile's jeans, tugging at the waistband. "I can stop if you want, baby." 

Emile pushes his hips into his touch. “Keep going.” 

Leofard bites down on another grin before he presses his mouth to his shoulder, hand reaching lower to undo the button of his jeans. Heat surges through him at the sound of Emile's shaky breath, at the crack of his voice loosening into a moan as Leofard finally touches him. 

It’s like the rest of the room disappears. Leofard pulls back enough to watch his face, to see his brows push together, his lips part, the way his eyes shut as his head tips back. He does not hide his pleasure, and in the ghost of the moonlight, Leofard is transfixed. 

"Wait," Emile murmurs, and Leofard looks up in question when he puts a hand on his wrist to stop him. "I want to—with you." 

Leofard is about to ask what he means when he reaches over to tug at Leofard's jeans, a small smile on his lips as he looks up to meet his gaze. His hair is a mess, lips still parted, his big eyes wide as he watches him—Leofard doesn't stand a chance. 

He's already close, and he groans openly as Emile takes them both in hand. Somehow they find each other's lips again, and they kiss as their hips work together, the sound of the party all but gone as they pant into each other’s mouths. For a moment, all that matters is the rush of warmth through his body, building with each stroke until his breath catches in his throat.

They’re still kissing when they come. 

Leofard tilts his head back, eyes squeezed shut until the feeling begins to fade. The world comes back to him in pieces: the distant sound of music playing, Emile's hand steady on his hip, the room shifting into focus when he opens his eyes again. 

He catches Emile's gaze, and they both laugh.  

"Utata would actually kill me if she knew."

Emile shakes his head. "I won’t say a word." 

And then it's just the two of them in a dark bathroom. They clean up, taking turns washing their hands and fixing their hair and clothes. Leofard almost wants to put the lights on just to see the flush of Emile's skin, but once they're both ready, they slip back into the empty hallway, where a rare question leaves Leofard's mouth: “What if I asked for your number?”

Emile blinks at him for a moment. “Oh, I don't really date. It's kind of hard with my schedule, and I don't want to commit to anything if I'm not sure about it—not that I don't like you! I just don't know if it would be a good idea, or if I'm even in a place to figure that out..." 

His voice trails off and his brows push together as he watches Leofard for a reaction. 

Leofard laughs. 

"Relax baby, I'm not exactly boyfriend material either," he says. "I just wanted to hook up again." 

"Oh," Emile says, and he begins to laugh as well. "Sorry." 

"It's okay," he returns. "We can leave it like this, too." 

Emile bites his lip. "No—no, I'd like to see you again." 

"Yeah?" He fishes his phone from his pocket and opens his list of contacts before handing it over. He watches the way the light flashes against Emile's face as he enters his number. It makes his freckles stand out, and it's hard not to stare at the way they cross over his nose. He clears his throat. “I don’t date either, you know.” 

“Okay,” Emile says, and he lets their hands brush when he gives him his phone back. “So no expectations?”

“No expectations," he confirms. "We can just be friends."

Emile smiles. “Just friends.”

—

If Leofard knew, in that moment, that Emile was in love with someone else, he probably still would've gone for it. 

If he knew how easily his own heart could break, how this conversation would be the one he'd come to regret—

Well. 

Maybe that would've made him pause.

—

He sleeps in too late the night day, the sun bright behind his blinds and warming him even as cool air seeps in through the cracked open window. His blanket is in his fist, curled up beneath his chin as he takes in a deep breath and stretches his body out for a moment before relaxing back into his pillow.

He gives himself a few more minutes; it’s been a while since he's felt this good. 

It's noon by the time he gets up, and he shuffles into the kitchen with his blanket still wrapped around him. Stacia's at the table with a steaming cup of coffee and an open book, but she stares blankly at the space in front of her. It takes a moment for her to look up at him, and the looming afternoon light only highlights the dark circles under her eyes. 

“You good?” he asks. 

“Hungover,” she returns. “You?”

He bites his lip for a moment as he recalls last night, the phantom memory of Emile's hands on him, the new phone number in his contact list. “Just tired.” 

It’s a testament to her hangover that she doesn’t notice the tone of his voice—light and entirely too pleased with himself—but he leaves her to her coffee while he makes breakfast. Though he is prone to burning most of the food he cooks, he is more than capable of eggs and toast, and he pours himself a cup of coffee to sip at while he works. 

Sometimes it's like this: bare feet on the cool kitchen tiles, warm sunlight on his skin, the smell of coffee in the air—moments of the smallest, most simple happiness can happen so unexpectedly. 

When he sits back down, he takes a breath and asks, “What do you know about Emile?” 

Stacia's head pops up from her book. “Jenidaut?”

“Maybe?” he says, lifting a shoulder. He doesn’t have a clue what his last name is. Through a mouthful of toast, he says, “He’s on the football team.” 

“Yeah,” she answers. “He’s the best quarterback this school has ever seen. He’s a sophomore and there were already rumors of a Heisman this season.”

Leofard just blinks at her. 

“You've seen him play. Do you remember that playoff game last year?" she tries. "They put him in at the last second and he caught the game winning pass—I lost my voice from screaming."

See, he remembers actually going to the games, but as far as what happens during them? “I thought Emile was the quarterback...”

“Well not at first, but Varlineau injured his shoulder and Emile took his place,” she says. “You really weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“I pay attention,” he argues, but quickly relents at the look she gives him. “Just not that much.”

She shakes her head. “Why are you even asking about him?”

Hands on his body, head tipped back with a groan, the heat of his skin—Leofard clears his throat. "I might've hooked up with him last night." 

"What," she exclaims, and he has to laugh at the way she sits up, eyes wide, her hangover all but forgotten. "The hell, Leo, why wouldn't you start with that? Tell me everything!"

It starts in their own apartment, it starts with a stained shirt, it starts with kisses that lead nowhere in the dark. It leads to last night, to their dance, familiar enough with each other to push them over the edge. He brushes up against the details, skims past them, but he fails to hide his smile at the memory of the two of them slipping away from the rest of the party. 

He can tell that she notices, but all she says is, “So, what—are you going to call him?” 

“Probably,” he says, lifting a shoulder. The truth is, he can’t imagine passing up another opportunity to see him, but he just smiles before he takes another sip of coffee—

“We’ll see what happens.” 

—

He gives it a couple days. 

It crosses his mind while he partakes in his favorite activity—laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, music playing too loud while he ignores his homework. He can't seem to focus, mind spinning between thoughts but unable to land on one, and he turns his attention to his phone laying at the other end of his bed. 

Emile would make a better distraction. 

Still, he stares for a long moment without moving, and the second he wonders if he's nervous, he gets up and makes himself call. 

It rings a few times before the soft sound of Emile's voice comes through. "Hello?"

Leofard smiles. "What's this I hear about you being a hotshot quarterback?" 

There’s a beat of silence, and then: “Leofard?”

"Who else?"

He hears him laugh. "And you call me a hotshot."

"Am I wrong?" he says. "My roommate was just talking about some play you did last season, thought I'd see if it’s true." 

“Yes, it's true,” he says. "Is that the only reason you called?" 

"No," he returns, biting down on another smile. "Let's go for a drive, I'll pick you up." 

"In the infamous car that I still have yet to see?"

"The one and only." 

"Alright," he says. "Give me a half hour."

He tells him where his dorm is, and Leofard gives himself approximately twenty minutes to look nice before he has to leave. One glance in the mirror, he ruffles up his curls and takes off his old sweatshirt and replaces it with his favorite beat up denim jacket. 

Stacia is in the living room when he comes out of his room, and she takes one look at him and raises a brow. "Off on a date?" 

"It's not a date," he says, grabbing his keys. 

"Off to get laid?"

This time he laughs. "I'll catch you later." 

"Be safe, have fun!" she calls out after him. 

Early evening means the campus is quiet. Leofard lived in the dorms his freshman year before moving in with Stacia, so he's familiar with them. He navigates across campus to Emile's building, biting down on a grin at the sight of him waiting on the front steps. 

Emile looks unfairly good, simply in a sweatshirt and jeans, hair falling loose from his ponytail. He looks up and waves. 

Leofard is in trouble. 

"Hey, gorgeous," he says as he gets in the car. 

“Hi,” Emile says, smiling in that shy way. His attention turns to the dashboard. "So this is it."

"This is it," he says. "What do you think?"

"It's nice." 

His voice tips up at the end, almost like a question, and Leofard can't help but laugh. “You sure about that?”

“I don’t know anything about cars,” he admits. “But it's pretty." 

"I've always been obsessed," Leofard says as he pulls out of the parking lot. "I got my first job just so I could buy it."

He worked every day after school. Raimille wanted to pay for it for him but he wouldn't let her, convinced he needed to prove that he could do it himself. Part of him regrets it, if only for how much time he unknowingly lost with her. 

"I like that,” Emile murmurs, the sound of a smile in his voice as they take to the tree lined streets, headlights coasting over gravel. "You know, I never actually learned how to drive." 

“Shit, baby, I’ll teach you,” he returns. "Why not?"

"I was just busy with football, I guess," he says. "And my friends were always willing to drive me." 

"So football is your thing." 

There's a long pause, but then, "Yeah, I guess." 

Leofard's brows dip down. "Not your thing?" 

"I don't know," Emile answers, and there's a slight laugh in his voice. "I don't love it anymore. Not the way I used to, at least." 

"Stacia says you're the best quarterback this school has seen."

"Stacia?" 

"My roommate," he says. "Which is an understatement—she's more like an annoying sister. And my best friend. She's the biggest fan in the world, drags me to your games sometimes." 

"You've seen me play?" 

"Don't get too excited—it's kind of like you and my car," he explains. "I don't know anything about it, but it's pretty to look at." 

Emile laughs. "You're such a flirt."

"And you've got a nice ass," he returns. "Are we just stating the obvious?" 

"Leo."

"Yes?"

In his peripheral, Emile shakes his head. "Where are we going?" 

"I don't know," he answers. The evening begins to settle into night, deep hues of the sky bleed into the orange sunset peering through the spaces between trees. Leofard smiles to himself. "Don't you ever just want to get out for the sake of getting out?" 

"That's usually when I go for a run." 

He glances over at Emile, getting the feeling that there's far more to him, but he won't ask. "Then let's see where it takes us." 

It takes them across town for ice cream, which takes them to an empty park. It's too cold to get out, so they sit in the parking lot, music playing softly while they talk. He learns that Emile's from Maine, that his eyes light up when he talks about his sisters, and that he's a music major. He brushes it off when Leofard asks, but he sounds more excited about playing guitar than he does about football. 

He learns that Emile is a good listener, even if the spoon at his lips is distracting, and Leofard ends up talking the night away. Everything from school to work to his car. He doesn't mention Raimille, doesn't mention family at all, because he never wants his loss to define him.

And then it's sugar sweet kisses in the dark, Leofard fumbling over the console to settle in his lap. It's cramped against the roof of the car, but nothing else matters when Emile's lips are on his, when his hands roam up his thighs as his heart picks up a beat, breath growing heavy as their kisses deepen. 

Emile reaches up to tangle his fingers through his curls, pulling him that much closer, and Leofard rolls his hips against his, grinning when he moans into his mouth. At twenty two, he feels like a teenager getting off in his car again, something secretive and exciting about it. Emile kisses his neck and he can't help but let his head fall back, giving into it as it overwhelms him. 

He stays in Emile's lap afterwards, head on his shoulder, face tucked into his neck. Neither of them say anything for a moment, but Emile's hands linger on his back, smoothing over him in an absent rhythm. It doesn't last long, but it's nice. 

When Leofard pulls away, they smile at each other as he reaches up to pat Emile's hair down, and they clean up the best they can before he scrambles back into the driver's seat. 

He turns the music up as they drive back to campus, the windows cracked and leaking in cool air. Each time he looks over at Emile, he's staring out the window, and Leofard can't tell if he's okay or not, but maybe he just doesn't know how to accept something peaceful. 

He pulls up to Emile's dorm, but Emile stays a little longer, looking over at him with a soft expression.

"You should call me again."

Leofard grins. "You can count on it, baby." 

—

It begins in a bathroom of a crowded party, and what starts as intermittent, becomes frequent.

They learn each other's schedules, and between classes and Emile's workouts and Leofard's job, they find time during the week to hang out. Since Emile lives in a dorm, they always meet at Leofard's apartment—Leofard either picks him up, or Emile will walk over—and in the privacy of his room, he finds out just how much better it can get. 

That first shirtless glimpse of Emile the night they met couldn't have prepared him for the sight of him stretched out naked in his bed. Leofard can hardly look away, can never keep his hands to himself, always tracing his fingertips along warm skin. They learn the ways their bodies fit together, how to say more and now through touch, through breathless gasps, through the way their eyes meet, tangled up and not letting go until they're whispering jokes and giggling into the small space between them. 

Whenever they finish, Emile doesn't leave right away. He never stays the night, but they always end up talking for hours, about school and friends and life, video games and tv shows, or stories about Leofard's job at the pizza shop down the road. One time they watched a marathon of Saved by the Bell while they ate leftovers from the fridge, and Leofard ended up driving him back to his dorm at three in the morning, Elliott Smith playing softly to fill the tired quiet between them: I’d say you make a perfect angel in the snow. 

Leofard has had friends with benefits before, but this is the first time it feels like they're actually friends. 

It's nothing more, despite what Stacia says. She's only run into Emile a few times in the apartment, but she always raises a brow with a smirk, always teases Leofard the next day about his boyfriend coming over. 

Leofard just laughs it off. 

He's too young to be tied down, too selfish to be good at a relationship. The thought of trying to make this romantic sounds exhausting, like a performance neither of them know the steps to. What exists between them is the easiest thing in the world—he couldn’t be happier with this arrangement. 

No expectations, they’d said, and it was a good idea. 

It begins to change with this:

Early May means finals, and with one year left of school, one year left of his promise to Raimille, Leofard needs to make sure he passes these classes. The only one that gives him trouble is his English paper—he's never been good at planning or gathering sources, and he keeps putting it off until he has ten pages due the following day, and maybe two done, at most. 

It becomes a marathon to finish on time, surrounded by stacks of books and a perpetually full cup of coffee at his side, but he gets frustrated with himself again and again as he loses focus. He stares at his laptop for so long that his vision feels a little blurry, so when his phone rings, he accepts the distraction for what it is. 

"Hello?"

"Hey," says Emile on the other end of the line, voice soft.

Leofard bites his lip as he stares at the ceiling. "What's up?" 

Emile is quiet for a moment, and then: "I was wondering if you're free tonight." 

Leofard spares a glance at his laptop. "Shit, I wish I was, but I’m going to be stuck working on this paper all night." 

"That’s okay," Emile says, and there's something distant and strange about his voice, but Leofard can't tell whether or not he sounds disappointed. "I don’t want to—we don’t have to have sex.” 

Leofard frowns at the ceiling. They've never hung out for any other reason. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just…” he trails off again. “Sorry, I’ve been having a really hard day, and I don't want to be alone. My friends ask too many questions and I—I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“So I’m an option because I don’t care?” he jokes.

“God, no, that sounds terrible,” he says quickly. “You’re just…easy to be around, Leo.”

Leofard’s left with the sound of his heart beating in his chest. For a moment, his thoughts blur together and it feels like he only hears himself say, “Come over." 

Emile lets out a soft breath. "I promise I won't distract you."

Something in Leofard's stomach twists uncomfortably, and he wants to tell him that that doesn't really matter. What comes out instead is, "Do you want me to come get you?" 

"No, I'll be okay," he says, and pauses. "Thank you." 

Leofard has a hard time focusing on his paper after that, unsure of why it bothers him so much. He gets a single sentence done by the time there's a knock on the door, and Leofard gets up to answer it before he can think better of his appearance. 

He regrets it when the door opens and Emile’s expression shifts into a grin. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

Leofard scrunches his nose as he looks down at his outfit—an old baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. “Sorry I didn’t get dressed up for you, baby.”

“No, I like this,” he says as he steps inside. “You look comfy.” 

It's difficult not to be affected by those brown eyes steady and warm on him, the softness of his smile. “Don’t get any ideas, I will indulge them.”

Emile laughs. “I’ll be good. Look, I brought my books so I can study too.”

He holds up his bag. Leofard shakes his head. “Do you ever get tired of being so cute?”

He lets him inside, and he ignores Stacia’s grin as she glances up at them from the couch. Emile stops to greet her while Leofard goes to his room, where his laptop is still open, books spread out everywhere. He cleans off a space for Emile on the bed, who merely raises a brow before settling in beside him. 

It feels oddly intimate. They work separately but they're merely inches apart, brushing elbows and passing books and stray comments. Leofard wasn't sure he'd get anything done with Emile here, but he finds it easier to focus with someone beside him. 

For the most part, Emile seems fine. Leofard finds his thoughts drifting towards what could've happened today that he's having such a hard time, but he can't ask—Emile specifically came to him because he won't ask. Still, it doesn't stop him from worrying. They know each other but they don't, their intimacy is limited to the physical, and that's all they wanted, right?

He doesn't know why he can't stop thinking about it. 

It becomes more obvious as the night goes on. Emile doesn't move for several minutes at a time. Leofard gets through half a page of his paper without Emile turning a single page of his book, and when he looks over, Emile’s gaze is fixed blankly at the space in front of him, worrying at his lip with his free hand. It takes too long for him to notice Leofard watching, but he offers him a closed lip smile when he does. Leofard smiles back.  

With two pages to go, it creeps past midnight. Leofard is ready to throw his laptop out the window when Emile's book slips from his hands onto the bed. He looks over to the dull light of the lamp casting shadows over his face pressed into his pillow, eyes closed and chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm as he sleeps.

Leofard stares for far too long. 

He half asses one more page, makes the margins and the spaces between lines bigger so that it goes onto another, and closes his laptop. Emile shifts but he doesn't wake up, and Leofard debates for a moment what to do. To wake him and send him home seems cruel, especially if he's having a bad day. To let him stay here feels...too close. 

Carefully, he gets up to brush his teeth, but by the time he gets back he still hasn't decided. He stands in the doorway of his own room, watching the late night shadows cast over the shape of Emile in his bed, and something tugs in his chest. He closes the door with a soft click and crawls back in beside him, pulling the blanket over them both. 

This time Emile stirs, eyes blinking open slowly. "Leo?" 

"Hey," he says, his voice whisper soft. "You fell asleep." 

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

"Just stay—it's too late to walk back and I'm too tired to drive." 

He doesn't think that either of these things are true. 

Emile is quiet for a moment, but then, "Are you sure?" 

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice drifting off. He reaches over to turn off the light. "Of course, baby." 

He can't remember the last time he shared a bed with anyone—maybe not since his second foster home, when the other kids would come to his room at night and he'd tell them stories until they fell asleep. He takes a deep breath at the memory, and watches the ceiling until his eyes grow used to the dark. Judging from the sound of Emile's breathing, he falls back asleep quickly, and Leofard lets his head turn towards him, foolishly wondering what it would be like to reach out and touch him. 

He closes his eyes and waits for all of it to pass. 

—

The sun spills into the room through Leofard’s cheap blinds, paled light that still stirs him awake. There’s a weight around him, something solid that seeps warmth into his body, and his brows furrow for a moment before it comes back to him.

Right. Emile stayed the night.

Leofard knows their size difference well, but for the first time he lets himself catalog it—the way Emile’s broad chest spans past his shoulders, his heavy arm curled around his waist, and his cheek pressed to the top of his head. Each point of contact says you’re safe, and to Leofard’s surprise, he doesn’t mind.

He’s never needed anyone. He’s never wanted anyone like this, but he isn’t awake enough to overthink it as he lets himself inch further back into Emile’s space, sliding his arm along his to cradle it against his chest.

Blinking through the dust dazed light, he breathes in time with him—something steady to pull him back under as his eyes fall closed.

Distance will be easier in the morning.

—

Except—then he's alone. 

He wakes faster this time, but the only evidence that Emile was here at all is the rumpled blanket beside him. Something in his chest pulls at the sight, but he refuses to call it disappointment. Leofard wouldn't have woken him to say goodbye either, if their roles were reversed. 

Putting on his glasses, he glances at the clock to see that he still has a couple hours to submit his paper, and he chooses to ignore his laptop in favor of coffee. 

He stretches out his back as he gets up, but there's a crick in his neck from spending all day working on his paper yesterday. It's forgotten the moment he opens his door and hears the sound of voices trailing from the kitchen. He frowns to himself, but when he turns the corner, Emile and Stacia sit at the table eating breakfast, so deep in conversation that neither of them notice him. 

"I trust you saved me some coffee?" he asks, interrupting. They both look up, and there's a sly smile on Stacia's face and an earnest one on Emile's. He doesn't know how to process the way it makes him feel. 

"Sorry, you're on your own," Stacia says. 

Emile laughs. "There's some left." 

Leofard still just blinks at both of them before he goes to pour himself a cup of coffee, his brain struggling to catch up with the situation, and for once in his life he's quiet as he listens to them talk about football. Stacia's voice is bright and more excited than he remembers it ever being, and Emile indulges her, going back over specific plays and explaining the story behind them. 

“That pass from Estinien,” she says, and apparently it’s all she needs to say. Leofard watches the twitch of Emile’s mouth, the way he looks down at the table as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“It was his idea,” he says quietly. The memory seems to come to him, and he smiles a little to himself before he looks back at Stacia. “We used to practice those kinds of throws together all the time—it only worked because no one was expecting it.” 

But before Stacia can say anything, he continues, "I should probably go, though. I have a final at noon." 

"I'll drive you back," Leofard offers before he can think about it. 

Emile glances at him, his expression soft. "Thank you. I'll go grab my books." 

Leofard just nods as he gets up and leaves the kitchen. He wants to ignore the look on Stacia's face but it's impossible with the way her lips curve into a smug grin. 

"Your boyfriend stayed the night,” she says the moment he’s out of earshot. 

"Stacia," he returns, not quite a warning but more of you know it's not like that. "He fell asleep, I wasn't about to kick him out." 

"Of course not." She takes a sip of her coffee, and just when he thinks she's going to let it go, she says, “I’m assuming you were the little spoon.”

“Stacia.”

She laughs, but then her voice turns a shade softer. "He's a sweet guy." 

"He is," Leofard lets himself admit, and he stares in the direction that Emile left, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to tell her we didn’t have sex last night.

Because there's a limit to their relationship. There is a defined boundary, and last night doesn't fit within that. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. A moment later, Emile bounds back into the kitchen, bag slung over his shoulder and surely way too energetic for this early in the morning. Leofard just smiles. "Ready?" 

The drive back to his dorm takes only a few minutes, but Leofard can't help but sneak little peaks at him along the way. The windows are down because they’re always down, and Emile’s hair blows with the wind while music plays softly, morning light along his profile. Leofard tries not to think about his body curled around his, different from the way they usually touch, and ignores the thoughts that creep into the back of his mind. 

He parks outside Emile's dorm, and Emile turns towards him. 

"Thank you," he says, his voice so earnest that, for a moment, Leofard can't return his gaze. 

"Of course," he returns, and he thinks too hard about what to say next, settling on, "Did it help?"

"It did," he says with a nod, and he leans in close, sliding a hand along Leofard's jaw as he pulls him in for a soft kiss. Leofard gasps against his mouth but leans into it, letting his lips part against his and lingering for too long. 

“As a promise for next time,” Emile murmurs against his mouth.

“Next time,” Leofard echoes, opening his eyes as he pulls away. “Let’s celebrate when finals are over.” 

Emile smiles. "Good luck!"

He gets out, and Leofard is left to watch him go. Something stirs within him, a feeling that is both unfamiliar and unwelcome, and as the door to the dorms closes behind Emile, Leofard stares for a long moment before he looks back at the road. 

Under his breath he mutters, “What the hell...”

He goes for a drive. 

[justanothersquidblog]

what are your agents dynamic with the idols? Whichever dynamics you think are most interesting.

Ooh okay so- this got a bit long but I had a lot of fun I hope you like reading!

San and the Squid Sisters- it started out as a sort of like, imagine two deities and their terrifying demigod champion, which slowly devolved into a more genuine sibling relationship, but still having traces of the dynamic before like. Marie, Callie, and San are a very goofy trio.

Callie is peppy and positive, Marie is snarky and sardonic, and San is serious and controlled- but underneath that San still stands as this harboring entity of pure power that Marie and Callie stand by and support. San as captain is still very much The Captain but without Marie and Callie they also lose much drive.

They're all symbiotic and you can't pry any of them apart from each other now. They're a destructively powerful family that can tear the world apart if they wanted to.

-

Meanwhile Marie turns around and squishes Yon's cheek like: heyyyy its my scrimbly its my scrimble guy its my little fella its my funny little dude.

While San goes from champion to little sibling- Yon is like, runt, to champion. Rising star of the NSS. Is far more helpful and reliable than Yon will ever believe.

Marie sees so much potential in Yon and just wants to encourage the kid. She sees Yon as someone who hasn't quite lived yet and will always be someone Yon can fall back on. She feels like she also owes that to them.

Callie thinks Yon is just swell.

-

Hachi and Off the Hook- I don't see them as a particularly arbitrary mothers and daughter trio but they're a found family nonetheless. Mentors, Big Sisters, Weird Aunts, Mom Friends, thats the energy Off the Hook give to Hachi.

They'll never adopt Hachi, she's barely like three years younger than Marina- but Hachi sees them as reliable and nurturing friends. Off the Hook will always support Hachi and see her as a dear companion they care very deeply for.

Hachi originally lives with Off the Hook after escaping the metros but being a bit overwhelmed, she decides to move in with Yon instead and no matter the favor, Off the Hook will answer Hachi's needs. (Though Hachi is trying not to abuse this power)

This is how Yon gets to meet Off the Hook and I imagine Yon is a huge fan and eventually becomes a close friend of Off the Hook as well.

-

Now... Neo. Neo is pure splatland pride. Wasteland scavenger, most of it's memories lie in the sandy dunes and the occasional dip into the city they found somewhat foul but... she actually quite respected Deep Cut. He knew they were bandits due to it's patrols in the splatlands and seeing them do bandit-ing shenanigans but the splatfests were.. one of the few times Neo found themself lost in their own enjoyment of Splatsville.

Big Buddy did his best to try and bring Neo to Splatsville during Splatfests. Those times were the longest Neo actually willingly stayed in town before fully moving into Splatsville post Storymode.

However, Deep Cut aren't really mentors to Neo, not even after the Storymode. They love to fight the kid for fun now, it's very respectable, but Neo isn't getting any lessons from Deep Cut. They're more like scrappy rival-ish friends that Neo can train on equal ground with. (Big Man is Neo's favorite though. Just genuinely. His hugs remind Neo of Big Buddy...)

Meanwhile- The Squid Sisters think Neo's resemblance to both young and current San is a bit both unnerving and endearing. it's like they have their little little sibling back all over again- but it's quite a sad sight to see too.

They're a bit more invested in Neo than Neo is to them. Squid Sisters are more like weird distant aunts to Neo than any sort of potential siblings (which they respect! they just, also want to pamper the kid much to Neo's dismay).

[youremyheaven]

hi, this is my second time sending it and i pray you receive it. i'm the 22yo anon with the relationships, social dread and sexuality question. ill try my best to rewrite as quick as possible. i would like to be guided and need your big sister advise,,, i don't know how to ask and word my issues smoothly 😓😓,,, (context- ive known to be demiromantic and little to no fixation on sex, on the asexual spectrum?) so i just turned 22 and have a crush and looks like he too likes me the same and im sure its going to get serious,, i have been nervous about talking about my preferences with my crush because someday i have to explain to them because i have friends and peers around me asking me to "get some" and that it's normal and it's how it'll change my asexuality?? to them im just faking being uncomfortable around bed talk even though i agree i can be the holiest nun but i do catch myself having the highest libido therefore take care of myself without needing anyone from time to time. pleasing for me felt like an annoying itch that needed to be scratched like most people,,, corn doesn't do it for me so I never understood the hype and didn't feel a thing,,, yes I have crushes but im not aching and wanting to bang them,, a bunch of my peers have at a young age and unsafely which got one of them pregnant, being in indian society it's looked down upon and what my friend had to go through was rough and it had a huge impact,,, though my parents are forward thinking people and openly and safely talked about this topic with me without having shame tied to it and my mother also makes it a comfortable space,, im not shaming anyone who engages in activities like these and i also understand that its human nature and it's how we procreate and evolve yet i still get very uncomfortable around sexual scenes in movies maybe it's my own childhood trauma causing this feeling of dread and discomfort from my childhood,,,,

besides my friends and family, i shared my asexuality to my aunt and baby cousin,,,,, they were supportive but kept being skeptic like my peers would saying this is temporary 💀 that i need to get laid asap which bothered me sm,,, my cousin now (a party, club going personality) too has engaged in activities with her exes since she was a preteen and im the only one in the fam who knows (desi household is no joke) and im worried for her safety though she seems independent but i do feel concerned and wonder if i should let her be because she has been distant and lord knows who she is with next,,,,she's much much younger but coming from a wealthy family kinda looks down on me and for not having any relationship experiences so distanced herself from me which hurts,,, bottom line i feel ostracized to a degree by people i care about and there is this insane pressure to have to talk about my trauma and issues around sex,,, as they say it's a man's birth right and they all want it at some point and so will your crush or men will leave you the minute they get that repulsion??😓

i might consider it for my man someday but i don't want it to affect my relationship with men??

how do i face people when im not taken seriously or call it a nun phase? i don't want to lose men over this and who better than you to ask,,,, im typing and im all teared up,,, i need clarity on how to approach this better without having internalized any pain, guilt for feeling the way i do. you can answer when you're ready and sorry i made it too long 😞😣

This is my third attempt

"this is my third attempt" 😭😭😭

girlie ur not going for JEE mains 😭😭this is just my inbox

(for non desis, JEE is a highly competitive college entrance exam,, ppl prepare for it for YEARS and some ppl commit suicide when they cant crack it 🤡 explaining it is taking the fun away from the joke but thought id give u context <33)

but ANYWAYYYS

first of all dont apologize for the long ask or for sharing your experiences,, I GOTCHU 😘💛

now about your question:

one thing u need to know is that the right person will NEVER EVER make u feel "compelled" to have sex,, ive had partners during my celibate era who i didnt even kiss lol and they were entirely fine with it

pls dont listen to your friends and family and believe that sex is something you OWE your partner/men. i had many nasty friends tell me the same or try to convince me that i "should" do it bc otherwise its not a "real" relationship and im so glad i never listened to them<33

i also know many women who are waiting for marriage to have sex but have boyfriends atm. they all have different degrees of intimacy that they're okay with (some go up to oral and leave penetrative intercourse for marriage, others just kiss, makeout and cuddle) but u can also have a zero intimacy relationship. if a man wants you and wants to be with you, HE WILL DO ANYTHING. i once told a guy (he was 21 and i was 23 and he wanted to date me) that im celibate and dont want to have sex and he said "thats perfectly fine, i didnt ask you out to sleep with you, i want to be with you, whatever your terms are, thats fine by me" and honestly there are MANY such dudes out there,, not every guy is a porn addicted weirdo who believes u OWE them sex 🤮🤢🤢🤮

u dont have to have casual sex if you dont want to!! esp since you're a virgin, i think its important for you to be wise about your partner and choose someone who is considerate and caring!!! THIS IS NOT A RACE, you can have sex later in life, i assure you its nothing special if you feel "compelled" to do it/dont like your partner/dont feel comfortable.

having another person inside u is as intimate as two people can be and it is so vulnerable,, dont rush it and dont do it with someone u dont trust to take you through the experience tenderly!!!

i think you just need to drop your friends lol,, they sound unhealthy

if i dont include my r4pist, then ive had sex with 3 people (i dont actually want to include baldie tbh but 🤢🤮) and 2 of those were with a partner (1 is my current partner) and those experiences were so pleasant and wonderful<3 ive had people tell me i "should" try casual sex 🙄but its not for me and even now i tell you, i have no issues staying celibate, i think its better to just not have sex than to have dissatisfying sex ://

you wont "lose" men over sex lol, you might lose immature men but those are exactly the guys u want nothing to do with!!! its a great way to weed them out!!!

i follow a 5 date rule with sex actually. i have to like him enough to go on atleast 5 dates with him before we do anything intimate,, if he seems impatient or too eager or whatever, then cut his nasty ass out,,

(this is just general advice for anyone, i know you dont want to have sex<3)

stop telling people your personal business btw!! you dont have to share your sex life or lack thereof with all your friends bc its none of their business at the end of the day. ESPECIALLY since they dont seem to understand where youre coming from, you should stop sharing this stuff with them. this is not info that you owe them just bc ya'll are friends. i absolutely hate sharing my personal business with my "friends" and all the times i have, i absolutely regretted it. i hate that kind of interference. like YOU dont get to have an opinion about my life lol??

basically, stay private, you do you, nothing wrong with being asexual or being celibate, sex is overhyped and most men dont know how to fck (sorry to speak facts) and the right partner wont want sex from you. there are men who take care of bedridden partners. love makes anything possible. and i hope you find someone who truly genuinely loves you so that you never have to worry about any of this.

i also hope you get better friends!!!<33

wishing u the best,

Heaven<3

[lantur]

highlights,

Lots of good things since the end of June! It helped my mental health SO much to be off work on July 1, 2, 3, and 4. I had a very calm, quiet, and short week at work before starting another weekend. :)

My big win from the holiday weekend is that I made samosas from scratch for the very first time, and they turned out great. I've never deep fried anything before, and I feel like that gave me confidence and opened up new horizons in cooking. I can't wait to try making my own egg rolls.

Derek and I also watched the D&D movie with my brother and sister in law over the holiday weekend, and that was SO fun. I loved the movie.

Life's felt pretty good lately in the rhythm of sleeping better, having great workouts with running and swimming, cooking good food, and taking care of Westin and my garden.

Writing has been going well. I've been writing by hand in my notebook, which is slow, but I enjoy that process more than typing on my laptop.

I've finished a couple of (nonfiction) books lately, which were both interesting. The Forgotten Girls: A Memoir of Friendship and Lost Promise in Rural America, by Monica Potts, and Butts: A Backstory, by Heather Radek. I'm so glad I bought the tablet to read on; it's worlds better than reading Libby on my phone and I'm reading more as a result.

I got to hang out with a NEW FRIEND last night. :)) I don't make new friends often because of anxiety, but I had so much fun with her, and we have a lot in common! It was so exciting. I moved here 7 years ago with very few friends (none irl), knowing nobody here, and I've worked hard to build a good group of friends and family. That makes me really happy.

lowlights,

My mom has been really distant emotionally since my dad died in early May. She moved from California to the East Coast and she's currently staying with my aunt. (Right after my dad passed, and even in the months leading up to that, I offered to help her find a place to live near me, but she didn't want to come to my state.) I've been reaching out to her every day to check in, but she's been very short with me.

We haven't gotten along for years, but the rejection still hits hard. I was hoping (and planning) that we could and would pull together after losing my dad. After all - my mom is the only parent I have left. I'm the only immediate family member she has left. I thought that would count for something.

The whole situation has been causing me a lot of distress, but I'm coping with it in a variety of ways, including reminding myself that she may just be distant because of grief/depression, and that the way she's acting toward me right now isn't necessarily a reflection on me as a person - it's because of her feelings. I'm also coping with it by reminding myself that I have a full life with loving friends and in-laws, even though my parental/family of origin situation is not great.

[moviemunchies]

Alright! Finally something that isn’t The Fast and the Furious!

Back to superhero films.

Jaime Reyes came back from college graduation to find his family is broke and is about to be evicted by the corrupt Kord Industries. He and his sister Milagro pick up minimum wage jobs, which they quickly lose; but not before Jaime leaves a good impression on heiress Jenny Kord, daughter of disappeared tech billionaire Ted Kord. She offers a meetup for a job at the family company (which is now run by her aunt, Ted’s sister, Victoria Kord, who has turned into a militarized and corrupt corporation), but when Jaime finds her, she’s just taken something out of the lab and asks him to hide it.

Of course, Jaime opens the box (at his family’s urging), and it turns out to be the Scarab, which quickly activates and fuses to his spine, creating an alien super suit. However! Victoria Kord will stop at nothing to get that Scarab, as she plans to use it to help her super cybernetic soldier program. Now Jaime and his family will have to figure out how the Scarab works, how to disconnect it, and most importantly, how to survive.

This film was originally produced to be released only on HBO Max, but with the shake ups at Warner/DC/Discovery/HBO, it was shifted to a theatrical release. Perhaps this was to try to avoid the backlash that came from canceling Batgirl? I don’t know. It’s not expected to do well financially, and thus far, it really hasn’t, though I’ve seen good reviews. But I have a soft spot for Jaime Reyes, so I wanted to give this movie a go.

Admittedly, this movie feels a lot like a made-for-TV movie, just with a much higher budget. The main criticism that’s come up in reviews is that this movie is a stereotypical superhero origin story. And that’s true! In terms of actual Plot, there’s not much that makes this different from a dozen other superhero stories that you’ve seen before. When this was an HBO Max original, that is a lot less egregious, but as a theatrical release it’s a little frustrating. The difference (and one that most reviews also bring up) is that this is a Hispanic superhero, and the movie’s emphasis on his identity is a highlight that makes this movie memorable.

How many Hispanic superheroes have been shown in live-action theatrical films? Not a lot! And certainly not that many that shine so brightly on issues that Hispanic people face today–gentrification, not being taken seriously, and being constantly stereotyped. These are things that theatrical superhero movies rarely touch on, and I can’t think of any that make it a thematic focal point.

And it’s not just doom-and-gloom! There are a bunch of really fun shout-outs to Hispanic pop culture that stick out to people in the know–from Selena music to Hispanic superhero media. There’s a few references to El Chapulín Colorado, and while some people laughed because it was silly, at least one person in my theater was guffawing because he definitely got the reference.

A quibble, though, but a big one: the whole thing about the Reyes family is that they’re all so together and strong because of it. They’re a loving family. And yet all of the family’s struggles are news to Jaime when he arrives back home–the family business closing, the upcoming eviction, his father’s health problems: he didn’t know about any of them! If Jaime having been distant from his family and having to repair his relationship was his character arc for the movie, then yeah, it works. But it isn’t–that he’s completely blind to their problems is a non-issue in the long run, and it feels wrong with how important family is to the story’s themes.

The worldbuilding reminds me a little of Black Adam in that this is a world with history, especially with superheroes. Jaime’s uncle is a fan of the Blue Beetle, and brings up Superman. While the reaction to the Scarab’s extraterrestrial nature is alarm and surprise, no one expresses disbelief. In a world with superheroes, these things are apparently not too unbelievable.

The Scarab feels a bit weird to me. I guess this is in part because my exposure to Jaime Reyes is Young Justice, in which the Scarab has a specific, robotic personality that’s hyper violent and has to be reigned in. The Scarab also turns out to be an agent of the Reach, an alien nation bent on galactic conquest. The Scarab of the movie ends up bonding with Jaime and connecting to his brain, and so some of its dialogue at the end uses Spanish and slang, which felt jarring to me. Maybe that makes sense for the character in the movie–they’re mentally bonded, after all. But it just seems weird to me from my experiences with the character.

The villains are… functional, I guess? Victoria Kord is a bit over-the-top, but given the world right now, a villain running a technology corporation maybe should be over-the-top. That’s kind of how life is sometimes with these people–as is their disdain for those not useful to her. Carapax is a bit more, though I think the movie waits too long to give him his much-needed depth. If we got stronger hints of that earlier, I’d have appreciated it more.

There is an odd bit with the soundtrack that stuck out to me. It's fine, mostly, but the part where Jaime fully bonds with the Scarab has swelling, heroic music playing. What makes it strange is that this is also while Carapax is getting his full powers, and we're shown him powering up at the same time, and the music continues its heroic tones.

It's just a weird juxtaposition, with the music going the way it does.

Overall, it’s a fun movie, though it’s not hitting too many unfamiliar beats. The main draw here is how unapologetically Hispanic the movie is. But after years of continuity-heavy superhero films, and several attempts to tell stories about the multiverse, a back-to-basics approach to a superhero movie is appreciated. I liked it. It isn’t blowing my mind, but it’s a good movie to watch if you’ve got the time.

[naciela]

okay so this is Raafa phase from 4 until now XD so yeah he was old but everyone just said that he still 20 ish (maybe because he can't getting older.) And pshh...he born on Prakra XD.

age 4-7: in this age Raafa get some event of his life like he meet his spirit partner (Haniel) for first time as he experience leaving his own body when he still age 4 (and in the way he meet the fool too.) his mother got cursed and he got some attack from evil spirit, which he didn't remember how he got attack or mostly of what happen on the night he got attack. Alana being born into world! and of course first time meet Nadia at palace ground (she almost step on him with horse because he so small).

age 8-12: this childhood was not part of Raafa liking because well his mom died on age on 8 and he have bit little problem with his father after his mother died, this causing both of their relationship became distant. In this age Nadia and Haniel help him getting through lost, he spent his time with Santrinava family for most of the time and with Alana and his aunt. When he reach his 12 he have a fight with his father because he don't want to leave Prakra, but something happen that make him lose his dad in the way and move to Vesuvia with his aunt and Alana.

age 12-15: He still keep contact with Nadia by using Chandra as their bridge to connect. He live with his aunt in his aunt caravan until they end up buy a building and turn it into magical shop in center city. He always pay visit to Prakra on Holiday and some Prakra event. During this time too both Raafa and Nadia end up dating with each other.

age 15-16: His relationship with Nadia was end because both have disagreement about Raafa moving to Guo Han because it was not part of their plan. And when his ship was sailing on the sea it explode in middle of way not very far from Prakra shore and those explosion was big enough to be saw by Nadia and his aunt. His body not been found and this leading to one conclusion, Raafa already dead. Raafa don't know what happen and when he open his eyes he already in Guo Han. He end up bed rest until he can move his body.

age 16-20: Raafa meet his sister for first time when she comeback to palace after some official work in other place, well of course their relationship was never go well even at first sigh. He end up got challenged by Mei Hua to end up got his infamous left eye scar. And he join military academy meeting his best friends and make brotherhood with them.

Age 21-35: his life when up and down like roller coaster, from Adith born in his life until he died in the war. His dead leading Mei Hua to make a deal with an arcana that lead to his resurrection. He still have all his memory but his mental was unstable due what happen to him prior his death. Haniel take control for his stability and help him to stay as he was.

Age 35-40: His life change drastically, going from doctor to doctor just for his own sake mental health. His ;ive when down to the ground after so many event that happen to him that leading him almost lose himself. he tired, he even can't work properly. He end up got help from the rest of family that was close to him to recover for much better stage.

Age 40-now: he end up getting a long holiday and goes to Vesuvia, his childhood home to search the peace of his life.

[toothlesshat]

And like the Auntie (who needs a name) would be so patient and gentle with Mikey because Pslinter literally went into this whole spiel about how none of them should crowd the boys.

"They have rarely interacted with humans up until a short time ago before we got exposed, do not crowd the boys!"

"Isn't it the parents job to make sure their kids are socialized properly..."

"YOU TRY RAISING FOUR MUTANT TURTLES IN A SEWER AND TRYING TO TEACH THEM PROPER SOCIAL ETIQUETTE WHEN ONLY MONTH AGO EXPOSURE WOULD MEAN US BEING HUNTED DOWN, EXPERIMENTED ON, AND KILLED!!!"

I like the idea that this aunt in particular is very gentle and understanding of the situation. I’m gonna say she’s Splinter’s mom’s sister. She really wanted a relationship with Yoshi after her sister died, but their father was hellbent on being the only one to teach him, so they had to have a very distant relationship. Losing Yoshi all those years ago broke her heart, and she blamed herself for not stopping him or at least not being there for him. She was the first person on the plane to New York when she heard the news he was alive, and she kind of acts as the mediator between Splinter and the extended family since he somewhat trusts her.

Anyway, meeting Mikey is a big deal for her, and that’s one of the reasons why she’s so soft and kind to him. She’s being extra careful because she doesn’t want to lose her Yoshi ever again.

[mimzy-writing-online]

I Found a Lost Scrap of Blindness History Today

While visiting my grandparents, my grandma told me why she loves birds so much. When she was a child, her mom would take her to visit her three aunts for tea. The sisters would drink tea while she played in the aviary they had. This is all new information to me. Then she says that one of her aunts was blind and would write letters to her “on a special board with wires on it” which stunned me... 

I pictured what it might look like. I board about letter size with stiff wires running horizontally in narrow parallel lines. There would be a small space to slide the paper between the board and wires, or perhaps the wires were in a rigging designed to be removed like the top to a box, or as a lid with hinges to open and then press shut. The wires would be stiff and firm.

I imagine this woman who went blind as an adult sitting down to pen a letter to her adorable niece. Her desk is known to her, everything has its place. The parchment is rough on sensitive fingers. She sets up her writing board, pins the paper down, dips her pen, and begins writing. She has the muscle memory and years of practice writing by hand to guide her, and with the board holding everything just so, she continues to engage in one of the most meaningful and long living conversation forms in history.

I’m sitting silently, overwhelmed by the sheer joy of knowing someone in my far distant yet very personal history was blind too, and she had learned and created her own methods to navigating life blind. I’ve literally just been handed the tiniest scrap of blind history that was nearly lost. Nobody thought to make any sort of lasting record about the existence of this writing board, not what its purpose was or how it was made and used or who first came up with the idea. Or if there is a written record, it has been lost in time. It’s another tiny, tiny piece of history that slipped through the cracks like so many others.

Watch historians cry over the tiniest, hyper-specific questions they have that history never thought mattered enough to record because either everyone already knew it or very few people needed to know it. (Bernadette Banner comes to mind for me. I’ve been watching her for over a year now and the dedication she puts to her research inspires me.)

So I have to look at the history.

It’s the early 1900s. My grandma was born in 1928. So that must be kept in mind. What technology, methods, and information about blindness was available then? 

Braille existed, but it was far, far from accessible in that 

1. Even today, brailling machines are STILL expensive and hard to come-by in our era of mass manufacturing and same-day delivery. 

2. Teachers who taught Braille were few in number, and clustered at the very few schools for the blind around the world. Good luck travelling across a country to learn basic life skills and Braille

3. it’s still not an ideal writing method between you and your sighted loved ones.

Information traveled slower then. There’s no internet, no search engine to type in “shit, I’m going blind, what do I need to know now?” It travels through mail and newspapers and scholarly writings and radio. And the slower information travels, the harder it is for it to reach those who need it most. The easier it is lost.

Guide dogs were suddenly a thing, and a big part of that was because American Dorothy Harrison Eustis wrote an article about dogs being trained to guide blinded veterans in Berlin. It was published in The Saturday Evening Post on November 5th, 1927. It was a national sensation and led to her connecting to Morris Frank, blind 20-year-old who asked if it was possible for her to help him with getting a guide dog. Together they went on to co-found The Seeing Eye, the first guide dog school.

[Hey, fellow Witcher fans, I think you’ll like this. Morris Frank named every one of his guide dogs Buddy. His first guide dog was a female German Shepherd named Kiss.]

But this wouldn’t have been possible if not for newspaper, mail, and the telephone, all of which Frank and Eustis relied on to begin their work together.

And this is by no means the origin story of guide dogs. We will never have the “origin” story of the first ever guide dog, only another reboot as the concept was developed and lost with time over and over again.

The same must apply to canes, and methods of writing and reading. There must be O&M methods that were learned and lost because there weren’t other blind people to teach it to. Like old family recipes.

So here I am with the tiniest scrap of blind history, only a small detail in a larger story that just tilted my world on axis a bit. And here is the internet, to which I can record this information and make it available to everyone.

(...and tell myself not to think about the internet being another Library of Alexandria and losing so much priceless knowledge...)

[imaginesmai]

With all my heart (IRONDAD) - Chapter 1

Hey there! I’m back with a full fic! ❤💕💕💕 This is an irondad/bambi/The game plan AU! It’s finished, so it will have two updates every week, or more (if you guys like it a lot!) Make sure to follow me on instagram:@ irondadiscanon to know when I update, more irondad content and fic recs!

SUMMARY: Tony Stark isn't the best dad - distant, cold, almost neglectful. But when his ex-wife dies, he has to take care of his son; 5-year-old Peter, a boy with too many allergies and that can't talk to Tony without stuttering. Follow the path of two hurt people, a man and a boy, who learn how to love each other through thick and thin.-A Bambi AU (Disney) that @buckets_of_stars inspired me into writting that I've mixed with The Game Plan.

AO3 link

Tony has a tight smile on during the funeral. He knows he has no right being there, that most of the people around him, even if they are strangers for Tony, were closer to Mary than him. He shifts uncomfortable in his black suit, fighting the hangover from last night. On his right, Mary’s sister is crying her eyes out, looking at the coffin as its lowered on the ground. From what he has heard, the man besides May is Ben, his husband, and both of them have made a long journey to come to the funeral. It makes him feel bad, because Tony was the one arriving late and he lives barely thirty minutes away.

 But the news hit him hard. 

For six years, he has been doing just fine. He gets drunk, sleeps around with anyone that catches his eye, bosses around and goes to sleep really, really late. It’s not something to take pride of, but Tony likes his life – now, his past life. There is another thing that has been a constant for the last five years and a half; monthly cheques to his ex-girlfriend account. Since he lost any type of right over his son. Five and half years ago.

 Now, Mary is lying eight foot deep in a coffin. He received a call yesterday, and found comfort in his liquor cabinet. He shouldn’t have, he’s sure of it, because he knows that there has to be new changes on his life from now on; but he still kept a small place of his heart for the brunette girl with big, doe eyes that had a contagious laugh. Tony tightens the grip on his left wrist, trying to control the shaking of his hands. 

When that doesn’t work, he tries next looking at the small figure gripping May’s legs, close to Tony. It’s not the first time Tony has seen Peter Parker, because once or twice every two months, he gets to spend a weekend with his son. He has a room on the tower, as dull as a white paper, and Tony is listed as his second emergency contact. It doesn’t matter how much he tries to distance himself from Howard. Most of the times the kid is with him, Tony is reminded of the lost chance of raising him. Peter sees him as a stranger, and Tony drinks.

 Peter sniffles softly, and May runs a careful hand through his curls. Taking after Tony, he’s short and skinny. The father doesn’t know much about him – that he likes science, is asthmatic and has a list of allergies, dyslexic, and his favourite colour is blue and red. Mary made sure to keep him away from Tony, and she wasn’t wrong. Because Tony is the worst influence the kid can have.

 It doesn’t matter, though, because May and Ben are both active workers that are barely home, and Peter doesn’t have any other family left.

 “Tony”

 He turns around, and shamefully discovers that almost everyone is gone now. Only May, the priest and Peter remain. The last one is still hiding between May’s legs, hiccupping every now and then. Tony blinks and coughs the awkwardness; he tries to clear the wetness around his eyes, and thanks himself for getting dark glasses before leaving that morning. May, always the kind woman, gives him a soft smile, and squeezes his forearm gently. His husband doesn’t like Tony that much, but it seems that May sees something not even Tony himself can see.

 “We have to arrange some things. Custody papers and legal documents” she says.

 “Yes. I’ll – My driver is just there. He will take us to the notary. He has enough space for all of us. And don’t worry, Happy is discrete. He won’t – “

 “Ben and I can take care of it just fine” May interrupts him. He pushes Peter forward, but the boy doesn’t look up. “Peter hasn’t slept much, and he hasn’t eaten since yesterday. I thought that, maybe, you could take him home and rest a little. It’s been hard for everyone.”

 “Happy can take him”

 “Peter needs his father”

 It’s her stern voice. He has only heard it twice; once, when Peter was born and he was late for the birth, and Mary decided she didn’t even want him to meet his son. May had used her stern voice on her and Tony had held Peter close, as the boy latched on his little finger. The second time was directed at him. He was ready to give up the custody of Peter, he didn’t want to go to the trial; and thanks to May, who dragged him out of his ear, he got to see Peter every two months. Even if he hadn’t known how to do it right.

 Peter looks up at Tony, and the man notices the tears still falling from his eyes. He has the same look he always carries around Tony; as if he wasn’t his father, just an authoritative stranger that he had to respect.

 “I think a nap will do you some good” Tony lowers his voice, and tries to give Peter a reassuring smile. “Did you pack your bag already?”

 “No” he answers in a small voice. “Uncle Ben said I c-could do it later”

 “We can bring it later. Maybe have a last dinner together before we leave?” May suggests, and Peter nods vigorously. “We have to leave tomorrow morning. But we are only a few hours away. If he gets sick or needs anything, we’ll be here as soon as possible. And that goes for you too Tony. You can call me anytime you want”

 “I think we’re gonna be just fine. Right, Peter?”

 Tony holds his fist so that Peter can bump it, but the kid just stares at it. Possibly, it’s not the best place to do something like that. Reluctantly, he lowers his fist. He remembers the first time Peter was brought to him as a conscious human being, not a baby. Mary had been on a trip with him for three months, and Tony got to stay with Peter for a week – and in that moment, when Peter didn’t call Tony daddy but ‘Mr Tony’, Tony realized that Peter didn’t see him as a father. As a dad.

 It hurts him that he hasn’t known how to be there for his son. Some of the dates Mary and him set for Peter to stay with Tony were spent poorly; Tony out drinking and Peter with Pepper or with a nanny. Tony missed some of them because he liked to party, and the man wasn’t there when the kid had his first asthma attack and ended up in hospital. He wasn’t even there for Peter’s fourth birthday, because he was lost somewhere in Monaco drinking expensive liquors and losing consciousness.

 Selfishly, he thinks that this is his chance to make things right. Peter has to stay with him, because there is no chance that he lets the boy in the system, and staying with his aunt is impossible. So, he tries to bury his hurt and keeps the kind smile on.

 “Give me a call when you’re finished” he tells May, who nods. The woman kneels in front of Peter, and cradles his cheek.

 “We can come whenever you need us. Ask Tony to call us or use the phone mom got you, it’s in the bottom of your bag. You remember Ben’s number?” May asks. Peter doesn’t answer. “Come here, give me a big hug”

 Peter launches himself to his aunt’s arms, letting out a chocked sob. May hugs him tight and lets him cry on her shoulder. As most of the times he’s with his son, Tony feels misplaced. Like he’s watching a show he’s not a part of – like it isn’t his family. It’s not, his mind supplies. They break the hug before Tony can dwell on the thought for too long. If someone expected Peter to hug his father next, they get a huge disappointment. Peter moves to stand close to Tony, and quickly dries his tears so Tony doesn’t notice them.

 “No peanuts, walnuts, cashews or hazels. That goes for Nutella or other chocolate sweet that could have hazels” May remembers him, although Tony has JARVIS programmed to keep up with Peter’s allergies. “There are epinephrine injections in his bag, with the instructions. He has to take his vitamins every morning. After breakfast”

 “And I have to be careful with lobsters and oysters, because they upset his stomach”

 “You have to cut the crust off the sandwiches, and Peter doesn’t like cheese sandwiches. But make sure to put extra cheese on his pizza”

 “He also likes mac and cheese, I know” Tony says with a bit of annoyance. “He’s my son. I know him better than what you think”

 “You better take care of him, because I don’t care how much money you have or how important your last name is” May takes a threatening step forward. “If I have to drag your sorry Stark ass to court, I will. Without blinking once”

 Tony briefly remembers the conversation he has had with May before the funeral. Mary said it in her will, Ben and May knew they would have to change their life style if Peter came to life with them, and Tony was the most capable person, in materials and financial terms, to take care of Peter. But still, she had offered to take him. And Ben had threatened Tony. The man hopes he can live to everyone’s expectations.

 He reaches a hand and brings Peter closer. In a soft whisper that only comes out every now and then when he’s with his son, he tells him to go and wait in the car. Peter gives a quiet ‘yes sir’ and hugs May one last time. Tony doesn’t miss the glassy eyes May gets when Peter wraps his skinny arms around her waist and squeezes her tight. He has never received a hug from Peter.

 Not like he feels worthy of them.

 Peter waves at her and drags his feet to the car. The boy likes Happy, or at least he likes him as much as he can like someone from Tony’s life – he gives the man some rare smiles and actually answers to his questions. He watches as Peter disappear inside the car, and closes the door behind him. Then, he turns to May.

 “You can’t say those things in front of Peter” he argues. “He’s gonna think I’m some kind of monster that it’s gonna eat him at night”

 “He already thinks that. Why do you think he wanted to spend the night with us in the hotel instead of going with you? Peter is afraid. The only memories he has with his father are you sitting on a couch drinking, hiding in the lab or giving him away to nannies” May points a shaky finger at him. “He spent the whole night crying and sobbing, but when he comes here, he tries to hide it so you don’t see him. Trust me when I say he knows where he’s going”

 “And what am I supposed to do? If he hates me so much, then maybe you should take him!”

 There is a second of silence in the lonely cemetery.

 “Peter doesn’t hate you, Tony. He thinks you don’t want him” she says sadly, and Tony thinks he preferred the idea of Peter hating him. “All he knows is a cold man with a hard face, that didn’t make an effort to love him when he went to see you”

 “I really don’t know how to fix that, May” he admits. He realises his own eyes are getting misty behind the glasses, but he doesn’t feel strong enough to wipe them. He only wants to go back home and lock himself in the lab with a bottle of whisky, maybe two.

 “You and I both know you love him. You did things wrong, but so did Mary. So just – show him you love him, now. Consider this your chance to be a father to Peter, a real father”

 May surprises Tony by dragging him into her arms, and he goes rigid. He doesn’t like behind handed things, he doesn’t like shaking people’s hands, he doesn’t like touching anyone and doesn’t like being touched unless it’s Pepper. He has ignored Rhodey’s calls and Happy attempt to comfort him, because he knew that no matter how much he hated physical touch, he would break down.

 So, Tony breaks down in sobs, and hugs May Parker back. The woman is tall but skinny, yet is almost as strong as Tony. It’s the touch he needs, because it manages to keep him together. Tony thinks of Mary, of how beautiful everything was before he fucked up and she left, pregnant without knowing. He thinks of her sweet smile and dimples, of her brown curls that fell loose on her back. And he sees her in the boy in the car, in the way he pretends to be collected but wears his heart on his sleeve.

 A raindrop hit him on the nose, and when he looks up, he’s met with another on his left glass. He tears away from May who doesn’t bother wiping the tears away from her cheeks. They share a short nod and a few words, then Tony walks towards the car. He tries to make the small distance to it as long as possible, because he doesn’t want to meet the doe, bambi eyes that will stare at him in the car.

 Because Peter does that a lot – staring at Tony. Not talking, not smiling. Staring at Tony as if he’s looking for something that he doesn’t have. That’s part of the reason why he avoids the boy so much, because if he can’t be what Peter needs, then what good can he make?

 Apparently, he’s about to find out.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[mrslilyrogers]

Betrayal Part 7

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

Author’s notes: I’m so so sorry this took so long! I redid the whole thing. We’re going to back up a bit in this chapter and visit the past. Please check the warnings before reading. Also, my requests are open. Send ideas if you’re feeling particularly angsty! Or even fluff, I’d like to try my hand at it. As always, let me know what you think of this chapter! For tags, please send in ask! 

Warnings: Cheating, Angst, Abuse, Swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5 Part 6

2 years ago.

Bucky tapped his fingers on the table as he checked his watch again. 8:15. Forty-five minutes late. Again. He let out a huge sigh, barely able to hold himself from scratching his eyes out. The curly-haired waitress went back to him with an apologetic look on her face, “I’m sorry, sir. My manager told me I really need to take your order now. There’s already a line waiting outside…” she let her sentence trail sheepishly. Bucky tried to ignore the heat creeping up his cheeks and gave her an unconvincing smile instead, reciting his order. When she left with visible relief on her face, he picked up his phone and called his wife again. He had tried to call and text her earlier but she hadn’t picked up.

“Hello?” Y/N answered, sounding frazzled and irritated as she cleaned up after her rude customer. He just had the audacity to leave a mess after complaining and whining about the wifi three times. She could barely keep her eyes from rolling. 

“Hey, babe. Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you at the restaurant,” Bucky’s defeated voice on the other line replied. 

“Oh shit!” She shrieked, attracting the heads of the other customers as she glanced at the clock on the wall. She had lost track of time. Bucky had been waiting for her for almost an hour. On their anniversary. Oh crap, crap, crap. 

“Oh my god, baby. I’m so sorry! I’m understaffed and I lost track of time! Could you please wait for me? I’m so sorry!” She quickly took off her apron and changed into the dress she had brought with her that morning for their date. Bucky had been planning this. He arranged for Lizzie’s babysitter and everything, practically bouncing off with excitement for this night. He wanted to try out this new restaurant and between raising Lizzie and making sure Winter Bakery was still making a profit, they haven’t seen much of each other lately. She just couldn’t find the time whereas Bucky’s stable position in Shield gave him more authority to delegate. And he literally had been trained for this for years. All those late-nighters at the university and all the grunt work he and Steve went through have finally paid up. They were at the top of their game, one of the youngest to acquire their positions. They were heroes in the investment banking world. Life was easy for him now, cherry on top of the cake. He only wished Y/N could be there with him. But she was still on shaky ground with her business and he fully understood that. 

“Of course! I already picked our appetizers though. They were trying their best to kick me out gently if I didn’t order anything,” 

“Oh, my poor Bucky. You should’ve flashed them your smile, charmed your way. They would’ve made you stay,” she replied, fixing her ponytail, not having the time to retouch her makeup anymore. This’ll just have to do. 

“Really, now. It was a waitress, you know.” He teased back. 

A beat before Y/N replied in mock seriousness. “In that case, don’t you dare. I’ll be there in 15!” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. See you, babe. I love you--,” 

But before he could even finish his sentence, the line had dropped on the other end.  

_______________________________________________________________________

1 year ago.

“Daddy, look, apples!” Lizzie pointed from her seat in the grocery cart. Her legs swinging as she giggled at the heap of apples on their side. “Yeah, baby, you’re right.” Bucky replied absentmindedly, not even bothering to look as he stared confusedly at the bunch of green vegetables in front of him. The list Y/N gave him said scallions, but how the hell was he supposed to know which was which? Scallions, spring onions, green onions, they were all the same right? He suddenly regretted volunteering to do their grocery shopping alone, having no clue what half of the list Y/N prepared even meant. It was the weekend, they were all supposed to go together and then have a quick visit to the toy store after, for one more of Lizzie’s birthday gifts. She had just turned 3 a week ago and he couldn’t help but promise to let her pick out another doll. When Y/N had given him a pointed look while Lizzie clung on and gushed to him, he couldn’t help but to just give her a tiny shrug. He grew up with nothing, he was gonna give his little girl everything. But that morning when he thought the three of them finally had time to spend together, Y/N couldn’t make it again. She was having problems with her manager and had to go into work unexpectedly. Now, she wasn’t even answering his calls when he had to ask her about the most complicated grocery list he’s ever seen in his whole life. 

“Daddy, when are we getting my doll?” Lizzie asked again, looking up at him as she clutched her favorite white wolf stuffed toy. 

“After this, sweetheart.” He answered, preoccupied and calling Y/N again. This time when she didn’t answer, he gave up, grabbed the one nearest to him and hoped for the best. 

When he’s gotten halfway through the list and let Lizzie point at the snacks she wanted for school, he let his mind wander, when the hell had they become like this? He barely saw his wife anymore. Her problems with her bakery cafe, always dragging her away from them. He wished she could find competent people who would stay but if it weren’t her manager, it was her baker and so on. And if she was finally free, he’d be the one who was busy. It was hard and annoying but coupled that with taking care of an over-enthusiastic three-year-old, it was also exhausting.

He missed Y/N and he wished he could spend time with her. He completely understood that she was always needed at work. He had been through that in their early 20s, but they didn’t have a kid then to compete for their time and understanding it was different from actually living it. Their marriage had become stagnant. The banality of their everyday life, a stark contrast to how they used to be when they were just a couple of kids off college who rented a too-small apartment with his little sister, Becca. Time has flown and he’s finally achieved the life he’s always wanted; a big duplex apartment, a steady high-income job and a family he had always yearned for but never really knew he needed. All of the things he promised himself when he was younger and had nothing, he had now and more, yet there was still something missing. He missed the thrill of his life, chasing his dreams had always kept him motivated, distracted. Now that he had it all, he was at his wits’ end. Maybe it was because they were also growing apart, he could feel it. Y/N had always been able to make him happy and whole; he had always been able to rely on her emotionally. She was the better part of him and now that she was becoming distant, he hung onto her like a lifeline but his insistence on going on vacations as a family wherever his wife and daughter wanted went unheard, all his attempts at romancing cancelled. 

Even as he lined up now for the cashier, he whipped out his phone to text her. His hands had been busy typing when a brooding, dark-haired man stood behind him dressed in all black. His arms were muscled despite his age and the sagging skin on his right arm holding a tattoo of an odd skull with tentacles extending out of it was barely covered by his shirtsleeve. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Bucky,” a familiar husky voice mocked from behind him. 

Bucky immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the voice sending a deep chill down his spine, making him go rigid as he slowly turned around, the blood draining from him when he went face to face with the man who had made his life a living hell, the man who not only broken him physically but in spirit as well. Repeatedly. 

“You some errand boy now? I didn’t raise you to be like that, you know,” He continued to mock, tipping his chin to the cart with Lizzie still on it. 

“Do you know him, daddy?” She asked, holding her little wolf tighter as she watched the stranger warily. 

“Hey there, sweetie. Your daddy didn’t tell you about me? That’s weird. I raised him and your aunt Rebecca a long time ago. My name is Rumlow,” he flashed her a chilling smile, stepping closer to offer his hand. That’s when the fog in Bucky’s brain cleared. He moved with a lightning fast reflex, stepping in between them as he got in Rumlow’s face, fisting his collar harshly in one hand, 

“Don’t you dare go near her,” his dark and low voice had threatened, dripping venom. His eyes had dilated, almost turning black as he shoved him hard. Rumlow’s grating laugh echoed around them, bringing back all those awful memories he had buried deep inside his head. 

“I’ve taught you well, boy. Can’t say I’m not proud,” He clapped and actually smiled at him smugly. At this point, Lizzie had started crying making Bucky even more furious. 

“I don’t ever want to see your face again. And if you go near my daughter again, I’ll make you fucking regret it. Do you understand?” His threats went on deaf ears as Rumlow broke out into a full-fledged grin. 

“I’d love to see you try, James. You’ve grown soft,” He accused, eyeing Lizzie and the grocery he had still lined up, several heads already looking at them. 

“Lucky for you. I have a new son here,” He continued, tilting his head to the boy standing by his mostly empty cart-- save for the beer and the liquor. Bucky flicked his attention to the boy and he felt his world spin as he saw himself in him with his eyes haunted, wary and afraid. He couldn’t have been older than eight. Rumlow smirked at the look on Bucky’s face, already detecting the turmoil brewing inside him. He had succeeded. He always knew Bucky was weak, his emotions his downfall. The fear and guilt clearly written in Bucky’s eyes made Rumlow gloat as he talked to the boy, 

“What did I say, Bert, huh? You’ll only have food if you go get it yourself. Why are you still standing there?” 

The boy looked around the big grocery store, mentally taking note of the stalls and where they were currently at, memorizing it in case he got lost but still, he didn’t move. Bucky looked at Rumlow and he saw the same look he’d always had directed at him before, his taunting eyes daring the boy to go or face the consequences. 

“But I’m scared,” the boy replied, his voice small and frightened. Rumlow moved to him, bending his knees to get to his eye level. “Well then, you just won’t have to eat,” he told him in a hushed voice, pouting and mocking. 

Bucky didn’t have to hear it to know the exact words, buried memories rushing back to the surface. He heard it countless times directed at him. The boy ran to the nearest stall, his heart pounding and hoping Rumlow would still be at that same spot when he came running back. Bucky knew the feeling, it was like he was living it all over again. As much as he wanted to help, he was rooted to the spot, even Lizzie’s crying couldn’t move him. Rumlow stood back up and faced him. “You were always my favorite,” he told him proudly as he pushed his own cart away from them, no doubt to give Bert an even harder chance of finding him. 

Just before he got too far, he swiftly turned around, feigning innocence as he said, “Oh and by the way, say hi to Rebecca for me,”  His lips twisted up into a sneering smirk as he left, whistling without a care in the world. And just like that Bucky was moving, grabbing Lizzie and getting out of that store as fast as he could, hoping Rumlow would stay out of his life forever. 

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

“I’m never letting you do the groceries again!” Y/N screeched, a horrified look on her face as she stared at their fridge. After the incident with Rumlow, Bucky had brought Lizzie to the toy store, allowing her to buy all the stuffed toys and dolls she wanted instead of just the previously promised one doll. They had gone to lunch after, he kept Lizzie distracted as much as possible to forget the man she had just met. When she brought him up again, he told her it was just a friend he didn’t like very much and that she shouldn’t bring it up to her mom because it was nothing, he promised he never had to see that man again. Lizzie seemed satisfied with his answer and went back to her usual chirpy self. On their way home, they passed by another grocery store. He had mindlessly strolled the aisles and grabbed whatever he thought they needed, his head at a different place, much as it still is now.

“Bucky, we don’t need four cartons of milk, why would you even get this?” Y/N asked incredulously, shaking her head as she chuckled. 

Bucky had been staring off into space, not hearing what his wife had been saying. “Uhm, hello Bucky, you still with me?” she teased, waving a hand in front of his face. 

“Oh sorry, what was that?” He asked, glancing up at her from his perch by the kitchen counter. The coffee he had brewed, now cold in his hands. 

“Hey, you okay?” she asked, looking at him with concern in her eyes. 

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” he waved dismissively. Y/N felt a pang of guilt. He’d been bugging her to spend more time together, planning outings and dates that she never seemed to find time for. 

“Well, I finally have the day free. Why don’t we go out, watch a movie or have a picnic? It’ll be fun,” she suggested, draping a hand over his shoulder while her chin rested on the other, her elbow propped up on the countertop to keep an eye level with him. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry, babe. I promised to meet up with Thor,” he moved away from her touch, standing up. Y/N looked at him confusedly, “Okay, how about after?”

“Gotta go over some accounts with Sam, sorry love. I’ll be back before dinner,” He gave her a quick kiss to the cheek before heading out. Y/N stared after him, brows knitted, before shrugging. She’ll just get her errands around the house done then. 

After pounding the punching bag in Thor’s gym incessantly, Bucky found himself aimlessly walking around the streets, he just needed to clear his head. The little boy’s face was still etched in his mind as he opened the door to a bar. A little too early, he knew but he couldn’t shake off the nagging thought plaguing his mind. 

How could he have let that monster roam free while he had lived his life without even a glance back? 

_______________________________________________________________________

Years ago.

Bucky held Becca’s hand as they ascended the rickety steps of their new home. They had just lost their parents and were now moving into an unfamiliar house. The case worker had told them they were lucky not to be separated and that they shouldn’t worry; they were getting a good foster father who would take care of them from now on. 

“I had interviewed him myself, you see,” She told the children, beaming with pride. 

“I couldn’t have found a better one for you guys, why, this area is still very close to where you grew up in. You could still visit your old haunts,” She ruffled Becca’s hair, trying to lighten the mood while the little girl just moved farther away, hiding behind her big brother. The worn-out door which at once might have been painted pristine white but now had chippings hanging off of it suddenly opened with a creak, a man with a charming and easy nature stepped out with a warm smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“You guys are here! Welcome, welcome, please come in!” He gestured humbly to his house. Becca squeezed Bucky’s hand tighter which he squeezed back in return, reassuring her. There was something about this man that wasn’t quite right. He seemed relaxed and easy-going, a smile continuously plastered on his face but there was a lethality to him that the children couldn’t seem to shake off, almost as if it was buried deep inside waiting to be unleashed. The case worker hung on his every word, giggling as they talked. She slapped his arm with the horrible looking tattoo that gave Becca a fright. The children barely moved from the sofa they were seated at after the introductions. 

“It’s usually like this. Don’t worry. They start to open up after a while,” the case worker sympathized with Brock, the man who introduced himself as their new foster father; he would treat them as his own, he had promised. 

“It’s alright. I understand. After my wife, I’ve been all alone and this, this is a blessing to me,” He told her as he turned to the children. Her hand strayed to his arm again and lingered there. 

“Oh, Brock, you are a good man. They’re great children, they won’t give you trouble.” She replied, patting his arm for reassurance. It didn’t miss Bucky how she hung off his every word. 

“But I should get going, I will check up on you in a week. Children, be good. You have my number if you need anything,” She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles on her blazer.

“Wait, you’re leaving us already?” Bucky couldn’t help the whine that escaped his voice. He didn’t miss the darkness that spilled over Brock’s face for a split second before he carefully put his smile back on again. 

“I’ll be back in a week, Bucky. Don’t you worry,” the case worker smiled before she walked out the door leaving him and Becca to a stranger. 

When she was out of sight, Brock had suddenly changed his demeanor. The smile on his face had turned into a scowl when he faced them. “Alright, listen up both of you,”  he boomed, his voice cruel. “Grab your things and get on to your rooms. I don’t want to hear any noise. No running around, and if I see you making a mess. You bet your little asses, you’ll pay for it,” He stood up and left them to their bags. 

“But Mr. Brock, I’m thirsty,” Becca piped up, looking up at him timidly. The man’s grating laugh rumbled as he threw his head back, shaking it.  

“That’s Rumlow to both of you, you hear me?  Don’t make that mistake again. Now, come here,” He said, beckoning both the children to come over. Once they reached the kitchen, he pointed to the high cupboard. “You see that?” He asked Becca, dropping low to get to her eye level. When she just nodded her head, he continued, “That’s where the glasses and the plates are. If you want something in this house, you go get it yourself. I’m not your nanny,” He held Becca’s face in his hand roughly. His fingers wrapped around her cheeks tight as he held her by the chin. Bucky felt his fists clench at his sides, pushing Rumlow as far as he could with his eleven year old might.  

“Stop that!” He screamed. Their parents never hurt them. How dare this man think he could do this to his little sister? 

“Oh you wanna be the man of the house?” Rumlow jeered, shoving Bucky back making him fall to the floor. Becca’s sniffles grew louder as she tried to stop her crying, her shoulders shaking from her effort. As Bucky lay sprawled, Rumlow scooted down menacingly to him, 

“You dare push me when you were just whining like a little bitch a while ago, you wanna man up? Alright, I’ll allow it,” he taunted, pondering it for a moment before his sinister smile came back on. “Let’s see how long you’ll last protecting your little sister.” He gripped his face by the chin, fingers squeezing exceedingly tight on his cheeks before he pushed him off and he hit the floor. 

“I won’t be some parent to you that you could twist around your little fingers, no. I’ll make you into the best man you could be. I will teach you about order. And order only comes through pain,” He drilled into him like a soldier as he stretched his legs back up, his measured steps going to the fridge to fish out a beer. He took a long gulp before he continued, 

“And the sooner you learned that, the better,” 

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Bucky sat alone at one of the benches by the field at his school, choosing solitude over the roar of the cafeteria after a particularly bad morning at home. Their foster father had woken up drunk and had haphazardly thrown things at them when Bucky accidentally burnt the eggs he had been cooking for his and Becca’s packed lunch for school. He picked on the peanut butter sandwich he prepared, not having the appetite to eat when he heard jeering voices from a group of boys and sounds of flesh being hit again and again with accompanying grunts of pain. He felt his feet move on instinct when he found them by the bleachers, a scrawny boy at the center of a group huddling over him, they were laughing as he tried to fight them off, not once being able to land a punch. The blood pumped in Bucky’s veins, a constant beating in his ears, as he grabbed the biggest of the bullies by the collar and harshly yanked him off the tiny, blonde boy now sprawled on the floor with his skinny arms covering his face. When one of the other kids tried to punch him, he deftly moved out of the way and delivered a swift blow to his stomach, making sure to spare his face so as not to get in trouble. That was how Rumlow did it, might as well use the same trick right? 

“What? Who wants to go next?” He threatened, loving the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the power he had with defending someone so helpless. The lanky blonde boy stood up beside him, blood dripping from his mouth as he held both his fists up, “I can do this all day,” he said, catching his breath but his stance clearly indicated he could barely stand up straight. Bucky just looked at him weirdly, not knowing whether to find him stupid or brave. The bullies stood against them, unsure. Bucky was the same age as them, only slightly bigger. Him and the blonde boy were still clearly outnumbered but Bucky’s eyes held a lethal strength in them, his body coiled with unleashed brutality, ready to fight. The bullies scrambled out of there as fast as they could, their feet tripping over them. 

“Yeah next time, pick on someone your own size!” he hollered before looking back at the blonde boy who looked younger than them but held himself with such maturity that it didn’t seem possible. He decided right then and there he was going to make him his new friend. Rumlow had always taught him about his belief of the natural order of the world, that strength and might always won the day and that order could only be achieved through pain. If you could inflict it on others, you were stronger, better. Weaker men were useless, had to be beaten up and put in their place. “That’s just the way of the world,” he had said. But Bucky was old and smart enough to see right through his facade. He was a bully, feeding off of people who couldn’t fight back. Bucky was going to be different, he wouldn’t bow down to his will. He just needed to protect his sister, spare her from the taint of Rumlow’s anger and prove that he wouldn't become the man Rumlow has been conditioning him to be. 

“You alright?” Bucky asked the boy standing beside him who was touching the bruise forming on his forehead.

“Yeah, thanks for helping me,” he replied sheepishly, ashamed he couldn’t fight for himself.

“Next time, just don’t provoke them, they aren’t worth it.” 

“But they were wrong. Bullies, I’d always stand up to them,” the blonde brushed his hair back from his forehead, determination steeling his voice. Bucky smiled, maybe he could learn a thing or two from this boy too. 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Steve, what’s yours?”

“Bucky. Steve, you’re a little punk. You know that?” he said teasingly, laughing. 

Steve grinned back, “Jerk,” 

_______________________________________________________________________

Present

The light filtered into the room as the curtains were drawn back harshly causing Bucky to groan on his bed, flitting a pillow to cover his eyes. 

“Buck, come on. Get up,” Steve’s firm voice spoke through the fog in his mind. 

“Get out, Steve, I’m sleeping.” he replied, turning his back to the hand shaking his shoulder.

“How long are you going to do this? It’s been two weeks. Have you even talked to your family yet?” Steve’s judgmental voice rang out, hard and unforgiving. 

“She doesn’t even wanna see me,” he huffed, anger at himself boiling in his veins. He hasn’t seen his daughter in two weeks. Y/N’s short, cold replies to his messages were just updates on how Lizzie was doing, anything regarding Y/N, he had no idea about. He didn’t even know what sort of excuses she made up for Lizzie, how his “work trip” kept getting extended. When the hell could they keep that charade up? He was lucky enough she was letting him talk to his daughter on the phone for a few minutes every once in a while. He sat up on the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he reached for the bottle of whiskey at the bedside table. These days he could only fall asleep when he’s had one too many to drink and even then, he’d still wake up with a headache that could only be dulled by alcohol. He barely even made it to work everyday. Sam had been good enough to cover for him, staying on neutral ground with everything that’s happening to his marriage although his eyes said otherwise, disappointment etched in them. All the while Steve had ignored him the entire time since the hospital. No amount of apologies moved him from his stance except today, when he suddenly barged into the hotel room Bucky has been renting like he owned the place. 

“Jesus, Bucky, stop that!” He swiped the bottle Bucky held between his lips, splashing amber liquid on his shirt and bed. 

“Damn it, Steve! Look what you did!  Give that back,” Bucky held his arm out, his reflexes slow as he tried to grab it from his friend. 

“Jesus Christ. You smell terrible. How much have you had to drink last night?” Steve fanned the air around him trying to rid the stench of alcohol and sweat.

“How the hell did you even get in here?” Bucky’s pissed off voice grumbled but one look at Steve’s intense stare with his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, standing straight as a drill sergeant, arms crossed at his chest with his muscles bulging out of his fitted gray Under Armour shirt; he knew. The punk had intimidated his way in. No doubt leaving a poor breathless, flustered receptionist in his wake. 

“You could get that receptionist fired, you know?” He tried appealing to his best friend’s better nature.

“You wouldn’t tell. Plus, it isn’t as if she didn’t get a hefty tip. Go take a shower, Buck, you stink.” Steve didn’t budge, staring him down with a disgusted look on his face. Bucky just scoffed, 

“And then what? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Y/N kicked me out, man. Just go home, you’re wasting your time.” 

Steve’s hardened face softened as he looked at his friend. His eyes were puffy, his skin pale as he scratched his wildly unkempt beard, his greasy hair sticking out on one side. What the hell had happened to Bucky? How had it gone so bad for his friend in a matter of days? He suddenly moved out of instinct, collecting clothes strewn everywhere and packed them into the suitcase at the corner of the room. 

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?” Bucky exhaled loudly. It was too early for this. Where the hell was his drink? 

“Get your ass moving, Bucky. You’re staying at my place,”

[onlyanidala]

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Title: just a bliss Author:  stranestelle Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  A lightheaded Anakin Skywalker wakes up to the heavenly vision that is Padmé Amidala. Can you blame the man for wanting to kiss his wife on the spot? Well you can, when the whole thing is witnessed by a room full of senators caught in a hostage situation... and she'd really rather they had waited for later.

Title: just carry me home tonight Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  "I – I didn't mean to, it's only that… Well, the Force, it lets me feel… What you feel, and I know this wasn't exactly what you imagined for your wedding night, so I…" His flesh hand rose to scratch his neck awkwardly, "I suppose I just wanted to make this special for you…"

Title: king of my heart Author:  catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Anakin Skywalker's holiday to the small country of Naboo takes an unexpected turn when he unknowingly foils an assassination attempt meant for Padmé Naberrie, the nation's Crown Princess. Saving a Princess is crazy enough. The only thing crazier... well, actually, there are a few things. Things Anakin is well on his way to experiencing.

Title: lights in the valley outshine the sun Author: elizabeth7 Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  What would happen if Padme survived and Darth Vader finds out? Padme & Anakin Darth Vader.

Title: look into my eyes it’s where my demons hide Author: shelivesfree Status: WIP/Unupdated Rating: T Summary:  Each time he comes back to her, a little piece of him is missing... left out there, in the field, with his brothers. She can see it in the way he smiles and it doesn't reach his eyes. In the way he cries to himself when he thinks she's not awake. And all she can do is hold him.

Title: lost Author: pinkeastereggs Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  “I feel lost." “Lost . . . what do you mean?” Padme couldn’t help but frown, searching for any signs on her husband’s face that could give her an insight to what he meant. But Anakin was just frowning to the side, seeming conflicted about something. He seemed distant, his eyes filled with an emotion that the young wife couldn’t begin to describe. How long had Anakin had this look in his eyes? Had she been oblivious to it before now or was this something new? Anakin and Padme have a heart-to-heart when he admits to feeling lost and frustrated with the Jedi Council. With truths about his relationship with Palpatine coming to light, Padme fights to talk some sense into her husband.

Title: madam president Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  Between late nights and headaches and mountains of paperwork and fierce opposition from her political opponents, President Padmé Amidala already had enough on her plate. And then she just had to go and fall for one of her bodyguards, a relationship which would ruin her reputation and his career if anyone were to find out about it. Also, someone's trying to kill her.

Title: make the world a little colorful Author: estrangedlestrange Status: WIP Rating: G Summary:  The morning after meeting her soulmate, Padmé woke up and saw color for the first time. In the midst of a political crisis, Padmé had just met a gungan, two Jedi, and a slave boy and his mother. She, like any rational young woman, assumed the padawan learner was her soulmate. Ten years later, after having accepted that she would never be with her soulmate, Padmé, reunited with both her supposed soulmate and the slave boy, she realized how wrong her assumptions were. The slave boy, Anakin, who had looked at her with wide hopeful eyes and asked if she was an angel, was her soulmate.

Title: the masterplan Author: stranestelle Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  In the midst of the endless galactic conflict, Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala have made a shocking discovery that brings more questions than answers. And maybe, just maybe, an end to the never-ending war. Sequel to Give Me A Signal.

Title: mother knows best Author:  catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.... Shmi Skywalker Palpatine had ruled the Galactic Empire on behalf of her son, Anakin, since the death of his father. For his part, the next Emperor has been content to leave politics to his mother and engage only in military exercises. All that is about to change as Padmé Naberrie, former Queen of Naboo, comes seeking aid for her charity, Amidala's Crusade, and Anakin's long-dormant crush comes surging back. What should be a perfect match is opposed by a mother determined not to lose her son and convinced hers is the only way...

Title: no colors in our skin Author:  JTHM_Michi Status: Abandoned Rating: T Summary:  Anakin grew up knowing that his masters called him the wrong words. They all called him “girl” or “girl-child” and it was just another way for them to dehumanize him. He didn’t know that, of course, not in those words, but it was true enough. His mother was always very clear with him, from the first time he came to her and asked her if she knew which master had taken his “boy parts”, that just because his masters called him a girl didn’t make him one. a.k.a. the Transgender Anakin Skywalker Verse

Title: no heroes on the high seas Author: spellcleaver Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  When Luke's aunt and uncle are executed by order of the Emperor's right hand, Lord Vader, he flees his home to search for his sister and the mother he never knew. But then Obi-Wan Kenobi stows away aboard the same ship, Vader gives chase, and Luke is dragged into a conflict that his family are at the very heart of. Gen.

Title: nos cedamus amori Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  Anakin is a gladiator and a slave. Padmé is the wife of the Roman emperor's heir. Circumstances should never even allow them to meet, let alone fall in love.

Title: of mutated worlds Author: gemma Status: WIP Rating: M Summary:  Nobody saw the end of the world coming. It happened overnight, no warning, no escape. They came from the shadows, biting, paralysing, and killing little by little until they were the majority. One day, everything was normal and then, suddenly, Padme Amidala Naberrie woke up in hell.

Title: of options and comlinks Author: estrangedlestrange Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  In that moment it seemed like there were only two options: help Master Windu arrest the Chancellor and secret Sith Lord or heed to Sheev Palpatine’s begging and turn against the Jedi. But then, in a split second, a third option revealed itself.

Title: order 66-S Author: disco shop girl Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  The order was to exterminate all Jedi: Past, Present and Future. Captain Rex has a different plan. Order 66-S: to save General Skywalker.

Title: parent-teacher conference Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  Anakin has to meet with the twins' second grade teacher after Leia punches a classmate in the face. But he hadn't counted on Ms. Amidala being quite so pretty.

Title: pas de deux Author:  catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  When Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker meet at their mutual friends' house party, the sparks immediately fly, resulting in a one night stand that both of them want to be the start of something more. Except it turns out that Padmé works at the ballet company Anakin just took over. And Anakin is in the middle of a very heated divorce as he tries to gain custody of his daughter Leia. With pressure coming at them from their private and professional lives, making their fledgling relationship work will prove the biggest role of a lifetime.

Title: the path of the dark Author:  catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Vader triumphs. Padmé resists. Series:Three Paths Not Followed. Series: The Darker Path.

Title: perfect Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  The war is over, Luke and Leia are five years old, and Anakin and Padmé finally have the peaceful life and big family they've always dreamed of. But their life is about to get a little less peaceful and their family a little bigger.

Title: perfect strangers Author:  catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  Anakin Skywalker meets a masked angel at a Halloween costume ball, and the two of them hook up for the best night of his life. But when the morning comes, she is nowhere to be found. Padmé Amidala forgot to get the name of a guy she hooked up with at Halloween before running out for work on November 1. A few weeks later, she realizes she's pregnant. Two perfect strangers, certain their paths are never going to cross again. Oops.

Title: pipe dream Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Padmé's new plumber is the most attractive human being she's ever laid eyes on, so naturally, she keeps faking plumbing emergencies so she can keep seeing him.

Title: pocket full of sand Author: philthestone Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  “I’m Leia Skywalker,” she says, and there is something unfathomably life-changing about that little declaration. “We’re here to rescue you!” Luke remembers the circumstances of his mother's arrest with a frustrating amount of clarity. AU series where Anakin never falls, Padme is a spy in the senate, and the dynamic duo of Force Sensitive twins don't know they're related.

Title: purgatory Author: helent Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  A newly dead Anakin Skywalker wakes in a new world - given the appearance of his 23 year-old self. However, the self-sacrifice that ended his life has also given Anakin an unexpected boon that he isn't sure he can accept. Worse, it comes with conditions that might just be impossible to meet. A moment of redemption is one thing, but a full reformation another entirely.

[needahugfromesme]

Hi! I love your AH Carlisle/Esme baby AU. Would you be interested in writing a story where the human Cullen's are adopted as young children? Or maybe a head cannon set about how each one came to be adopted by the best parents in Twilight?

Thank you💖 Sorry it took me some time to think about this. I didn’t come up with a great plot for a fanfic so here are some headcanons.

1. Edward: Losing his parents to the 1918 pandemic, he was adopted by Carlisle and Esme at the age of 8. It was hard for Edward to see his parents die and live with a new family. The vivacious boy became sad, irritable, and insecure. Carlisle was the first person Edward trusted. Edward's biological father did not often accompany him, and when Edward came to the family, Carlisle tried to be with him as long as he could, he played baseball with Edward and did interesting chemistry experiments together. But it was harder for Esme to be accepted by Edward at first. Edward missed his mother so much that he compared Esme to her in everything. Any inadvertence or "mistakes" of Esme would be magnified by Edward’s memory of his perfect mother. Until Edward saw Esme confronting the parents of the children who teased and bullied him for being an orphan. Edward heard Esme saying, "I love that boy more than anything. I think you know well what a furious mother can do when she sees her son hurt." "Come on, let's go home. They won't do it again. " Esme bought Edward ice cream on the way back, and Edward realized that there really was someone out there who loved him as much as his own mother.

2. Rosalie: Three years later, Esme's distant cousin and his wife were killed in a car crash, leaving 12-year-old Rosalie adopted by the Cullens. Rosalie was indifferent to everyone, and she pretended not to be affected by the accident. But she still missed her family, especially her two little brothers. Edward's shyness and his attachment to Carlisle and Esme made it difficult for Rosalie to get along with him. Rosalie spent most of her time in her room. Esme approaches Rosalie as her "cool aunt," discussing cosmetics with her, asking Rosalie to teach her how to braid her hair, and even taking her to parties and dances. Esme's respect for Rosalie's opinion and freedom was reciprocated by Rosalie, who begins to show her vulnerability. Rosalie gradually discovered that, unlike his bio parents, Carlisle and Esme have no strings attached to their love. They love her not because she wore a pretty dress despite the uncomfortable corset, not because she dieted to keep a slender figure, but they love her for her existence. Carlisle was always saying how proud Rosalie made him, whether she said a medical Latin terminology causally or the first time she punched a boy in the face who was harassing her.

3. Emmett: A year later they adopted 14-year-old Emmett. His parents abandoned him at the gate of the orphanage after he was born due to abject poverty. Emmett had given up hope of being adopted and planned to leave the orphanage at 16 to find a job as an apprentice. Then he was taken to the Cullens, where he had parents and siblings overnight. At first, everything seemed overwhelming to him, the big house, his own bedroom, the school full of spoiled middle-class teenagers, and the difficult schoolwork. Sensing that Emmett was unhappy, Carlisle and Esme transferred Emmett to another school where he could devote his full time to baseball and football. Not knowing what it was like to have parents, Emmett quickly accepted Carlisle and Esme as his. They made up for all the experiences that Emmett had missed, carnival and amusement park, eating mom's lasagna until he was too full to take another bite, Christmas gifts… Because of his independence and caring personality, Emmett naturally became a beloved brother for Edward and Rosalie. Edward was less lonely. Used to take care of her two little brothers, Rosalie discovered how blessed she was as a younger sister with a protective older brother.

4. Alice and Jasper: That same year, Carlisle and Esme became the foster parents of 5-year-old twins, Alice and Jasper. Alice and Jasper were inseparable. Less than two months, Alice and Jasper were deeply attached to their foster parents. Snuggled under the blanket with Esme when she was reading to them, and Carlisle carried them back to the bedroom after they had fallen asleep on the couch. As older brothers, Edward and Emmett were very indulgent to Alice, taking part in her tea parties without complaint. Rosalie especially cared about Jasper because she saw her little brother in him. The longer they stayed with the Cullens, the more worried everyone became. They were always afraid that the day would come suddenly when they have to leave. Eventually, after knowing their biological parents were unwilling to regain their custody, Carlisle and Esme adopted them. That day became their family day. Every year on that day they would take a picture in front of the fireplace, go to the amusement park for a day, and then come home and cook a big dinner together.

[fanficflaneuse]

The Party

Index 

A/N: After a few days of going MIA, I’m back with a piece taken from two similar requests. I hope you like it. If you requested something, please be a little patient. I’ve had some rough days and I’m going back to my working mood :) 

Have a very nice weekend! 

Details:

Draco x sister! Reader / George Weasley x Malfoy! Reader / Harry x Malfoy! Reader (platonic)

Word count: 3460

Summary: Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy aren’t home, so reader convinces her brother, Draco, to throw the party of the century. 

“Come on, Draco,” whined (Y/N), “it’s going to be fun!”

(Y/N) had been trying to convince her younger brother to throw a party. Their parents were in France on some distant relative’s funeral and wouldn’t be back for a whole other week. She figured that doing something fun with her brother would rekindle their relationship, which had been strained for years now.

Draco was two years younger than his sister. Before Hogwarts, they adored each other. Draco looked up to her and almost idolized her. Then, she was sent off to school. The sorting hat took a long time with her and ultimately placed her in Gryffindor, much to everyone’s dismay. (Y/N) could still remember, like it was yesterday, the fear that consumed her as she sent a letter to her parents. She was expecting a howler that would fill every corner of the castle with the news of her disownment. Their silence was deafening. For a week, she had nightmares with her father burning her face from the family tapestry.

Then, on the first Sunday after her arrival, Professor McGonagall guided her to Headmaster Dumbledore’s office. For a second, there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe it was all a mistake. Perhaps she could be sorted again and her parents would be proud. As she set foot on the headmaster’s quarters, though, her face fell. As she found herself face to face with her parents, she gulped. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore left them to talk, not without giving the first year encouraging smiles.

As (Y/N) and her parents stared at each other, she decided she’d show her courageous Gryffindor side. She had always been very rebellious. Even when she played the part of the perfect pureblood, deep down she knew it wasn’t something she wanted for the rest of her life. A lot of what her parents said also didn’t sit very well with her. And this was the decisive moment.

“Mother, Father…I’m sorry.” Regardless of how hard she tried, her voice cracked. Her vision became blurry a few seconds later.

“(Y/N), dear,” her mother said, engulfing the girl in her arms.

(Y/N) sobbed in her Narcissa’s shoulder. She thought she would never feel her mother’s embrace again, yet here she was, rubbing her back and all. The relief she felt was crushed by the fact that she still had to face her father. Narcissa wiped away her daughter’s tears and gave her a reassuring smile, like she had done so many times before. Lucius then came forward, his expression unreadable. He put his hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze.

“This was…unexpected, to say the least. But there is nothing to be sorry about,” he said. (Y/N) still couldn’t decide if this was a good or a bad thing.

“Y-you won’t disown me?” she asked nervously.

“Of course not! Where did you get that idea from?” her father said.

Both Narcissa and (Y/N) shot him an “are you serious” look. Everyone around them was way too keen on having their children sorted in Slytherin. Disownments, banishments and the likes were concepts that adhered to a pureblood’s vocabulary even before they could spell their names.

“My child, I can only imagine how scared you have been in the last few days. I am very, very sorry. If the sorting hat placed you in Gryffindor it is because you will be a great fit in that house. And that is it. Right, Lucius?” Narcissa’s voice was equanimous, but she eyed her husband sternly.

“Right,” he mumbled.

“We won’t lose a child to some tradition. We love you too much to care,” she continued.

That day, (Y/N) learned about her mother’s aunt Walburga and her cousin Sirius. Narcissa vowed to never repeat that story. Even if her father winced when she mentioned that she had befriended the Weasley twins, she knew they had her back. She left Dumbledore’s office feeling like the luckiest girl alive.

The bliss, though, only lasted a few months. When she went back home for the Christmas break, she noticed how something had changed between her and her brother. As much as her parents reassured her, she swore he treated her differently. The adventures around the manor ended, as he claimed they were too old for that nonsense. Every time they were alone, she felt guilt and shame around him, as though he was always judging her. It made her sad. And she found refuge in the letters she received from the Weasley twins, especially George, who had become her best of friends.

Things turned for the worse when Draco arrived in Hogwarts, strutting with a posse of eleven-year-old entitled purebloods like he owned the place. Of course, he was sorted into Slytherin. He never looked her way after that. (Y/N) guessed that now he was bothered by everything she did, everyone she befriended and everything she stood for. She decided not to let that get the best of her and instead shared love and friendship to her newly found Gryffindor family. George and Fred’s little brother, Ron, had come to his first year as well and she took his little gang under her wing, especially Harry who had been brought up by some horrible muggles.

As the years went by, as much as Draco tormented the golden trio, she comforted them. When he bullied them, she apologized. When he said mean things, she always had a comeback. She even told on him with their mother when he was particularly mean, warranting weeks without her famous the care packages.

This year, though, (Y/N) had decided to declare truce. When they got back for the summer, Narcissa locked herself with her daughter in the piano room. They talked for hours about everything and nothing. Narcissa begged her daughter to reconcile with her brother. She told her how afraid she was of her son’s fate now that it was very clear that the Dark Lord had come back. She knew that, if the time were to come, (Y/N) wouldn’t choose Voldemort and she wished with all her heart she could take her brother with her.

(Y/N) took this conversation to heart. She was about to start her last year in Hogwarts and she didn’t want to finish her school having lost her brother completely. She thought a party would be the best place to start. They could have fun together, an occurrence unseen for many, many years. Also, after four years of sneaking around with the golden trio and Fred and George, she realized that there’s an especial kind of complicity between people who shared a secret. She wanted that kind partnership with her brother as well.

After much convincing, Draco agreed. He was expecting a gathering with their pureblood friends and acquaintances, perhaps a very selected group of people to talk and gossip for a while. Maybe if she saw him in his element he could show his sister that he was also worth her time. Draco was definitely not expecting the avalanche of people that flooded the manor. All of a sudden, he was surrounded by people from all houses and blood statuses. The seventh years brought fire whiskey and muggle booze. The music was raging. He looked in disbelief as Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint raced their brooms in their mother’s garden. He was disgusted by two seventh year Ravenclaws getting handsy by the staircase.

As he walked around, he encountered some of his friends. Pansy was sulking because Daphne had ditched her to dance. Blaise had already joined in the fun and Theo sat on a sofa between a cranky Ravenclaw and a very shy Hufflepuff. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be found. 

“Are you having fun, Dray?” as he turned around, he saw her sister. One of the twins, who he didn’t bother to identify, had his arm draped around her shoulder.

He wanted to tell her that she was in big, big trouble. He hadn’t agreed to this. And how it was annoying and disrespectful and inappropriate and…then he saw the infamous golden trio behind her. They were talking to the remaining Weasley twin and eyeing his home in awe. If he had been pissed and annoyed at her sister, he now felt like he would combust in any second.

Draco shot his sister a murderous look.

“I thought you’d have some more respect for me and our home,” he said icily before storming off.

(Y/N) was very confused. Her friends eyed her worriedly. George held her closer to him.

“(Y/N/N), are you okay?” he whispered softly in her ear.

George and (Y/N) had a one of a kind relationship. They knew they liked each other. Back in fourth year, she had told him bluntly. He admitted his feelings as well. They had never made it official for reasons unknown even to them. They had shared a couple of kisses and sometimes they’d walk around with their arms wrapped around each other. They’d flirt a lot. And yet, if anyone asked them, they were both single.

Under different circumstances, she would’ve blushed a little because of how close he was. Maybe, she would’ve even flirted. Right now, her gaze was fixed on her brother’s retreating form.

“Should we leave?” asked Hermione sheepishly.

(Y/N) looked at her wide-eyed, realizing how rude her brother had been to them.

“Of course not,” she answered coolly, “I’m sorry Draco is so rude. Enjoy the party. I’ll go talk to him.”

The group scattered around. (Y/N) pecked George on the lips before she went to find her brother. She didn’t have to search too much; she knew exactly where Draco hid whenever he was upset. She walked up the stairs, were the party was just a distant rumour, and walked towards a godforsaken wing of the manor. After passing through a series of judgmental portraits, she pushed a heavy door that lead a spacious room. The only thing inside was a huge, empty wardrobe, which (Y/N) and Draco used as their own playground.

She smiled at herself, knowing that even if they had outgrown their playground days, that place remained a safe haven for both of them. She opened that door softly and found her brother huddled in a corner of the dresser, his face hidden in his arms. (Y/N) took a seat by his side.

“It’s been a while since we last played here,” she said.

“It’s a miracle you still remember,” he sniffled.

“How could I forget, starlight? It was our favourite hiding place,” she said fondly, calling him by a nickname she hadn’t used in a while.

Draco looked at her for a minute. She noticed his tearstained cheeks. “Well, now you’re so busy with Potter and your blood traitor friends, you hardly look my way anymore,” he countered bitterly.

Something clicked in her mind instantly. “Is that what this is all about?”

“You’re replacing me with Potter. Why wouldn’t you? He’s better than I am in absolutely everything. You send him presents, you cheer for him in quidditch, you’re always looking out for him. You’re like…like we used to be.”

Draco hid his face again in embarrassment. Once she heard his sobs, (Y/N)’s heart broke.

“I honestly hadn’t realized you thought that way until now. But I’d never replace you, starlight. You’re my brother. The things we’ve been through, the things we share, the memories we have together, those things have bonded us for life. It killed me every day to think that you hated me for not being the perfect pureblood sister. You’re the person I love the most and thinking that I wasn’t good enough for you…it made me so, so sad.”

Draco lunged forward and hugged (Y/N) tightly. “(Y/N), you’re my sister. Yes, you could be less boisterous, more proper…” (Y/N) raised her eyebrow. “But I wouldn’t change you for the world. I’ve missed you so much.” (Y/N) rubbed Draco’s back, like their mother did. She remembered what she said when they first arrived for vacations.

“I’ll always be here for you, Dray. And Harry’s not better than you. You’re just two different people. I won’t lie: I really love and appreciate him and I do try my best to give him some sisterly love because Merlin knows he hasn’t had much of that.” Draco tried his best not to scoff. “But you are my real brother. I don’t prefer him over you! And I’m here to reassure you, coddle you and hide in a closet while the party of the century is happening downstairs.”

Draco chocked out a laugh and hugged his sister tighter. He didn’t feel like moving just yet. (Y/N) understood he needed the embrace and so she stayed still, combing her brother’s hair with her fingers until he calmed down. She enjoyed the moment and realized how much she had missed the role of Draco’s big sister. He was such a gentle soul and even when they were kids she knew she had to be careful.

“I think…I think we can go downstairs now,” he announced timidly.

(Y/N) chuckled and nodded, refraining from teasing him. Once they were downstairs, her eyes met George’s. He sat in a circle with a bunch of people. She identified the golden trio, as well as some of Draco’s friends. Angelina Johnson was also in the group and so was Alicia Spinnet. (Y/N) dragged her brother to the circle.

“Be nice,” she mouthed to him as she took her place by George’s side.

“We’re playing spin the bottle,” said Lee Jordan before giving the bottle a spin.

A few rounds in, everyone teased (Y/N) on how she hadn’t kissed anyone. So far, Draco had given Katie Bell a peck which left him blushing. Ron and Hermione shared a sweet kiss. Harry kissed a giggly Daphne Greengrass. Theo smooched Fred, who also brushed lips with Angelina. Pansy Parkinson stamped her lips on Vincent Crabbe’s on what must have been the most dispassionate kiss of the night.  

After George and Alicia shared a quick kiss, it was finally (Y/N)’s turn. She had to kiss Blaise Zabini, on of Draco’s friends. She wasn’t very sure about kissing a younger boy at first. She asked him three or four times if it was fine with him, until he made the first move. The kiss started slow and shy and then Blaise grabbed her hair and pulled her to him. Her breath hitched and she kissed back passionately. How old was this boy and why did he have so much experience?

When they pulled apart, her head was spinning. Draco was looking at them, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Some people were cheering on them, particularly on Blaise. His friends were congratulating him on being a “ladies’ man”. Her friends were shocked. She still didn’t know what to make of the situation, until she realized George had left the circle. Fred couldn’t help to shoot daggers at her.

“Excuse me,” she said standing up.

At a distance, she heard Blaise boasting and Draco threatening him. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and walked through the sea of people in search of George. ‘Why do I keep chasing after people tonight?’ she groaned when she failed to find him within five minutes.

She went out to the gardens to try and think. (Y/N) sighed in relief as she recognized the familiar mop of red hair. George was pacing around. As soon as she saw his face of disappointment, she hated herself for accepting to that stupid game with that foolish boy. She should be dancing and having fun with her crush instead of having to mend broken hearts.

They stood in front of each other. George didn’t want to meet her gaze. For years, he thought that their arrangement was the best for them. The love and attraction were there and none of the drama. They could be partners in crime without the messy bits of a relationship. So far, things had worked in their favour. But seeing her smooching that Zabini git had made him change perspectives. For one, he was jealous. He hated every second of that awful feeling. And he realized he wanted to be (Y/N)’s boyfriend. He wanted everything, including the messy bits. He wanted dates in Hogsmeade. He wanted to take her home as more than just “the twins’ friend”. Now she had kissed that Slytherin and he felt like he didn’t stand a chance.

“I know Blaise Zabini could a better match than me,” he sighed.

(Y/N) eyed him quizzically. “What are you talking about?”

“We all saw how eager he was to kiss you. He might be a bit young now, but eventually he’ll probably try to date you and marry you and be the proper pureblood family you were meant to have,” he said his fists tightening with every word.

“Don’t be silly, Weasley,” she answered, moving towards him, “you know you’re the only one I want.”

She kissed him then. It was passionate and blissful. One of his hands travelled to her hair and his fingers tangled on her ringlets. The other hand squeezed her butt. (Y/N) moaned and bit George��s lip.

“Be my girlfriend,” he said against her lips before capturing them again.

“What are you doing to my daughter?!” roared Lucius Malfoy from behind.

Like a deer in the headlights, both teenagers turned around to face the Malfoys. Narcissa and Lucius looked at her, a mixture of rage and disconcertment in their faces.

“(Y/N) Narcissa Malfoy,” her mother’s voice was stern. She might be loved and spoiled by her parents, but the look they were giving her at the moment was one that assured a punishment to kingdom come.

(Y/N) noticed her little brother standing behind their parents, a smirk on his face. She guessed he washed his hands off the matter and was waiting to see her punished for their party.

“Bloody snake,” she muttered.

“Hey, don’t call me that! You got yourself in this missy,” he huffed in response, not even concealing the pleasure this was giving her.

“I thought we had magically rekindled our relationship?”

“We did. Does it mean I’ll magically take the blame for your mess?” he said smugly.

“Your friends are also here,” George retorted. He still had his hands on (Y/N), a fact the whole family was trying to ignore until he brought the attention to himself.

“What are you…what is…why are there…drunk people…my garden!” Narcissa was so taken aback she couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. Lucius was eyeing here warily; the only other time she behaved like this he had been banished from their room.

Narcissa went back inside, were everything was eerily quiet. The teenagers who just a few minutes ago had been dancing and drinking stared at the Malfoy matriarch. The music had stopped, just as any bit of conversation. She walked to her precious mahogany table in the common room, where the students had set all of the alcohol, and took a bottle of firewhiskey that hadn’t been opened yet.

“Everybody who I did not create, get out of my house right now!” She didn’t even raise her voice, but it had such a sharp edge to it that everyone in the grounds heard and complied. A sea of Hogwarts students ran out of the door.

George made a move to leave as well, but Lucius stopped him.

“No, you stay,” he said bitterly, “if you’re man enough to touch my daughter’s arse then you’re man enough to stay and listen to what I’m about to say.”

Both (Y/N) and George blushed profusely. Draco faked gagging and Lucius was about to start a lecture when Narcissa came back. She took a swig of the firewhiskey straight from the bottle. Lucius was glaring at George; but even as intimidating as he tried to be, the three teenagers saw how afraid he was of his wife’s glare.

“You,” she said motioning to George, “out.”

“Mum…” (Y/N) tried to intervene.

“Don’t you dare, (Y/N). Don’t you dare,” her tone was almost murderous.

George kissed (Y/N)’s cheek and walked out, biting his lips to hold in his laughter.

“When I wake up tomorrow my house better be pristine or you are going to be in a lot of trouble. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, mum,” (Y/N) answered, not wanting to meet her gaze.

“You two,” Narcissa motioned her husband and son, “to your rooms. Now.”

“But mum, won’t you punish (Y/N/N)? Look what she did when you were gone!” Draco pressed on, behaving in absolute Draco fashion.

Narcissa drank from the bottle again and Draco’s eyes widened.

“Listen to me, Draco. I am going to say something to you and I’ll only say it once: stop being such a little bitch.”

As soon as she said that, (Y/N) burst out laughing.

“I love you, mum,” she said.

“Don’t push it, (Y/N).”

Tags: @cleopatera @okaydraco @naomi02hook @the-hufflefluffwriter @the--queen-of-hell @honeymarvel @blisfvll @icintliviinyiniilsiji @gloriousrebelrunaway @heistmaster69 @victorialynn7 @inkhearthes @wollymalfoy