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sehtoast · 2 years ago

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Give Me Your Rage - All of You is Left to Love Ch8 (Depowered Homelander x OC)

Chapter Directory

1.5k words

Summary: Mirrorlander works Homelander into a rage, ensuing aggression and panic attack from which Ben helps bring him down. Barely any plot, just good ol hurt/comfort

OC: Benjamin Colyer (The Boys-verse Spider-Man)

He tried to keep himself occupied. Tried his best to ignore the whispering in his mind.

TV would drown it out, he thought. Maybe a movie– or the news. Seeing the chaos in the world to make his own feel less suffocating.

All it did was fuel the fire.

VNN showed a livestream of Ben addressing a crowd in regards to another supe filling a seat in The Seven. His little spider stood there, spouting off line after line of corporate sludge, winning the hearts of millions with his emotive mask lenses and honeyed words.

Used to be you up there. You used to matter like that.

His brows furrowed. A shake of the head, praying to will it away.

Now look at you. Just some useless fuckin’ slob spending every day on the couch.

Hands covering his ears in vain.

Wasting away… Sucking down all that fucking milk. Wonder how that bug of yours even looks at you, hm?

No…

The tirade was never ending, dragging on until the sound of a window shutting pulled him just far enough out of his own mind.

Benjamin was home.

The man of the hour! The voice lilted. You really let him take everything from you, huh…

“I’m back!” Ben called from the bedroom. His greeting was followed by the sound of the sink.

Benjamin’s routine upon arriving home... Announce himself. Run his head under the bathroom faucet to fix his mask-flattened hair. Phone on the charger. Supersuit stripped away. Regular clothes on.

Just enough time for the voice in John’s mind to run absolutely rampant.

He stole your life.

Stole the world’s love.

Made you into his fucking house pet!

John, toeing the line of falling into a frenzy, rushed into the kitchen to avoid Ben as his little spider started to make his way from the bedroom.

Took everything from you.

“Hey, hun?”

His voice grew closer.

Used you up.

“No…” John hissed. “No, no, no…”

A shuffling of footsteps.

Now you’re nothing… and he has it all.

“John?”

Make him pay. Do it!

His body moved before he could stop it. As if he’d gone numb to everything but the pain and rage building within.

His fist connected with Ben’s jaw, knocking his little spider’s head to the side. His hand ached from the impact, but he was already mid swing with the other before he could realize it.

Ben caught his fist with ease. He said nothing, just… pulled Homelander into an embrace. Tight, but not crushing.

John fought, at first. Tried his hardest to rip out of Ben's hold, to continue his assault, but those arms around his upper body held him firm until the grunts and growls he didn’t even know he was making turned to tears.

“Fuck!” He roared, giving one last struggle against Ben’s hold. “Fuck, fuck, f-fuck…”

“It’s okay.” Ben cooed. “Give me your rage…”

He choked on a particularly harsh sob, reaching up to clench his head and rip at the shortness of his hair in helpless agony.

Ben unfurled Homelander’s grip with ease.

“Give me what you can’t hold anymore.”

His arms wrapped around Benjamin with all the strength he could muster, gripping and squeezing as though letting go would be the end of him.

The end of them.

What has he done?

Words spilled from his lips, apologies falling over one another as he sank to his knees. Benjamin followed him down, positioning to hold him comfortably. A leg over his, arms wrapped around his shoulders, chin resting atop of his head.

Somehow, the tenderness of his lover’s touch made it all hurt even more. His sobs became more guttural, rocking him to his core. A tsunami of pain, of shame and misery, regret…

Here he was, attacking the last person in the world that gave a shit about him. Driving away the only person in the world to ever show him real love. His Benjamin.

He was trying to hurt his Benjamin.

His chest heaved erratically with breaths that wouldn’t come.

Ben began to rock him, a hand trailing to rest just above his heart.

Each exhale was interrupted by a reflexive breath in, the two stifling each other until John felt dizzy. His panic escalated quickly with each failed gasp.

"I- I c-can't b-brea-athe!”

Ben used his grip to spin Homelander, turning his love to rest against him, back to chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen John have a panic attack, but this was certainly one of the worst to date.

"Feel me, baby. Feel my chest." Ben spoke firm and calm, his hands at John's shoulders to steady him against the lurches of his cries. “I need you to breathe like me…”

Homelander gripped Ben's thighs, chest heaving with breaths that only further robbed his lungs of air. Every breath stifled by a spasming diaphragm.

"Eyes closed. Focus... Breathe like me." Ben took a deep inhale, letting his chest push against John's arched back. Reaching up to run his fingers through Homelander’s hair. “You’ve got this. It’s gonna be okay.”

Homelander clenched his eyes shut and forced in a ragged breath, exhaling just as shakily. Head thrown back against Ben's shoulder, body rigid as he fought desperately to control himself.

"That's it," Ben whispered, hands still holding him steady. "In…" he took another exaggerated breath. "Then out…"

They repeated this way for some time until the iron grip at Ben’s thighs loosened and the sound of desperate gasps faded into unsteady breaths mimicking his own.

A shaky hand rose from his leg, and Ben grasped it. A kiss pressed to Homelander’s hand.

"It's okay…"

"It's not…" Homelander countered weakly. "I hit you."

"You did." Tone soft, forgiving. A hint of a chuckle to soften any other edges. Ben leaned to rest his chin on John's shoulder. It didn't hurt– but telling Homelander that would only reopen another wound. "Are you okay?"

Homelander scoffed in disbelief, another round of tears stinging at his eyes. The hand still at his little spider's thigh gripped again.

"I hurt you, and you're asking me if I'm okay." A sniffle, then a beat of silence.

"I hit you…"

Wouldn't be the first time, is what Ben wanted to add. He recalled an instance of being tackled out of the sky and thrown onto a roof, but that was… another lifetime, now.

John clutched Ben's hand firm to his chest. The rise and fall of it still unsteady, but far more calm than earlier.

"I forgive you," Benjamin whispered into his ear. The next part, barely even a breath from his lips- but something that needed to be acknowledged. Something Ben knew without having to be told. Because, why else?

"He's been loud lately, hasn't he?"

Ben hadn't been home much in the past few weeks. Too many events, too many instances of violent crime stopped dead in its tracks by the web-head, damage control and paperwork.

Too little time with John.

Who else would keep him company?

Homelander sucked in a breath and held it, nodding furiously as he tried to keep himself together.

"I'm sorry, baby…" Ben cooed, his fingers traveling to trail through John's hair.

They stayed like that, seated on the floor of the kitchen, holding on to each other for some time. Ben’s fingers massaged Homelander’s scalp, and sometimes deviated from their trail to thumb at his cheekbone instead.

John’s eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, fatigue setting in now that the rage had left him. Eventually, he felt those strong arms loop behind his back and under his knees, and he was lifted from the floor.

Ben laid Homelander on their unmade bed and tucked him in. Pressed a kiss to his brow.

John made a small sound of protest, thinking that his little spider was walking away to leave him, so Benjamin simply climbed overtop of him and made his way under the blankets. Within seconds, Homelander moved to rest his head upon Ben's chest, nuzzling into him with a defeated sigh.

“I'm calling off tomorrow." Ben declaread. "Maybe the next day, too…No, definitely the next day."

"I'd… really like that," Homelander replied, sleep lacing his voice.

Ben’s fingers danced through Homelander’s hair as he soothed him. He wasn’t one to hold back on vocalizing his emotions to John, but Ben waited until he was asleep to speak.

“You’re my world…” He whispered. “No matter what happens, no matter how crazy things may get… I’m gonna stick with you. Gonna watch you come out on the other side of this change victorious.”

His hand moved to Homelander’s cheek, where he rubbed his thumb in circles. Ben looked at him contemplatively and felt his heart swell.

“You’ve never stopped giving me those damn butterflies…”

#homelander #homelander x oc #canon x oc #homelander fanfiction #hurt/comfort #hurt with EXTRA comfort >:)#sehtoast writing #the boys #the boys tv #the boys homelander

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nnb17 · 8 months ago

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AMAZING TIPS FOR AMAVASYA

To rid any house of chaos, mental tension and misery – thoroughly clean each nook and corner of the house – throw away the waste and get rid of any useless items, in the house – light a with mustard oil lamp in the home temple and near Tulsi plant

For wealth benefits ,hoist a yellow ,triangular flag atop a Lord Vishnu temple – is such a way that it continuously flutters – you shall have amazing wealth benefits – but it should be kept in mind that the flag should be permanently placed – if need be ,it should be changed from time to time.

Never pluck, Tulsi leaves [Basil] or the leaves of the ‘Bail Tree’ [Wood- apple tree] on Amavasya – if they have to be offered on the deity, ensure that you pluck them a day before

Pouring a spoon of milk on the earth, will help you get rid of hurdles, stopping the progress and every day wok. Also if barley is washed in milk and flown down in running water, then fate will always favor you.

To subdue the ill-effects of Saturn [Shani Dev] – every Amavasya ,offer mustard oil ,black ‘urad dal’ [black pulses],an iron piece ,black cloth , and a blue flower to the deity and chant the Vedic mantra of Lord Saturn – 101 times – “OM NILANJANSAMABHAS RAVIPUTRA YAMAGRAJAM . CHAYAMARTANDSAMBHUT NAMAMI SANESHCHARAM” –

Every Amavasya, offer five different kinds of fruits to a cow – the atmosphere at home shall always remain auspicious and happy.

Feeding wheat flour balls, to the fishes on Amavasya, bestow upon a person, his ancestors blessings and the blessings of the gods – issues / obstructions pertaining to incoming wealth, are also nullified.

If there is a person who is chronically ill – wake up before sunrise, post your bath – pull a strand of thread from any clothing, worn by the patient – with some additional cotton , make a wick of this strand of thread and cotton and dip it in a lamp filled with mustard oil – light this lamp and place it in front of an idol of Lord Hanuman and chant the ‘Hanuman Chalisa’ –

Take a fresh lemon and cut it into four halves – throw each half in each direction – i.e four halves in four direction –issues pertaining to unemployment shall be finished – please ensure, that you stand on a crossroad with four directions and also it has to be done secretly.

On the Amavasya night , take 8 almonds and 8 ‘kaajal’ boxes, tie them in a black cloth – and keep them in a box filled with red vermillion powder – very soon ,you shall be rid of financial problems.Change it every amavasya.

Feed a Brahmin on Amavasya. This shall keep the ancestors happy – obstacles shall be removed and there shall be no dearth of prosperity – and the house-hold shall be immune to the ‘evil-eye’ and other forms of black magic.

For gaining the blessings of the ancestors and getting freedom from the malefic effects of ‘pitr-dosh’ – pouring water ,milk, gangajal ,black sesame seeds ,sugar, rice all mixed together , in the roots of a ‘Peepal tree’, and offer flowers and the sacred thread ,chanting ;”OM NAMO BHAGWATEY VASUDEVAYE NAMAH” and circumbulating the tree, seven times .

The ancestors should be offered water on ever Amavasya – the right way of offering water is – In a copper vessel, water, mixed with gangajal , raw milk ,sesame seeds , barley ,Tulsi leaves, a grass blade , honey and a white flower – should be offered – facing the south direction , calling out – TAPRAANTAYAMI , TAPRAANTAYAMI , TAPRAANTAYAMI – thrice – the water should be poured out along the side of the thumb in to a vessel below – this does provide contentment to the ancestors – Remember to pour the collected water into some plant – do not throw this water any where in the house or outside – it should only be poured in to the roots of a plant.

According to the ‘Shastras’, the ancestors visit their homes, every Amavasya – so every person should donate to charity – as much as he can afford. Keeping a meal under a ‘Babool Tree’ [Acacia Tree] in the name of the ancestors also pleases them.

Ancestors have a special liking for ‘Kheer’ – [sweet porridge of rice and milk] – every Amavasya, preparing kheer and offering it to a Brahmin with his meals begets one of a thousand virtues. In the evenings, keeping a small portion of the ‘kheer under the ‘Peepal tree’, in the evening, helps in removing instability, from one’s life.

To avoid sudden mishaps and tame the enemies, can be fulfilled, by feeding a black dog, a chapatti smeared with mustard oil.

Install a Horse Shoe [of a black horse] on the top of the main door, on Amavasya; the open end should face the ceiling or above/up, if it is in your house; if, it is at the workplace, then the open end should face the floor or below/down – this saves one from the ‘evil-eye’ and stability of finances and happiness is ensured.

On Amavasya never start a, fresh business, journey, transaction, or any auspicious work.

Sai Numerology,

Neetu N Bhansali

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atlafan · 3 years ago

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a/n: hola!! So, I’m posting the first 7K here since this is just one long one-shot. I hope y’all will join patreon to continue reading the rest of the story. I worked really hard on this one, and for whatever reason I feel like this is some of my best writing. Enjoy!

Words in total: 38K

Warnings:

TW - mentions of abortion/planned parenthood

Some angst, mostly just two people being idiots

Smut - slight daddy!kink, slight soft dom

Being the new kid in school is never easy. When you’re in elementary school, it’s exciting. Everyone wants to know you and be your friend, but in middle school…the kids judged you on day one. Orla Murphy and her family moved to Boston halfway through fifth grade. It would have been one thing if it was summer, she’d be able to slide in undetected. She could just pretend she was from a different elementary school and be done with it. But no, her father got offered a new job in the big city that he couldn’t turn down. Orla’s an only child, so it wasn’t even like she could mope and complain with a sibling. It was just her and her parents, and even though her mother was a bit more sympathetic to her daughter’s misery, it didn’t make Orla feel better.

So, here she is, on her first day of school on February 1st standing in front of a classroom of kids she doesn’t know, being forced to introduce herself and where she’s from.

“Go on, Orla, tell us a little about yourself.” The teacher says with a warm smile.

“Um…I’m Orla Murphy, I just moved here from Vermont. I’m from a small town where the whole school is the size of this classroom.” She looks down at her snow boots before looking up at the teacher.

“Wow, this’ll be quite the adjustment. What do you like to do for fun?”

“I draw and listen to music. I play Barbies, um…that’s all I can think of right now.”

“That’s fine, thank you, Orla. You can have a seat now.”

Orla goes back to where she was sitting before she got called up to introduce herself to her home room. She slumps down into her seat and listens to the morning announcements. The bell rings and it’s off to math. The class goes across the hall to the other teacher.

By the time lunch rolls around, Orla isn’t feeling much better about her new school. She had brought lunch, and wasn’t sure who to sit with. Her class has two assigned tables, but she doesn’t want to take anyone’s usual seat. She contemplates going to eat in the bathroom until someone taps her on the shoulder.

“You can sit with me and my friends, if you want.”

She turns around to look at a boy with a mess of chocolate brown curls on his head, a pair of round glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and braces gracing his smile.

“Oh, um, thanks.” Orla blushes and follows him to one of the tables.

“I’m one of the few people that brings lunch too, everyone should be over soon. I’m Harry by the way.”

“Hi.” She says shyly.

“What kind of a name is Orla?” He asks, biting into his apple after they sit down.

“It’s Irish…”

“Cool! Does it mean anything.”

“Golden princess, or something like that, I don’t really know. My dad’s Irish and I guess his grandmother’s name was Orla so they named me after her.”

“That’s really cool. My mom just liked the name Harry, and now that’s my name.” He shrugs. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No.” She says, and pulls her sandwich out of her lunchbox. “Do you?”

“Mhm, I’ve got three older brothers, I’m the youngest. My oldest brother is a senior in high school, isn’t that cool? He’s going to college next year.”

“Does he drive you places?”

“Yeah! And sometimes he lets me sit in the front seat without my mom knowing. He’s the best.”

Orla felt like she was finally starting to open up, but Harry’s friends joined their table and took over the conversation. They acknowledged her, but didn’t make any effort to pull her back into the conversation. Harry noticed this and didn’t like it. She excuses herself a few minutes before the bell rings to go use the bathroom. There’s a study block after lunch where all of the kids in class could get a jump on homework, or read.

“Okay, everyone!” Mrs. Sampson, the teacher, cheers. “We’ve got a very special treat today. It’s Harry’s birthday, and his mom sent him in with cupcakes for the whole class!” Harry stands up and smiles as Mrs. Sampson places a birthday crown on his head. “Harry, would you like to pick someone to help you pass out the cupcakes?”

“Sure.” He nods and looks around the room. Many kids raise their hands with excitement. He spots Orla looking out the window with her chin resting on her fist. “I pick…Orla!”

Her attention snaps over to Harry while everyone looks at her. She stands up and walks over to him and takes a tray of cupcakes to help pass them out. Once everyone has their cupcakes, and a carton of milk supplied by Mrs. Sampson, the kids are allowed to sit with their friends and chat. Soon, some of the girls start talking with Orla, and it helps her feel more welcome.

By the end of the day, all of the kids are dismissed to go to their lockers and grab their backpacks before getting into their bus lines or go wait for their parents to pick them up. Orla sees Harry at his locker and she works up the courage to go talk to him.

“Hey, um, why’d you pick me earlier?” She asks him.

“Huh? Oh…I don’t know, I didn’t like that my friends were ignoring you at lunch. So, I just thought if you passed out the cupcakes with me more people would talk to you.” He rubs the back of his neck and grabs a card out of his locker. “Listen, I’m having a birthday party this weekend at Roller World, you should come.” He hands her the invitation. “The whole class is coming, it’ll be fun.”

“I’ll, um, I’ll ask my parents…thanks, Harry.”

“Don’t mention it.” He smiles. “Are you taking the bus home?”

“Yeah.”

“What number?”

“Eleven.”

“That’s my bus! You weren’t on it this morning.” He closes his locker and they start making their way to the auditorium where the bus lines are.

“Yeah, my mom wanted to drop me off this morning to walk me into the office so I could get my schedule and stuff.”

“Cool, where do you live?”

“I’m the second to last house on the left of Langston Ave…number twenty-four.”

“You can’t be serious. That’s literally right across the street from where I live! I was wondering who moved into that house. I’m number twenty-seven.”

“Whoa, that’s freaky.” Orla blinks.

“Well, at least you know you have a friend close by. We can wait at the bus stop in the mornings together if you want.” The two go into their line and wait as the teacher on duty keeps them at bay. “Do you wanna sit together?”

“That’s okay, I’m sure you have other friends you usually sit with.”

“Yeah, but none of them are new and exciting.” He scoffs. “Unless…uh, if you don’t wanna sit with me that’s totally fine.”

“No, I do! I just didn’t want you to think you had to offer.” She blushes.

“You’re funny, you know that?” He gives her shoulder a nudge with his hand, and the teacher lets the kids know they can go to their bus.

Orla follows Harry outside and onto bus eleven. He grabs a seat in the middle of the bus and sits down. Orla sits down next to him and smiles. The two talk the whole way home. Harry listens as Orla explains what her dad does for work and why they had to move.

“You’re gonna like living closer to the city, I think. It’s really fun to ride the trains and stuff.” Harry tells her.

They get to their stop and make their way off the bus. Orla’s mom is waiting outside on their front steps for her with a smile on her face.

“Um, thanks for being so nice to me today.” Orla says to Harry.

“You don’t have to thank me. Don’t forget to ask your parents about coming to my party on Saturday, okay?”

“Okay, bye.”

“See you tomorrow.” Harry smiles before crossing the street to his house.

“There she is! How was your day? Was that a new friend?” Orla’s mom gives her a big hug and kiss.

“Mum, stop!” She pushes her mother off of her and they both go into the house. “I got invited to a party on Saturday, can I go?” She hands her mother the invitation Harry had given her.

“Sure! I think I can make this work. I knew you’d make friends right away.”

“I didn’t make friends, I just made one. His name is Harry.” Orla sits down at the kitchen island while her mom makes up an after school snack for her.

“One is still good, Honey. I know this move hasn’t been easy for you, but I’m so proud of you for making it through your first day.” Mrs. Murphy sets down some peanut butter covered celery sticks in front of Orla. “Were your teachers nice?”

“Mhm, Mrs. Simmons is my homeroom teacher, and she’s my English and Social Studies teacher. Mrs. Rayburn is my math and science teacher from across the hall. We had a study block after lunch and we had cupcakes cause it’s Harry’s birthday. Tomorrow we have art after lunch.”

“That’ll be fun.” Mrs. Murphy smiles. “Wait until Dad gets home, he’ll be so happy to hear how your first day went.”

On Saturday, Orla takes a deep breath as she walks into the roller rink. Her mother is right behind her making sure she gets in safely. Orla grips the gift bag with Harry’s present in it as they walk further in.

“There they are.” Orla says to her mom, and they make their way over to the other kids and their parents.

“Orla, you made it!” Harry beams and gives her a high five. “Put that down, we can go get your skates.” He tugs her along to the counter while Mrs. Murphy says hello to Mr. and Mrs. Styles.

“Hi, Monique Murphy, I’m Orla’s mum.” She shakes both of their hands.

“You just moved in across the street, right?” Mrs. Styles says. “We’ve been meaning to come over to introduce ourselves.”

“No worries, I’m sure you’ve been busy putting all of this together. Your son has been so sweet to Orla these past few days.”

“We’ve always taught him to treat others with kindness. Um, is your husband at home, or is it just you two in that darling cape house?” Mrs. Styles asks.

“Oh, Shawn’s doing some unpacking for me. I work from home, and I needed him to put my desk back together and all that.”

While Mrs. Murphy gets acquainted with the other adults, Harry helps Orla lace up her skates. Many of the other kids say hello to her, but mostly keep to their established friend groups.

“Have you ever roller skated before?” Harry asks her as he helps her stand up.

“No.” She wobbles and latches onto his shoulders. “Maybe I should just sit this out. I don’t wanna slow anyone down.”

Harry rolls his eyes and takes Orla’s hand to help her get to the rink entrance.

“Come on, Harry! We’re gonna race!” One of the boys says.

“In a minute, I’m hanging with Orla right now.” He looks back at Orla as they both get onto the rink. “Okay, so you’re gonna glide right and left.” He spins around to take her hands, and starts slowly skating backwards. Orla looks at him with wide eyes. “I play ice hockey.”

“Oh, cool.” She swallows, and grips his hands as she follows his movements.

“There you go, you’re doing it!” Harry cheers her on. The DJ announces that cosmic skating is about to begin, and the rink goes pitch black. Neon lights turn on around the rink and everyone starts cheering. “Think you’ve got the hang of it so I can skate beside you?”

“Yeah, but you can go with your other friends. I don’t want you to think you have to babysit me.”

“I don’t think that.” He moves beside her and takes one of her hands. “It’ll just be easier to guide you like this.”

Orla ends up having a fun time with Harry, and she even warms up to some of the other kids. She learns that Logan, Owen, and Matt are Harry’s three best friends. Logan takes Orla’s other hand at one point and helps her skate a little faster with them. She laughs with all of them and gets the hang of skating on her own. Eventually it’s time for pizza, cake, and presents. Orla sits next to Sammy and Frida, two of the girls she was getting friendlier with in class. Harry starts opening his gifts. He gets some action figures, a new Bruins jersey, skate laces, and then he gets to Orla’s gift. From the few days Orla had spent getting to know Harry, she had learned that science was one of his favorite subjects. So, she got him a make your own volcano kit.

“Wow!” He exclaims as he pulls the kit out of the bag. “This is so cool! Thanks, Orla!” He smiles at her.

“You’re welcome.” She says back quietly.

After they eat, the kids go back for a few more rounds on the rink. Others go off to play in the arcade area. Kids start getting picked up by their parents, and Mrs. Murphy lets Orla know it’s time to go.

“I’m really glad you came.” Harry tells her.

“Me too, thanks for inviting me. Um, see you on Monday?”

“Yeah.” Harry pulls something out of his pocket. “I won these at the arcade, they’re just rubber bracelets, but I don’t need two of them. Do you want one?” He holds up the red rubber bracelet that has Roller World imprinted into it.

“Sure, thanks.” Orla takes the bracelet and slides it onto her wrist. She watches as Harry puts his own on.

From that day on, Harry and Orla were the best of friends. They did everything together. She’d go to his hockey games, and he’d invite her over to do homework after school. In the summer time they’d go swimming in his pool, and Mr. Murphy would grill them up some burgers. By the time eighth grade hit, the teasing started. Their friends told them to just kiss already, and they’d ask why they’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. Orla didn’t like Harry like that, as cute as he was. He was just her friend, and she liked it that way. Did they go to the eighth grade dance together and have a conjoined end of middle school party? Sure, but that’s what friends do.

High school is an entirely different ball game. They lived closer to the high school, so they didn’t need to take the bus. Harry and Orla would walk together every morning. They were put into different homerooms because of their last names, but they had many classes together. They were able to choose their seats so they made sure to sit together whenever they could. They had the same lunch period with their friends, so it was easy enough to get through the day. Orla tried out for the girls’ volleyball team, and she got on, so Harry would make sure to go to her matches. He made it onto the varsity hockey team, so Orla continued to go to his games as well. Again, people continued to ask if they were dating. This was mostly because Harry got more handsome by the day and girls were starting to express their crushes. Orla was pretty in her own right, but she was too shy to even look to see if anyone was looking back at her.

They went to school dances as a group, but they always danced to slow songs together. The summer between freshman and sophomore year of high school, the duo got jobs working at a retirement community restaurant that only hired high school students as servers. This meant new friends, and new people to hang out with after work. Most nights someone would host a fire in their backyard, and most nights this led to making stupid decisions. Orla and Harry didn’t drink, but they did smoke weed every once in a while.

“I don’t wanna smell like it, my parents would freak out.” Orla says to her friend who’s about to pass the joint to her.

“We could shotgun it.” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I can inhale it and pass it to your mouth.” He smirks.

“Oh…” She furrows her brows. Harry isn’t paying attention to the interaction between Orla and Trevor, the sixteen-year-old boy who Orla secretly had a crush on. “Wouldn’t that be like kissing?” She giggles.

“Maybe, would that be a bad thing? If I kissed you?”

“You wanna kiss me?” Orla asks, but before she can get an answer, Harry’s hand finds her shoulder.

“My dad’s here, we need to go.” He says into her ear.

“Oh, um, okay.” Orla stands up.

“If you wanna stay longer, I can drive you home.” Trevor says.

“You’ve been smoking.” Harry says, stepping in front of Orla. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He takes Orla’s hand and tugs her along.

“Harry, where’s your dad’s car?” Orla asks when they get to the front of the house.

“He’s not here, I just said that so Trevor would leave you alone. We’re only a block away from home, let’s just walk.”

“Trevor wasn’t bothering me though.” Orla says to him as they start walking.

“Well, he was bothering me.”

“Why?”

“He was pressuring you into taking a hit off his joint.”

“No he wasn’t. And since when do you care if I want to smoke? It’s not like it would have been my first time.”

“I have some edibles in my room, we can have those.”

“Harry, you ruined something that could have been really special.”

“Yeah? Like what?” He huffs, walking slightly ahead of her.

“Trevor was going to kiss me, and I really like him.” Harry stops short and turns around to look at her. “And you know that would have been my first kiss, so…it would have been special.”

“You wanted your first kiss to be with a guy you would taste like weed in front of a ton of our friends?”

“No one was watching us.” She looks down.

“Why do you like him?”

“Because he’s cute and funny, and he always helps me buss my tables at work.”

“Is that all it takes?” Harry scoffs.

“What’s your problem? You flirt with girls all the time, you know.”

“Girls flirt with me, and news flash, I haven’t kissed anyone either. It’s not like I’m being hypocritical.” He rolls his eyes and starts walking again. Orla crosses her arms over her chest and follows behind him in silence. They don’t say another word to each other until they get to their street, and Orla starts to walk away from him towards her house. “Where are you going? I thought you were sleeping over.”

“Think I’d rather just be alone right now. I’m too annoyed to spend another second around you tonight.”

“You’re being a baby.” He follows her across the street and they both stop at the front of her walkway.

“And you’re being a jerk.”

“Why would you want your first kiss to be with someone who’s just trying to get into your pants?”

“He’s not like that.”

“Yes he is! I heard him, okay? I heard Trevor talking to Eric at the dish drop off. He…he has some bet with him that by before summer is over you two will have gone all the way.”

“You’re lying.” Orla’s eyes start to water.

“I’m not, why would I lie to you?”

“I don’t know!” Orla sprints off into her house. Harry sighs heavily and goes to his own house.

Mr. and Mrs. Murphy have already gone to bed, so Orla’s quiet as she makes her way up to her room. She washes her face and brushes her teeth before getting into her pajamas. She sits on her bed with her laptop so she can watch TV to calm down. About twenty minutes later, Harry’s climbing in through her window. She looks over at him with a pout and puffy eyes. He doesn’t say anything to her, all he does is cup her jaw and press his lips to her. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. Before she can even do anything Harry steps back from her.

“Now we’ve both had our first kiss.” He mutters, cheeks a deep shade of red. “I care about you, and you care about me…so it’s special.”

“Oh…well…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He goes back over to her window, ready to climb back down. “Date whoever you want…just trust me about Trevor, okay?” With that he leaves.

She touches her fingertips to her lips and flops back into her pillows. Her first kiss was just with her very best friend, what could be better?

“Logan asked you to junior prom!?” Harry shrieks when Orla tells him after school.

“Shh, yes. I told him I had to talk with you first.”

“Well, do you want to go with him?”

“Not if it’s going to put you in a pissy mood.” She smirks.

“Do you…like Logan? Do you think he’d be a more fun date?”

“It’s not that I think he’d be more fun, but…you know he and I make out sometimes, it’d be nice to go with someone that I could be a little more intimate with. Besides, you have a crush on Josie, why don’t you ask her?”

“Because we go to every dance together.” Harry takes a deep breath. “Go with Logan, it’s fine. As long as you and I still take separate pictures together.”

“Of course! Oh, thank you, Harry!” She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. She’s about to walk away from him to go tell Logan, but he wraps his hand around her wrist. She furrows her brows as she look at him.

“But for senior prom, let it be known now, no matter what, you’re mine.” He’s as serious as a heart attack. For some reason, Orla’s mouth feels incredibly dry. She nods in understanding and Harry lets her go. “Go on, go tell your lover boy.”

Orla runs off to go find Logan, and Harry rolls his eyes. He ends up going to junior prom with Josie, who was overjoyed when Harry asked her to go with him. They all have a good time, and they end up having a big sleepover party in Owen’s basement. The lights are dim, and the air is a little smokey. People are drinking, others are staying sober, no one is pressuring anyone to do anything they don’t want to do. Harry can’t help but glance over at Orla every once in a while. She’s sitting on Logan’s lap in a hoodie and joggers, but her hair and makeup are still all done up. They’re kissing and giggling, and Harry feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Frida shouts. Everyone gets into a circle on the floor, and they use a glass soda bottle to spin. Owen spins first, and it lands on Harry.

“Truth or dare?” Owne smirks at his friend.

“Dare.” Harry says confidently. Frida whispers something into Owen’s ear and he nods.

“I dare you to go into the closet with Orla for eleven minutes in heaven.”

Everyone falls silent. Harry and Orla look at each other, and then they both look at Logan and Josie.

“It’s not like they’re going to do anything. I say go for it.” Logan shrugs.

“This is so stupid.” Harry huffs and stands up. Orla follows behind him and goes into the closet.

“Timer starts now! We’ll let you out when it goes off!” Owen yells to them as he turns the music up.

Harry and Orla both cross their arms over their chests as they stand face to face in the cramped closet. They don’t say anything at first, but Harry breaks the silence.

“I think this is, like, the gazillionth time someone has dared us to do this.” He shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.” She sighs. “I’m so glad no one knows we were each other’s first kisses, they’d die if they found out.”

“Yeah.” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Did you have fun with Logan tonight?”

“Mhm.” She smiles. “What about you and Josie?”

“She’s nice enough, I’m not really sure why I was crushing on her so hard for. She’s not really my type.”

“That’s too bad, I’m sorry.” Orla frowns. “I didn’t think you really had a type.”

“Well, I do.” He snaps. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I don’t think I do.”

“Why do you like Logan?”

“He’s always been sweet to me. I think he’s cute, he helps me with my history homework. And he’s a good kisser.” She grins.

“Is that all you’ve done together? Just kiss?”

“Yeah, I would have told you if something more happened.”

“So…no second base?”

“Has he groped my boobs? No, I’m not ready for something like that yet.” She laughs.

“I thought second was, uh, blow jobs.”

“I thought that was third.”

“No, third is fucking.”

“Then what’s home plate?”

“Being in a relationship.” Harry laughs, and so does Orla.

“That’s fucked up.” She shakes her head.

“Do you think you’ll get to any of that with Logan?”

“I don’t know to be honest. I’m not really worried about it. I’m just going with the flow with him. Why do you care so much? I know he’s one of your oldest friends, but-“

“That’s not why I care. I just…” He steps a little closer to her and tucks some loose curls behind her ear. “I know how sentimental you get about things, and I’d kill him if he ever did something to hurt you.”

She looks up at him. She can feel his minty breath fanning over her skin.

“You can’t be my first for everything, Harry.” She says quietly.

“Why not?” He whispers. He’s just about to lean in when the door swings open.

“So? Did anything happen?” Frida asks excitedly.

“Nope, sorry to disappoint you all yet again.” Orla says, and brushes by all of them to go grab some water.

Harry walks out of the closet, and they all continue their game. When they finish, they all go back to just hanging out. Orla takes her place back in Logan’s lap.

“Do you wanna go somewhere private?” He whispers to her.

“To do what?” She whispers back.

“You know.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her.

“Logan, I’m really only into kissing right now. I don’t want to do anything else.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to kiss in private, though?”

“We do that in your car all the time.” She laughs. “I’m having fun with everyone right now.”

“You just don’t wanna sneak off because Harry’s here.”

“That’s not true.” She frowns. “I just know what I’m personally not ready for. I…I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Orla stands up and grabs her sleeping bag and pillow.

“What, you’re not going to sleep next to me now?”

“I never was.” She throws her things down next to Harry, and buries her face into her pillow.

“You okay?” He asks, rubbing her back.

“Why is every guy a jerk? Like, why is sex the only thing on your pea sized brains.”

“Because our brains are pea sized.” Harry smirks. “We don’t have room to think about anything else. Did Logan try to pull a move?”

“Sort of. He asked if I wanted to go somewhere more private, and I said no, and he said I was only saying no because you’re here, but that’s not the case at all. I just don’t wanna go further than kissing, and he couldn’t comprehend that.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No, I think that’ll just make it worse. It’s not like we were dating, it doesn’t matter. I just…do you think Josie will care if I sleep next to you?”

“Oh, her mom picked her up.”

“When?”

“Like an hour ago…after I politely declined a hand job from her.”

The two burst out laughing and get into their respective sleeping bags. Orla cuddles up to Harry’s side and he throws an arm around her. For the first time in a while, Harry’s able to fall asleep with ease.

The pair ended up going to the same college for undergrad, of course. No one expected them to go to different schools. However, their majors were vastly different. Orla wanted to be a Physical Education teacher, and Harry wanted to be a pediatric surgeon. So, while Orla was in her education courses, Harry was balls deep in biology, anatomy, chemistry, and calculus. Harry was assigned a roommate at random, another pre-med student; his name is Neil. And Orla ended up rooming with another girl from their high school who she didn’t know that well, but she figured it would be better than rooming with a stranger; her name is Katie.

During their freshman move-in, Harry got his shit settled and then went to help Orla. Their families all went out for lunch, and then it was just the two of them. Luckily, they were put in the same dorm, Harry would just be down the hall from her. Katie was an education major too, but her concentration was in social studies. Her and Orla would have a few basic education courses together before breaking off into their respective concentrations. She made it onto the women’s volleyball team, and Harry decided he’d just play intramural hockey when the season rolled around so he could focus on his classes.

Harry would go to all of his Orla’s home matches. As things got busier during the semester, they weren’t able to see each other as much during the day. They made up for it at night in the library or in their dorm rooms. The two had grown comfortable with one another over the years, so Orla had no problem just hanging out in a sports bra and spandex shorts around Harry, and he had no problem just wearing his boxers around her. One night, Harry was hanging out in Orla’s room while Katie was at work. They were laying in bed watching a movie. Orla was wearing one of Harry’s old Bruins shirts and a pair of cotton panties. Her phone keeps buzzing, and Harry’s just about had enough. He pauses the movie and sits up to grab her phone.

“Harry!”

“I’m muting your fucking volleyball group chat. I’m getting sensory overload from all of the buzzing…” He furrows his brows at the screen. “Why are they all asking you if you asked me something yet?” He looks up at her. “What do you have to ask me?”

“Nothing, it’s stupid.” She snatches her phone from him. “They’re stupid.”

“If it’s stupid then just tell me what it is.”

“Can we just watch the movie?”

“Give me your phone, I need to know.”

“No.” She hugs her phone close to her chest.

“Orla, just tell me what it is!”

“No!”

“Give me your phone!”

“No!”

Harry and Orla start wrestling on her bed. She’s not wearing a bra so sticking the phone down her shirt won’t work. She does the next best thing and shoved it down the front of her underwear. Harry pins her down by holding down her wrists.

“That’s not fair.” He says.

“It’s my phone.” She tries to wriggle out from underneath him, but he’s stronger than her. The phone buzzes again, and she grunts. “Harry, just let it go.”

“I’m literally not going to be able to sleep unless you tell me.” The phone buzzes three times in a row. Harry watches as Orla bites down on her bottom lip and looks away from him. “Oh my god, is that buzzing against your clit?” He laughs.

“Harry!”

“You did this to yourself.” He presses down against her to keep the phone even closer to where it’s effecting her. “Just ask me whatever it is and I’ll let you go.”

“You’re such an asshole!” She wraps her legs around his waist to try to flip them over, but her legs just aren’t strong enough. The phone buzzes again and she groans. “What are you gonna do, make me come you sick fuck?” She starts laughing from how absurd this whole thing is.

“I’m not the one who shoved my phone down my underpants.” He laughs. “Just tell me.”

“No.” Three more buzzes. “Fuck.” Harry’s eyes widen as he looks down at her, and she gasps. “Are you hard?!”

“No! I…my dick twitched!”

“Why?!”

“Because you’re moaning!”

“Harry, I swear to god if-“

The door opens and Kate comes in. She stops short when she sees Harry on top of Orla.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Her cheeks heat up.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Orla shouts as Harry scrambles to get off of her. She takes her phone out of her underwear and takes a deep breath. “He was trying to read my texts and we started wrestling.”

“Right…” Katie puts her things down and grabs her shower caddie. “I’m gonna go take a shower. I should be back in about thirty minutes.”

“We weren’t doing anything.” Harry says.

“Mhm.” Katie scoffs and leaves the room.

“Will you go to my volleyball formal with me next weekend?” Orla says to Harry.

“What? Is that what you had to ask me?”

“Yes.”

“Orla, why were you making such a big deal about this?”

“Because the girls were making it seem like the formal is a big deal and…I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? Of course I’ll go with you to your formal. It’s just one night, it’s not a big deal. I’m doing well in my classes, I’m not worried.”

“You got so stressed your cried two weeks ago.”

“I was overwhelmed during midterms, you know I have test anxiety.” He hops off her bed. “Don’t sweat it, okay? Just text me the details.” He yawns. “I’m headed up to bed.”

“Gonna go rub one out?” She smirks.

“No.” He blushes. “I’m gonna go play video games with Neil. Have fun masturbating with your phone.”

“Don’t need it. I have stronger devices.” She grins.

“Yeah? Need help using them?” He teases.

“Get out!” She laughs and throws a pillow at him.

Harry blows her a kiss before he leaves and she blows one back. When Katie comes back in after her shower, Orla’s put herself to sleep. Well, actually she’s watching TV on her phone with her earbuds in because she doesn’t want to listen to Katie give her shit about Harry.

The night of the formal, Orla wears a simple little black dress that’s also strapless. She slips on a pair of black flats as well. Katie helps her get her hair up into a cute messy bun on the top of her head while Orla does her makeup. (Orla had Katie help her flatiron her hair to tame it a bit. She usually loves her curls, but she’s been experimenting with different looks.) Around 10PM there’s a knock on their door.

“Come in!” Orla shouts.

“Ready to go?” Harry asks and nearly chokes on his tongue when he sees Orla. “Wow, you look really nice.”

“Don’t act so surprised.” Orla rolls her eyes.

“Want me to take your pic in front of the tapestry?” Katie asks.

“Yes, please.” Orla smiles and hands her the phone. She poses with Harry for a few pictures, and then they head out.

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” Harry asks her on their way to the volleyball house.

“Nah, we won’t be out for long.”

They make their way into the house about ten minutes later. There’s a table set up like a bar for everyone to make their own drinks at. Harry sticks with beer while Orla goes for a rum and coke.

“Hey, O.” Ben smiles at her. Ben was a junior on the men’s volleyball team, and he’s very cute. “Saw you on defense at your last match, you looked great out there.”

“Thanks.” Her cheeks heat up, and she takes a sip from her cup.

“You come here with anyone?”

“Just my friend Harry.”

“Friend, huh?” He grins.

“Mhm.” She nods and takes a step closer. “He’s off talking to Chloe and Heather.”

“Not very nice to leave his date unattended.” He steps a little closer to her. “Especially when she looks so gorgeous.”

“Ben.” She giggles and gives him a playful push.

“You guys had one hell of a season. Aren’t you only one of, like, three freshmen to start this year?”

“Yeah, something like that.” She smiles.

“Gotta look out for the short ones I guess.”

“We’re pretty sneaky.”

An hour or so passes, and Harry can’t find Orla anywhere. He’s starting to get worried so he ventures through the house to see if maybe she went to the bathroom. She’s not in the one in the main hallway, so he goes upstairs.

“Where the fuck did she go?” He says to himself. He had been in the volleyball house plenty of times for various parties, so he had a good lay of the land. He goes to the larger bathroom, and opens the door.

“Ah, oh my god, B-Ben.” Orla’s head rolls back, allowing Ben to kiss on her neck. There she was, sitting up on the bathroom counter with Ben’s fingers knuckle deep inside of her.

“Orla?” Harry says.

“Dude, get out of here!” Ben shouts.

“Oh my god, Harry!”

Harry’s face flushes and he shuts the door immediately. He quickly goes down the stairs and weaves through the crazy amount of people in the house. He had been buzzed, but what he just saw totally sobered him up.

“Harry!” Orla shouts after him, but he doesn’t stop, he needs fresh air. “Harry, wait!” He pushes the front door open and sucks in a deep breath. “Harry! Oof!” She rams into his back and stumbles backwards.

“Get someone to walk you home, I can’t even look at you.”

“I thought he locked the door! And to be fair you didn’t knock.”

“I couldn’t find you for over an hour, excuse me for worrying about you.” He scoffs and turns to look at her.

“I was dancing with Ben and then we went upstairs, I’m sorry. I should have texted you.”

“Since when do you let random guys finger fuck you in bathrooms?”

“Um, Ben’s not a random guy. I’ve known since school started, what the fuck? I…I’ve been fingered before.”

“What? By who?” He shakes his head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” He chews on his bottom lip for a moment. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I told Frida.” She rubs her arms up and down. “It’s as far as I’ve gone, and I’ve never taken my clothes off to have it happen…”

“Did you do anything to him?”

“I gave him a hand job.”

“Was that your first time doing that?”

“No.”

“Oh my god!” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Are you going to tell me you haven’t done things? I’ve heard rumors, you know?”

“I’ve dry humped, that’s about it. No one’s ever seen my dick.”

“No one’s ever seen my vagina, not that that’s any of your business. There are certain things I don’t want to talk about with you, can’t you understand that?”

“I understand, I understand perfectly fine.” He goes to say something else, but he just shakes his head. “Come on, you look like you’re freezing.”

“That’s because I am.”

After that night, Harry let out his inner manwhore. During the spring semester, he fucked so many girls he lost track of their names. He didn’t tell Orla a single thing. He fucked all summer long without saying a word to her about it. When Orla first had sex the following school year, she slept with the same guy for the entire fall semester. It didn’t end well, though, which led to her crying into Harry’s chest for over an hour. That night they both opened up about everything, and agreed that keeping things to themselves wasn’t a good idea.

Undergrad flew by. Orla passed all of her certifications, and even found a job teaching phys ed at the high school level. She’d have all summer to work her ass off to save up some money and build her savings before starting fresh at her new school in the fall. Harry got accepted into all of the med schools he applied to, and was having trouble deciding.

“NYU is offering me the most amount of money…” He tells Orla one night.

“If…if you go there then you’ll probably end up working at a New York hospital.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you heard back from Harvard Medical yet?”

“No, and at this rate I bet I’m not getting in. Besides, they’re known for offering shit grants. My parents can’t afford to help. All of their money went to their lawyers.” Harry rolls his eyes.

After Harry’s freshman year, his parents told him they were getting divorced. His three older brothers had long since moved out, and with Harry gone his parents realized they just weren’t right for each other anymore. He didn’t take it well. This may have led to him fucking a lot that summer, and the absurd amount of tattoos he got.

“Then I guess…I guess you’re going to NYU.” Orla swallows. “You should do it, it makes the most sense, and you’ll get a great education.”

“Harry!” Mrs. Styles shouts from downstairs. “You got a large letter from BUSM!”

“Holy shit, I forgot I applied there.” Harry says, and the two race downstairs. Harry rips open the large envelope and gasps. “Oh my god! I was accepted in to BUSM’s MD program. Holy fuck, they partner with Boston Medical Center for their surgical residencies.” He looks at his mom, then Orla.

“Are they offering you any money?” Orla asks.

“Orla, um…do you mind if Harry and I go over this together? I’m going to need to FaceTime his father to discuss everything.”

“Oh, sure! Yeah, this is a big family moment. Come by later if you want, H.” She smiles and leaves.

“They’re offering me a decent amount of aid, Mum.” Harry says as he reads over the letter.

“Honey…don’t you want to get out of Boston? NYU could be a great experience for you.”

“Mum, BUSM is a prestigious medical school. Why would you want me so far away?”

“I don’t want you far away, I just want you to have some life experience, meet new people.” She chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t want you to stay here just because you don’t want to leave Orla.”

“That’s not why I want to stay.” Her mother gives him a look. “Okay, maybe I want to stay closer so I don’t have to be far away from her. Can you blame me? We’ve been best friends since the fifth grade. I couldn’t imagine only seeing her once every few months, and then I’d probably have to move out there full time, and she’s only certified to teach in Mass.”

“Honey, you’ve never had a stable girlfriend. Maybe being away from Orla could help you do that.”

“I just haven’t met anyone, it’s not her fault.”

“You’ve liked her since the day you met.” She laughs, astonished at his ignorance.

“No, I’m not one of those guys that’s only friends with a girl because he wants to date her.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t say that’s why you were friends. I just think if something was going to happen between you two it would have happened already. So, stop wasting your time waiting for her.”

“I’m not waiting for her to do anything. She’s my best friend, and she’s always going to be my best friend. BUSM makes more cost-effective sense. Think of how expensive the hole in the wall apartment I’d be living in in New York would be. I could definitely find a better priced place here, or I could commute for a bit to save money.”

“If you’d rather go to BUSM, then go. But make sure you’re doing it for yourself and not just to stay close to Orla.”

“I’d say it’s about 80/20.” He smirks, earning him a swat to the arm from his mother. “I’m kidding! It’s more like 60/40.”

“Jesus Christ, go call your father and let him know the good news.” She sighs.

Flash forward to present day – eight years later. The pair are twenty-eight; Harry is an attending pediatric surgeon at Boston Medical Center, making absolute bank, and Orla is at her third high school in six years because budgets keep cutting funding, which means P.E. teachers aren’t exactly in high demand. She lives in a small one-bedroom apartment, she’s constantly exhausted, and she wishes she had chosen any other profession. She coaches the girls’ volleyball team for extra money, and works at a bar on weekends and in the summer.

Harry and Orla are still the best of friends. They’ve made it through a lot of ups and downs. Through it all they’ve always had each other. He’s currently seeing a girl named Bailey that he met at a bar near work. Orla is going through a dry spell, but she’s not dwelling on it.

The school year had just ended, thank god, and she has Sunday through Tuesday off from the bar. Orla takes some time to go through her wardrobe and get rid of any dingy leggings or tee shirts. She has a strict budget for clothes because she’s constantly having to replace her athletic wear. She’s chilling on the couch Tuesday evening watching Property Brothers: Forever Home when she hears the jingle of keys on the other side of her door.

[READ THE REST ON PATREON]

#save the best for last #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x oc #harry styles au #doctor!harry #doctorry #friends to lovers #bestfriend!harry #dad!harry #dom!harry

103 notes · View notes

milkiane · 4 years ago

Text

radio silence

pairings: fred weasley x fem!reader

warnings: character death, panic attacks, grief, mental breakdowns, tell me if i missed anything.

word count: 1676

note: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANGST for @love-peachh’s writing challenge

“hello there! you’ve reached fred and y/n weasley’s fellyto--”

“fred, it’s called a telephone,”

“--fellytone. unfortunately, we can’t come to the phone right now, so leave us a message after the beep!”

beep. beep. beep.

a long excruciating silence was the only thing surrounding your dark and gloomy room after that. you sighed, turning the dials to give it another call.

“hello there! you’ve reached fred and y/n weasley’s fellyto--”

“fred, it’s called a telephone,”

“--fellytone. unfortunately, we can’t come to the phone right now, so leave us a message after the beep!"

it doesn’t make any sense. nothing makes sense.

you should really change your answering machine, because it doesn’t make any sense anymore. it’s not fred and y/n weasley’s fellytone anymore. it’s just y/n weasley’s telephone now.

but it’s the only way you could hear his voice again.

you sniffed. click, click, click.

“hello there! you’ve reached fred and y/n weasley’s fellyto--”

“fred, it’s called a telephone,”

“--fellytone. unfortunately, we can’t come to the phone right now, so leave us a message after the beep!”

it’s been five months. five months without fred. five months without the light of your life.

it’s ridiculous, honestly. how you still haven’t moved on from what had happened.

fred always told you how he admired you for being strong. you knew that he would be disappointed if he was watching you right now, how the love of his life is nothing but a tiny ball of misery.

so you took a bath and cleaned yourself up, making sure to spray an extra amount of perfume that fred loves. loved.

you shook your head, walking towards your mirror. you plastered on a smile. because today is a brand new day, you aren’t going to walk around with your head down. you aren’t going to feel so blue today. for him.

one second.

two seconds.

three seconds.

it faltered away. clenching your jaw, you stared into your reflection.

how can you be such a selfish person? how can you still manage to smile when you’re alive and fred is not?

you took a shaky breath, placing a hand on the mirror. you touched it ever so lightly, letting your fingertips caress the cold surface before smashing the glass. you broke down, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you sobbed on the heap of the floors, shards of glass prickling your skin.

i’m sorry, freddie, maybe next time.

you brought the cups with you when you made your way towards the living room. one was a cup of coffee with the right amount of milk, and the other one was a cup of tea with a spoonful of honey and a cube of sugar.

you placed the cup of tea on the table’s coaster, making yourself comfortable on your couch.

you took a sip of your coffee, watching the steam of the unattended cup of tea slowly rise. looking around your silent house, your eyes stopped on the muggle radio fred had bought the time you went on a date in muggle london.

you set down your warm drink down on the coffee table. slowly dragging yourself towards the device. you held it in your hands, trying to turn it on as you sat back on the couch.

“and we'll build this love from the ground up,

for worse or for better,

and I will be all you need,”

you gasped, tears welling in your eyes the moment the music enveloped you. your hands shakily tried to turn off the radio.

of all the songs that could play, they chose to play your song. the song you and fred would always slow dance to.

when your trembling fiddles did nothing to stop the noise, you whimpered, dropping it on the carpeted floor. your hands immediately finding home by covering your ears, whispering a chorus of no’s and stop’s to yourself.

and as if sensing that you were in distress, george apparated in with a pop, inviting himself in for his usual visit.

he ran towards you immediately, trying to figure out what was triggering your attacks. you were already doing so well. you haven’t had any attacks or meltdowns for a few weeks now.

“what’s wrong, y/n?” george asked softly, pulling you into a hug.

“turn it off,” you whispered, “please turn it off.”

george looked around, his gaze falling onto the radio. truthfully, he didn’t know how it worked. it wasn’t like the old one his dad owned, so he just twisted and turned every button there is, consequently making the music grow louder than before.

you cried, frustration and anguish taking over you as you snatched it off his hands and threw it against the wall.

realizing what you did, you sobbed, rushing over the broken pieces, “no, no, i’m sorry,” you looked at the frozen man in your living room, “fix it george, please,”

snapping out of his state, he walked towards you, trying to remember the simple spell to repair the broken apparatus, “i-”

“george, please, i’m sorry,” you continued to weep beside him, tears still falling down stubbornly no matter how many times you’ve tried to wipe them away.

he sighed in exasperation, “give me a moment, y/n,”

once he remembered what the spell was, he immediately placed the radio away. george looked at you in sadness, fishing out the emergency draught.

“no, george,” you shook your head, retreating backward until your back was against the wall, “no, we don’t- i don’t need that anymore,”

george’s heart broke as he watched you gasp out for air, tears relentlessly falling down your cheeks, “shh, please don’t cry, y/n,”

he immediately tackled you on the floor, wrapping an arm around you to prevent you from thrashing around as he forced the draught down your throat.

george waited a few moments for you to calm down and let the potion do its work. he thought you were okay now, you were doing so well.

he sighed, carrying your body towards your bedroom.

george was seated on the sofa near your bed. fred thought it was necessary for the room, though it hasn’t really been used until now. he was reading one of your books when you woke up.

“it’s our anniversary today,” you murmured, your voice raspy from your breakdown and from just waking up. george looked at you, but your eyes were focused on the calendar affixed on the wall.

NOVEMBER 20th.

george stayed quiet, so you continued to speak, your words still being slurred from the effects of the potion, “i wish i could fix my calendar, y’know? because there’s no more freddie, meaning there’s no more anniversary.”

he sat beside you on the bed, letting you sob on his shoulder, offering silent company.

“i’m so exhausted, george,” you cried, clutching his sweater, “i can’t keep playing pretend. i can’t- i can’t,”

“shh, it’s alright,” truthfully, george doesn’t know what else to do, he doesn’t know what else to say, not when he’s going through the same pain you’re feeling.

“he’s always in my mind. i can see him everywhere. everything reminds me of him, and how it used to be and it hurts,” you cried, “it hurts and i just want the pain to stop, just make it stop, georgie,”

george was crying by now, his body shaking as he held yours, “i wish i could, y/n, i really do,”

when you were certain that george was already sleeping somewhat peacefully in the guest room, you sneaked out of your own with your blanket wrapped around you.

you turned the lamp on once you’ve reached the living room. sitting down, you composed yourself, trying to convince yourself that you wouldn’t cry again, for him.

with a last shaky breath, you grabbed the radio. you turned it on and gently lowered the volume.

settling it down on the mahogany coffee table, you steadied yourself on the couch, letting the smooth melody coming out from the device shroud you.

the lyrics of the familiar song going from one ear and out the other, tears yet again blurring your vision.

you and fred have been stuck in your kitchen, trying to bake a cake for molly. your flour-covered fingers tracing through each word of the recipe book, “hey fred, can you grab the-- ergh,”

fred laughed as he smeared the frosting on your nose.

you scoffed, dipping a finger in and smearing it from his nose down his lips. you smiled up at him, stepping onto your tiptoes as you gave his frosted lips a peck.

the both of you smiled through the kiss, “i guess the frosting is perfect now, no?”

“when we have a child, can we name them after constellations?” fred asked, still running his hand through your hair, “or at least their second name will be named after a constellation?”

you smiled, “of course, freddie,”

“after the war, we’ll start our own family,” he beamed, “i mean, we’ve got the house already. all we need now is our ginger babies.”

“are you sure they’ll be gingers?” you laughed, turning to look at your husband.

“us, weasleys, we’ve got the strongest genes, ‘course they’ll be gingers.” he boasted, flexing his arms to prove his point.

“we’re going to make it out here together, alright?” fred whispered, his forehead on yours, “we’ve got a whole new future out there waiting for us,”

“i love you, freddie,” you mumbled, pulling him into a kiss.

“i love you, too, darling,” he said, kissing your forehead before pulling away, “i’ll see you later,”

click, click, click.

radio silence. you sniffed, carefully setting down the device.

radio silence. the only deafening noise you could hear after turning off the radio.

radio silence. the only deafening noise you could hear in the house which was once filled with love and laughter.

radio silence. the only thing you’ve faced after losing the love of your life.

radio silence. because fred weasley brought all your happiness and lightheartedness with him when he… radio silence.

general taglist: @daltonacademia @inks-and-jinx @weasleyyy @oldschoolkiddo @accioweaslcy @inglourious-imagines @buckysbeloved @iwritesiriusly @fives-cup-of-coffee @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @band--psycho @marswilson24 @miraclesoflove @chokemepansy @spideyspixies @lolooo22 @justfangirlthingies @sw33tgirl @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

golden trio taglist: @bromelain-blessednereid @oldschoolkiddo @sweetnspicysimp @cherie-draco @eunoniaa @acosmis-t @georgeweasleysbabe @gaycatlord-stuff @cedrics-grave @dracosgoodgirl @hufflepufflesbianthings @magicalxdaydream

#scheduled #fred weasley #fredrick gideon weasley #fred #weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred x reader #fred x you #fred x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley one shot #lovepeachh600writingchallenge #useramourtentiaa #tuserliane

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heavywithourbabies · 3 years ago

Text

Ten pounds, One week

She couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned (well as best as she could) and tried everything she could think of to put her mind at ease but she just couldn’t sleep. It was too much. All of it was too much. Her whole body was aching and sore, the slightest movement causing more discomfort. Even in their bed, the place she loved most, the mattress was an unforgiving rock to her body. The pillows far too soft without any support. Even the body pillow felt stiff and rigid against her. “10 pounds” she thought, over and over again. “10 pounds”. Then the other thought came. The one she was trying so hard to keep away. The one that caused her the most frightful heart racing anxiety she had ever felt. One more week. The baby kicked slightly and she whimpered. Rubbing her aching belly to try and sooth him, but it only prompted more movement under her taut flesh. Her husband snored next to her and she was on the verge of tears. Her whole body felt like a prison at this point. Completely trapped in this cumbersome and awkwardly huge body, she couldn’t find any relief. It all was too much. It hurt too much. She took a deep breath in and told herself it would be over soon. That this would all be worth it. She closed her eyes and tried to drift off but then the baby kicked again. Hard. She couldn’t help but moan in pain as the thought struck her again. “10 pounds. One week.” The baby kicked her again almost in her cervix and she cried out, unable to hold back the tears which had been building almost all night.

He woke up next to her, hearing her sobs. He was still half asleep but knew the sound of his wife in pain, and it broke his heart. He turned to her back in bed and started rubbing it. “Baby” he said “What’s wrong?”

She buried her face deeper in the pillow and cried harder. He kept rubbing her back and cuddled up close to her, her bare skin hot to the touch. “Honey, please. Tell me.” He said with genuine concern and love for her.

“It’s everything” she said between cries. “It’s everything that’s happened to me, it’s what’s going to happen, it’s what’s happening…” He gently put his hand on her shoulder. “Baby, please, I don’t understand what you’re saying – “he began before she looked at him with tears running down her face. She swallowed and started to say “it’s the – “but then the baby kicked her again, or perhaps punch was the better word since he was upside down. She yelped and threw the blankets back to expose herself.

“It’s THIS!!” She cried, looking at her body.

She had always had a bit of an hourglass figure with well-rounded curves and even with a few extra pounds she was attractive but the pregnancy had taken that from her. In her mind she felt altered. Helpless in this state. Almost mutated……into this. Her hips flared in pain as she turned on her back and tried to sit up against the pillows. They had separated a bit and the awful weight of it all wore down on her pelvis. She felt as if a bowling ball was sitting right atop of her vagina. Which was also aching and taken from her in the pregnancy. In her mind it used to be a small cute thing with pretty floral lips that she could spread and play with. Now it was thick and fatty. Meaty and big. Her lips bulged out, deep and dark, and she couldn’t stand to wear underwear anymore as the hamburger that was her crotch would constantly leak and ruin everything. It was obscene to her. Her most private feminine parts exaggerated into cartoonish proportions. Her thighs ached from carrying all the extra weight and her ass…. she had always been proud of it being big and she knew her husband loved it but now it was huge and plump. Something anyone could notice and stare at. Her breasts once a double d had swollen twice their size. Small stretch marks adorned the underside of them and veins could be seen under the thick flesh. They became heavy and hurt. Aching with milk for the baby. Her areolas were dinner plates now, dark and huge. Her nipples stood painfully erect as drops of milk throbbed out of their ducts. All of her womanly curves distorted and blown up. But the worst…. The worst was her belly. It hung low as the baby dropped recently and was almost hanging off her wide hips. The belly dominated her, huge and unforgivingly heavy. It was dense and packed so full with her huge 10-pound baby in her swollen womb. The skin was pulled painfully taut and hurt all the time, while the heavy weight made it throb. In the beginning and middle of pregnancy she had loved her “bump” but now…. It was like she was just arms legs and tits attached to a giant sphere. Angry red stretch marks laid claim to her belly flesh and her belly button jutted out. That even hurt. Her belly button hurt.

“Look at me” she wailed. “look what’s happened to me!” Her husband could tell by her tone she had obviously let herself spiral out in her thoughts. He would need to do something.” I’m a huge circus freak now!” she cried.

“Well you are a bit bigger than a house” he said with a smile hoping to get her to laugh.

She wasn’t having it.

“I’m bigger than a house.” She started up again with fresh tears in her eyes. “I’m bigger than a beached whale. Look at my body. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being inside of all…. THIS!” She patted her belly for emphasis and as she did her breasts began to openly leak. “Oh God…… even my tits…. it hurts….” She heaved her heavy body to the side with her back to her husband and cried big salty tears that blurred her vision.

He had been staring at her as she went on. In fact, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. It was slightly embarrassing for him. Here she was in pain and he was- well- he was getting hard. The sight of his wife carrying his baby turned him on like nothing else. All of her beautiful curves were only womanlier and more feminine to him. She was radiant. She was beautiful. She was a fertility goddess made real. He rubbed her back softly as she cried while the sight of her big heart shaped ass made him ache for her.

“The baby is 10 pounds.” She sniffled. “10 pounds. How am I supposed to push that out in a week? What will I look like after that? Even worse? Feel even worse? I’ll just be hanging skin and a floppy belly with ugly stretch marks and- “

She stopped as she felt his big warm hands go from her back to her aching breasts. He was fondling them gently. But it hurt. He grazed a leaking nipple and tugged on it slightly and she let out a hiss of pain. “Don’t” She said. He returned his fingers to her nipples and lightly grazed them, playing with them slowly in circular motions. They felt raw to his touch. “Don’t, please – “She began again and then felt him pressing his hardness against her soft ass.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he asked as he started to grind himself against her backside. “Do you have any clue how sexy you are like this?”

“Please, I know you’re lying – “She was about to let defeat wash over her and then her husband pulled open her thighs and without checking with her, drove himself in. She couldn’t help but cry out. Her fat, swollen pussy was already wet from being so pregnant and he took full advantage.

“I want you to stop thinking about yourself like that.” He said “in fact, I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again.” His grip on her breast tightened forcing her to spurt out milk and then his hand was climbing up her slender neck. The strong fingers wrapping around her throat. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?” he asked as he slowly thrusted into her. His grip around her neck tightened. “Don’t ever talk like that.”

Despite her misery, she felt herself opening up to him. Felt herself grow slicker to his driving in and out. “yes” she said in a small voice.

He thrusted in as deep and as hard as could and just kept himself rigid there, impaling her on his thick cock. His grip was like iron on her throat. “Say it again” he demanded.

“Yes” She said as best as she could with his hand clamped on her neck and felt herself almost gushing on his cock. The baby kept moving, searching for any spare space inside her belly. “You are the sexiest fucking thing I have ever seen carrying this baby.” Her husband said as he started to thrust in faster. Her big ass pressing against him, trying to keep him at bay. “you have never looked sexier than you do right now, big and ripe with my baby.” Despite her large behind, he kept plowing deep in her. There was pain as he went and her body still ached but a warm feeling kept building in her belly. She felt her nipples straining hard as trails of pre-milk made their way down her swollen chest. “You are my fucking fertile sex goddess.” He said with dominance and she could hear how wet she was stretching around his cock. “I am your- “she tried to speak but the warm feeling was becoming a fire inside her now, rising through her massive swollen belly and to her chest. She felt wave after wave of it hitting her deep in her core. She ached. She hurt. But she also knew he wasn’t lying. His need and desire for her were overwhelming. She felt light again. Almost her old self. If wasn’t lying –

Her husband started drilling into her faster. His balls hitting her clit as he went.

“If he wasn’t lying -”

“Tell me what you are!” He whispered hotly in her ear. His lower arm wrapped around her belly protectively.

“If he wasn’t lying” she thought and felt herself nearing the crest of something good and wonderful. “I am YOUR sex goddess” She gasped. She took his hand on her belly and pressed it tighter so he could feel his baby kicking. The sheets under her chest were soaked now and she felt herself almost drooling between her legs. “Feel me” She said as she rubbed her belly with her husband. “Feel how big and swollen I am for you.”

Her husband grunted and she knew he was close. So was she.

“Feel how heavy I am.” She purred. “how heavy I am with him.”

“Heavy with who” he demanded again in between sharp inhales of breath.

“Heavy with YOUR baby.” She answered in. a husky voice and she felt him go rigid inside of her. Her soft swollen walls could feel his cock throb and twitch deep inside her hot cunt. She felt herself tip over the edge as the first spurt of his warm cum hit her walls. She moaned in ecstasy as her husband, the man she loved, the man who found her sexy no matter what, shot rope after rope of hot cum deep in her core.

The two stayed locked into place like that for what felt like a long time. Neither of them talking. She almost thought he was asleep when the baby kicked again and she felt his big hand rub the spot of movement, trying to soothe his son. She still worried. She still had the anxiety. Her body still ached and felt wretched. But for the moment, she could take it. And in a week she would meet her baby boy. She thought about the labor and the feeling of finally giving him to her husband to hold and she smiled. “10 pounds. One week” she thought and closed her eyes.

#pregnancyfetish #pregnantfetish #pregnanterotica #pregnancyerotica #heavywithmybabies

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dulce-pjm · 4 years ago

Text

“f” for effort

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff

summary: this feud has gone on far too long. the study room is yours and you no longer care what namjoon has to say about it.

You’re running for your life.

At least, that’s really what it looks like. If you weren’t so goddamn fast, bystanders might have stopped to ask if you were safe or needed help. You’re huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf’s elderly grandma as you tear across campus with only one destination in mind. Beads of sweat drip down your forehead and stains are threatening to form in the pits of your shirt but frankly, you couldn’t give a shit. You’ve got a place to be, and fast.

Said place is your heaven. Your paradise. Your land of milk and honey. Or as a moron would call it, the corner library study room.

It’s roomy, it’s quiet, almost no one knew it was there. When you had loads of coursework to catch up on (which was often and just so happened to be the case on this Friday night), you sought refuge in your precious study room. During the day, the lighting was beautiful. The windows were massive, letting all of the sun’s rays beam into the cozy room and make you feel warm, bright, awake. At night, when you became especially frustrated, you could always slide your rolling chair over to said big windows and gaze at the stars or stare off into the night.

No one appreciated that room correctly, not like you did it.

Which is why you had to stop that little fucker, Namjoon, from stealing it from right under your nose.

The two of you were only freshmen, but your ongoing feud over the glorious study room was intense enough to have lasted generations. You both were willing to pull out all the stops if that’s what it took to keep the other from making it to the room. You used the cheapest of tricks, flat out sabotaging the other if you felt it necessary.

You recall one particular time you planted a fake spider (one of his biggest fears, you’d learned) in his backpack before the end of your shared Calc II class, making him let loose a shrill shriek, much to the annoyance of the professor. And while Namjoon was getting lectured on disrupting class and not acting his age, you were waltzing off to the study room, internally flipping him off as you did. The memory makes you chuckle as you heave and sprint.

It wasn’t that Namjoon had done anything particularly wrong to you. You figured in another context, you might have found him much more bearable, maybe even nice. But something about him just rubbed you the wrong way.

For one, he was an applied mathematics major. Who the fuck majors in just math? People who want to flex how much smarter they are than you, that’s who. And what did the applied part even mean? You suspected someone just as unbearable as Namjoon had added the word in so that he (because of course it was a man) and all his other mathematician friends could be pretentious, annoying fucks together.

Secondly, despite being one of the top students in your class, he was a member of a fraternity. How he had time to both outperform everyone else in the STEM program and party it out with the frat brothers every night was beyond you. You’d heard from your senior friend (who also notified you that Namjoon was after your precious study room) that was also part of the brotherhood that Namjoon was on some kind of fraternity-specific scholarship and that was the only reason he joined. That you understood, tuition was no joke. Didn’t make him any less annoying, though.

And third? Third... Well, you couldn’t think of a third point right now but you’re certain there is one, you know it. You probably couldn’t remember because you were running out of oxygen and dying under the beating sun.

You’re almost crying tears of joy when you enter the library, head whipping around to search for a particular tall blonde. Luckily, he’s nowhere in sight.

Your feet scream as they carry you to your safe haven but you can’t even be bothered until-

“Going somewhere?” He strides next to you, his effortless speed-walking easily overtaking your sloppy attempt at a run. Your books are threatening to slip from your arms and you’re fairly certain you lost the sunglasses on top of your head long ago when you came barreling down the bio building stairs.

“Fuck you, Kim,” you spit harshly. “I came in here first so I get the room.” Your crudeness only makes him laugh maniacally. You curse the little dimples that crease into his cheeks, taking them as an insult to your misery.

“As far as I can see-” He takes advantage of your height difference and takes a massive step in front of you. “-I’m going to get there before you.” As if to tease you further, he spins to face you as he easily surpasses you, approaching the study room and its sign-up sheet with increasing speed.

If you want to win this round- and you really, really do, not only to get your work done but to rub it in his smug face- you’ll need to play dirty.

Moments later, Namjoon is picking up the pen, smirking at you as he moves to haphazardly scribble his name into the time slot. But you’re already formulating a plan. Your textbooks were pretty damn heavy, you bet it’d definitely throw him off if you managed to drop them on his toes. Actually, it definitely would, since the idiot was wearing sandals in late October. As you’re taking aim, however, Namjoon’s face falls.

“The fuck is a board game club?” You freeze, mere steps away from dropping your books on his foot.

“What?” When he doesn’t explain, you nudge him aside and peer at the sign-up sheet. Lo and behold, there it is.

From eight p.m. to midnight, the room is booked. By a... board game club. And it’s seven forty-five now, which means you’re shit out of luck.

“Well, looks like neither of us-”

“This is bullshit.” Namjoon chuckles at your disgusted expression.

“It’s just a study room, Y/N. I’m sure there’s another free one.”

“Well, I don’t want just any study room, Kim. I want my study room.” He scoffs at your arrogance and (quite unfortunately) follows you as you spin on your heel and take off in the other direction.

“Well, what are you gonna do about it? Tell off the game club?”

“I’m going to lodge a complaint and get my study room back.”

“Mhmm.” He trails you incessantly as you march up to the nearest help desk and drop your books in front of the poor employee about to suffer from your wrath.

“Can I help you?” the sheepish girl asks. She couldn’t be much older than you. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

“Yes, can you please explain why a-” You raise your fingers for air quotes. “-‘board game club’ has booked a private study room, taking priority over student study time?” The girl is taken aback at your abruptness, clearly not used to being confronted in such a manner. But you weren’t here to waste time by avoiding hurt feelings.

“I-” She hesitates, looking to the blonde beside you for help, of which he gives none. “I’m not sure what to tell you. The study rooms are first come, first serve.”

“For students,” you emphasize, pressing your palms into the desk and leaning forward. “Not unofficial club gatherings.” Something changes in the girl’s face and she turns away from you and faces her computer, typing something across the keyboard. In just a moment, her entire demeanor has flipped. It seems she’s not interested in entertaining your attitude anymore.

“Well, looks like the ‘Board Game Club’ is an official, university-sponsored club. Which means they’re just as much entitled to study room time as you are. Actually, more-so, since you didn’t book your room in advance.” She spins her office chair backs towards you. “Sorry.” She shrugs, flashing you an all-too-fake smile.

“Ugh, fine.” You pile your books back into your arms and roll your eyes, leaving the library altogether.

And your trail follows you.

“What, you’re just gonna leave? There were other study rooms open!” You scoff, annoyed at his ignorance.

“Well the other study rooms that are open at this time either smell like ass or have no air conditioning. So that’s a no-go.” Namjoon laughs quietly, agreeing with your sentiment. He’s been stuck in his fair share of poor study rooms before and knows it can ruin the experience.

“So.... what are you going to do now?”

You find yourself wondering why he’s still here, talking to you when he should be organizing his own study plan for the night. Further yet, you wonder why you’re entertaining his stupid questions at all.

“I dunno. Camp out at the campus Starbucks?”

“What? But they close at ten!” You shoot an exasperated look in his direction.

“And what’s it to you?” You pick up the pace in an effort to shake off your stalker, but much to your annoyance he jumps in front of you, thrusting out his hands before you can take a step further. You nearly collide with his chest.

“Would you just wait a sec?” Your eyes glide up to meet his as you tap your foot, barely acknowledging you’re listening. “Why don’t you just come back to my place with me?” Your eyes narrow.

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but-” His eyes widen and he begins frantically shaking his head. You almost smirk. It’s fun watching him squirm.

“No! That’s not what I meant!” He sighs, wringing his hands. “Most of the fraternity is at this other party so the house will be empty tonight. And quiet. I know that’s why you like the study rooms and it’s the least I can do for you.”

You’re still suspicious. What’s in it for him? He certainly wasn’t just being nice to be nice. There was something else involved.

“If you knew the house would be empty tonight then why did you try to take the study room?” Namjoon shrugs, grinning mischievously.

“You’re just too fun to tease.”

That remark has you scoffing and brushing past him, not even dignifying him with a response.

“Wait! Just slow down, would you?” A heavy hand settles on your shoulder and Namjoon is beside you again. You’re about to scream with frustration.

“What, Namjoon? What could you possibly tell me that will convince me to come study with you?”

He grins sheepishly.

“I’ll buy you pizza?”

Okay, yeah, you’re a tad ashamed you let your morals slide in exchange for greasy pizza that will wreck your stomach in the morning. But you’re hungry, okay? And the dining hall was already closed and your wallet was empty and it just happened.

And now you were plopped on Namjoon’s bed typing away furiously at your laptop. He’d made a few efforts at light conversation, but he quickly gave up trying to push that boulder when you barely grunted in response to his questions.

His room was surprisingly nice and organized. The bedsheets were barely wrinkled and the room smelled pleasant despite it being apart of a literal frat house. Though his desk was a mess, littered with math theory books and philosophy papers and historical fiction novels. The books appeared well-loved and cared for, not like they were simply written as required on a syllabus.

He appeared pretty organized, too. The oak-colored round glasses he’d donned after arriving made him look older, more scholarly. And definitely more pretentious.

You were glad the two of you weren’t doing this at your dorm. Your room was an actual nightmare. Your life might be organized and planned down to the minute, but your bedroom was an entirely different story.

“So...” Namjoon chews on the end of his pen as he reworks old calculus problems. “Psychology major?”

Really, trying at the small talk again? Good luck with that.

You’re about to completely ignore him when it occurs to you that if you don’t talk about your major he will most certainly talk about his. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard him rant and preach about math and its many uses in modern society. So before you end up stuck in that situation, you entertain his question. If it could even be called that.

“Mhmm.” You bite the bottom of your lip as you contemplate the next line of your essay. You don’t notice Namjoon staring. “I plan to graduate a year early and go straight to med school. Probably open a family practice one day.” Namjoon leans back into his bed frame, nodding in something close to awe.

“Wow, you really got it that planned out?”

“Yup,” you reply, popping the ‘p.’ “Since I was fifteen. I only majored in psychology because I think it’s interesting and I’ll look well-rounded when I start applying to med school. I’ll definitely just be a family doctor.”

“Well, you are a great people person...” You finally crack the next line of your paper and type it away, completely missing the joke and subtle jab.

Ding dong.

“That the pizza?” It’s the first thing you’ve said to him unprompted since you got here.

“Think so. I’ll be back.” He heaves himself up from the bed and trots out of the room, right as your phone buzzes. You only spare the screen a passing glance, but upon seeing the notification is a text from your roommate, you immediately open it.

9:18 pm. Yeji: where are you? ive looked for you everywhere >:( 9:22 pm. Yeji: Y/N? pls respond or ill be worried 9:23 pm. Y/N: I thought you were using the room for yourself tonight. Why are you at the library? 9:23 pm. Yeji: suho cancelled :( i came to find you at the library but you aren’t here ? 9:24 pm. Y/N: The study rooms were all taken. Me and Namjoon are studying at his place. 9:24 pm. Yeji: wait, really?!?! 9:24 pm. Yeji: oh my god, FINALLY 9:25 pm. Y/N: ??? 9:27 pm. Y/N: Yeji?? 9:28 pm. Yeji: im just relieved you two are finally owning up to the obvious sexual tension in this stupid feud and banging it out ;)

You choke. Is that what people thought about you? The idea made you want to gag.

9:29 pm. Y/N: What ?? 9:29 pm. Y/N: NO 9:29 pm. Y/N: That is most definitely NOT what is happening. 9:29 pm. Y/N: That’s disgusting. 9:30 pm. Yeji: aww booooooo 9:30 pm. Yeji: and to think, i was getting my hopes up for you 9:30 pm. Yeji: but seriously tho 9:31 pm. Yeji: whatever dance you two are playing isn’t gonna last long 9:31 pm. Yeji: its obvious you two like each other

With that, you shut the phone off completely and set it face down, suddenly feeling very, very hot.

Yeji was an idiot. She didn’t know what she was talking about.

Right?

This argument, this feud, this competition, it was fueled by anger and annoyance and, as much as you hate to say it, pettiness. You couldn’t stand Kim. And he didn’t particularly like you either. There was nothing else going on here.

Your arguments weren’t flirting. They were arguments. Simple as that.

But then again, you were sitting in his room. Studying together. Letting him buy you dinner.

Well, fuck.

“Pizza delivery!” You scream in fright as he enters the room, making him nearly drop the box full of your precious dinner.

“Oh my god, fuck, are you okay?” You quickly fan at your cheeks to combat the furnace burning underneath them.

“Yep! I’m fine! Just don’t scare me like that, for god’s sake.”

When you meet his eyes, Namjoon looks genuinely apologetic.

Your heart flutters. This little shit.

“Well, uh, here’s your pizza.” He slides the box next to your laptop and settles on the opposite side of the bed, returning to his work.

“You’re not gonna eat?”

“Nah, I ate earlier. And your stomach is growling. I can hear it from over here.” Your eyes bulge.

Had he cared like this all along? Had you just been too blind to notice it? You were freaking out, your heart rate climaxing and your hands quickly becoming lightly coated in sweat.

The weight of the past few months hits you like a freight train.

It’s much too overwhelming.

You’re suddenly aware of your close proximity. The smell of the room, of him, is overpowering and suffocating. The air is thick and you think you might choke. When did that dimpled grin become so attractive? Just before it immediately pissed you off but now...

You eye his blonde locks, imagining what it’d be like to run your fingers through them before you can stop yourself. The glasses you’d found pretentious somehow make him cute, maybe even endearing. Did you always feel like this?

“Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or like you might throw up. Please don’t puke on my floor, I’m begging.”

“Fine!” you squeak, whipping your face back to the laptop screen, unwilling to let your eyes move even an inch in his direction.

Even still, it’s like you can feel his body heat from across the bed, calling you in, taunting you for being the biggest moron you knew.

You gotta get out of here.

You finish your essay in record time, just as the clock strikes eleven. You’ve already instructed Yeji to pick you up at eleven-fifteen, and she’s always early. Now all you had to do was ignore the way your heart was beating in your throat and slip away to forget this ever happened.

After a few days used to succumb to logic, you’d realize this was all a mistake. A misunderstanding. An unnecessary emotional reaction.

“Well-” You stand, gathering your books in your arms. “I’m off. Thanks for buying me dinner and letting me intrude.” He looks up from his work to you, eyes bleary and exhausted. You hate the way you enjoy how he gives you his full attention and concern.

“It’s really no problem. Do you want me to walk you home?”

Goddamn, Namjoon. Stop being such a gentleman, would you?

“No. It’s fine. My roommate is picking me up.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies, appearing slightly disappointed. No, he wasn’t disappointed. You’re just crazy and emotionally unstable at the moment.

You bid him an awkward wave and slowly back out of the room when he calls out for you.

“Y/N!” You freeze in the hallway as he approaches, noticing how his hair has fallen out of its styled position and hangs loosely rumpled in his face.

“Yes?” He probably was gonna ask for you to pay for the pizza since he didn’t eat it. Yeah, that seems like a Namjoon thing to do.

He pauses and grins awkwardly, making your eyes fly to those dimples. He wrings his hands.

“I- uh-” He breathes out sharply through his nose. “I had a nice time.” You nod, allowing no change in your blank expression.

“I appreciated the quiet. Thanks.” He sighs, looking as tired as you feel.

“Look, I’ll cut to the chase. I’ve been trying to tell you I’m interested in you for a few months now.” Your heart stops and you’re unable to offer a response. “I may have got a bit carried away teasing but, well…’

“What do I need to do to secure another study date with you?”

You’re shocked. Flattered, even. But more than anything, you feel your pride inflating in your chest. You quickly forget that just moments before, you were the one drooling over him and instead bask in the fact that he’s been pining for you this whole time. You feel emboldened.

You give him a half-hearted shrug. Namjoon’s face falls.

“If you want a second date with me, you’ll have to do better than trashy pizza and textbooks.” A smile spreads across the boy’s face as he lets out a laugh that he’s desperately trying to contain.

You love seeing him flustered. You’re a bit more comfortable admitting that now.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. I’ll work on that.”

You give him a curt nod as the two of you walk towards the front door.

“Find me in the corner study room when you come up with something.” You give him a glance over your shoulder as you step out into the night.

“Yes ma’am,” he shouts back, playfully saluting you. You’re already missing his annoying presence as he closes the door.

When you collapse into the passenger seat of Yeji’s car, you aren’t listening to her chatter at all. Not that you normally would, but this time there’s not even a chance you don’t tune everything out.

You know, you think you could make room for Namjoon in your life plan. He was a little shit, sure. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t too. And something tells you that you won’t be getting rid of him so easily anymore.

#bts #bts scenario #bts fanfic #namjoon #namjoon fanfic #namjoon scenario #namjoon fluff #not quite enemies to lovers but somewhere in that realm #more like unknowingly flirtatious idiots to lovers i'd say #namjoon as an asshole #OC as a bigger asshole #but they're assholes in love #ya feel?

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imaginesmai · 5 years ago

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Tom Holland - True love kiss

This is long, this is perfect and I’m dying of fluff right here. Am I using my denial of Endgame in this fic? Yes. Tony, Peter and Morgan as a family was what we deserved. Enjoy!

Plot: “I tricked your little sister telling her Ursula has stolen my voice because I have a massive hangover, and now we have to kiss in order not to break her innocence”

Au were Tom works in Disney store, has a massive headache and can’t talk, and now he has lied to a little girl and she wants to get him a ‘true love kiss’; which happens to you, her older sister and Tom’s highschool crush.

“Dude, you look like shit”

Tom raised his head from where it was resting against the counter and gave Harrison the biggest glare of death that he could muster in his condition. The boy just returned a cheeky grin.

“Rough night?”

His head was pounding, his throat was dry, and more than anything at that point, Tom wished that the ground would just open up and swallow him whole, and put him out of his misery. When he had woken up that Sunday morning to his alarm blaring, his first instinct had been to call in sick. But after a few minutes of lazing around buried in blankets, his sense of guilt had kicked in, and with a groan, Tom had dutifully risen from his comfortable position and went in for his shift at the Disney Store.

There were some days when he cursed the fact that he had taken up the offer; so far away from his home, with shift too early in the morning. Normally, he swallowed the whines and put on a fake smile for the excited kids that ran around as soon as it opened. As soon as he closed his eyes again, Tom knew it was one of those days, where he would have to search deep inside the excitement to not to frown to those kids.

Last night, he had had the perfect idea to go to a party. His brother had begged him to go, and since the fucker didn’t have to work next morning, he kept Tom awake until the sun rose. He drank, he had fun and maybe flirted with a blonde – although he wasn’t sure. Then, he threw up in the toilet, drowned in headaches and swallowed the pills for the hangover.

And the worst part of it, was that last night activities involved yelling and laughing, and it had resulted in the morning’s hardship; his voice was practically gone, and all that was left was a pretty sore throat.

Tom let his head flop back against the counter, but raised his hand in a rude gesture for Harrison’s remark.

“Boy, are you grouchy when you’re hungover” he teased. Harrison stood, stretching his arms as prepared to leave, probably heading to his own job at the Nike store on the other side of the mall. “See you later, Tom”

Tom just made some recognition noise from the back of his throat.

The store was fairly quiet for a Sunday, something Tom was thankful for. There were a few kids roaming around, but a quick glance told Tom that his co-worker could more than handle it. Sometimes a break from dealing with customers was nice too. He spent the next couple of hours working at a relaxed pace, stocking shelves and making sure the displays were all neat and tidy.

“Hi, mister!”

At the sound of the sweet voice, Tom looked down to see a young girl standing next to him, giving him a wide toothless smile, and looking as cute as can be. Her hair was tied up in two braids, and she was dressed in a sparkly blue Elsa princess dress; if he had to say, she wasn’t older than four.

Tom smiled warmly at her and waved hello. He then lifted his eyes from the little girl and glanced around, frowning slightly when he noticed she was alone.

“Mommy and daddy are next door buying some diapers for our new baby brother, with my big big sister” she explained when she saw Tom’s questioning gaze. “They said we could wait here until they are finished. My big brother is over there looking at the Star Wars toys”

Tom looked over to where the girl was pointing, and sure enough there was a boy about sever, busy looking excited over the new Star Wars Millennium Falcon Lego set.

“Mommy said I can pick a toy for the new baby” the girl continued. “Can you help me get that Olaf? It’s too high and I can’t reach it”

Tom smiled and grabbed the plushie toy that the little girl was pointing at. His muscles screamed at him when he stretched his arm, but he didn’t mind; from the corner of his eye, he could see the little girl bouncing up and down. The smile on her face became even wider once he passed it to her, and she hugged the snowman to her chest. Tom chuckled soundlessly, and brought a hand to his throat. Maybe it was time for another glass of warm milk. Sure on the café down wouldn’t care.

“Thanks, mister!”

Swallowing down the hurt from being called mister for the second time one a day, Tom grinned and gave her a thumbs up. The girl’s expressions suddenly became concerned and she looked at him inquisitively. She tilted her hear slightly and a little furrow between her eyebrows formed as she stared at him intensely.

“Can’t you talk?”

Tom’s lips twitched and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. He couldn’t tell to a little girl that he couldn’t talk because he had screamed every bit of the songs of last night, and that, combined with cheap vodka, wasn’t a good choice. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and pointed to his throat, shaking his head. The girl’s eyes widened.

“But why can’t you talk?”

Probably, if her parents would have been around she would have been scolded for asking such a question. But they weren’t, and Tom thought there wasn’t anything wrong with enjoying the attention that kid was willing to give him

Quickly, he took his notepad that was sitting by the cash register and wrote something down. He held it out to the little girl. She glanced at it, frowning cutely when she couldn’t make out any of the words he had written. Like if they were in a TV show, the girl closed her eyes tightly and yelled out for his brother. Tom almost jumped on his place from the strength and volume of that little girl voice.

A boy with short brown hair and a pout made its way where Tom was.

“What’s wrong, Morgan?”

“Peter!” the girl turned around, shoving the paper to his brother’s hands. “He can’t talk! Something is wrong! Can you read what he wrote?”

“My name is Tom” the boy read it out loud, giving Tom a weird glance. He looked then to his sister, who was looking at him as if he was reading the secret to immortality. “I can’t speak because – uh, because Ursula the sea, witch? Stole my voice, but I’m happy to assist you”

Morgan let out a gasp and, if possible, her eyes widened even more. She clutched Olaf even tighter to her chest, looking devastated at Tom’s predicament. Peter, on the other hand, didn’t look quite as convinced, looking at Tom doubtfully. Still, he didn’t say anything.

“I know how we can get your voice back!” Morgan tugged on Tom’s hand, and smiled brightly at him. “We need – We need to find your true love! You need true love’s kiss!”

“I don’t think that would work, Morgan” Peter announced. He didn’t sound too convinced, but Tom could see that his little mind was trying to work around the lie yet. “How do we even know Ursula is real? We’ve never seen her”

“Of course it would work. It worked with Ariel!” Morgan began pulling Tom around, giving a hard glare to his brother. “Ursula is very tricky. She could be hiding in plain sight and you would never know! Do you have a true love, Tom?”

Honestly, the boy was having more fun than at the party last night. Tom shook his head and allowed the girl to begin dragging him around the store, stopping after taking just a few steps. He watched as Morgan surveyed their surrounded, Peter watching too even if he tried to hide it. There weren’t much people on the store, just two couples and their children.

“We are going to find your true love. Everyone has one!” Morgan seemed convinced; and his brother didn’t seem to need much more, since he had a excited smile too.

“Maybe we can go to the food court!” Peter chimed in, now completely caught up in the situation. “There’s always lots of people there!”

The idea of the two children leaving the store with him made him pale. As harmless as he thought his little joke was in the beginning, he clearly hadn’t thought things through. If he was seen with two kids on the mall, if the parents saw him with their kids, he could be in so much trouble he didn’t want to think off. Even if the kids hand bright expressions on their faced, Tom thought it wouldn’t hurt to force his voice one more time to avoid being fired.

Before he could cough out the rawness of his throat, another voice appeared.

“Morgan! Peter! Time to leave!” a man’s voice echoed through the shop, and Tom let out a relieved breath. Both kids looked extremely disappointed as their father appeared and beckoned them towards him. “We’re gonna grab some lunch – your mother is already waiting for us at the food court with Y/N”

The siblings looked at each other with glee, and Morgan let go of Tom’s hand to run to his father.

“Daddy! Daddy, Tom has to come with us! We need to find his true love!”

The man, who had dark sunglasses on and the same brown eyes than his kids, gave Tom a confused look. And Tom understood; kids brought home stray cats or dogs, not full grown men to look for their love. However, the man didn’t seem to react in a scandalous way, just tightened his tie and let his son speak.

“Ursula stole his voice” Peter added. “We have to help him get it back!”

“Please, daddy! Can he come? Can he come?” Morgan jumped up and down, begging. Cooper walked forwards too, and started to fill the man’s cheeks, covered by a black goatee with kisses.

“Morg, honey” the man began slowly, pushing his kids away. “Uh, this boy had to work, he can’t just up and leave. He has responsibilities here. What do we day about responsible, Pete?”

“That it’s important” Peter answered, pouting.

The man gave a whole speech that had Tom with wide eyes; even if he wasn’t specially tall, or strong, he held a determination in his voice that he hadn’t heard in anyone. After promising that Tom would be okay without a voice for another week, since they would come back just for him, the kids left with their father. Both of them gave Tom a big hug and promised a thousand times that they would come back.

That kind of innocence was pure, and if a five minute interaction could help them to keep that innocence even longer; well, Tom was willing to promise them back that he could wait.

After all, what could it hurt?

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

Ninety minutes later, Tom was feeling a lot better. His headache was gone – courtesy of Harrison, who had taken pity of him and given him some Advil and a nice, streaming mug of tea, which helped to sooth his throat. His voice was even starting to come back, albeit it was accompanied with a slight rasp. All in all, he felt like a normal functioning human being.

The store had slowed down in activity even more; the bright and sunny day was then dark and with ominous rain clouds rolling in. Tom was almost sure that it wouldn’t hurt anyone to go home before he had to shower in cold water when it started to rain.

Pounding footsteps were suddenly heard echoing from the hallway, and Tom looked up just in time to see Peter appearing at the front entrance. Peter spotted him and squealed with excitement, whipping around to wave.

“He’s still here, Morgan! I see him!”

“Hurry up, Y/N!”

At the sound of Morgan’s voice, Tom rounded the corner of the cashier desk and frowned. Behind him, he could hear Harrison, who was lazily hanging around, begin to snicker as he watched. He already knew what had happened with the kids, and after a whole lot of teasing, Tom had regretted telling him.

Just then, Morgan appeared in his line of vision, pulling a young woman behind her by the hand. You just looked confused as you struggled with your shopping bags and the purse, all while trying to keep Morgan from running off without you. The second the little ball of energy saw Tom, she let go of your hand and went running up to him. Blinking the upcoming embarrassment, Tom bent down to one knee so that he could be at eye level with Morgan.

“Hi Tom!” Morgan greeted enthusiastically. “We thought – we thought that if you couldn’t go and find your true love we could bring her to you! This is my sister, Y/N, and she can be your true love!”

As you stepped closer to him, Tom looked up – and felt his mouth go dry. His stomach fluttered when he recognized you. You had never talked in person, but it was hard not to notice when Y/N Stark walked into the room. You had shared a couple of classes together back in highschool, and Tom sat directly behind you in your biology class. He wasn’t that much of a genius, but thanks to you he passed all the classes; and it was really a miracle, because young Tom spent all his time staring at you.

He could almost remember the stuttering when you talked, the burning heat on his cheeks and how sad he was when he learned that you had moved away. Now that he thought about that, he had already met Peter as a baby, and your father a couple of times. How could he forget his forever crush?

“Didn’t you guys want to go to the arcade?” you asked, your voice sweet and gentle as he remembered. “It’s on the other side of the mall”

“Y/N” Peter talked “We have to ask you something really important”

Panic filled Tom. He desperately wracked his brain, trying to come up with a way to stop the kids before they could embarrass him to the next decade.

“Can you be Tom’s true love?” Morgan and Peter asked at the same time, slightly unrhythmical.

For the second time that day, Tom wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole, never to be seen again. His cheeks turned red and his ears pink, and he wanted to bash his head against the counter.

“W-what?” you asked. Your gaze landed on him and he could see the recognition flashing through your eyes. The smile that appeared on your face made the whole situation more embarrassment. “Tom! It had been ages since I saw you!”

Tom nodded dumbly.

“Y/N!” Morgan stamped her foot impatiently and your attention landed on your little sister once more. “This is really important!”

“Ursula might come back, Y/N!” Peter backed up. Tom wasn’t sure who was more invested in the story, if the big brother or the little sister. “Can you be his true love or not? He doesn’t have all day!”

“Who the f -uh, who is Ursula?” you gave a confused glance to Tom, who was still kneeling on the ground frozen because I could fucking faint.

“The evil sea witch” Morgan rolled her eyes, slumping her shoulders as if you were the most annoying thing in her short life. She showed you the pad of paper with Tom’s note written on it. “Remember, Y/N? She stole Ariel’s voice. And now she took Tom’s voice, and the only way to get it back is if he finds his true love!”

Tom could hear Harrison laughing his ass off on the background. His friend for sure knew who you were, as Tom couldn’t stop talking about you even years after you left, so the situation was hilarious for the blonde. Meanwhile, Tom was feeling everything moving in a slow motion, the headache back and his palms sweaty. He had the prettiest girl he could think of in front of him, with a note that confirmed his implication on the true love thing. If you slapped him and called him a creep, he wouldn’t blame you.

But the smile didn’t fell from your lips, it just transformed into a little laugh. You tried to cover it up with a cough and brought your hand to your mouth. Tom could see the happy shine in your eyes, the same he had enjoyed when he was in highschool and made you laugh. Even if it wasn’t going as bad as it could, Tom was sure he wouldn’t be calling you to meet up, as much as it hurt him; more like changing cities and avoiding you like the plague. Forger ever mucking up the courage to ask you on a date.

“Yeah, I can” your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he started at you in disbelief as you smirked down at him. Your hair was shorter, your features more mature and you were a bit taller; but he felt like he was all over that nervous boy that followed you through the corridors in hopes of you noticing him.

“Really?!” Morgan squealed, her wide toothless smile lit up her entire face.

“Only because you ask me and because you’re gonna eat all your veggies tonight” you tapped both of your siblings’ noses and laughed when a defeated sigh left their mouth. Then, you looked down at Tom and raised a brow. “Tom is going to have to stand up, though”

There was no way you could be serous about that. There was no way his crush from highschool, who he hadn’t seen in years, was asking him to stand up to kiss him. Not Harrison, who had stopped laughing behind Tom and was looking at the scene with wide eyes. Not your siblings, who were waiting for him to move. No, you were talking to Tom and Tom was having a heart attack.

“Tom, come on!” Peter urged him, tugging on his sleeve. For such a small boy, your brother was strong.

The whole thing was more than a little weird, but Tom wasn’t that stupid to deny the opportunity that it presented. And if there was one thing that could be said about Tom, was that he was fucking in love with you he never backed down. Even if it was going to blow up in his face.

Up close, he was able to notice the little details that he otherwise would have missed. You smelled so good that he had to stop himself from sniffling. Your eyes were brighter, and your hair was the same colour he remembered. He looked to the small mole that he had found years ago, and it was in the same place; so were the wrinkles around your eyes and the dimple on your cheek. You tucked your hair behind your ear, and Tom could see himself studying the last history test on his bed, his mother knocking on the door to see if everything was alright and hearing her giggling when Tom stuttered.

“You really have to make it a special kiss” Morgan instructed, dead serious. “Like the kind of kisses that daddy gives mommy sometimes. A real true love’s kiss!”

“Alright” you nodded, stepping closer.

Gently, you grasped the lapels of his store vest and pulled him even closer, so that your bodies touched each other. Tom leaned in automatically, his head dropping and your lips slanting together. It wasn’t as hard as he thought, as his arms wrapped around your waist and you kissed him once, twice, three times. It wasn’t the first time he had been kissed, but without a doubt, it was easily the best kiss of his life.

Your body felt warm against him, or maybe it was the nerves, and he realized that you fitted perfectly together. Your noses didn’t touch, your hand seemed to belong to the back of his neck and even the heights were perfect for each other. Tom was about to melt in the ground, when you teared apart.

He seemed them to see the two kids looking at you with wide eyes and mouth open, Harrison on his side vision with the phone on his ear and whispering-talking excitedly. You blushing and tucking your hands in the pockets of your jacket, looking down.

“Now try talking, Tom!” Morgan said, her voice sounding impossibly loud in the empty store. Tom had never been so thankful that there were no customers around.

“Uh” Tom ran a hand through his head, floundering for words.

Tom let his eyes go back to you, and your gazes met. He tuned out the kids urging him to talk, and cherished how you didn’t look ready to run off and call the police on him. It wasn’t probably the best way to ask, since you hadn’t seen each other for years and you had kissed because of a shitty tale told to a little girl as an excuse for his hangover.

But, what else could he lose? After all, in fairy tales everyone had a happy ending; and he couldn’t let the two main characters hanging.

“What about a date?”

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incoherentbabblings · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Young Justice - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake Characters: Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake, Cassie Sandsmark, Kon-El | Conner Kent Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Kissing, Romance, Established Relationship, Tim Drake is Drake (DCU), Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, Minor Canonical Character(s), Fluff and Humor, Light Angst Summary:

Expanded scene for Young Justice (2019) #15. Tim and Steph finally get to reunite after the team’s reality hopping adventure, and whilst Tim is keen for Stephanie to be (re)introduced to his friends, Stephanie isn’t sure she belongs.

Tim watched as people piled up the big green monsters into one giant pile of unconsciousness. He was standing on top of his pickup truck; the one Stephanie had apparently driven halfway across America without even a scratch to come meet up with him.

Tim watched as she very awkwardly extracted herself from a conversation with Jackson and Derek, not sure what to say or do, and made a beeline towards Tim. He tried to control his expression as she did so. He wasn’t disappointed in her, but he had hoped she would be able to feel comfortable enough around a bunch of strangers to strike up a friendly conversation or two. At the same time, he understood. Afterall, they hadn’t really gotten their reunion yet. At least, not the one that Steph had teased about wanting.

Tim could see her slight nervousness in the way she held her shoulders as she looked up at him, face hidden under her black mask and purple hood.

“We done? No more bad guys to punch?”

Two days they’d said. Two days and they would find each other.

They’d known it was a promise neither could keep, and things had very understandably gotten out of hand, but still, Tim felt like he had disappointed her.

“We’re done.”

He reached down, tugging her up onto the roof of the truck. She didn’t need the help, but he wanted to see how readily she took his arm.

She did so immediately, without hesitation, a light laugh bubbling out as she was heaved upwards. Stephanie was deceptively light, or maybe Tim was deceptively strong. Regardless, he tugged up until she was able to twist onto the roof on her butt. She then pulled herself up to standing to be level with Tim.

She was smiling under her face cover.

“Can I take off my mask, do you think? Do you trust them all?”

“Yes,” he replied immediately. “They’re our friends Steph.”

His heart broke a little that she didn’t quite understand it yet. It was a bit of a white lie, but Tim saw no reason why it could not be the truth. They had left Gotham for many reasons, altered timelines being one of many, but another was simply the desire to go new places, meet new people, and have a life outside of the damn Bat for two weeks.

Finding his friends again, finding that safe space... He wanted Steph to find her own place within it. He had mentioned it to Cassie, Kon and Bart on the rare quiet moment during their interdimensional travels. He didn’t want there to be a hard line between his life in Gotham and life with them. He didn’t see the need. Not anymore.

Needless to say that the three of them took his thoughts very well. Yes, the four of them were finally reunited. Enough with the melodrama; be grateful that they could spend time together once more and stretch it out and milk that time for all it was worth. Remember how easily it was taken away?

Besides, it couldn’t do Steph any harm to have friends too, right? Admittedly she was a bit rough around the edges, as socially awkward as she was genuinely kind, but then again it wasn’t like the team were exactly behaving at peak social norms either. Bart alone was surely testament to that, right?

Steph was ignorant to Tim’s musings and continued their conversation.

“Good. Because,” she sang, pulling down her hood and her full-face mask off. “I need to give you that proper greeting, remember? Can’t wait any longer.”

Tim exhaled at the sight of her smile and long blonde hair, but it collapsed when she leaned in, eyes half shut.

“Wait,” he said, jerking back a little.

“What?” Stephanie asked, voice quiet and sad. Worried at the rejection, she put her hands up to rest on his chest. He flinched as she did so, and she felt like crying. “Oh no… Something happened didn’t it? Is it those memories you got back? Was I horrible in them? Because I’m really sorry if I was. I’m a different person now. Literally or metaphorically I dunno but…Or is it something that happened whilst you were away?”

She spoke with such sincerity despite the farcical nature of the statements, that Tim felt the need to put her out of her misery. He grasped her wrists and then intertwined their fingers when she raised her palm from his chest. He squeezed tight, and he saw her tremble.

“It’s not you. I didn’t keep my promise.”

“What?” Her voice shifted from upset at herself to the situation.

“You needed me. We said two days. And I tried but-but…”

Stephanie pouted at being denied affection for such a trivial reason as – as far as she saw it – losing track of time. Tim was punishing himself in that silly head of his, and by extension, it also felt so to Stephanie. She took a deep breath and mellowed out her tone.

“Stuff happens,” she responded firmly. She was not interested in a debate or Tim’s proclivity for self-flagellation. “I know you didn’t deliberately leave me hanging, so why would I resent it? Impulse mentioned reality hopping…”

Her look became worried as she drew the wrong conclusion. The confidence fled her as quickly as it had come. “Was it bad? Trauma? Where did you go? Is that where you got this outfit from because ooft honey –”

“You gave it to me.”

Stephanie paused, then tugged Tim’s hands round to hold her waist.

“I did what?” she scrunched up her eyes and face cutely, shaking her head like she was trying really hard to remember giving Tim a brown superhero suit without a cape and a yellow bat on the belt buckle. “Is it another missing memory? Because it’s so unfair that you have yours and mine are still wibbly wobbly. I’m actually a little peeved about it to be honest.”

“This costume. It was… we were…”

Like she was speaking to a toddler, she squeezed tight and said, “Start at the start. What happened after you got to Metropolis?”

Tim told her.

It was an oddly long story, and yet simultaneously brief. It was chaotic and frantic, and yet the affection with which Tim relayed the adventure with his friends made her chest warm. When he reached the misdirection of Earth Three, Stephanie’s patient and attentive expression turned a little distraught. She didn’t mind having the title of Batwoman, she didn’t mind being a good guy in a world of not good guys, but there was just the fact that…

“But you said everyone on Earth Three was evil? A flip of this earth’s morality.”

“I thought so. But you weren’t. You were good there too.”

This only served to further confuse Stephanie.

“But… but…but!” she gulped in a large pocket of air. “But that would mean this me is evil! Right? Am I evil? All this time we’ve been worrying about crazy bat you –”

“Ouch.”

“—But what if it’s me? You could have stayed and helped her right? But you didn’t. And she gave you that costume as what? A present? Something to remember her by? Oh, that’s romantic and sad. But what if this means that I’m the ticking time bomb? You could have stayed and made a huge difference, right? You could have… turned that whole place upside down and made it better for everyone. From the sounds of it, I’m sure not evil me would have been down to clown... Which, great. Now I’m gonna spend my days thinking that me getting the wrong Starbucks order is going to be my start of darkness or something equally stupid. Your friends will think I’m a lunatic...”

Her eyes darted backwards, looking at the team, chatting and oblivious. Superboy was sitting off to the side, quietly watching as everyone wrapped up their work, Wondergirl and Arrowette were catching up, whilst Impulse spoke to Jinny and Naomi. Stephanie felt abruptly ashamed and as a result shifted, almost trying to hide herself behind Tim.

With a firmness and certainty that reflected Stephanie when she had rebuked his earlier guilt, Tim pressed her cheeks together to make her face scrunch up in a pout

“You… are not evil. You never will be if I have any say in the matter. Think you’re about the least capable of it in Gotham, if not in the world. You pulled me back last month from the brink of being a monster. I’d say I’d do the same for you, but I’ll never have to. You’re not stained by the dark.”

She blinked owlishly. Tim was not often that grand and romantic (though he could be histrionic), so it made her blush to be spoken of so highly. Still, her nagging concern, an uncomfortable tightness in the pit of her belly, remained.

“You could have stayed there,” she insisted. She was holding onto the fact that Tim had returned wearing a costume and a name which had been gifted to him on another earth. A name from his alternate self and a costume from an alternate her. There was something to be dissected there right? What would a psychologist make of that tangle of identity and interpersonal relationships?

He had returned from an earth where motives were selfish, and heroes were rare. He had returned wearing a name that was simultaneously his and yet not, wearing a costume that was not hers to grant. Tim wanted more than anything to make a difference. That world was ripe for his ambition.

Tim did not even seem concerned at such a concept. For once, it seemed he had not even given the matter much thought.

“Sure. Maybe I could have stayed. She would have been happy if I had. That Stephanie didn’t have anyone to help her. She…I think she was very lonely.”

Steph sighed shakily, and Tim held her closer. He knocked his forehead against hers, and her grip went up to cradle his face. They kissed, and Tim heard and felt Stephanie’s right foot pop up.

Finally granted the kiss she had been craving for hours, Tim swallowed the sound of her whimper. Not even remotely ashamed of who could be watching, Stephanie deepened the kiss and moved closer, curving her body against Tim as she tugged at his neck, encouraging him to make it harder.

It had been too long, and Stephanie was sure she was developing a complex regarding Tim, like if she took her eyes off him for three seconds he would – for the third time in a year – be zipped off to another dimension. It was almost funny how much the two of them could apparently not stay joint at the hip as they desired, and Stephanie suspected she may have started developing some bizarre attachment disorder as a result.

Although, it was worth it for moments when they kissed like this. When Tim allowed himself to feel like a seventeen-year-old. Kissing felt good. Kissing Stephanie felt great. She always tasted of cinnamon gum and liked to hold his cheek and tug his hair and she made cute squeaks when he –

No, he couldn’t get too carried away.

Tim ended the kiss with a most content sigh, like his worries had been laid to rest forever (which was false and a lie, but he indulged in it for now), and kept his eyes shut.

“I came back,” he whispered, keeping his forehead on hers and missing how Stephanie looked a little cross eyed from the kiss. “Because I had to get home to you. I promised, even if I couldn’t keep to two days. I had to come home.”

“To me,” Stephanie breathed. Looking at him reverently, she cradled his chin and kissed him again.

“To you,” Tim confirmed. “I missed you, Steph.”

She tugged him closer, making him rest his forehead against her shoulder as she buried a hand in his hair.

“Missed you too, boy wonder.”

They embraced for a moment too long, then Tim pulled back a little to speak into her ear.

“Come on. I’ll introduce you to everyone. Properly. I’m sure Bart did a rush job of it. They already know you, which isn’t fair. You should get to know them again.”

He very distinctly felt her tremble. Fighting monsters, fine. Facing her dad down, fine. Meeting her boyfriend’s friends? Terrifying.

Tim hopped down off the truck, but held out his arms, fully intent on catching her. Stephanie looked around once more. It seemed Wondergirl and Naomi were wandering over to the truck, so she swallowed her fear. She leapt off the car, straight into Tim’s arms. He caught her easily and spun her around twice, making her laugh sharply, until using the momentum he flung her up and off. She landed on her feet with a delighted shriek, and it was with that smile on her face that Cassie reached them.

To Stephanie’s surprise and delight, she was enveloped in a warm hug.

“It’s so nice to see you again. Both of you,” Cassie said. Chin resting on Stephanie’s caped shoulder, Cassie saw Tim’s look of relief and gratitude. “You guys will stick around a bit?” she insisted, raising her eyebrows in a gentle chide.

Stephanie choked on her reply, not sure how to react. Behind her, Tim grimaced. Why was she so reluctant around his friends? Was it because she didn’t want to know them, or because she didn’t feel she had the right too?

“I… I want to,” she said, Tim watching her struggle. “But-but my dad…”

Stephanie looked over her shoulder at Tim for guidance, and Cassie broke out the hug. Seeing Stephanie’s hand reach back, Tim took it tightly. He could see in her face no disdain or dislike, just insecurity and the realisation that she didn’t know how best to say her father was a pressing issue without seeming like a haughty holier than thou girlfriend.

Paradoxically, Tim relaxed. That angle was much easier to deal with. It simply was that Stephanie was nervous, and unsure of what her place was in the team. They had their memories of each other back. She held no such memories. She felt locked out, and undeserving.

How to make her understand…

“We have one loose end to tie up at our end,” Tim explained. Playing with Steph’s fingers, he had a sudden thought as a solution. “After though, how about the fact that we’re gonna need to see if the place in Rhode Island is still standing? The team should be able to use it again.”

“Huh?”

Cassie chuckled at Steph's confusion, and smiled broadly at the thought of returning to Mount Justice.

“You’ll love it Spoiler. Better than living out the back of a truck, believe me.”

Stephanie seemed bemused, like she had just suspected Cassie of mocking her but also not hearing any genuine insult in the dig at her current living circumstances.

Cassie wasn’t mocking her. She didn’t have a passive aggressive bone in her body and was not capable of being underhand. She was only trying to gently tease, as a friend would do.

Not that Stephanie knew that, but still, Tim’s heart stuttered for her.

Tim kissed Stephanie’s cheek and explained, “It was Young Justice’s home away from home. There’s a whole headquarters up there. An old Justice League site.”

“We appropriated it,” Cassie said. Her eyes were patient and encouraging. Stephanie, meanwhile, still did not understand.

“That’s cool,” she said politely. Tim sighed good naturedly, exasperated at her obtuseness.

“Stephie,” Tim moaned as she burned red from the pet name in front of his friends. He jerked his head at Conner, begging his direct nature to intercede.

“Whu—”

Endlessly patient, Tim stated, “It’s gonna be your home away from home too. If you want it to be. It can be all of ours again.”

She could not reply, as she was then embraced in a bear hug courtesy of Superboy. Cassie smirked, then called for the others to come gather. Tim held onto Stephanie’s fingers, and watched carefully what Conner did and spoke. Tim had seen that melancholy look from earlier as Conner had watched the team.

Tim knew Conner was feeling a little out of place, but he was grateful that he had put it aside to help Tim and welcome Stephanie. Hidden to Stephanie, he mouthed a thank you in Conner’s direction, who responded by wiggling his head in smug satisfaction.

Stephanie remained oblivious, her only thought as she endured the hug was at the blatant display of strength and control that the clone displayed. She grunted when he squeezed the bear hug tighter but found herself smiling all the same. There was only genuine joy and laughter in Conner’s voice as he teased.

“Hey, we finally got the lovebirds in the same room again, huh? It’s been a while, Spoiler, even if Tim says you don’t remember.”

When he set her down, she returned to Tim, holding his hand still. She didn’t understand why Superboy saying such a thing made the pit of nerves in her gut settle, but the warmth that bloomed in her chest made her smile until her cheeks hurt.

“I’m sorry I don’t. Remember, that is.”

Conner shrugged, “Hey, we’re still young. Gotta lifetime to fix that. Or make new memories. Or both.”

Tim’s hand snuck round her waist, and he pressed his cheek to her temple.

“We’ll deal with your dad. Then we’ll go home?”

“Home?” Stephanie asked.

“Second home,” he quantified.

Looking at the friendly faces surrounding the pair of them, Stephanie smiled awkwardly and nodded.

A home away from home sounded…nice.

#DC #tim drake #stephanie brown #timsteph #my fic tag #young justice

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timexistsnow · 4 years ago

Text

my baby (oh my pup)

Chapter 1: little baby (of mine)

Techno just wanted to make the voices happy.

Techno might have taken his retirement a little too hard. Not that he had gotten depressed or gone insane from the seclusion- no it was a little too late for that-, but perhaps he didn’t need to go so very secluded. Since the moment Phil left after helping him move, no one had come. No visitors, no assassins, no armies, no one.

It was strange, for something like this to be so easy. Maybe a little depressing. No one had stopped him. Don’t be mistaken, Techno didn’t want to have to fight his way out physically, but emotionally, nothing happened. Not that he could blame them.

Yet, here he was, in the tundra, alone. As he stared down at his notebook, Techno realized that he didn’t know what to write. There were no plans. There were no goals. Still, Techno had to do something, or he’d go even more insane. Already, the voices were demanding entertainment.

He could… give them blood. Not in the form of people or anything, but he could still make it work. The Nether always had something to fight. He had been working on his wither collection on the side, there was no better time than now to work on something so mindless. Blood it was.

His trek was short, but the swift transition from frigid to sweltering was a refresher. The pink of his ears turned red with the burn, he was always tempted to get a hat, but his crown wouldn’t work very well. What was a king without his crown.

After wandering around and taking random pathways, he came to a crimson forest. The biome always confused him, the huge pig abominations always made him feel uncomfortable. They were a reminder of how strange Techno was even to a place like the nether.

His ears, finally warmed, perked to a noise, a squeal likely from a piglin pup. He cringed at first but then a smile came to his face: Techno never liked orphans. If its parents were nearby, he could start his outing well. It was settled, time to make an orphan and then kill an orphan. Brutal, perhaps, but they were just mindless mobs and Techno was never squeamish.

Again, a squeal, this one followed by grunts of older piglins and a herd of footsteps. It would be a bloodbath.

There it was, a piglin pup… being chased. And the pup was bleeding and crying, but not for its mother in piglish like the normal ones did. This was just crying out. For anyone. The thing tripped on a shroom, falling to the nether wart ground. When a shield bashed into its snout, it didn’t get back up. The crying stopped.

“We have it, boys! The little thing will be a good subject for us, won’t you?” the villager pulled the piglet to his face, holding him by a hoof. They muzzled him, stopping the squealing. He wanted his momma and papa.

No, not again. Yes, they were mindless mobs, but Techno didn’t care at the moment, the pup needed help. The piglins- they would hurt them- they would take them and hide them away, change them into something horrific!

Sprinting what felt like a chasm of blocks, Techno pulled out his axe- he couldn’t risk the sweeping edge- and struck down each piglin until only the pup remained. They were beginning to wake up, and the tears resumed. Their eyes never opened but they could smell the blood on the axe, they thought it was their turn.

“No, no, little pup, I’m not here to hurt you,” Techno soothed the pup, sheathing his axe. With a closer look, the pup was in bad shape. They were bruised and their snout appeared to be broken with all of the blood and swelling. He… could leave it. But no, that would be wrong, even Techno had some common decency. There was no way that the pup would survive in this state in the Nether. They would have to come home, if just for the night.

The pup must have been exhausted as it only whimpered when Techno scooped it up into his arms. When they came to the portal, the pup finally came to its senses. Wretched squeals and sobs tore from their abused throat, they only cried more as blood seeped from the broken nose and onto Techno’s shirt. Techno couldn’t help but grimace, this wasn’t a good look, they probably through they were being taken away

from his straw shelter that his family had just built. He wanted home, he wanted to sleep in a nice pile of straw for the first time. He wanted his momma’s milk. But the men were dragging him further and further away. Techno couldn’t even squeal with his snout muzzled with rope. It burned against his fair skins, his soft fur tearing out.

and Techno couldn’t just let the piglin go because it would die and he could not let that happen. But it was because he should, as a decent person. So even with the crying, they had to go.

Stepping through the portal made Techno shiver, he always forgot the cold. The little bundle- oh, the little bundle definitely never even knew of the cold. They screamed out and Techno took off his cape, swaddling them up. It seemed to help a bit, little hoof-like hands snuck out the fuzzy mess to pet the red fabric. They were mesmerized by it, their little milky eyes wide in wonder, the crying reduced to sniffles. Techno smiled, at least he wasn’t the only one who appreciated his style.

He almost pulled out a pearl before thinking otherwise, the jolt might be too much for the pup. Don’t judge him for being cautious, he’d never cared for a baby, even less a piglin pup. How to begin the care, he still hadn’t worked out. Just do what you do for yourself, you’re both pigs, anyway. Techno shrugged, that seemed like better than nothing, and if the pup died, well at least he tried. That was all he could do in the end.

Once arriving at his cottage, Techno set them on the carpeted floor, still swaddled in his cloak. Luckily, he always had potions brewed, just in case (even though no one ever came), so he juggled a few healing over to their place on the blue carpet. The clunk startled the pup away from the red fabric, and they shimmied towards the door and then paused. Techno watched as they whimpered at their bare arms now exposed to the cool air of the cottage, they had left the cloak in their panic. Techno smiled and crouched down.

“You can keep this if you want- just for now. I’ve got more,” they shied away at the words, not moving from their spot. Oh, right, piglins don’t speak English. He repeated it in broken piglish, but even then, the pup just stared blankly. Instead, Techno slid his cloak across the floor. Once it touched the piglin pup’s hoof, they squealed hoarsely in joy, finally getting the message.

“There you go,” Techno reached back and unscrewed the cork and slid it to the pup, “Drink this.” A little hand unlatched from the cloak and poked the glass. Techno sighed and mimed drinking.

The crouch was wearing on him so Techno sat down cross-legged like the piglin. He might as well try to look as unthreatening as possible. When his knee bumped one of his potions, Techno debated how many he should give the pup. One would probably be enough, but with a busted snout, he wasn’t sure. Could they even drink a full one without getting sick? Techno cursed himself, he should have thought of that.

Attention going back to the pup, they were… dunking their hand in and sucking it off like honey. Okay, that wasn’t adorable, not at all. Techno was a tough anarchist, he would not be swayed by a child being stupid. At least the swelling was going down, the dark blue turning to a sickly yellow. It must not have been as bad as Techno originally thought, because it didn’t look like it needed setting.

But the blood, that was another story. They looked like they had never been groomed, definitely not bathed. Then again, there wasn’t any water to be bathed in when in the nether, but normal piglins always looked better than this. Why weren’t they groomed? Why were they cast out?

It didn’t matter now, the pup needed a clean, Techno told himself. He wasn’t even going to keep them for more than the night, there was no need for speculation. Even if he wanted to help them for a while, it would be wrong, they would lose their connection to the Nether and natural instincts for survival. At that point, he might as well put them out of their misery- no. Think of the now, not of the later.

Once the pup was done with their drink and had licked their hand… clean he scooped them up. They didn’t struggle much this time, simply snuggling down into the body heat Techno was emitting. Yeah, they definitely needed a shower, the Nether did them no favors.

With a bath running- only a few inches, keep it lukewarm (Phil used to tell Techno how to care for Tommy even if he never took care of Tommy himself) Techno undressed the pup from its ragged clothing and set them in the tub. At first, they sat still, the wetness clearly being a new sensation, but with a single tentative slap of the water, they were having fun. Techno chuckled at the childishness of the pup, he hadn’t seen something so innocent in a while. He’s not tearing up, it’s just… soft, unlike the sharp edges of L’manburg and axes and threats like he was used to.

But the pup needed bathing so there was no time for a crisis. It was an awkward process, the pup (now dubbed a girl) wasn’t the most compliant, she just wanted to play. For a minute he let her, but it got tiring and was late in the day. Techno had things to do.

After getting her freshened up and dried, he realized something: she had no clothes. The rags were still on the floor but that’s all they were: rags. The pup kicked at them, clearly having the same idea. Okay, something else it is. Going through the door of the bathroom and into his bedroom/library, Techno dug around in his chest of clothes. A bed shirt, that could do. Oh, and if he used a small sash he could tie it to be a dress, yes. The pup let him assemble her outfit, more interested in the new softness.

Techno studied his work, tapping his hoof. It was quite temporary but tomorrow he could go to the village and get some baby villager’s clothes. Another noise joined his thoughts, slightly offbeat to his tapping. The pup was tapping her hoof along him, her brow scrunched up in concentration. When he hummed a laugh at her, she shrank away, grabbing up the cloak and covering herself with it again. Oh.

The villagers laughed at his feeble attempts at wiggling out of their grasps, they poked at his fragile skin with their sticks. When the whimpering started, their laughs only became bellows. “It’s a funny little piggy isn’t it?”

Shaking his head, Techno knew he had to speed things along or the day would never end. “Okay, pup, I bet you want some food, don’t you?” The pup perked up, eyes going wide and expectant, huh, that was… strange.

His table only ever had one chair, not bothering to take up any more space than what was needed, so the pup sat and Techno stood. Food, food was a thing all creatures ate… what did piglins eat? Pig, of course, think pig. All pigs liked potatoes and carrots, and look at that, Techno was the potato guy. He didn’t have many, most of them were left at the ravine in Pogtopia, but for today, she’d be fine.

Putting a potato in his smoker, he took a moment to study the piglin pup. Again, why? It just didn’t make sense. The pup only stared back, her fidgeting getting more and more intense. He should probably stop. But the question burned into his mind-

“Stop!” she squealed. Now Techno stared, blinked- “Stop!”

The smoker beeped, and Techno jerked around. One breath in, another out. Just get the food, figure it out later. When he peaked back, the pup looked… smug. Piglins don’t do any of that. They get angry, they growl, they definitely don’t speak English and look smug. Perhaps, that would explain some of her treatment.

He pondered this as he plated her food and slid it across the table to the pup. When the pondering switched back to staring, she shrunk down again, eyes going between the potato and Techno’s gaze. “You can eat, I-” Techno wanted to ask so many questions, but, “I’ll… stop.”

She nodded and munched into the potato. Techno adverted his gaze, feeling awkward. His stomach grumbled to the sound of her eating. Instead of going for potatoes, Techno pulled out his golden carrots, setting a few on the table. At the sound of the clunk, the pup oinked around a mouthful. One of her hands released the potato and made grabby hands at the carrot. Oh, gold of course. But, then she would want more, Techno reasoned.

Another oink, sounding more like a piglet than a fierce piglin pup. Techno sighed and scratched through the fur at the back of his head: she was really cute. Damnit. He didn’t even need the voices to know that.

Oink, oink.

“Okay, fine, finish the potato and I’ll give you one,” he caved. She was just so… precious. Techno let out a whimper, she was smiling again, with that stupid smug look.

She began her munching again, all hesitance gone. Techno joined her, snacking on his carrots, making sure to leave one on the table. The carrots were alright, the taste never mattered as much as the fact that he was putting something in his body. At least the shiny-ness entertained the piglin once she got her chubby hands on it.

The cronch cronch of the carrots was the soundtrack to Techno’s spiraling thoughts. Why was she intelligent? Clearly not as in super-genius, but mobs couldn’t pick up languages other than their own, it was part of their nature. The piglin pup wasn’t natural though, that Techno did know.

“What. Want?” she spoke up, her carrot gone. Techno would never get used to that.

Techno hummed at her, shaking his head, “Nothing.”

She- needed a name- mimicked him, shaking her head back. She pointed at him, “Want.”

Techno sighed and decided to indulge her, “You needed help so I did. Simple as that.”

A huff escaped her snout before she startled again, shrinking down and hunching her shoulders. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I pulled you out of the Nether. Probably should have thought that through more.” Techno was a fool, the poor pup didn’t know what to do with herself. Techno didn’t know what to do with her.

Now it was silence. The weirdest standoff Techno had ever been in, with a child none the less. Thankfully, the pup broke first, yawning wide. Their little tusks poked out, they looked like they had just started coming through. Which meant this pup was very young. And needed naps. “Come on, I’ll put you to bed.”

“Beh-d,” she mouthed out, allowing Techno to pick her up and back to the library.

The blue sheeted bed was almost never used, still made from a few days ago. Techno didn’t like to sleep, and with a sleepy piglin in his arms reminding him of it, he was starting to feel the deprivation now. His yawn joined hers. He sat down and set her next to him by the pillow end.

Patting the bed, he explained, “This is a bed, you sleep on it.” She still looked a little confused and did a weird motion with her hands. It looked like an explosion, but Techno paid it no mind. If his knowledge was correct, baby piglins mostly slept in netherrack caves in groups, a bed would be a foreign experience. To show her he meant no harm, he lied down on his side, his back to the wall. She did the same, picking at the wool blanket she lied on. Techno smiled and tucked her in.

“You,” she demanded, tugging at the blanket stuck under his body weight. Oh, she thought he was going to stay with her. Right as he was about to decline, another “You!” squealed out.

Techno sighed and considered his options. It would make more sense to stay with her, make sure she’s alright through the night. He didn’t want to sleep, but…

He slithered under the blanket, trying to not get amused at the smile that graced the pup. At least she wasn’t crying.

When his eyes started to slip shut, Techo swore that he fought the need to sleep, but the piglin snuggled against his chest and the snore-like oinks were so relaxing. So maybe, he would allow himself to waste one day away. It was nice to not be so isolated for once, he thought. Soon, there were two sets of oink-like snores.

#hehhehe i told you it was coming #technoblade #technodad au #my baby (oh my pup)#my writing #ao3 #timexistsnow #dream smp #c!techno

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honeybinnies · 5 years ago

Text

CHARACTERS ☆ han jisung, reader (you), seo changbin, bang chan (mentioned)

PLOT ☆ wherein jisung, the mafia’s assassin, has a mission to retrieve a heirloom from the mafia’s heiress, you. to his surprise, he easily finds you alone on a night club, and finally, he work begins.

WORD COUNT ☆ 2.5k

WARNINGS ☆ this is rated E for sexual activity, alcohol and mentions of drugs. to minimize dashboard consumption, a keep reading header will be placed after the first paragraph. this is to respect other people’s content, as well as the time of the viewers.

DISCLAIMER ☆ i do not own stray kids. they belong to jyp entertainment. i only own the edit and the storyline itself.

NOTE ☆ this one-shot is written in third person point of view, so all mentions of “the woman” are directed to all female readers.

[10:18pm] jisung’s doing alright. wait, scratch that, jisung’s doing more than just alright. in fact, he’s living his best life at the moment. it’s ten in the evening in the noisy, sin-filled streets of gangnam-gu, and the bass is loud in the club he’s currently at. jisung grins as hr struts around the squeaked floors of the night club, clad in a silk button-up tucked down into some nice black jeans, two of his buttons loosened, flashing a bit of his collarbone where his tattoo peeked out shyly. his blonde hair is swooped to the side, and smudge of dark eyeshadow and glossed lips masks his features, making him ten times more regal underneath the neon lights, more alluring. he’s thriving as he walks to the bar to heed for a martini on the house, and he looks at the swaying bodies grinding against the music, please, relaxed.

“now this feels like home.” he smirks, letting out a sigh before grabbing a hold of his martini. he takes his sweet time upon ravishing the contents, the liquid coating his throat with the burning sensation he was looking for. he doesn’t even notice someone slide next to him as he does so, and neither does he flinch from his spot when the man speaks up.

“don’t get too relaxed, ji.” the man remarks, voice laden with slight amusement. “remember, we’re here because chan wanted you to fulfill a mission.”

the said man noises apprehensively, and down the remains of his martini, the alcohol burning the rest of throat just the way he likes it. “please, changbin. cut me some slack. i haven’t felt like this in years.” the statement leaves a snort from changbin himself, and turns to take a swig of beer before facing jisung once again. “it’s the only time you’ll ever be feeling like this, jisung. remember, we still have a little nation to overthrow?”

the younger tilts his head to face changbin, eyebrow quirked up in a unimpressed manner at the mention a pathetic empire muttered at his very ears. “don’t get me started on jaehyun’s bullshit, hyung. he doesn’t mean anything to me at the moment.”

changbin could only smirk at the flatness of his tone, before he spots a familiar figure moving across jisung. his gaze only darkens by the percentage, as a low hum draws from his throat. “9:00. that’s our target.” he gestures jisung to the figure, to which the other looks to his 9:00. he sees a woman in a scarily low v-neck cocktail dress, sparkled with red sequences, and jisung thinks that the make-up’s too slutty on her. he fights the urge to roll his eyes on the accentuated cleavage the dress is exposing her, however, he has no time to fancy on this visuals. his target is on the heirloom she adorns on her neck, and that is enough for jisung to have the need to just get it over with.

so, he flashes changbin an easy smile, and places his martini glass down. he pats his button-up once, twice, and adjusts a stiff strand on his parted forehead. “easy peasy. watch me.”

“i’d rather not see your seduction skills, ji. just do it.” changbin groans in response, and swats his hand in dismissal. jisung’s already doing his job as he ignores his underboss, and makes his way to the woman, who’s currently seated alone. she looks bored as she scans the place, as if she wants something interesting to happen to her, something exciting. jisung’s been there once; his first few years as an assassin was pretty much the same old boring routine that he’d find himself breaking every once in a while. he snorts at the memory of a fuming chan towering over him one time, when he was scattered on the sheets of another woman, cum dry on his stomach and blunts smoked beside the tabletop of the bedroom. he had rendered his life a mess that time, lost and nowhere to go. he had a mind to thank chan sometime for bringing him out of that misery, but as of now, he owes him treasure.

the moment jisung meets gazes with the bored woman, his expression switches to something more amiable. ease it up, he thinks to himself. let’s not bring things too fast. “hey, need company?”

the woman looks up at him, and snorts before looking back at the crowd, sullen. “go away. i don’t want to look like i got stood up tonight.”

jisung blinks at this, and momentarily judges her appearance before saying anything else. she has got to be kidding. only a dumb slut would show up to a date wearing clothes like that. either way, he’s dealt with sluttier women in his life, so he’s not the one to talk. “stood up, huh? don’t you think it’s a little past 10pm to be waiting for a date? and at a night club?”

it takes a while for the woman to respond, only busying herself with swirling the olive on her drink. after a few moments, she sighs in defeat, and nudges over to the seat in front of her. “fine. you have a point. take that seat.”

the smile that jisung fakes is convincing enough to satisfy his reaction, and occupies the seat next to him. he knows he’s about to engage himself in some absolutely boring talk with the slutty woman, and judging from her standoffish mood, he has a feeling he won’t enjoy this so much. however, his time’s ticking, and it’s only so long before that pendant is finally on his hands. he decides to just go with the flow, and finally exit when it’s done. “so?” jisung begins, folding his arms on the metal table. “you wanna talk about this bad date?”

the woman smacks her cherry-colored lips in exaggeration, and lets out a small breath before looking at him. “we were supposed to meet up at this restaurant hours ago, but he never came. he messaged me saying that he had some business to deal with, and honestly, it’s all he ever says nowadays. like, what does he think this relationship is? i’m not here to wait around and hope he comes back!”

jisung pretends to be interested in the conversation, but his mind is thinking about other things. a cheesecake would be so good right now. “hm, he seems like a douche.”

“he’s an asshole, that’s what he is!” the woman exclaims, swatting the skewered olives back on the drink. she fumes for a while, but the more she acknowledges jisung, her face softens by a tint. “thanks for keep up with my bullcrap tonight. i really needed company.”

jisung only hums in response, sending the woman a distant smile before he lets her continue. “i just need to feel free right now, you know? it’s like, i wanna just--just get risky with some man and feel no remorse for it. i mean, fuck that guy, am i right? who care if he sees me with another man. one night stands are better than him.”

the assassin breaks his baggage of thoughts and piques his interest at her. he could almost taste victory on his hands, a familiar grasp of something that could be won in the snap of a finger. this could be his gateway to the jewel adorned on her neck, and he’s relieved that she’s making things easier for him. he smiles at her then, one that’s less softer and more suggestive. “that’s why you came to this night club, right?”

then, he tilts his head, and smooths his fingers into her arm, stroking the skin gently, as if to channel comfort. it’s subtle, but he knows it would make her swoon. “then what’s stopping you from getting risky? this is the perfect place for one night stands, sweetheart.”

surely enough, the woman opens her mouth to say something in return, but she finds herself staring at jisung instead, only fully taking him in at the moment. his eyes are soft, but glinting at something she hopes it’s what she’s thinking of, and the rubs of his fingers against her arm are every bit comforting. his touches are like milk and honey trickling on her skin, and his lips seem sweeter on her vision, glossy, enticing. “this...”

jisung tries not to smirk at how he’s managed to get her under his spell that quick, and continues to run his fingers through her shoulder. “what?”

there’s a sudden want that bubbles on the core of her stomach at each stroke he places on her, and her hands ball into fists above her thighs, trying her best not to show how much she wanted jisung right there and then. however, he heart says otherwise, and she end up blurting the words she so badly wanted to say. “you--can, can i kiss you?”

bingo.

the strokes on her arm stop, and jisung plasters a frown at her question, or rather, her command. “oh, sweetheart, do you think i’m the perfect guy to be doing this with?”

“as i said,” the woman gulps down and inches closer to him, suddenly feeling daring, feeling needy. “i’m looking for anybody at the moment, and i don’t care who i end up with. besides, you’re pretty hot. i wouldn’t mind fucking a hot man like you.”

the man hums in consideration and slides his hand down to the curve of her waist, pulling her in even more. he could basically feel the hunger and pure want radiating from her body, and the shudder he feels under his fingers is enough for him to know that she could barely contain herself before she pounces on him. so, he gazes at the woman in the same crazed manner, and grips her waist, voice lowered to something darker. “then by all means, let me be your guest.”

it’s only seconds before the woman crashes her lips with his, the musk of their perfumes wafting in the air as she eagerly climbs onto his lap to deepen the kiss. his lips are delicious just as she imagined, and his movements are fluid and filled with years of experience, swiping skin to skin, releasing to locking. jisung internally finds this disgusting however, but keeps on urging the kiss in deeper, teasing the seams of her mouth with his tongue before she gives it an entrance. he’s appalled by the sudden straddle of her hips against his thigh, and the friction only makes him half-hard.

he makes sure to busy himself with his lips passionately colliding against hers, and his hips bucking to give her the pleasure she wants, to make her hotter and hungrier than she was before. as the woman speeds up with her straddles, he smooths his palm up to the back of her nape, where he skillfully unclasps the pendant and tucks it neatly inside his pocket. he smiles onto the hot exchange of kisses at his acquired item, and continues to kiss her for as long as she desires.

unfazed by what he had just done, the woman pulls away from the sloppy kiss and tries to undo his buttons, fingers fumbling to release an ounce of skin from his button-up. however, jisung snatches her wrist, and eyes her dangerously, his voice hoarse and deeper than usual. “i think we should be in a more private space if you want to do that to me, sweetheart.”

the wild smile that spreads on her lips meant her well, and jisung chuckles at such a sight before he leans up to kiss her once on the lips, the touch lingering. “say, why don’t you be a good girl for me and,” another kiss, this time on the corner of her mouth, “make yourself comfortable for me in the room right over there?”

he peeks up to catch her reaction, and sees her eyes closed shut, trying to feel every bit of his kisses warming her skin. satisfied, he continues, at peppers his mouth to her cheek, trailing all the way to her earlobe. “then, i want you to cover yourself up for me, yeah?” he slides a silk sash on her hands, and he doesn’t even need to say anything in order for her to what she would do with it. he runs his palms up and down her waist as he could see the bubbling excitement and arousal building upon her while she feels the silk on her hands, and speaks up through the droning sounds of the club. “i want you to be ready for me, so you’re gonna have to wait for a while.”

to tease her for the hell of it, he grumbles into her earlobe, and pulls her hips close to him yet again, only harsher and more dominating. “you think you can do that for daddy?” he licks her earlobe, and smiles wickedly when she shudders above him. he always loves it when he know that he could only ruin her.

“y-yes, daddy.” the woman breathes out, hands desperately holding onto his shoulders. she’s driven wild when jisung responds with a moan sounding on her ear, and she suppresses a moan herself when she could feel the straps of her dress sliding off teasingly, courtesy of jisung’s touches. “mmm, i love it when you call me that.” finally, he pats her ass, and gestures her to the empty room two blocks away from their spot. “go on, doll yourself for daddy, and remember, no peeking.”

he expects her to protest at some point, but he isn’t disappointed when she follows his command instead, gathering her belongings and scurrying her way towards the unoccupied room. jisung stays seated for a bit, stretching his neck from the position he’s been in for quite some time, before he finally stands. he doesn’t even bother to go after her, all his words masked with lies, and approaches the male stripper instead, cashing him with a generous amount of money. “give her the best night she’s ever had. she deserves it.”

“yes, mister han.” the stripper bows automatically, and jisung nods back in response before finally dismissing himself. he makes his way to changbin, who’s been seated there all this time, and flashes the pendant at his face, smiling proudly. “see? i told you i could do it.”

changbin could only stare at him with a deadpan expression, and states bluntly, “oh my, i was so turned on, i think my cock is hard.”

the younger just rolled his eyes at his hyung’s sarcasm, and pockets the pendant. “come on, let’s just give chan the pendant.” he and changbin finally make their leave after that, and jisung doesn’t even think once of the woman all dolled up under his spell. after all, it’s what he’s known for in this crowd of sinners. everybody has a strive to lust for life, but he could only trade life for lust. it’s all he’s ever done since the day he turned 13, and not once did he regret any bit of it.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz #han jisung #han jisung smut #honbinnies writes #happy valentines day ig #this is derived from a roleplay my irl and i did sooo #forgive me if my style of writing seems a little off #it was difficult to translate script-style format to paragraphs siz #but basically this is how things went down in that hot mess of an rp

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dontcare77ghj · 5 years ago

Text

Question

Natasha x reader x Wanda

The three of you had been together for years. It was not just the similarity of your lives that you shared, it was your personalities and the traits you shared that bought you together and bonded the three of you.

You hadn’t had many people that loved you as they did, you had Clint and for years you believed he was to be the only person to love you. And then he met Laura and you gained a sister, then he saved Natasha and finally you had someone to love you.

It was a few years after that the two of you found Wanda and you couldn’t believe your luck when she reciprocated the feelings you and Natasha had for her.

You’d never believed you would be so lucky but a dark part of you told you to wait for the worst. Good things didn’t happen to you, the worst was what you expected.

You’d been planning tonight for months. You wanted everything to be perfect, no, you needed everything to be perfect for tonight. It was your three-year anniversary but that wasn’t why you needed perfect tonight.

You wanted to ask Natasha and Wanda to marry you.

You were terrified to ask honestly. It had been months of finding the perfect rings, the venue and planning on how to ask the two. You’d been talking to your brother and Laura about how you should do it and the two had been a large part in the whole plan.

Natasha had been in a training session with Steve since this afternoon and Wanda was out with her brother for the day. The fact the two had been busy all day and you hadn’t seen either of them since that morning, made the anxious part of you worry.

For most part you were keeping your cool over the whole thing, but you did have a long talk with Clint already. He’d given you a lot of good advice on how to propose and he’d made sure your anxiety wasn’t getting the best of you.

It was now five and both women had said they were going to be home any minute.

“What’s all this for?” Natasha asked as she and Wanda entered to see you standing in the living room, dressed up nicely and holding two bouquets. “It’s different to how we normally get greeted.”

“It’s a lovely variation though.” Wanda said, taking a bouquet out of your hands and kissing your cheek. “Y/N do you know where I put my grey boots? You know, the ones without a heel?” She asked after placing the flowers into some water.

“You left them in the bedroom closet last I saw.” You told her as Natasha took her flowers and also kissed your cheek.

“Thanks. Pietro will kill me if I’m late.” She said, moving into the bedroom.

“Late? I thought you had spent the day with him?” You questioned, watching as Natasha placed her flowers in a vase and then moved to the closet where the three of you placed your mission gear.

“We did but he wants to go out for dinner. I couldn’t say no to him.” She said, emerging from the bedroom.

“I thought we had plans for tonight?” You said, taking a seat on the couch as Natasha pulled on a thick jacket.

“Sorry kolibri.” Wanda started, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “I forgot. We’ll make plans for another night.” She promised, kissing Natasha and the leaving.

“I take it you’ve got plans for the night too?” You asked the red-head.

“Last minute mission. Sorry dorogy.” She said, kissing your forehead briefly. “We’ll do it another time.” She added, leaving the room without sparing you another glance.

You leaned your head back on the couch and placed your head in your hands.

Well, that was a bust.

“It’s not a bust.” Clint said. “You can still propose, you’ll just have to do it another night.” He chirped.

After Natasha and Wanda both walked out for the evening, you’d called your brother to inform him of the fail that was this evening. Instead of allowing you to wallow in misery Clint had decided that the two of you were going to go out for dinner.

“It was like they forgot our anniversary was even a thing.” You groaned.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight. You could propose in the middle of a battle and they’d say yes.” He said, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Well, now I’ve got a backup plan.” You laughed. “Thanks for this Clint. I really needed this.” You have said, smiling up at him.

“Of course. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t help my little sister with her love life?” He questioned, smiling back at you. “Now do we get coffee first or pizza?”

“Coffee. What kind of question even is that?” You asked as you both turned down the street to the coffee shop you both frequented.

The two of you had just ordered and taken a step back when you noticed a couple sitting at a tale behind you.

“Y/N, what are you looking at?” Clint asked finally looking at what you were.

It was Natasha and Wanda. Clearly not having dinner with Pietro or having a last-minute mission. It was Wanda and Natasha having a meal together, laughing, looking happier than they had in weeks.

Neither had noticed you as they continued their meal so you shushed Clint.

“The secrecy is killing me. I say we go home and do it. Finally get it over with.” Natasha said with a smile.

“We can’t do it tonight. Y/N’ll be heartbroken.” Wanda told her. “We did skip out on whatever she planned tonight.”

“She’ll get over it. You’d be surprised how fast people can get over things. Just like she’ll get over us- “Natasha continued but you couldn’t hear over the person calling out name for coffee orders, but you didn’t need to hear any more especially after you’d hard the words ‘breaking up with her,’ over the din.

Without waiting for the coffee or Clint, you walked out of the shop without another glance at the two. You’d made it to the park across the street when you heard pounding footsteps behind you.

“Y/N, Y/N wait!” Clint called, running after you. “Maybe we didn’t hear correctly. Maybe they were talking about someone else.”

“They said my name, Clint.” You snapped, spinning on your heel. “They said breaking up with. They weren’t talking about anyone else. I should’ve seen this coming.” You sighed, tuning away from him.

“Seen what?” Clint asked as you sat on a nearby bench.

“I should’ve seen that they’d leave me.” You said as he sat next to you. “There were signs for months. They’ve been distracted, every time I enter a room they stop talking and every time we make plans the cancel them with some lame excuse.

They’re not the same anymore. Everything we used to do is a past memory. They don’t kiss me, they don’t touch me, when we go to bed it feels like they’re a million miles away and it’s the same when we’re awake.

I heard the two of them arguing the other day about who would be the one to do it and when I entered the room, they made up some excuse about milk.

I should’ve known I wasn’t good enough. God I should’ve known better. After all, who’d want a freak like me?” You questioned, putting your head in your hands.

“A freak like me, that’s me that’s who.” Clint said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

“I don’t think I can go back there right now.” You murmured, resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t see the point if I know what’s going to happen.” You added.

“Then don’t.” Clint said, making you look up. “The world’s not in any danger at the moment. Let’s get you a bag, take a jet and go to the farm. You can stay for as long as you like.”

“Are you sure about this Clint?” You asked your brother. “Would Laura be okay with this?”

“Laura has been pestering me to get you to come for a visit for months.” Clint said with a smile. “We’re family. You could stay with us for years and we’d be happy. I love you; Laura loves you and the kids really love you. So, what do you say kid?”

“Let’s go see Laura and the kids.” You said after a minute with a small smile.

“Auntie Y/N, will you teach me how to throw knives?” Cooper asked over breakfast. You’d been staying at Clint and Laura’s for a week and you felt happy. Natasha and Wanda had called and texted you continuously he day after you left but you had blocked the two of them.

You’d left a brief letter saying you didn’t want to make them suffer any longer and that you really did love them. It was all you could bare to say to the women and you didn’t want to say anymore.

“I don’t know kid? What’s your mom say about this?” You questioned him but looked at Laura who was cutting some of Nate’s food.

“She said as long as you said yes, we could play with them. So can we? Please, auntie Y/N?” He begged as Laura smiled at the two of you and nodded.

“Alright.” You said, causing the boy to cheer enthusiastically. “But only after you finish your breakfast.” You added. Your nephew began to shovel his breakfast into his mouth quickly making you and his mother laugh slightly.

“Slow down, honey. You’ll choke.” Laura warned. “Clint called, he said he’ll be back around lunch time but I've got to run into town. Would you be okay if I left you with Lila and Cooper?” She asked you.

“Of course. Are you taking Nate with you?” You confirmed as Lila came downstairs and issued yours and Laura’s cheeks in greeting.

“Yeah, he’s got an appointment in town and I’d rather leave the other two here with you just in case it goes long.” Laura explained, picking Nate up once he’d finished his meal.

“It’s okay, Laura. You two take as long as you need, we'll have fun here. Won’t we, you two?” You said, looking at both children. Cooper nodded around a mouthful of toast and Lila gave you a sleepy nod.

“Okay.” Laura said, kissing the children’s heads. “I’ll get this little man dressed and we’ll be on our way.” She continued, moving upstairs.

“You want to join us and throw some knives, Lila?” You asked the girl as you moved to pour yourself some more coffee.

Your niece nodded, this time albeit more enthusiastically, and seemed to perk at the mention of training.

“Eat up then.” You said, nodding at the two. “We’ll finish breakfast and get dressed and I’ll show you why I’m better than your dad.” You told them; the two children shared a small laugh at the comment.

“Very good you two.” You said as they both managed to hit the board.

“We didn’t hit the centre though.” Lila said with a slight scowl as she looked at her knife. Gesturing for the kids to put the knives down and come over to you, you knelt down to their level.

“It’s not about hitting the middle.” You explained. “The middle is a target, just like the rest of the board. As beginners hitting anywhere on the board means you have the skill to see a target and hit it.

When your father and I joined the circus and began to throw knives or shoot a bow and arrow, neither of us were any good to start with. Sure, we took to it quickly but that didn’t mean we had the stance, the knowledge or anything that was truly needed apart from the fact we could hit the middle.

Just because the middle is the best doesn’t mean hitting anywhere else is an undesired goal. It might take you days, weeks, months or even years before you can hit the middle but as long as you’re hitting the board, I’ll be happy because you’re trying.” You told them. “Now you have a choice to make. Do you want to keep going or have some lunch?”

“Can we keep going for a while?” Lila asked after sharing a look with her brother.

“Of course, you can.” You smiled and stepped back as the two moved back to their positions. The two had only been practising for a few minutes when you saw Clint’s jet land on the other side of the house. “Okay that’s enough.” You said, making the kids stop. “Go inside and wash up, your dad will be in in a minute.”

The kids nodded, put their knives down and ran towards the house. You smiled at their retreating forms as you jogged over to Clint’s jet.

“Just so you know, the kids both agreed I've got the better aim.” You smirked as you caught sight of Clint. You began to say something else when you saw who was standing behind him. “What did you do, Clinton?” You asked, dawning an emotionless face.

“Just hear them out. Please for me. Just talk it out and I’ll be inside if you need me.” Clint told you, placing his hands on your shoulders. Before you could respond to him, Clint ran off towards the house.

“I don’t know what he told you, but you wasted a trip coming here.” You said, turning back and crossing your arms.

“Y/N, please.” Wanda begged. “Please just let us talk.”

“I’ve heard what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it again.” You said, attempting not to break your facade.

“Stop being so stubborn, Y/N.” Natasha growled. “You don’t know what we’re going to say because what you heard was wrong. So, get your cute little ass in that jet and sit down so we can talk.” She said, raising an eyebrow at you.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. Out of the three of you, it had always been you and Natasha who shared the same stubbornness. Neither of you liked backing down and you both always believed yourself to be correct.

“Don’t make me drag you into that jet, Y/N.” She said, clearly not joking. Without saying anything you let out a huff and stormed passed the two and onto the jet. You heard the two walk in behind you but you didn’t turn around.

“I did you both a favour when I left.” You said finally breaking the silence. “I made you both stop fighting over who would get to break the news to me. I didn’t think you’d want to do it person this badly.” You added, turning to face the two.

“Y/N you have this all wrong.” Wanda said, moving forward and snatching your hand into hers. “Please sit. Clint wouldn’t have brought us here if we wanted to hurt you.” She told you, staring at you with pleading eyes.

Her eyes always were your weakness.

“You have five minutes before I decide to go.” You told her and sat on one of the benches.

“Clint told us why you left and first of all, we’re so sorry about everything. Being distant, fighting, ignoring you, forgetting our anniversary, we’re so sorry.” Wanda said, looking as if she were about to cry.

“We screwed up.” Natasha cut in. “We took you for granted, we ignored you and we fucked up, royally.”

“You got that right.” You said dryly, watching the two wearily.

“You deserve to be angry at us. But we need to explain what you heard.” Wanda said. “That night, at the Cafe, we were talking about you but we weren’t talking about ending this.”

“Then what were you talking about?” You exclaimed, jumping from your seat. Any shred of control you had was beginning to fade. “Because I remember the words, ‘She’ll be heartbroken,’ and “She’ll get over it,’ and ‘She’ll get over us.’ If you’re done with me, if you were cheating or whatever it was just tell me.” You cried.

Wanda moved forward and pulled you into her arms. The action almost made you laugh; she always was the most compassionate.

“We weren’t talking about anything like that.” Natasha said, standing next to Wanda. “We’ve been fighting for weeks because we wanted to ask you something. Neither of us could agree on any detail and we just kept fighting over it all.”

“We wanted to ask you to marry us.” Wanda continued. “We went out that night because we wanted to finally finalise some details without you finding out and spoiling the whole thing. But then we came home and you were gone.”

“If it’s not too late we’d still like you to answer the question.” Natasha said, now looking as nervous as Wanda was.

You didn't answer the women as tears began to fall down your face and you began to laugh, hysterically.

"Y/N are you okay?" Wanda asked, pulling back slightly. "Oh god, Nat, did we break her?" She questioned frantically.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." You said, wiping away the tears from your face. "I've been such an idiot and I'm so sorry. You know how I feel about letting people in and when I thought it was over, well, I felt like an idiot for you both in.

I ran because I didn't want to have to look at you as you left. I wanted to ask you you both to marry me on our anniversary." You admitted.

"And we abandoned you on our anniversary." Wanda concluded, pulling you into her arms and squeezing you tightly. "I'm so sorry." Natasha wrapped her arms around the two of you and held you both tightly.

"Now that we've established we all have a lot of issues, I'm going to ask. What do you say the three of us get married?" She asked after several minutes of just holding each other.

"I say yes." Wanda said.

"Of course." You said, smiling at her. A fresh bout of tears rushed to your eyes as you realized something. "I could've ruined everything."You muttered, hiding your face in Wanda's neck.

"You were nowhere near close to ruining anything." Natasha said said, lifting your head and kissing you properly for the first time in weeks.

"We're very persistent about our love for you, we weren't losing you without a fight." Wanda added as you and Natasha pulled apart. She pulled your face to hers and repeated Natasha's actions.

God, how you missed them

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Coming soon:

Natasha x reader x Sam x Steve x Bucky

Steve x reader x Thor

Natasha x reader x Peggy x Wanda

Bruce x reader x Thor

Bucky x reader x Steve x Peggy

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iam93percentstardust · 5 years ago

Text

Pining for Lost Innocence

Written for @heamarvel‘s Hallmark Event: Prompt 10

Find on ao3 here

It’s a long one so look out for the read more

In Becca’s defense, it isn’t like she could have known that she’s picked the day Bucky had gotten left at the altar.

He and Brock had been very lowkey, so lowkey in fact that when Brock had asked if they could just get married at the courthouse, it hadn’t seemed off. That probably should have been the first clue. And then there’d been the two witnesses and no one else- clue number two. And then the fact that both witnesses had been Bucky’s friends and not Brock’s- well, Bucky should have known by then that Brock was going to walk out on him.

But he had fancied himself in love and had thought that Brock was just as in love with him. So he had waited, waited there in the judge’s office with Sam and Tony as his witnesses for as long as he could until the judge had finally, reluctantly, told him that she had other weddings to attend to. He’d gone back to the apartment they shared to find that Brock had cancelled their lease. He’d called Brock’s job- the other alpha had quit three days earlier, no forwarding address. He’d tried once to reach Brock’s phone; he received a message informing him that the number was no longer in service. It had hit him then, really truly hit him that Brock hadn’t just left him at the altar, he’d gone and abandoned him. He’d shown up at Tony’s door thirty minutes later and had never really left since then.

So when he gets Becca’s wedding invitation and sees that she’s set the date for December 23rd, the same day that Brock left him, he takes a deep breath, resolutely does not crumple the invitation in his hand, and just carries it inside.

Tony’s stretched out on the couch, a heating pad across his lap. His heat’s coming up in a few days. The pre-heat cramps have always been the worst for him, to the point where he usually has to take an additional couple days off work along with the regular three for his heat. Bucky can’t stop himself from sniffing at the air surreptitiously to try to catch a hint of Tony’s sweet pre-heat scent.

Tony smells the best, always has. It had driven him crazy after they’d both presented as teenagers, it had driven him crazy during the one heat they’d shared when Ty had walked out on Tony only hours before his heat and he hadn’t had time to get his suppressants into his system, and it still drives him crazy now. But Tony doesn’t want him, not really. He’d been convenient after Ty but that was it. He wants to ask for more but he also doesn’t want to ruin the fantastic friendship they’ve got by trying to push, not when Tony’s never asked for it. When Brock had come along, he’d thought he’d managed to move on from his feelings but he’d lived with Tony for barely a month before they were back in full force.

He’s loved Tony since they were children. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s convinced that he’ll love him for the rest of time, no matter who he mates with. And if Tony never loves him back, he’ll have to be okay with that because he’ll take Tony any way he can get.

“Hi honey,” he announces, shoving his moping to the back of his mind. “I’m home!”

Tony looks up from his phone and smiles brightly, spying the grocery bags in his hand. “Hello darling. Did you bring home the bacon?”

“Nope,” Bucky says, popping the p. “Doc says bacon isn’t good for your heart.”

Tony pouts. For a fleeting second, Bucky has the urge to turn around and run back out to the store to get bacon but he holds firm. Tony’s had a weak heart for years. His last surgery should have fixed the problem but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. Tony can’t die. Bucky doesn’t know what he’ll do if Tony leaves him too.

“What’s that?” Tony asks. He nods at the envelope.

The beginning of Bucky’s good mood deflates. “Becca’s wedding invitation,” he says gloomily. He tosses the envelope Tony’s way, sending it spinning through the air. “She and Stevie picked a day.”

Tony completely fumbles the catch and ends up having to bend down from his reclining position to grab it from the floor. His shirt rides up, showing the smallest sliver of tanned skin. Bucky catches his breath, hoping that his scent blockers keep Tony from smelling horny alpha. Tony’s got enough trust issues after Ty; he doesn’t need Bucky adding to them.

He marches into the kitchen as Tony opens the envelope. He doesn’t need to see the look on the omega’s face when he sees the date. It’s sure to be pitying and he doesn’t want that, not from Tony.

There’s the shuffle of feet from the doorway to the living room. Bucky doesn’t turn around, just keeps putting away groceries. Even so, he manages to catch a glimpse of Tony in the mirror above the sink. The little omega’s wrapped the blanket from the couch around his shoulders. One hand is both clutching the heating pad to his stomach and holding the blanket closed. The other is holding the envelope. There’s no pity in his eyes, just soft understanding. Bucky smiles fondly to himself. He doesn’t know why he expected any different, except that maybe that’s all he ever seems to get from Sam (that and the occasional “You know, if you asked Tony out, you wouldn’t have this problem.”).

“Are you going to go?” Tony asks softly.

He shrugs. “Can’t not. It’s my sister and my best friend. Sides, Becca’d never talk to me again if I missed it.”

“You could tell her. She’d understand.”

And that’s the crux of it. He’d never told his family about what had happened last Christmas. His romance with Brock had been such a whirlwind. They’d gotten engaged after only two weeks of dating, moved in together a week after that, and nearly walked down the aisle three months later. He’d never even gotten around to telling his family that they were even dating, let alone that they were getting married (and subsequently, that he’d gotten left at the altar). He’d just told them that he didn’t feel up to visiting for Christmas and had spent the holiday curled up on Tony’s couch, letting the omega hold and soothe him.

“I won’t ruin Becca’s day,” he says decisively. It’s high time he stops letting Brock ruin his life. The man didn’t even bother breaking up with him. He certainly doesn’t deserve the right to determine the rest of Bucky’s life.

He tells Tony so. A huge grin breaks across Tony’s face. “That’s my alpha,” he declares proudly.

Bucky’s hand slips on the milk carton. He just barely manages to catch it before it hits the floor, glad that the mishap keeps Tony from seeing the red glow on his face. He wants to be Tony’s alpha, wants to hear Tony say that he’s his alpha. But if wishes grew on trees…

Well, wishing never did anything but cause misery.

“Dunno if I can do it by myself,” he mutters as he puts the milk in the fridge. Tony quirks his head curiously. “’s just I wouldn’t’ve had to do it if Brock was here. I dunno if I can handle Becca’s wedding on what was s’posed to be my anniversary.” He takes a closer look at what they’ve got in the fridge. “How does spaghetti sound?”

This close to his heat, Tony usually craves Italian food. Bucky’s more than happy to make it for him. If there’s a little voice in the back of his mind reminding him that any good alpha would take care of their omega before their heat, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

“Okay,” Tony says quietly. “I’m gonna go lay down again.”

Bucky watches him go before busying himself with dinner. He mulls over the problem of the wedding as he rolls the meatballs. He doesn’t want to go alone. If he goes alone, he’ll spend the entire time moping, fixated on what he almost had, and Becca will kill him. But-

“Tony,” he pants, skidding into the living room, “will you go with me?”

Tony, despite being fully clothed, clutches the blanket to his chest. He blinks at him sleepily. Bucky curses himself for disturbing the omega’s nap.

“To the wedding,” he clarifies. He’s already woken him up, might as well keep going. “Will you go with me to the wedding?”

There’s a strange, eager light in Tony’s eyes. “With you?” he repeats.

Bucky turns over the request in his mind and hastily adds, “As friends. I wouldn’t expect you to be my date.”

The eager light disappears. “Oh,” Tony murmurs. If Bucky hadn’t known any better, he might have thought that Tony sounded disappointed. But he does know better. There’s absolutely no way Tony’s upset that Bucky’s not asking him as a date.

Tony reaches up and holds onto one of Bucky’s hands with both of his much littler ones. “Of course I’ll go with you,” he says warmly.

He was imagining the disappointment. That’s all it was.

Imagining.

For Bucky, at least, the wedding of Steve Rogers and Becca Barnes is a strange one. Mostly because Steve’s his best friend and he remembers when they used to groan when Bucky’s mother would insist that they include Becca in their games. They had been six years older than Becca and so they really hadn’t had much to do with each other, which is why it had so surprised him when Steve had told him three years ago that he was madly in love with his sister and planned to ask her to marry him.

“I didn’t know you were even dating,” Bucky had said, utterly dumbfounded. Steve had scuffed his shoes along the floor and mumbled, “…we’re not.”

That was the point when Bucky had burst into laughter but he’d given Steve his blessing to ask her out, given it again when Steve had come back a year later and asked for his blessing to marry her, and continued wishing that he had the courage to ask Tony out like Steve had for Becca. They’d waited a few years to get married after announcing their engagement so Becca could finish college but everyone had known they were as good as mated. Steve was absolutely besotted with her and she was just as enamored as Steve.

Steve’s in the middle of his vows when Bucky hears a quiet sniff from beside him. He looks over to see Tony dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a tissue. He leans over. “This can’t possibly be making you cry,” he whispers. “It’s Steve. You two fight like cats and dogs.”

“Shut up, you useless alpha,” Tony hisses. “It’s romantic.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose and sits back up. It’s his alpha best friend and his beta sister. Bucky’s seen both of them (and Tony too, now that he thinks about it) naked in the kiddy pool. There’s nothing romantic about it.

Well, maybe it’s a little romantic. Just a bit. Barely more than a smidge. Fuck, if he and Tony were together, he knows that he’d think that it was romantic, with how they’ve known each other since childhood. He casts a sideways glance at Tony, who’s staring raptly at Steve and Becca with bright, shining eyes. He remembers the first time he’d ever seen Tony, standing alone on the playground, smaller even than Stevie because he was four years younger than everyone else in their year; remembers how Tony had come yelling to their rescue when Bucky had taken on a couple of Steve’s bullies. He’d gone home that day and told his mom, “There’s a new boy in our class and one day, I’m gonna marry him.”

Only he never had. Somehow, the timing had never worked out and they’d passed each other by like ships in the night- except for Tony’s heat.

They’d had three perfect days together. Three days sharing Tony’s heat because his heats were always terrible and Bucky couldn’t stand seeing him in so much pain. Usually, Tony’s suppressants were enough to smother the worst of the heat cramps but Ty had never liked him on suppressants so he’d gone off of them for the duration of their relationship. For Ty to dump him only hours before his heat when everyone knows that suppressants needed at least a day to take effect…

He growls, low enough to be nearly subvocal, the thought still making him angry after all this time. Tony swats him and he jumps. “Sorry,” he whispers and lets his mind drift again.

Tony had called him after Ty had left, sobbing. It had taken Bucky an age to figure out what Tony was telling him and when he’d finally managed it, he’d been up out of his chair and halfway out the door before he’d paused.

“Tony, honey,” he’d said. “You’re asking me to come over now?”

Tony had sobbed out a yes but Bucky had still hesitated. “Right before your heat?” He’d known that omegas in heat could be needy, known that they craved attention and touch, but Tony wasn’t his to hold.

“Please, Bucky,” Tony had whispered into the phone. “Please share my heat, just once. I need you.”

And Bucky had had to put his phone on mute so that Tony couldn’t hear his broken cry. Just once. That was all he could have Tony for. Just that one heat before he had to let the omega- his omega- go again.

They’d had three perfect days. Three days of Tony writhing beneath him, of him crying, “Alpha!” in that perfect way of his. Tony had been perfect, responsive and lovely and so, so beautiful. He’d made the prettiest noises, soft little mews when he was overwhelmed and breathy sighs when he was happy, the cutest growls when he was being bratty and demanding and when he’d come- his sweet cries could have rivaled the birds for their songs. “Pretty omega,” Bucky had murmured, nosing into Tony’s throat. “Sweet omega. My omega.”

Three perfect days and then never again.

“-for the first time as mates, Captain Steven Rogers and Rebecca Barnes Rogers,” the priest concludes.

…and now he’s missed most of the ceremony. Great. He hopes that Becca didn’t catch his drifting mind. He likes his dick where it is, thank you very much. Steve leans Becca backwards in a thorough kiss. For all of two seconds, Bucky entertains the thought of yelling, “Get some, Becca!” but he thinks that might be even worse than missing the ceremony.

“Did you pay attention to any of it?” Tony asks as they stand and clap with the rest of the guests.

“No,” Bucky sighs.

“Useless alpha.”

Becca finds him halfway through the dancing lurking in a corner. “Hey, dickwad,” she says as she bounds up to him.

“Fuckface,” he replies cheerfully, not able to tear his eyes away from Tony dancing with one of their younger cousins. Becca’s beautiful of course, brides always are, but Tony’s radiant in his traditional male omega formal wear. It’s nothing more complex than an ensemble cut like a suit across his torso but the back is entirely lace, dipping low across his hips where it flares into a gown. Bucky can’t stop staring- and neither can most of the other unmated alphas here.

“Are you staying for Christmas this year?” Becca asks.

“Hmm?” Bucky hums, still watching Tony dance with his five-year-old cousin. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. We really missed you last year. Actually, no, just Mom and Dad missed you. I was delighted that I didn’t have to see your stupid face.”

“Right back atcha.”

“But really, Bucky, it isn’t really Christmas if the family isn’t together and I know you had plans with Tony last year but maybe you could bring him this time?”

One of Steve’s artist friends, an alpha by the looks of him, cuts in and steals Tony away. Tony looks absolutely bewildered and keeps glancing back at Bucky’s little cousin, left alone on the dance floor. Bucky clenches his fists. That hadn’t been necessary. The alpha could have let them finish the dance or better yet, could have left Tony alone for the rest of the night.

“If you could take your eyes off your omega for five seconds,” Becca says archly.

That gets through to him. “Tony’s not my omega,” he replies confusedly.

Becca looks just as confused. “What? But you RSVP’d together.”

“Yeah…” Bucky says slowly, not certain where she’s going with this.

“He could have just come on his own. We sent him his own invitation. He didn’t have to come with you.”

He gets it then, where she’s confused. She doesn’t know that Tony’s here as his support. She’d just seen that they had sent two separate invitations but had replied together to only one of them, the same way a couple might have.

“Tony’s not my omega,” he repeats quietly. “We came together because this was supposed to be my anniversary.”

“What?” Becca’s mouth is gaping slightly open. Under his misery, he can’t help but be a little pleased that he’s stunned his normally unfazed sister.

“I was seeing someone last year,” he mutters. “We were going to get married. It was supposed to be a quick, private ceremony, just us and a couple witnesses. I thought it would be a nice surprise for Christmas. And then he left me at the altar.”

“Oh Bucky,” she sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve picked a different day.”

He glares at her. “You’ve worked so hard on this. I wasn’t going to ruin it.”

“Taking care of yourself isn’t ruining things,” she says firmly. “Is that why you didn’t come for Christmas?”

He nods miserably. “Tony said I wasn’t in any state to go anywhere so we holed up in his apartment and watched shitty Hallmark movies.” More quietly, he says, “It was perfect.”

Becca bites her lip. He watches her detachedly, wondering if she’s going to say what she’s thinking or not. She’s quiet just long enough that he’s getting ready to excuse himself before she blurts out, “And you still think he’s not in love with you?”

“What?”

“I can’t keep doing this,” she says quickly. “I know I told Steve I wasn’t going to interfere but I can’t watch you two miss out on this.”

“Becca, what are you talking about?” he says harshly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she says helplessly. “You think just anyone would’ve given up on their Christmas like that?”

“I was upset!” he replies. “Yeah, I think any decent friend would’ve done that.”

“So Steve was there too, huh?”

It’s rhetorical. They both know that Steve spent last Christmas with the Barnes. “That’s different,” he begins.

“You said any decent friend. But fine. What about Sam? Was Sam there? Or how about Nat? Maybe Clint?” Bucky gapes at her. “You don’t have to say anything, it’s fine. I know it was just Tony.”

“Just because Tony spent Christmas with me doesn’t mean he’s in love with me,” he argues.

She throws her hands up in the air. “For fuck’s sake, you shared a heat together!”

“How do you even know about that?”

Becca sneers. “Steve tells me everything. I mean, come on, Bucky. Heats mean something to omegas. Sure, Tony was going through a breakup but he could have spent it by himself if he really wanted to. He wanted you.”

“He told me, ‘Just this once.’”

“Did he?” she asks. “Or did he ask for just once? There’s a difference.”

Bucky falls silent and turns to look at where Tony’s stepping firmly away from the alpha and going back to the kid he’d been dancing with earlier. “Becca, does he love me?” he murmurs, half-dazed by the very thought.

“He hasn’t dated since Tiberius. He invited you into his home. Hell, Bucky, you’ve seen his nest. No one gets to see his nest. If he doesn’t love you, then I don’t know what love looks like.”

He takes several deep breaths. “I think I need to sit down,” he gasps.

“Nope,” Becca says, pushing him in the direction of Tony. “You need to go ask that pretty omega to dance and tell him how you feel and then you need him to bring him to Christmas with you because I’ll never talk to you again if he’s not there.”

Bucky takes two steps away from her and then turns back around. He swoops down to drop a light kiss on her cheek. “You look stunning,” he says honestly. “Now please go find your husband and stop meddling.”

He waits for Tony to finish his dance with his cousin before he comes up behind him. He settles a hand at Tony’s back and murmurs into his ear, “Walk with me?”

Tony turns his head, so close Bucky can feel his breath on his cheek. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great.” He pauses and then amends the thought. “I think. I just wanted to ask you something and I’d really like it if I could do it away from my very nosy family.”

Obediently, Tony trails behind him until they’ve left the wedding tent behind and are winding through the labyrinth behind the tent. Becca picked this reception hall specifically for the labyrinth and had thumped Bucky on the head when he’d informed her that it wasn’t like she was going to be spending any time in it. He’s glad for it now though as it offers them some small bit of privacy.

He comes to a stop when he has to start straining to hear the music. They’re in a small corner; if they were trying to find the center of the maze, they certainly wouldn’t have succeeded. It’s cold out, the way it always is in upstate New York in December. He can see their breaths hanging in the air between them. It’s supposed to snow soon, he knows, but it hasn’t started yet.

Tony rubs his arms. “Cold?” Bucky asks. When Tony nods, he holds out his arms. “I could warm you up.”

Tony doesn’t even hesitate to step into his arms, burrowing his hands beneath Bucky’s jacket to wrap around his waist. Bucky holds him close, settling his hands low on Tony’s hips and resting his cheek against the little omega’s hair. This close, he can smell Tony beneath the scent blockers he always wears. He inhales deeply. Peaches and honeysuckle, his favorite scents.

“Omega,” he murmurs. “Pretty omega.”

“You never call me that,” Tony says just as softly, shivering slightly. Bucky wishes he could know if it’s because Tony’s cold or if he likes it.

“I could stop.”

Tony hesitates. “Don’t stop,” he whispers finally.

Bucky smiles into his hair and turns his head so that his lips just barely brush the top of his head. “Sweet omega,” he rumbles. Tony trembles in his arms. The band begins a waltz and he shifts on his feet. “Would you dance with me?” he asks. Tony nods, his cheek rubbing against Bucky’s shirt.

Bucky doesn’t move much, just moves so that one hand holds onto Tony’s. They’re still pressed together. He’s still resting his head against Tony’s. But they’re turning in place, breaths whispering in the still night air.

“Becca wants you to come for Christmas,” he says.

Tony tenses just slightly. “Can’t.”

“Why not?”

He can feel Tony shrug against his body. “Christmas is for family.”

“So you’re going home to Stark Mansion?”

Tony’s silent, not that it matters. Bucky already knows the answer. Tony left that life behind a long time ago. “You could come back with me,” Tony says eventually.

“Christmas is for family,” he parrots. Tony growls, the hand hidden in Bucky’s jacket clenching in his shirt. He decides he’s teased him long enough. “Don’t you know you’re family?”

Tony shakes his head. “Not like that. Not for Christmas.”

“Especially for Christmas.”

“Bucky, don’t tease,” Tony says quietly. He starts to push away.

Bucky panics. Somewhere, this has gone wrong. Somewhere, he’s made a mistake. It’s started to snow, big white flakes falling to coat the ground around them. “Don’t go,” he says desperately. “Let me start over.”

But Tony’s standing away from him now, wrapping his arms around himself like he’s trying to replace Bucky’s warmth. “What are we doing out here?” he asks. He can’t keep his eyes on Bucky, keeps darting them away to look at the hedges around them.

He doesn’t know where to begin, doesn’t know how to ask him if what Becca said was true. So instead he asks, “Why did you ask me to share your heat?”

Tony stills, gaze coming back to him. “Wha- that was years ago,” he says incredulously.

“I know,” Bucky says steadily. He falls to his knees, shuffles forward to take Tony’s hands in his. “Honey, I can’t stop thinking about it. Why did you ask me?”

Tony’s gaze darts away and then back. His eyes are wide and a little fearful. Bucky prays that he’s not the reason that Tony looks scared. The omega swallows hard before saying, “Ty broke up with me. I-I-”

“It was your heat, Tony. It would have been awful but you could have gone through your heat alone. I would have been there waiting after it was over.” He presses his forehead to Tony’s hands. “Omega,” he begins. “Pretty omega, my omega. Why did you ask me to share your heat?”

He looks back up then. Tony’s eyes are as bright with unshed tears as they were a few hours ago. “I wanted to,” Tony breathes. “Ty left me because he said he couldn’t be with an omega who loved someone else.”

Bucky takes in a shaky breath. “Loved?” he asks, hesitant to say anything but he has to know.

Tony looks about as wrecked as he feels as he slowly shakes his head. “Loves.”

The word’s little more than a sigh, barely louder than the wind in the hedges, but Bucky hears him clear as a bell.

He surges to his feet, one hand dropping Tony’s so he can catch his arm around Tony’s waist and reel him in. Tony’s now-free hand curls into the fabric of Bucky’s shirt. Bucky drops his head to press his forehead against Tony’s. This close, he can see the light dusting of freckles on Tony’s nose that the little omega tries so hard to pretend doesn’t exist.

“Honey, can I kiss you?” he asks, trying to tamp his desperation down. He doesn’t want to scare Tony. He can’t scare Tony. Tony’s precious and sweet and doesn’t deserve to be scared by a hulking alpha.

Tony flashes him a quick smile, bright as the sun. “Call me omega and we’ll see.”

He rubs his nose alongside the length of Tony’s. “Omega,” he rumbles, putting as much Alpha into his voice as he can. Tony shivers.

“Alpha,” Tony breathes and Bucky feels like roaring his triumph. “Yes.”

Their first kiss is little more than a brush of Bucky’s lips against Tony’s. “I love you,” he says, pulling back to drop a quick kiss to the tip of Tony’s nose. He presses another kiss to Tony’s lips, there and then pulling back. Tony’s eyes flutter closed on a soft sight and Bucky’s arrested by the sight of those long eyelashes against his cheek. His next kiss lands on Tony’s right eyelid. “Love those pretty Bambi eyes,” he says. Another fleeting kiss on Tony’s lips and then back to Tony’s left eyelid. “Love that pink blush on your cheeks.” Tony’s cheeks immediately heat. Bucky can’t resist placing his next kisses on each cheek, feeling the heat under his lips, before coming back to Tony’s pouting mouth. He’s there longer this time, placing quick teasing kisses on his lips, pulling back slightly, and then coming back, too overwhelmed by the feeling of Tony in his arms to stay away for long. “Love your perfect scent.” He buries his face in Tony’s neck, nuzzling into his scent glands. Happy omega is pouring off of him, filling the air with the smell of honeysuckle and peaches.

He fits his teeth around the gland and bites gently, not hard enough to spark a bond, just enough to tease. Tony goes limp against him, falling into his shoulder with a whimper. “I’ve got you, honey,” he says and presses a line of kisses up Tony’s throat to the corner of his mouth.

“Love you,” he says again, just because he can.

Tony smiles at him, bright as the sun, warming up the winter night. “I love you too.”

Bucky kisses his smiling mouth, firmly this time. He takes the omega’s bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles on the soft flesh. When Tony gasps, he slides his tongue between his lips and licks inside. He pulls back to trace his tongue over the outline of the omega’s mouth, dips back in for another taste. Tony’s hand moves from his shirt to his arm, digging his fingers into his bicep. Bucky groans and hauls Tony even closer.

“Let me take you home,” he whispers, tearing his mouth away to suck at the smooth skin at the juncture between Tony’s neck and shoulder. “Let me lay you out on my bed, keep you safe, keep you warm.” He rolls his hips so Tony can feel just how hard he is. “Keep you full.”

Tony whines, hand clenching and unclenching. “Yes,” he says on a gasp as Bucky bites down. “Please.” Bucky takes his earlobe between his teeth and tugs. “Alpha.”

“My omega,” Bucky says. He drops his hand to where Tony’s ass meets his thighs and lifts. Tony immediately wraps his legs around his hips. “So perfect, honey.”

He carries Tony out of the labyrinth, kisses him quiet when Tony protests leaving without saying goodbye to Steve and Becca. “If I know them, they’re already gone,” he mutters. “’Sides, we’ll see ‘em in two days.” He takes a quick look at Tony’s blown pupils, the barest hint of omega gold around the edges. “Maybe.”

Bucky shifts on the front stoop for only a second before Tony slides his warm hand into his. “It’s just your family,” Tony points out.

“Yeah but I told Becca about Brock so she told everyone else so they’re all going to look at me like-”

“-you’re the luckiest alpha in the world,” Tony finishes. He reaches up with his other hand to thumb at the bondmark on Bucky’s neck.

“More like the stupidest,” he mutters. He bends down to drop a quick kiss on the tip of Tony’s nose. “Coulda had this years ago.”

Tony wrinkles his nose. “Don’t know why you like my nose so much.”

“Your freckles, honey. I like your freckles.” He presses another quick kiss to the side of Tony’s head. “Even if I can’t see ‘em under that foundation you wear.”

Tony preens. “Well, that’s okay then.”

“Love you,” Bucky says and presses one more kiss to Tony’s lips. Tony mews and opens for his tongue. Bucky indulges in Tony’s taste for only another second before pulling away. “Pretty omega.”

Tony blinks his eyes back open, hazy and dreamlike. “Love you too.”

“Yes, yes you both love each other,” Becca says dryly. She snickers as they jump apart.

“When did you open the door?” Bucky demands.

“Too early. You two are gross, look like two seals wrestling over a grape.”

Tony sniffs haughtily. “It isn’t like you and Steve were much better,” he begins but Bucky presses his fingers against his bondmark and he falls silent with nothing more than a quiet whimper.

Becca watches the byplay with a tiny smirk before casually saying, “Are you just going to stand there the entire time or are you going to come inside? You’re letting all the cold air in.”

“Come inside,” Bucky says promptly and shoves her aside.

“Dickhead,” Becca snaps.

He replies cheerfully, “Fuckface,” and drops Tony’s hand to pull her into a tight hug and mess up her perfectly styled hair.

“Glad to have you back,” Becca mutters sullenly. She hesitates. “Better Christmas this year?”

Bucky looks at where Tony’s flounced off to the kitchen, probably to wheedle cookies off his mother. At the door to the kitchen, he pauses and looks back at Bucky to blow him a kiss. He smiles fondly. “Much.”

#winteriron #mcu #alle writes #heamarvel

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pamphletstoinspire · 4 years ago

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Easter Monday - April 5, 2021

Feast of Easter Monday

by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1876

“To him that shall overcome, I will give to sit with Me in My throne, as I also have overcome.”–Apoc. iii, 21.

On every feast of the Church is stamped the impress and character of the mystery of faith it is intended to commemorate, and of which we are vividly reminded by its annual occurrence. Therefore the festival of Easter–“the feast of feasts “–is a day of triumph, and the exultant strain of the “Alleluia” resounds throughout the Church. On Holy Saturday, the Preface salutes Christ as the glorified Redeemer, Who, by His resurrection, triumphed over death and hell.

All Christendom entones a gladsome Easter hymn in honor of the Conqueror Who vanquished death, and burst the trammels of the grave. The Saviour struggled against the enemies of our salvation and conquered; and so will you vanquish them, if you call upon Him. “Death, I will be thy death; hell, I will be thy bite.” So Christ assures us through the mouth of the prophet. This was fulfilled by the painful death on the cross, from which He arose, the Victor. The joyful Alleluia reminds us of this. It is the cry of jubilee of the Church triumphant in heaven; and tells us also that, if we wish to celebrate Easter with Christ and all the blessed in heaven, we must, while members of the militant Church, combat and conquer with her. What will particularly encourage us to combat as children of God is the thought of Christ, the Conqueror; and, my dearest brethren, all that intensifies the joy of victory beams forth in an infinitely more perfect manner in this brilliant triumph which Jesus gained over death and hell.

The joy of the triumph re-echoes in the Alleluia which He entoned when He arose glorious and immortal from the tomb. O Mary, who, by crushing the serpent’s head, didst vanquish hell, assist us, that we may do so too; and thus rejoice with thee in the triumph of the Church for all eternity! I speak in the name of the Risen Jesus, for the greater honor and glory of God!

When the children of Israel, protected and led by the hand of the Almighty God, crossed the Red Sea, a few days subsequent to the celebration of Easter, according to the command of God, and witnessed the terrible destruction of Pharaoh and his whole army, they lifted up their voices and sang the hymn of praise and thanksgiving to the Lord which Moses, His faithful servant, had taught them:

“Sing praise to the Lord, Who giveth glory unto Himself. Horses and riders He cast into the sea. His name is Almighty. The justice of the Lord has exalted itself; His enemy is destroyed. His kingdom endures from eternity to eternity.” This hymn of joy and praise was sung by Mary, the sister of Moses and Aaron, and all the women of Israel; and then the strain was taken up by six hundred thousand men, and never before, nor since, has the world heard such a glorious song of praise.

But in heaven, ah, yes! in heaven will be sung a hymn of praise which will never end–a joyful chant more glorious far than this, to celebrate the triumph of Christ over Lucifer and his infernal hosts. Ah, yes! the Alleluia which the risen Lord, in the majesty of His power and glory, entones with the whole celestial choir and the valiant army of sanctified souls, in commemoration of His victory, surpasses by far the song of praise which the Israelites, rescued from Egyptian power, poured forth unto the Lord.

What increased the joy of this grateful people, as they stood upon the shores of Egypt’s dark sea, was, above all, the imminence of the danger from which they had been delivered. For we all know full well that the more numerous and powerful the enemy who suffers defeat, the more enthusiastic are the demonstrations of the conquerors. Now Pharaoh, with his powerful troops arrayed in armor, pursued the Israelites with the utmost haste, exulting in the fact that the chosen people of God were not prepared for war; moreover, they were surrounded by their terrified wives and wailing children, whom they expected to see slaughtered before their eyes, or led once more into a captivity worse than death.

When, therefore, they beheld their relentless foe stricken down by the arm of the Lord,–buried in the waters of the Red Sea,–when they knew that the tyrant and his minions lay lifeless in its turbid depths, their overwhelming delight at this unlooked for delivery can not be described.

What exalts the feelings of triumph of a victorious army is the fact that they have conquered in spite of the many exterior circumstances and dangers which utterly took away the hope of being so fortunate as to defeat the foe. It was thus with the children of Israel. The dark shadows of night were beginning to close around, enshrouding the weary wanderers in a sable pall. Before them, darkness and gloom; behind, the terrible foe. The mighty throng, they felt, was drawing nearer and nearer, to crush them with the weight of their strength. And yet, upon what a different scene did the sun of the morrow look down! The Lord, in His power, had called on the waves to divide, while the Israelites passed to the opposite shore; and, when the pursuer and his satellites rushed madly across, they united once more, and the Egyptians were buried in the depths of the sea. What jubilant gratitude was felt by the Israelites at this unexpected deliverance! The more, because God had freed them from a miserable state of bondage, and led them to the possession of a land in which they could live in comfort, and amply provide for their children and their children’s children. Yes, they beheld themselves rescued from that slavery in which the long, long weary days dragged so slowly on in marching to Canaan, the dear land of their fathers– the land flowing with milk and honey–where they need fear neither oppression nor want.

Their rejoicing was the more perfect because they felt assured that, after having wrought so wonderful a miracle in their favor, the Lord would go on and protect them, and victoriously conduct them to the promised land.

But what was this victory, and the triumphant hymn by which it was proclaimed, in comparison with that which the Lord Jesus obtained for us, and the Alleluia which resounded through the lofty dome of heaven when Christ arose from death? It was not one army alone which He defeated, for His combat was waged with the devil and numberless hosts of fallen spirits. He wrestled against these united powers–the world, the flesh; against those irregular desires which, as St. Paul teaches, have dwelt in our members since the fall of Adam, and whose attacks we must constantly suffer. What a splendid victory we have gained through Christ!

The children of Israel did not fight. God delivered them miraculously. Christ, on the contrary, fought and was victorious. Therefore the merits and the joy were the greater on account of His dearly-bought triumph. The peril of the Israelites was great, but the Lord delivered them. Alas! the dangers of salvation which have encompassed the soul since the fall of Adam, and through which we are exposed to innumerable temptations and individual sins, are immeasurably greater. But Christ has come to the rescue, and through Him, the Conqueror Who combats with and in us, we are enabled to trample under foot those dangers and burst the bonds of sin,–even as our Redeemer burst open the bonds of the grave and called upon us to trust in Him Who had vanquished the world. The triumph of God’s chosen people delivered them from Egyptian bondage and the miseries of an enslaved race: but the victory of Christ rescued us from the pains of hell and the thralldom of Satan.

The hymn entoned by them as they stood on the shores of the Red Sea was a hymn of joy and exultation, because they knew that victory would lead them to a fertile and lovely country;–but the soft verdure of Canaan was also dotted with graves. The curse of original sin rested also on Canaan: “In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat thy bread;” whereas the country which Christ obtained for us is heaven–an eternity of delight, God Himself our future possession.

The triumph of the children of Israel was for one nation only; the victory of Christ was for every nation on the face of the earth–for the eternal salvation of all who are of good-will, and who will walk in this world following Christ by the practise of those virtues which are symbolized by the manner in which the children of Israel left Egypt and pursued their journey to Canaan.

First, they must kill the Paschal lamb and sprinkle their doors with its blood, that the destroying angel might pass them by.–What are we to learn from this? Christian souls, if you seek for salvation, you must destroy sin in your hearts–blot it out by contrition and confession. Reconcile yourselves with your Creator in the sacrament of Penance, and be purified in the blood of the Lamb.

The children of Israel were commanded to leave Egypt; and you, O Christians, if you would celebrate Easter in heaven, your watch-word must be, too, “Away from Egypt!” That is, you must avoid sin and its occasions, remembering the admonition of Christ: “If your eye scandalize you, pluck it out; if your hand or foot scandalize you, cut it off.” In other words, if not your eye, your hand or foot, but any thing as dear and precious, would be to you an occasion of sin, you must most certainly give it up.

The Israelites partook of the Paschal lamb standing and in haste, as if to set out on a long journey. If you would celebrate Easter with Christ in heaven, learn from this to free your hearts from all desire of possessing the goods and plunging into the pleasures of this world. Learn to stand, and not to sit; that is, to fix your thoughts on heavenly things, and to keep ever before you that eternity to which you are hastening. Learn also to participate even in the innocent enjoyments of life, as if expecting to be summoned away. Be not troubled about many things, nor live as if there were no other world than this one in which Providence now permits us to live.

The shoes indicate a life of determined resolution and unfaltering piety, while the staff which the Israelites held in their hands signifies the consciousness which supports us, and refers our every action to God. One thing alone is necessary–to serve our Creator and work out our salvation.

Over the Israelites hung a cloud to guide them on their perilous journey, which at night assumed the form of a pillar of fire to cast light on their way. Over the camp of the Egyptians it threw such a shadow that it was completely enveloped in darkness. This cloud signifies the word of divine revelation, the word of holy faith as it is announced to us by the Church; and it matters not if Lucifer, with all the powers of hell, the temptations of the flesh and the seductions of the world pursue us, the hand of the Lord is with us.

Christ has said that ” No one can snatch those from “Me whom the Father hath intrusted to Me.” That is, beloved in Christ, those who avail themselves of the spiritual weapons which God gives through the Church to all her members, in order to vanquish. Children of the Church! if we in spirit listen to the joyous strains of the “Alleluia” which, on the occasion of the victory of the Risen Jesus, the Church entones, we will feel encouraged to fight the battle of salvation as did millions of souls who have already gone before us with the sign of faith, and who rest in Christ.

Oh, what bliss to celebrate with Jesus, His blessed Mother, and the whole celestial choir, the “Feast of glorious Victory” forever in Heaven!–Amen!

Adapted from The Liturgical Year by Dom Gueranger

The History of Paschal Time

We give the name of Paschal Time to the period between Easter Sunday and the Saturday following Pentecost Sunday. It is the most sacred portion of the liturgical year, and the one towards which the whole cycle converges. We shall easily understand how this is, if we reflect upon the greatness of Easter, which is called the Feast of feasts, in the same manner, says St. Gregory, as the most sacred part of the Temple was called the Holy of holies. It is on this day that the mission of the Word Incarnate attains the object towards which it has hitherto been tending: man is raised up from his fall and regains what he had lost by Adam’s sin.

Christmas gave us a Man-God; three days have scarcely passed since we witnessed His infinitely Precious Blood shed for our ransom; but now, on the day of Easter, our Jesus is no longer the victim of death: He is a conqueror, who destroys death, the child of sin, and proclaims life, that undying life which He has purchased for us. The humiliation of His swaddling clothes, the sufferings of His agony and Cross, these are passed; all is now glory – for Himself and also for us. As yhe anniversary of this Resurrection is, therefore, the holiest of days – since it opens to us the gates of Heaven, into which we shall enter because we have risen together with Christ – the Church wishes us to come to it well prepared by bodily mortification and by compunction of heart. It was for this that She instituted the fast of Lent, and that She bade us, during Septuagesima, to look forward to the joy of Easter, and be filled with sentiments suitable to the approach of so grand a solemnity. We obeyed; we have gone through the period of preparation; and now the Easter Sun has risen upon us!

But it was not enough to solemnize the great day when Jesus, our Light, rose from the darkness of the tomb: there was another anniversary which claimed our grateful celebration. The Incarnate Word rose on the first day of the week – that same day whereon, four thousand years before, He, the uncreated Word of the Father, had begun the work of creation, by calling forth light, and separating it from darkness. The first day was thus ennobled by the creation of light. It received a second consecration by the Resurrection of Jesus; and from that time forward Sunday, not Saturday, was to be the Lord’s Day. Yes, our Resurrection in Jesus, which took place on Sunday, gave this first day a pre-eminence above the others of the week: the Divine precept of the Sabbath was abrogated together with the other ordinances of the Mosaic Law, and the Apostles instructed the faithful to keep holy the first day of the week, which God had dignified with that twofold glory – the creation and regeneration of the world. Sunday, then, being the day of Jesus’ Resurrection, the Church chose that day, in preference to every other, for its yearly commemoration. The Passover of the Jews, in consequence of its being fixed on the fourteenth of the moon of March (the anniversary of the going out of Egypt), fell by turns on each day of the week. The Jewish Passover was but a figure; ours is the reality, and puts an end to the figure. The Church, therefore, broke this last tie with the Synagogue; and proclaimed her emancipation, by fixing the most solemn of her feasts on a day which should never agree with the now meaningless Passover. The Apostles decreed that the Christian Pasch should never be celebrated on the fourteenth of the moon of March, even were that day to be a Sunday; but that it should be kept on the following Sunday.

There was, however, one province of the Church which for a long time stood out against the universal practice: it was Asia Minor. The Apostle St. John, who lived for many years at Ephesus, had thought it prudent to tolerate, in those parts, the Jewish custom of celebrating the Pasch; for many of the converts had been Jews. But the Gentiles themselves, who later on formed the majority of the faithful, were strenuous upholders of this custom. In the course of time, this anomaly became a source of scandal: it savored of Judaism, and it prevented unity of religious observance, which is always desirable, but particularly so in what regards Lent and Easter.

Pope St. Victor, who governed the Church from the year 193, endeavored to put a stop to this abuse; he thought the time had come for establishing unity in so essential a point of Christian worship. Earlier negotiations under Pope St. Anicetus had failed to overcome the prejudice of the church in Asia Minor. St. Victor therefore gave orders that councils should be convened in the several countries where the Gospel had been preached, and that the question of Easter should be examined. Everywhere else there was perfect uniformity of practice; and the historian Eusebius, who lived 150 years later, assures us that the people of his day used to quote the decisions of the Councils of Rome, Gaul, Achaia, Pontus, Palestine and Mesopotamia. The Council of Ephesus (not to be confused with the General Council held centuries later in that city) was the only one that opposed the Pope, and disregarded the practice of the Universal Church.

St. Victor used severity and mercy to obtain the desired effect, and in the following century the church of Asia Minor conformed to the Roman practice. About the same time, by a strange coincidence, the churches of Syria, Cilicia and Mesopotamia gave scandal by returning to the Jewish custom. This schism in the Liturgy grieved the Church; and one of the points to which the Council of Nicea directed its first attention was the promulgation of the universal obligation to celebrate Easter on a Sunday. The decree was unanimously passed and the Fathers of the Council ordained that “all controversy being laid aside, the brethren in the East should solemnize the Pasch on the same day as the Romans and Alexandrians and the rest of the faithful.”

This custom, however, was not kept up for any length of time after the Council of Nicea. The want of precision in astronomical calculations occasioned confusion in the method of fixing the day of Easter. It is true, this great festival was always kept on a Sunday; but since there was no uniform understanding as to the exact time of the vernal equinox, it happened some years, that the feast of Easter was not kept, in all places, on the same day. By degrees, there crept in a deviation from the rule laid down by the Council, of taking March 21st as the legal day of the equinox. A reform in the Calendar was needed, and no one seemed competent to undertake it. Finally, science was sufficiently advanced in the 16th century for Pope Gregory XIII to do so. The equinox was restored to its legal day by a Papal Bull, dated February 24, 1581, in which the Pope ordered that ten days of the following year – from October 4th to the 15th – should be suppressed. The Gregorian Calendar, also called the New Style, contained precise regulations for leap years as well as calculations for the date of Easter. The Roman Pontiff thus gave to the whole world the standard, not for one year only, but for centuries. Heretical nations were forced to acknowledge, albeit reluctantly, the divine power of the Church in this solemn act, which interested both religion and society.

The Church imposes upon all her children the obligation of receiving Holy Communion at Easter time. This precept is based upon the words of our Redeemer, who left it to His Church to determine the time of the year when Christians should receive the Blessed Sacrament. In the early ages Communion was frequent, and in some places daily. By degrees the fervor of the faithful grew cold towards this august mystery.

It was in the year 1215, in the 4th General Council of the Lateran, that the Church, seeing the ever-growing indifference of her children, decreed with regret that Christians should be strictly bound to Communion only once a year, at Easter. In order to show the faithful that this is the uttermost limit of her condescension, she declares in the same Council that he that shall presume to break this law may be forbidden to enter a church during life, and be deprived of Christian burial after death. These regulations show how important is the duty of the Easter Communion; but, at the same time, they make us shudder at the thought of those who brave each year the threats of the Church, by refusing to comply with a duty, which would both bring life to their souls and serve as a profession of their Faith. And when we reflect upon how many have paid no more attention to the Lenten penance than if there were no such obligation in existence, we cannot help but wonder how long God will bear with such blatant arrogance and defiance of His Church’s Law.

In 1440 Pope Eugenius IV allowed this Communion to be made between Palm Sunday and Low Sunday. Later the Church extended this time beyond the borders of Paschal time, and allowed the obligation to be fulfilled between the First Sunday of Lent and Trinity Sunday.

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