#never stopped having thoughts about him tbh

[meanderingwistera]

The Empress

Summary - You have prepared for years to take over your Father’s kingdom. You have studied everything from politics to mathematics to philosophy for your future role as Queen.

But when a proposal too good to pass up crosses your Father’s desk your wishes are pushed aside. You are sent off to marry a King from a larger neighbouring kingdom, despite your protests.

Now you have to navigate a new land, people and a Husband who keeps his secrets far from your reach.

Pairing - King!Satoru Gojo x Queen!Reader

Content - Angst, a tiny bit of fluff if you squint, afab!reader, arranged marriage, court politics, historical setting, depressive symptoms, mentions of death, Gojo is down bad, reader is oblivious to Gojo’s feelings, it’s just a hot mess tbh

Word Count - 4.9k

A/N - your dad sucks, sorry about that

Chapter 1 - Marriage

“You are to be married in a month.”

The heavy history book falls from your hand onto the stone floor.

It is the only sound in the quiet sanctuary of the library. The sound echoes back from the shelves as you process the words just spoken to you. Staring at the cover of the book on the floor you try to grasp what was just said to you.

��Did-“ You suck in a deep shuddering breath, “-the King approve this?”

The servant looks at you with something akin to pity in his eyes. It swirls in the edges of his face and you hate it. 

You don’t want this man’s pity. 

You want this to be a mistake.

“Yes, your Highness.” His voice is soft and apologetic.

With a wave of your hand you send him away so you can properly break down. Only when you hear his footsteps receding, do you pick up the book you were wanting to read. Holding back tears you walk back through the book shelves.

You had been raised with intention, you were raised to inherit your Father’s kingdom.

It had been an almost unspoken promise. You were the first born and already did everything a Crown Prince would. You have studied history, military tactics, politics for years hoping for the day that your father would name you heir.

He was supposed to name you heir.

But now you are getting married to a man you don’t know and don’t want to know. All of your dreams shattered on the floor next to the dropped history book. You feel the tears prick your eyes. Grief for a future you will never get bubbles in your chest hot and thick like tar.

Sitting on a plush chair in between two bookshelves. You had always felt safe here even as a child. Your mother had always read here and after her death you had taken up her habit to cope. Now you wouldn’t have access to this place anymore.

Hot tears pour down your cheeks as you look out the small window to the courtyard. The beautiful wisteria garden that covers the whole left side of the castle looks so beautiful over here. Now it seems to not look as beautiful as before. 

The edges of your vision twinge with grey at the thought of your impending wedding.

In the carriage, that feels more like a jail cell, you gaze out the window. It is a day before you walk to your new lifelong shackle. Your future husband will keep you here for the rest of your life.

The rain is most fitting, you think, for this. As the people rejoice at your upcoming wedding you hope that lightening hits your future husband multiple times so he is dead by the time you get there. That would be a thing to rejoice about.

“You are very quiet, My Lady.” Pierre, your personal guard, says. He looks sad as he watches your gloomy expression. 

“I have nothing to say.” You say with a bite you didn’t mean. But don’t see any resentment for your remark, only sorrow, which you think is worse. 

The both of you know that this is the last time you will see each other. Once you enter the palace you will be the future Queen of another kingdom and no longer tied to your homeland. So he cannot come with you. The man who has watched over you since you were five now has to watch you leave your home in rage and despair.

Far too soon the carriage comes to a stop. You breathe in deeply as the end is near.

This may not be your death but it is an end of some kind

A knock is heard at the door. Pierre opens the carriage door and you see a guard with the colors of your new home. A quiet conversation goes on between both guards as you are helped out of the carriage. It is raining lightly but you don’t mind it. You let the rain splatter on your hair, face and dress. It is cleansing in a way for you. 

Your bags, which is not much, are taken into the large castle in front of you. The architecture is beautiful, sweeping arches and towers give it character. It is bigger than your home, maybe it will be more isolated that way. 

“My Lady.” A male voice says from just up ahead.

A man walks over to you with a kind smile. His clothes suggest high status and you resist the urge to bow in greeting. Many times you met nobles with almost the same rank with respect but as the future Queen you bow to no one but the King. His long black hair is tied up in a bun at the nape of his neck. 

“Hello.” You greet him as he bows at the waist.

“I am Duke Suguru Geto, I have been ordered by the King to show you around the grounds before the wedding.” He explains with an analysing glance.

You can tell that this man is trying to decide if you are a threat or not. Whether he was sent here or not, he is checking you out first before the King. But you know this all too well from your previous dealings with nobles. They send someone of lesser status out first to test the person on how they react.

But if you are right, the King should be watching you as well. Looking up into the many windows you see a figure of a man staring down at you. He moves when you look but you see him nonetheless.

“Lead the way.” You say after returning your eyes to Geto. He just smiles pleasantly and ushers you into the castle.

Because of the sprinkle that soon turns into a downpour, Geto just shows you the inside of the castle, which is beautiful but so different then your old home. This place feels hollow, the blue and white scheme gives it a cold feel. It feels devoid of any warmth and love until your home.

You miss the vibrant gold colors of your homeland. 

Once the tour is over he leads you to the set of rooms intended to be yours. They are even barer than the rest of the castle. No tapestries or decorations of any kind.

“We wanted to let you choose how you want the Queen’s hall to look like.” Geto says to you, sensing your discontent with the blank sheet in front of you. 

“Thank you.” You utter, it is quiet and you don’t even know if you mean it.

The sound of heels clicking against marble floors gets your attention. A girl of about 18 walks over to Geto and bows to you.

“This is Riko Amanai, a personal maid for you. Once you are married you will have free reign to choose your own staff but for now she will be helping you.” Geto explains to you, the same analysing gaze in his eyes as you nod.

“Nice to meet you, Your Majesty!” She chirps cheerfully as she stands up.

You give her a small smile, “Nice to meet you as well and thank you.”

She blinks at you, confused, “There is no need to thank me! I am happy to serve you!”

“Can you show me to my room?” You say, relenting. 

She smiles and leads you to the room given to you. You both leave Geto behind but you don’t feel too bad since you have seen ever other part of this place except for where you sleep. It has been a long day and you want to relax in the comfort of your own room.

The room is fully furnished and the colors that fill it are gold and green. It reminds you of home. The room is bigger than yours at home, you could fit at least two lengths of your previous room in here and still have room. A grand fire place is on the far wall and a set of chairs and a couch surround it. 

“Is it to your liking?” Riko asks you at the door as you explore the room.

“Yes.” You say, trying to tamp down the anger rising in your gut.

It isn’t the room and she doesn’t deserve your anger. None of the staff deserve your rage at your situation so you keep your biting remarks to yourself. Your anger you will reserve for your future husband.

The day of the wedding you are woken up at 5 am to begin to get ready. You think it is ridiculous as the numerous maids fuss and fawn over you for hours. They rub lavender and rose scented oils into your skin and hair. Each of them have big smiles on their faces as they congratulate you on your wedding. But your blank expression doesn’t escape their eyes so they change their tune, telling that at least your husband will be kind to you and is handsome. 

Multiple times you send them outside so you can cry in peace. When they come back each time they don’t acknowledge your tear stained face, only give you looks of concern.

Riko is surprisingly helpful despite her young age. She commands the maids with authority and lets you have a break when you need it. You thank her multiple times for it. That seems to make her uncomfortable but you do it anyway. If you are forced to stay here for the rest of your life then you might as well have a few good people next to you.

They help you into the wedding dress, which is too much for you. It has too much fabric, four maids have to hold the train. The shape and style is beautiful but you know that if people weren’t helping you you would have been lost in trying to get it on. You feel like a child in her mother’s clothes.

When they are done you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You look like a completely different person. They have done their job well, the makeup brings out your best features and in any other situation you would marvel at it. Your hair is styled up and away from your face in an intricate style.

But the make up, hair and dress don’t hide the dread in your eyes or the deep set frown on your lips.

Walking down the long cathedral is the hardest thing you have ever done. People line the path with bright smiles. If you could you would have run back up the aisle, you would have kept running until you could breathe again.

You try to calm yourself down as you near the altar you spot your family. They have neutral expressions on their faces. For a moment you lock eyes with your Father. His eyes are cold and distant as he stares back at you. You beg him to stop this with your eyes. He could call this off and take you home. But he looks on like he never saw your expression.

All the sadness thick in your chest turns into molten rage. How dare he sell you off to a man you don’t know for a few trade routes and some coal. You can’t stand to look at him, after years of looking up to him and his silent promises to let you rule he has finally shown his true colors.

When your eyes look ahead again you are at the altar.

Your future husband stands with his hands clasped in front of him. He looks almost nervous as he watches you ascend the stairs. Even when you are at the altar you still have to look up at him. He is as handsome as the maids said. 

You have only truly met Satoru Gojo once. 

It had been at a ball years before he became King. You were only sixteen at the time. He, of course, had attracted attention with his looks and the young daughters of the nobles all vied for his attention. No matter where he went a trail of young ladies followed him. You had thought that it was hilarious to watch him try to get away from them.

Later you wanted some air and went out on one of the balconies. You saw him out there, leaning against the balcony, the moon shone on his white hair as he looked out. He looked beautiful then, not having to play the act of the flippant Crown Prince. Noticing you he turns around quickly. You watch as the mask that just a moment ago was gone returns in full force.

“Oh! I didn’t know anyone would be out here.” You said, trying to let him know that you didn’t follow him out there.

“It is alright My Lady. I am just taking a break from the festivities.” He said as you approached him. Gojo watched you carefully as you leaned on the railing and looked out.

“I am doing the same,” You admitted turning to look at him, “And don’t worry, I am not going to beg you for a dance.”

Gojo basically slumped over in relief and you giggled at him. He resumed his position a second later, leaned on the rail next to you. But this time he was staring at you. 

“Has anyone told you that it is rude to stare?” You teased him and he blinked in surprise.

“Actually, no one has before.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Well I am honoured to be the first Prince Gojo.” You said with a smile. 

You both had talked for a while about everything and nothing. Eventually you had to go but you promised him that you would help him avoid the women at the next ball. He had laughed and said that he would take you up on the offer.

Now years later you don’t know him now, well you never really knew him before. You can only just hope that he will be kind to you.

After the vows are said the festivities start. A big party is thrown to celebrate your wedding. Because both of your kingdoms are bigger than most, the ballroom is crowded with all types of people. You don’t really participate, sitting in your throne next to Gojo’s. Not many approach you, too scared off by your cold expression. It feels so isolating to see everyone laugh and talk amongst themselves as you stare from the dias. 

Gojo tries to make conversation with you a few times but each time it is cut off swiftly. You give him short, blunt answers to each question. He looks confused at your mood and that makes you even more angry than before. Of course he doesn’t understand how you feel, he has a choice in this, you didn’t. He eventually gives up and goes to mingle with the others.

At one point during the party your father walks up to the dais. It is bold for how he has treated you for the past month since he sold you. You glare down at him coldly as he bows to you. 

“My beloved daughter, how happy I am to see you on this blessed day.” He says as he stands back up.

“I am happy that you find today joyful.” You return, practically spitting out the word joyful.

He doesn’t even flinch or show any other emotion, just pure apathy. 

“Now, please remember your new status daughter. It is not one easily won.” He states the threat plain in his voice.

‘I got you this position. Don’t mess this up for me.’

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” You dismiss him. There is a flicker of rage in his eyes as you dismiss him. He turns on his heel and storms away.

Halfway through the night your maids get you and get you ready for your wedding night. You feel so tired as they attend to you. The day has drained you. You just want to sleep and not think about what will happen next. You have heard about wedding nights and how hard they are. But you know that you won’t be able to avoid this.

They put you in a short blue dress and a long white robe. You wrap the robe around yourself, trying to find some semblance of warmth in the large unfamiliar room. Sitting on the bed you dismiss the maids. They look at one another with looks of pity for you. 

Over the course of the day they have grasped the situation and try to make this as easy for you emotionally as possible. You can’t thank them enough for all of their help and companionship. Back home you had preferred to do everything yourself, it was easier that way and you liked it that way. But maybe their help would not be so bad here.

The door creaks open slowly as Gojo slips into the room. His legs are a bit wobbly as he enters, most likely from the wine. Carefully he shuts the door behind him as stares at you. His blue eyes trace your face gently, almost reverently. 

“Let’s get this over with.” You say and shift so you are sitting on the bed. 

Gojo blinks at you in confusion, “What?”

You close your eyes with a sigh.

“The consummation. I am tired and want to sleep.” You say, letting the unspoken emotions slip into your voice.

“If you are tired we don’t have-“ He starts but you cut him off.

“No, you paid for this so let’s just do this so I can sleep. Unless you want me to beg for it.” You say, irritated that he wants to drag this out.

“Paid for? I didn’t pay for you.” He says with a furrow to his brows.

“The trade routes on the border between our countries, the coal and iron you gave us were the bride price or do you not remember what deal you made?” You explain to him as if you were explaining it to a child.

“I made a deal with your Father for your hand but I didn’t buy you.” Gojo says and walks closer to the bed.

“Oh really? If you didn’t buy me then why didn’t I have a say in this?” You ask him and he flinches hard.

All of the anger and frustration you had built up over the past month comes bubbling to the surface. 

“Do you know how hard it is to be told that you are going to be married to someone you hardly know? To have your whole plan for your life thrown out because your father found a man’s offer better than your own opinion?”

Tears stream down your face as you let him have all the pent up emotions you have felt for a month now.

Gojo just stares blankly at you as you rage and that only enrages you more. 

“Maybe you should take other people’s opinions into the matter instead of just yours!”

Gojo watches as you cry on the bed. He looks almost lost, like he doesn’t know where to begin with you. But you see genuine remorse and sorrow in his eyes. That hurts more than what he has done. It makes your empathy kick in and makes you want to apologise for your outburst. 

“I- I will go.” He says and rushes out of the room leaving you alone with your guilt and despair.

Satoru Gojo walks through the walls of his castle quickly. He doesn’t know where he is going but he is outrunning his suffocating guilt. The look on your face will haunt him for the rest of his days. He never wanted to do that to you. 

When he first became king he had wanted to improve the relations his country had with others. His father had been a conqueror. He had pushed the borders and boundaries of other countries and even overthrown a few. So Satoru’s goal was to attend to his people instead of trying to push outside of his borders 

And after a year he wanted to have a partner to help him with his goal. His mind kept drifting back to you and that night all those years ago. He does go back to that night a lot but even more so around that time. The way you treated him as a person and not a sparkly prop for someone’s day dream, the way you handled your subjects have always caught his eye. If he could envision anyone by his side it would be you. 

It had taken him a couple days to gather the courage to write to your Father. A response came within the week and they began talking about the bride price. Gojo had asked in his letter if you had been okay with this but your father had assured him that you were okay with it.

So when you had told him that he bought you it felt like his world was crashing down. He now sees why you were the way you were all night. He had chalked it up to you being nervous and tired but he should have known better.

Gojo opens the door to his office and walks into the dark room. Walking up to the desk he just decides to sleep here tonight so that he doesn’t bother you. He turns on the lamp with a sigh and stares at the paperwork he had put off since it was his wedding day.

“What are you doing in here?” Suguru says from the doorway, leaning in the doorway. His jacket is slightly askew and Satoru can see the wine induced flush to his cheeks. 

“She didn’t agree to the marriage.” Satoru says plainly, taking his head into his hands.

“What?” Suguru says, disbelief in his voice.

“I have trapped her into this marriage and she is miserable here.” He says. 

They sit there in silence for a while. 

“I will make sure that she doesn’t see me.” Satoru says, lifting his head up to look Suguru in the eyes. “Make sure she has anything she needs- no matter how expensive.”

The morning after no one comes to wake you up at eight so you sleep in. You curl around a pillow in the too large bed and think about last night. At first you were angry, now you feel depressed. You feel like Atlas holding the sky, you can’t get out of this bed.

Around noon a knock comes at the door. You don’t want to answer but Riko’s voice talks softly to you through the door.

“My Lady? It is almost midday and I wanted to see if you needed anything.” She says but it is muffled through the door.

When you don’t answer she opens the door and walks in. You lift your head to look at her. Riko’s face immediately turns to concern. She walks to you and puts a hand on your cheek, running a thumb under your red eyes. You lean into the touch.

“I need you to eat My Lady. Is there anything in particular you would like?” She asks you, her concerned eyes searching yours for any reason as to why you were like this.

“No.” You say and your voice is hoarse from not being used and not drinking water. She just nods and walks out to get you food. 

About half an hour later she is back with food. You only pick at it for a while, taking a small bite here and there. Riko watches you carefully, trying to gauge whether you just don’t like the dish or if it is something else.

“Is there anything else you would like, My Lady?” She says when she takes your empty plate. 

An idea comes to your mind, “Do you have a library here?”

Her face lights up.

“Yes! We have a huge library.” She says excitedly, “Would you like to go?”

“That would be wonderful Riko.” You say and get out of bed. She helps you into a dress. It feels so restrictive but you bear with it. 

The walk to the library is long but Riko’s idle conversation fills the space between you. She tells you about her life and asks you questions about yours to get you out of your shell. You tell her about the large wisteria garden that your mother helped to cultivate. She nods a bit wide eyed as you tell her how large it is.

When you get to the door Riko opens it to reveal the biggest library you have ever seen. The library back home was large but this one is two stories full of books. Large windows illuminate the space and give it a bigger feel. Riko leads you through the shelves.

You have lived most of your life in the library back home and you still miss it but this is a beautiful place. You will use this place often.

“What books do you like?” She asks as you look around. 

“Almost any. I have read books about any subject that I can get my hands on.” You tell her, some light returning to your face for a moment.

“Amazing!” Riko says with childlike enthusiasm.

The two of you walk over to the section that has history books in it.

“Well, since I live here I should know your history.” You say and reach for a history book. You also grab a few more by different authors so you get an unbiased account.

Next you walk to the romance section. A good romance book will balance out the pile of history books you have. You run your hands over the covers, relishing in the textures of the spines. Your eye catches on a smaller book with a light purple spine. There is not the regular gold lettering on the spine so it peaks your interest.

Carefully you pull it out and study the blank purple cover. Usually there is a title or something but it is completely blank. When you open the cover you see two initials on the inside left side. 

H.G.

The handwriting is elegant and loopy. You run your hand over it, trying to decipher the letters. Shutting the book you put it on the pile that you have in your arms. 

“Do you need me to hold those, My Lady?” Riko says, a bit frantic.

“I got them!” You reassure her and put a romance novel on the pile.

It looks interesting, a knight falling in love with a princess after escorting her to her betrothed. You have always been a sucker for a good love story.

Over the next week you settle in. It is easier than you had imagined. You had imagined that you would be too depressed and angry to do anything but that isn’t true.

In this last week you have studying the history and the geography of your new country. Even if you don’t want to be here you don’t want to take it out on the people. You want to do a good job in your new role.

Riko is a big help. She helps you decorate the Queen’s chambers and the hall. You both decided on bright greens and silvers for the color scheme. It makes you feel at home and Riko seems to adore the color silver so you slip some in to make her happy. 

The head maid had asked if you wanted another personal maid but you had turned her down. You were far too attached to her to have someone else take her place.

One problem is that not once this week have you seen Gojo. You want to apologise for your outburst but you haven’t heard a whisper of the man all week. It would be impressive if it wasn’t infuriating. You don’t want to ask after him in case he doesn’t want to see you.

But as the first ball of the season approaches you can’t sit idly by. 

When a Queen is not approved of by a King, rumours spread like wildfire. The people will try to discredit anything you do and for you to rule successfully you need to be able to do your job. So you need to make a truce with your Husband so that this can work.

You walk down the halls of the west wing of the castle with Riko behind you. She looks nervous as you approach Gojo’s office. You give her a reassuring smile which doesn’t really work because she still fiddles with her sleeves. Knocking on the door you breathe deeply. 

“Come in!” A voice says from inside the room and you open the door.

Gojo looks startled behind his desk as you breeze into the room, the image of composed. He blinks in surprise as you approach his desk. You almost want to laugh at his dumbfounded expression but hold in your laughter.

“Husband.” You say in greeting.

If you looked closer you would have noticed the hitch in his breath as you called out to him. 

“Wife.” Gojo responds to you, looking you over.

A tense air falls over the room as the two of you stare at one another. The other people in the room seem to find the floors very interesting at the moment and you don’t blame them. Taking a deep breath you speak,

“I would like to speak to you alone.”

Gojo looks like he would be more comfortable if you set him on fire. 

He looks so wildly uncomfortable that you feel maybe you should just leave but he dismisses the other people in the room. You hear at least two sighs of relief as they exit, leaving you two alone for the first time since your wedding night.

“What would you-“ He clears his throat nervously, “-like to talk to me about?”

“The first ball of the season is coming up. I need us to put aside our differences and act like we are at least on good terms.” You explain to him, not bothering with small talk. “Your approval will be necessary for me to do my job as Queen.”

He contemplates this for a moment before nodding, “I can do that.”

“Good!” You say, happy to get that off of your mind. “I will see you in two days then.”

Gojo nods and you lose the motivation to say anything else. His quietness has all the words you wish to say die on your tongue.

“I will leave you then.” You say goodbye and walk out of the room. 

Shutting the door behind you you sigh in relief. Riko is waiting for you outside and rushes over after you begin to walk from the door. She gently asks questions about your conversation, trying to understand the situation but you keep it under wraps. 

As much as you trust and enjoy her company, you can risk putting your situation in jeopardy.

Tag list - @tenaciousavenueavenue @hyori2 @joyfulweaselbananapanda

[seamstraw]

things I noticed on a rewatch of thunderbolts:

in the elevator shaft, when they realize that they don’t have a way to reach the door safely, bob mutters that he always makes things worse. ouch.

the first time yelena asks bob if he trusts her, he's sort of ambivalent/unwilling to respond. but this is pretty soon after bob just saw yelena's shame room, in which yelena gets anya killed. not her fault, of course, but not exactly a good first impression for trusting someone either.

valentina wears an american flag pin on her suit when sitting before congress (which I did notice on my first viewing), but this time I also noticed she takes it off when going to clear out the O.X.E. warehouse. nice touch.

bob is twitching like CRAZY as sentry—his eyes, his mouth—I’m impressed by the actor. I'm assuming this is meant to reflect a manic episode? he's also hella shaky in the vault, but that kinda checks out for anyone with three people pointing guns at you regardless of mental health status.

ava grabbing bucky's arm, and alexei and john working together to drag him into the elevator... my heart. also, everyone's faces when valentina orders bob to kill them? the way they get defensive of each other even though they know for certain he could obliterate them in an instant? my heart x2.

the first time I watched, I found alexei’s humor too forced. bad marvel humor at serious moments, like thor: love and thunder. but this time, I interpreted it more as him trying too hard to connect with yelena but not knowing how to do it in a serious way. as he says in their heart-to-heart, he’s not very good at this sort of thing.

I’ve seen people say that walker stops calling bob “bobby” after hearing his father call him that, but only yelena heard that. walker just hears “robert.” also, walker calls bob “bobby” in the lab too.

valentina's "bad guys and worse guys" speech is still great. but. mel. mel, mel, mel. cannot believe you're still asking valentina if she's trying to do good things. do you not remember her housewarming present. and the medical experiments that killed people. and the everything else valentina.

bucky is probably boggling inside of the shame rooms. I thought we were here to beat this guy up? but now we're defending him? getting beat up by his past self on meth? hugging the depression out of him? alright. going with the flow.

walker flipping the table is what pops open the storage box bob is in... kinda curious about what would've happened if bob never got released. I guess the other three would all die, either to each other or in the incinerator (since bob's sudden appearance stopped the fight), and then bob would wake up alone in the ashes? or maybe the other three would actually escape, except sans bob? but tbh even if they make it out of the incinerator, I suspect they die either with no way to get up the elevator or trying to drive away without a distraction.

ava doesn't have a whole ton of lines, but her body language in the background is great. props to the actor. even when she's not the focus of a scene, you can tell how she feels.

have seen claims in powerscaling reddit posts (yes, I know) that bob caught ava during the fight by anticipating where she was going to un-phase and using superspeed. but after he grabs her, she blurs in and out a few times and still can't escape. seems like sentry can manipulate molecules or some shit.

sentry’s outfit has grown on me a little. I actually like all the lines and stuff, the belt just throws me off because it’s so. big. and the logo is so. prominent. idk.

initially thought bob's memory loss extended all the way to the vault. am now thinking his memory loss probably starts after he gets shot? he knows who walker is, but he doesn't recognize valentina's face. would line up with activating his powers -> memory loss.

realized that valentina in the finale probably spots bob and is like "wtf. wtf. wtf." last time she saw this guy was floating in the sky going evil and then she got forced to relive her dad's murder twenty times. time before that was this guy pinning her against a wall and choking her to death. now he's in a fucking oversized sweater and clapping at the press conference.

the new avengerZ sponsored by tide. and like ten other companies. lmfao.

[onyxluvjiro]

Ren Shirinami x Reader

SMUT 18+ Minors DNI

Prev … Next

- reader has a pussy

- you catch ren being a gooner (watching hentai)

- P in v, pretty vanilla tbh

- Haru and Towa set you up for disaster

- Smut under the cut

This wasn't supposed to happen, well a lot of things were never supposed to happen that end up happening. But out of all the things in the world that could happen, this definitely wasn't even on the top 10 billion. Ren’s brain was going a million miles an hour as he looked at you, shock in his eyes, and written all over his face.

He was a young man, he had his needs, but you catching him with his cock in his hands, some sort of porn - scratch that, hentai on the screen, he was EMBARRASSED.

You were just as shocked, if not, just as embarrassed as he was. You were told by Haru, to go check up on Ren, that the younger boy had been holed up in his room all day. It wasn’t healthy for a growing young adult so you didn’t question it when Haru asked you so nicely to do so. But now that you think about it more, it felt like some sort of setup.

Around a month ago you had confessed to the captain about your not so little crush on the awkward first year in his house. He had promised your secret's safety with him, but that didn't stop Haru from relentlessly teasing you. You trusted Haru never told anyone, but a week ago it had seemed like Towa had caught onto your obvious crush on the boy too, what else would explain how the vice and captain were so conveniently far far away, giving the two of you some privacy.

You definitely should have been more suspicious of the two of them, but alas, you were too trusting of the adorable duo. Your suspicions only grew as you slowly made your way to Ren’s room, your senses heightened as you spotted his door, which was usually bolted closed, cracked open.

Oh this was definitely a set up.

They had probably told him he'd be out on a mission for a few days, which was not false, the two were far far away. Your train of thought got interrupted by a groan, which immediately sent a shiver down your spine. Your mind racing with possibilities, and of course your mind went to the dirtier ones first. But what if he was hurt? There was always the possibility but when you heard a whimper that sounded strangely like your name your steps faltered. You were close enough to peak in.

Which brought you to the present, you felt so perverted for standing there in awe, watching as Ren fisted his pretty pink cock, hentai playing on his phone screen, or what you assumed was hentai due to the moans and how they sounded so fake. You couldn't see his phone screen, not that you would be paying any attention to it, not with your eyes trained on his hand, and the wet fap fap fap noises as he moans out your name and how he wishes you were here.

He'd regret that sentence not a minute later when you lean in closer by instinct, wanting to see more, only to stumble forwards, into his room. You never knew that the phrase ‘so silent you could hear a pin drop ‘ would actually happen, but that was the reality when the only noise that could be heard was Ren fumbling to turn off the porn, and his heavy breathing.

After the awkward silence he fumbled on his words, spewing out an apology after another, saying how sorry he was that you caught him like this, but also shifting the blame to you as well, asking why you were so perverted, listening to him jack off. He gets even more flustered when you don't say anything for a moment, stepping into his room.

“I heard you, say my name.” you say simply, stepping even further into the room as heat pooled into your gut. “Say you wish I was here. Well, here I am.” You watch his face flush pink with obvious inexperience. You knew he wasn't going to budge that easily, so you continued to speak, finding yourself sitting down on the edge of his bed.

“Tell me Ren, what were you thinking of doing to me?” You ask, crawling further up on the bed, watching how his cock twitches from under the thin blanket. “I-I, uhm.” He stutters out, his eyes glancing in every direction. You manage to get him to open up more, slipping down the blanket to see his pretty cock up close.

“Did you imagine this?” You ask, taking his cock into your hand, lazily jerking him off. The sweet noises of his gasps mixed in with the slick noises your hand makes around his cock sent heat straight to your cunt. “Or did you imagine your hand was my pussy? Hm? Taking your pretty cock so well.”

Your thumb swipes against the tip, and he WHINES. The sweet noise making your cunt throb. “Yes, please.” he finally stutters out, a smile gracing your lips. “need you.” he flushes pink as he watches your hand continue to painstakingly slowly stroke his cock. He gives into the pleasure a little, finally getting to feel your pretty and small hand around his cock.

And when you finally pull your panties to the side, and sink down on his waiting cock, he whimpers, Loudly. His fingers digging into the fat of your hips as you sink down on his cock, your plush walls hugging his cock so nicely that he almost cums immediately. His chest heaving as you look down at his flushed and sweaty form. It was all you've ever dreamed of, the usual abashed and stubborn boy now whimpering and flushed underneath you.

You wished you could record how pretty he looks, especially when you lift your hips slowly, watching his eyes make contact where the two of you were connected, his cock twitching at the sight of you beginning to ride his cock. He was embarrassingly close so quickly, but he couldn't help it, not when you clench around him so deliciously, his eyes rolling back as his hips thrust up to meet yours.

Sloppy thrusts meet your own sloppy bounces as the two of you near your high, his fingers sure to leave marks on your hips as they tighten around you, he was practically bouncing you in his lap, your body giving in to his strength.

He wills himself to have the strength, watching your hips slow down due to soreness, and flips the two of you over, his cock slipping out in the process. You whine at the loss, spreading your legs so nicely for him. “Come on Ren, show me what you were thinking of.” You dont have to ask him twice, lining his cock back up with your entrance. He watches as his cock disappears into your needy hole, listening to the sounds of your moans.

He couldn't help his hips immediately springing to life, thrusting deep and sloppily as he cursed under his breath. He wasn't going to last much longer, his hips pushing his cock deep into your gummy walls, hitting every part of you, just right. He watches your hand snake down, the two middle fingers rubbing at your sensitive bud, making him whine.

His hands move yours out of the way, determined to please you, his usual demeanor replaced with a more lust filled one. As his hips rock, his fingers rub at your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. His movements are not the most skilled, but you couldn't seem to care at this moment.

He could feel it, the way your pussy clenches down, and the way you cry out his name as you came, it sent him into a frenzy, his hips stuttering as he cums. “Haaaa fuck.” he moans, filling your pretty pussy with his cum.

And when he finally comes down from his high, with his face nuzzled in your neck, cock still deep inside of you, does he flush again, fumbling with his words. You shut him up with a kiss, too tired to do or say much else.

[miimo96]

Thoughts on TBHK Chapter 126

The time has finally come, the moment we've all been waiting for, Chapter 126 is finally here and judging from how last chapter ended as well as the cover card and after months of speculation, it looks like it's finally time to see yashiro travel back in time and if ya know anything about me then you'd know exactly how excited i am for this ^^ Tbh this is probably the longest chapter I ever had to read for this series, with this mf having over 39 pages worth of this shit like wtf did aida cook to have this many pages, either way im excited to see where this chapter goes anyway without further ado let's get into chapter 126

AHHHHHH I HATE HIM, if you effing even THINK about doing anything to her i swear i will make you the most HATED character in this series besides teru

THE GOAT THE CAT IS THE EFFING GOAT! Oh I am a 100% confident now that this is a hundred percent hanako or 1 of the yugi twins now because why else would he do this

LET'S GO LET'S GO LET'S F*CKING GOOO! ^w^

Yo This is so effing GOOD like I'm absolutely loving this chapter so far, my god aidairo you never seem to miss, also why do i get the feeling from this panel that she's about to go through the Re: zero treatment? 😅😅😅😰

Oh Yashiro confident as hell she ain't taking anymore chances 😅

Well looks like all's well that ends well i gue- Wait, WHAT! Oh no PLEASE don't tell me she can't change KEY moments in the past please, that would absolutely SUCK, Oh no please don't do this to me aida not again PLEASE

Oh this hourglass is EVIL, theyre just gonna keep effing with her aren't they, wow ya know i think out of all the current chapters so far, this 1 has to be probly the Darkest one I've ever read aside from the red house arc, like just the fact they're making her go through all this shit again is just insane to me to the point where im starting to believe that aidairo secretly loves to do this to us like bruh this just can't get any worse right ^^;

Oh NO!

OMGWTF! 🤯 wait, No aida no PLEASE stop, you're not really telling this right, yourw not really telling me that this THING actually possed yashiro instead right, that it didn't just make her KILL her friends right, right!? 😰

Oh my fucking GODD! Why? What did we do to deserve this aidairo, why 😢😢😢 bruh i effing love this series, never in my life would i have ever thought that TBHK would have stuff like this, oh the effing anime better do this shit justice im looking at you lerche, bruh i feel like yuji at the end of shibuya looking at this

YOU! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! God i HATE this THING AHHHHHH 😖

Tramua. The key word of today is Trauma: T.R.A.M.U.A, Tramua, because that's exactly what I'm feeling from this ^^; also is anyone else getting Tokyo ghoul vibes from this, no, just me

Literally my reaction rn 😢 omg aida why, why do you do this to us, are you gege in disguise because what the hell, I- I don't think i can handle this anymore... like is there even any way to fix things

The GOAT, the effing GOAT is here, AKANE!!! Bruh this chapter was such a rollercoaster omg I never thought aidairo could go that far, wow I so can't wait for the next one, yeah it's official tbhk is hands down the best series I have ever read, can't wait to see how this plays out next month see y'all next time ^^

[not-an-idiot]

New thoughts about the family tree

This time, it involves the pilot's final flight and the creak in the attic, because when I watched the latter my brain couldn't stop finding a way to connect them. (Longer post)

I think The Creak In The Attic plays in roughly 2011, the dad is I’d say 44, making him being born in 1967 (or somewhere around that time). The Sonic Boom happened in 1949, so he was born after Leyland and Martha reunited. The age difference between John and Michael is crazy, but their parents were just so happy to have each other again (getting flashbacks to the end of Green Leaves On A Summer's Day) and a family of four just felt right - anyway I am getting distracted.

Another possibility is that Michael is John’s father, but the female ghost just FITS with Martha. so we’ll say he’s the brother.

When the family got the call that a residence in Saxony, Germany had belonged to relatives of them (who they don’t even know), Martha and Leyland go there together with John to check in on it - despite what had happened on THAT flight. (Also they could’ve taken the ferry or something). John has a great time there, he actually lives in the residency - his parents want to sell it and need to renovate it, so they stay there a few months. John finds out about his passion for clocks, he loves the old ones he can find and “repair” in the house, and even convinces his parents to drive to the black forest, which is known for the cuckoo clocks. Then he discovers these books about his family, the stories and diary entries of a little girl who was possessed by her mother’s ghost. He wants to go back england, to his brother, because John is still small and ghosts are fucking scary. Leyland and Martha still need to fix the house, so he gets home alone. It all goes wrong when his parents have sold the house and come back (John lived with Michael, who was an adult and agreed to take care of him). They fly back to England, but the plane gets into a thunderstorm when not far away from the airport. John sees the entire thing because he waits for them (and is traumatised for his life). He grows up with his brother taking care of him, but he never really has a father figure again. He promises to himself that he’d always take care of his child, if he ever has one. 

Years later, he meets a woman called Alice, but she lives in New York and her job is important, so they move there. Jim tries to keep fixing clocks, but doesn’t find as many customers. So he moves back to England (tbh I don’t even know if his accent is from the UK. I am not good at accents. If someone knows more, feel free to tell me) with his son Gary / John Jr. 

The memory of the little girl that was possessed by her mother never left his mind, and since he needs to talk about it, he makes the story into a bednight story for Gary (it's easier to call him Gary). In this story, ghosts are friendly and ask if they can possess a person to communicate through them (which is still a bit weird and fucked up but I need it for the sake of the story). Because of that, Gary isn’t scared that L/Jim is a ghost and can possess people. 

That's pretty much it, let me know what you think :) tagging @svnnyd4ys because the family tree is a project us both (I hope it's ok to tag you)

[venusfe-art]

I think a lot about like all of these things so here are my theories and thoughts!!

- I’m personally pretty sure Octavia was built for Rosie, or possibly Mr. Smithereens? I see Rosie as more likely, though.

- I’ve seen other people speculating Bertram just generally being sickly and having a history of bad health. The fact that his supposed cause of death as a seven year old in Crow Manor is a fever contributes to this, but I’d also love for it to be something magical.

- I need to know!! Were they also moved to the Free State perhaps? I’m personally very sure that Morrigan is the only other Wundersmith, at least of her Age, but if the other Cursed Children actually also are Wundersmiths are they safe from Wunder or has it consumed them?

- I think Lam pictures herself going home again but I doubt the Society would let her… At least not without acting as some sort of spy. We know Dame Chanda keeps away from as much Society stuff as possible unless she personally wants to help or have a say in something, she’s not as active as Jupiter or Holliday perhaps, but if something is mandatory or she’s called in for something specific I’d assume she’d have to attend. As Jupiter says, you never stop earning your place in the Wundrous Society, it’s not just a school and then after that guaranteed work.

- I think the split happened after the Massacre? Or right before?? I can’t exactly remember but I feel like it has been said/hinted to at some point… Unless that was just a theory I saw. “The term president usually refers to the head of state of a country that is a republic. A prime minister is the leader of the government of a country with a parliamentary system of government that is either a constitutional monarchy (Australia) or a republic (India and Taiwan).” (From peo.gov.au) The Silver District are aristocratic, as well as Lam’s family in the Republic, so I would think it’s just old tradition. Wintersea voted for a President when they split, and the Free State kept their (probably symbolic) monarchy and prime minister system. (I would assume a royal family doesn’t have much political power given we have never actually heard of them, like a king and a queen of the Free State.)

- I think if Jupiter ever had a plan to bring Morrigan on an expedition or adventure of some sort, he’s getting increasingly more and more worried to do so after every time she breaks his curfew or sets her mind on figuring out something on her own without anyone interfering because she thinks she can do, and does, a better job than others… I don’t think Jupiter will just bring her on an expedition without reason, to train her or show her the world or whatever, there has to be a mission related to her or something she can help with. I also think that if Morrigan ever expressed any desire to join the League Jupiter would STRONGLY advise against it, because he as a Witness is already highly sought after for missions and stuff, imagine what they could do and would ask of from a WUNDERSMITH.

Jack’s plan! Insane!!! Morrigan saying she has some time to talk him out of it aawwwh my heart💔💔 Maybe it isn’t Jupiter bringing her on a League-mission, but Jack? I find that more likely tbh. Him saying something along the lines of “you can’t stop me, I’m going anyways” and Morrigan answering with “then I’m going with you!”???? Aww I love them they’re so siblings

- It would not surprise me at all if the Deucalion was a Wundrous Art.. That’s what I’ve been thinking since we learned about Wundrous (Wretched) Arts in Wundersmith.

- Traces of Wunder, I’d believe? He can see all kinds of stuff as a Witness. If the Deucalion once was a big, luxurious hotel back when Wundersmiths thrived, it would of course collapse after them from sorrow. The Great Sulk in Hollowpox times a thousand.

- Reading about the myth of Deucalion hmm. The comparisons to Noah’s Ark in christianity. A safe haven of some sorts? Maybe it was originally built as a Wundrous Act to protect someone or something? It seems to me that without frequent use the hotel goes more into hibernation mode than actually basically destroying itself, and it waits for people to attend it and love it again.

- I’d assume the previous chandelier would be something for the previous owner or the hotel’s previous favourite person. Or, maybe it changed every time a new Wundersmith visited for the first time or something? Maybe Ezra Squall had his own at some point!!

- The Courage Square Massacre is my ROMAN EMPIRE. I think about it waaaaayyy too much… My leading theory is that Squall was either influenced by someone to kill all of the other Wundersmiths, or they never died at all and are locked up somewhere and under the Wintersea Party’s control.

- I feel like Jupiter could avoid taking other candidates in fear of dragging them into something that’s too big for them. For Morrigan he knew she didn’t really have any other choices, but for other kids with rare or useful knacks, he’d want them to do with that as they please and not let the Society order them around and do their bidding. The Society is pretty damn sketchy and we know how overworked Jupiter himself is, I think he’s afraid he wouldn’t be able to take care of his candidate properly and be there for them when the Society decided to do insane stupid shit.

- I need to know more about Squall’s reasonings for basically everything aaaah!!! Maybe Morrigan has the most evil potential because of her bitch ass family? Maybe she’s related to Squall in some way? Possibly personal self indulgence on his part, a personal relationship with someone in Morrigan’s inner circle? Maybe also if the speculation and theories about Maud Lowry originally being Maud Darling… Maybe Maud asked him to take her in as his apprentice because Morrigan is her niece?

I’m SO exited about the meeting! I can think of like a million different ways it’ll go. I’m so exited to see who snaps first, Jupiter or Squall😭😭

So, finally read Silverborn, plus reread the first three books. Marvelous time had by all, almost cried twice over Jupiter's letters etc etc.

Anyways, been left with some questions and thought I'd post some of my favourites for prosperity.

-Jupiter inherited Octavia? So who did Bertram build her for and what happened to them?

-Also, what's up with Bertram's nosebleeds? Love a magical nosebleed, of course, but I need to know.

-What happened to the other cursed children? Like, Jupiter says they're safe, but...? I need more.

-What is the long-term plan for Lam? Like, she's a princess, is she going back to her people and leaving the Wunderous Society or what?

-the whole Free State/Wintersea split. Why? When did it happen? What the hell is up with the Wintersea party? What are the implications of the Free State having a prime minister? Is it just for aesthetics or what? Maud starting with a M? Bertram and Squall both being ominous about the Party?

-When will Mog get to go on an expedition etc with Jupiter? Like, that has to be something that will happen. Or else she has to go and rescue/fetch him at some point.

-Side note: Jack's plan!

-the Hotel Deucalion. It was 'a wreck' when Jupiter took it on, and it is a location that draws in Wunder. So was it an abandoned Wunderous Act? Squall says he's been coming for years, but he doesn't know the inner workings, so is it the work of one of his peers? And, side note, had Squall been monitoring Jupiter's monitoring of Mog?

-What drew Jupiter to the Deucalion in the first place?

-the Deucalion's name? Greek flood myth?

-Black bird chandelier for Mog. Pink ship for Jupiter. What was it before that?

-What actually happened that day in Courage Square? Like, Ezra "sought to own the city", rocked up with some monsters, killed the eight other Wundersmiths (will check this on next reread), and then the city exiled him? Pyrrhic victory? I need more details.

-We know why Jupiter became Mog's patron, but why had he refused to take on patronage before then?

-Squall's decision to make Mog his heir? "Rise to take my place", two mentions of the "black ice at the heart of you". And, of course, the nursery rhyme with crowlings and rabbits (Emmett??? Meredith???) and such.

And, finally:

Jupiter and Squall meeting in Book 5!!!

[todayisafridaynight]

We rlly don’t need another majima game 😭 please give other characters a chance he already had the spotlight in 0😔

lord if i speak on goro majima.

[skitskatdacat63]

Boy King Seb :D

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Masquerade

historical fiction set in 15th century West Africa

follows a young woman from Timbuktu, recently conquered by the the warrior king of Yorùbáland

her guild of blacksmiths were already shunned as witches, and their conditions worsen under Yorùbá rule - so when she’s kidnapped by the king to be his wife, she decides to accept that it’ll be a better life for her, as long as she can get her mother’s blessing

but as months go by without her mother being found, and political tensions rise, she must decide what she wants

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

If your HOF/Hawke/Inky couldn't romance their usual partners, who would they choose instead?

Oof, this is a hard one.

Tabris/Alistair, Hawke/Anders, and Lavellan/Cullen are such an integral part of my canon run that I can't imagine them romancing anyone else. Like, it feels wrong to imagine them not ending up with their respective partners.

But, for the sake of discussion, I'll do my best to answer.

Rose is probably the hardest one because she and Alistair, and their romance, are so intertwined with everything that happens in DAO that I feel like she'd remain single if he wasn't an option, y'know? Her other options are Leliana and Zevran, and I can't see her going with either of them.

Leliana's sweet and Rose likes her a lot, but she's a little too into the Chantry. That's something I see Rose having a problem with; she's not exactly shy about telling off the mothers, sisters, and templars, or pointing out how they mistreat elves and mages.

Rose and Zevran are friends but I've never viewed him as an option for her; after everything Rose goes through in her origin, his openly sexual nature is just a major turn off for her. He calls her a sex goddess in their first conversation and that's just not it. They don't even start to become friends until after she tells him to stop looking at her that way and he respects her wishes.

Plus, Leliana and Zevran lack the shared experiences of being a warden, Ostagar, having to deal with the blight from the very beginning. That's something only Rose and Alistair have and that's what separates him from the others as a love interest... so yeah, Rose would be single, me thinks.

As for my Hawke, Ed's gay so if he can't be with Anders, his only other option is Fenris. I've romanced him before and enjoyed it, so I think he and Ed could work out... though again, it's a similar problem I have where Ed's relationship with Anders is so crucial because Anders saved Carver's life in the deep roads... y'know, Ed's brother who he cherishes above all else. Kind of a big deal. A huge factor in bringing them together.

Ed and Fenris always worked better as friends but out of everyone, Ed's the one I could actually imagine with someone else.

Finally, there's my Lavellan... once again, Ash ending up with Cullen is a huge deal for the narrative of DAI. I've talked about this before, but how I play DAI is my Lavellan is actually Surana from DAO. She and Cullen knew each other and maaaaaybe had a thing... but because Duncan didn't show up, she escaped the circle with Jowan. After he died, Ash joined the dalish, changed her name, and ended up at the conclave... where she and Cullen reunited and proceeded to have hardcore ex vibes the entire time they're at Haven.

If they decided that they're never getting back together, I think Ash might've ended up with either Josephine or Solas. She views Sera as more of a little sister and a friend. She likes Blackwall but he's not her type. The Iron Bull romance progression doesn't suit her even though she admires his intelligence and strength, she's just not up for a friends with benefits turned romantic relationship.

Ash always craved knowledge, and when she was in the circle, she knew the game that she needed to play in order to survive and come out on top... her pride and inability to see when she's wrong led to her downfall with Jowan. She needs someone who she can challenge and who challenges her, both without backing down, on a variety of topics; she needs an academic, I guess?? But she also needs someone who isn't afraid to humble her. Cullen, Josephine, and Solas all fit this in different ways.

I'm more inclined to push her toward Josephine though... I don't think she would've handled the Solas break up well at all.

[jackass-jones]

Starfire teen titans my best friend Starfire id burn alive for you

[running-in-the-dark]

hmm. I'm starting to think maybe the weird uncomfortable dreams about my childhood best friend won't actually stop, no matter how much time passes 🙃

[ultrakillingmyself]

Someone kill me before I start writing a riptide/cowboy bebop au fic quick it’s spiraling out of control

[kingdomvel]

Steddie | modern au | famous actor Steve Harrington | 3.4k | ao3

from this post

Eddie can’t stop the laugh that comes out of him because of the video on his screen, Gareth snickering next to him.

“This is great, I have to show this to the others later,” Eddie says. His fingers move automatically, pressing on the send icon and then on the profile at the very top, a move he has done hundreds of times.

“Dude, did you just send that to Steve Harrington?” Gareth asks with a dumbfounded tone.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you acting like that’s normal?”

“Because it is? I just send him the posts I find funny to find them later.”

“You know there is a way to save posts so that they are organized, right?”

“I don’t like it and this is like way easier.”

“It’s literally not,” Gareth says, but Eddie doesn’t pay attention to him or stop.

“Look,” he goes to the front page, slides to the dms and opens the conversation with Steve Harrington, always at the top. “It’s just right there.” He starts scrolling up to show him the long string of unanswered memes and videos, but Gareth interrupts him.

“Wait, wait. Scroll back down, what the fuck is that? Does he read your messages?” He is pointing to the little icon with Harrington’s profile picture just above the last video he’s sent. Eddie shrugs.

“It’s probably a bored media guy enjoying some memes on the clock or making sure I’m not a weirdo, it’s not like Steve Harrington actually uses this account.”

“You are a weirdo, I’m surprised you are not blocked yet.”

-

Eddie is on his phone, passing the time as he keeps an eye on the lonely customer currently looking through the new vinyls. It’s a routine, a mindless action as he saves another post to show the guys later, preferring to see their reactions in person. Nothing ever happens, that’s why he gets surprised to the point of sitting up when a notification appears on his screen.

Steve.hrrgtn: Dude, you just made me laugh in the middle of a table reading

Eddie freezes as the notification disappears. Did he see that right? He couldn’t have seen that right.

He goes to his dms and surely, there at the top, is a message from THE Steve Harrington, or at least from his account. A table reading. It has to be him, right? Not an intern or a media guy. The one and only.

Eddie sends a look to the customer, still engrossed in the new releases. He is tempted to call her so she can check if the message is real or an hallucination provoked by his boredom. When he looks down, the message is still there. It is also still there when he opens the conversation. His fingers hover over screen.

He can picture him, sitting around a long table with his castmates, hiding his phone like a student in class but unable to keep his laugh in.

The vision is a bit surreal. He made Steve Harrington laugh.

Batking: why are you looking at your phone in the middle of a table reading

Steve.hrrgtn: new season boring af

It’s Eddie the one that can’t keep his laugh in this time. The girl sends him a look, but he doesn’t care.

Batking: should you be telling me that?

 Steve.hrrgtn: I don’t even care at this point tbh

Batking: you are the one that signed the contract my guy

Steve.hrrgtn: I didn’t

Steve.hrrgtn: Never let your parents sign you into a multi season show when you are fifteen

Batking: I’ll keep that in mind for my next life

Batking: Sorry your parents made you a millionaire and famous

Steve.hrrgtn: 💀💀💀

Steve.hrrgtn: but really, at the time I thought hey it’s only a contract for five seasons for a teen drama, how bad could it be?

Steve.hrrgtn: now here I am, almost ten years later, listening to the worst script you have heard in your life

Batking: that does sound awful

Batking: you are making me happy that my folks are not in the picture

Is Eddie about to vent about his life to Steve fucking Harrington? It seems like it.

In the end, he doesn’t, because Harrington doesn’t answer to his message, probably swept away into actually working, or maybe he realised how weird it was that he was talking so casually to a guy he didn’t know.

Eddie doesn’t have time to wallow on it too much, because the girl comes to the counter with a vinyl and a question. The interaction with the famous actor moving to a part of Eddie’s brain normally reserved to daydreams.

-

Eddie thought that his interaction with Steve Harrington would be a one time thing, the guy looking at his phone because he was too bored and answering his message because, by some kind of cosmic coincidence, Eddie had happened to send it at the perfect moment. Just an impulsive action that he had regretted later. That’s why he is surprised when he gets a new notification after sending him the worst kind of shitpost ever, the ones that the algorithm feeds him at 2am – the current time – and send him in a fit of giggles with their complete absurdity.

Steve.hrrgtn: where do you even find these things

Batking: you are just jealous my algorithm is better than yours

Steve.hrrgtn: yeah everyday I dream about my instagram showing me a pig made with a sausage and sticks surfing some rotating meat skewers

Batking: It made you laugh though

Steve.hrrgtn: …..

Steve.hrrgtn: It did

Eddie lets out a short, disbelieving snort. It’s a bit crazy, knowing that somewhere out there a famous heartthrob is looking at his messages at 2am and laughing.

Unless this is the media guy.

Eddie prefers to believe that he is so funny he made a guy with millions of followers want to talk to him. Twice.

Batking: why are you awake at this hour anyway

Batking: shouldnt you be getting your beauty sleep

Steve.hrrgtn: we start filming the new season tomorrow

Steve.hrrgtn: today?

Steve.hrrgtn: and I can’t sleep

Batking: nightmares about the boring script

Batking: I see

Steve.hrrgtn: you could say that

Batking: well, check this out, your nightmares will go away

He sends another stupid meme (of the best kind, the ones from accounts that write in Cyrillic) and receives a set of skull emojis in answer.

-

Steve.hrrgtn: why have you stopped sending me memes

The message takes Eddie by surprise. It’s been a week since he texted with Steve Harrington for the second time – which still feels a bit surreal-, and he had decided to stop bothering the poor guy now that he knew he saw his messages. Going to his saved posts was still a nightmare, but Eddie knew how to behave.

Batking: didnt want to bother you now that you are working and I know you see them

Steve.hrrgtn: they have been my main entertainment for months you can’t just stop now when I need them most

Eddie blinks at the message. Months? The confirmation stuns him. The one that had been seeing his messages had always been him and not some media guy? Eddie remembers catching his name a few times on his Instagram stories. This is a bit trippy, if he is honest.

Batking: okay

Batking: as my liege commands

Batking: from now on I am your knight in shining armour your sole provider of memes

-

Batking: *reel attached*

Batking: did you kill the villain today?

Steve.hrrgtn: This is a teen drama???

-

Batking: *reel attached*

Batking: so, is the bad guy dead yet?

Steve.hrrgtn: Again???

Steve.hrrgtn: I told you like a thousand times that there is no bad guy to kill

Steve.hrrgtn: have you even watched my show?

Batking: I mean the scriptwriter

Steve.hrrgtn: lmao

Steve.hrrgtn: no, he is sadly not dead yet

Steve.hrrgtn: I think killing him would be a breach of my contract somehow

Batking: a pity

Batking: the way he insists on making your character straight? He deserves death.

Batking: don’t worry joe from normal life, I saw the way you looked at dacre, I know what you are

Steve.hrrgtn: I think that might have just been the way I was looking at Billy, the guy’s fucking hot

Steve.hrrgtn: an asshole though, glad he is not on the show anymore

Eddie pauses, his eyes reading the last two messages time and time again. Did Steve Harrington, heartthrob and ladies man, just admit to being attracted to a male coworker? Eddie’s thumbs hover over the keyboard. He looks up at Gareth from his place in their couch. He is not paying attention to him, too focused on his laptop.

Eddie is having a bit of a crisis here and his roommate is ignoring him. Maybe it’s best that he is, Eddie doesn’t really want to share this with anyone. Should he bring attention to it? Should he just ignore it and brush it off? The decision is not that difficult in the end. He needs to know. He knows that there is no way he has any possibility of actually bagging Steve Harrington. Exchanging messages and memes is one thing, a pseudo friendship is one thing, but something more? Not fucking likely.

He still needs to know.

Batking: did I just get exclusive confirmation that Steve Harrington likes men? Should I call tmz?

Steve.hrrgtn: you wouldn’t get any money

Steve.hrrgtn: I’ve been out as bisexual for years, the media just chooses to ignore it

Steve.hrrgtn: wow look at these pictures of Steve Harrington with his new male best friend that he goes to dinner and all premieres with! Totally platonic! Oh now they have stopped hanging out completely? What could have happened to their friendship?

Steve.hrrgtn: he cheated on me, that’s what happened

Eddie blinks at his screen. So, he had tried to avoid learning anything about Steve that the man didn’t tell him himself. Just a chivalrous, treat the guy like a normal person gesture, but now he is wondering if he should have paid a bit more attention.

Batking: ah yes, the joys of compulsory heterosexuality and conformity

Batking: that sucks, dude

Steve.hrrgtn: did you really not know anything about it?

Batking: sorry to burst your celebrity bubble where everyone knows everything about your life

Steve.hrrgtn: no no, it’s… nice

Steve.hrrgtn: I have a question though

Steve.hrrgtn: why did you start sending me memes if you were not really interested in me?

Batking: well

Batking: I needed someone very famous that wasnt likely to really see my messages and seemed chill enough to not block me immediately

Batking: and dude, you are like waaay more famous than the show you are in, it’s ridiculous, thought you must be a douche for a long time

Batking: but an interview with you and your friend Robin showed up on my fyp and I saw that you were pretty chill

Batking: so it was between you and Timothee Chalamet

Batking: and it ended up being you because you are hotter

Steve.hrrgtn: of course I am

Steve.hrrgtn: thank you for choosing me tho

Batking: anyone would have

Steve.hrrgtn: the casting director of a complete unknown didn’t think the same

Batking: well thats THEIR loss

Batking: you do a great job with the shitty script of normal life

Batking: you would have acted the fuck out of bob dylan

Steve.hrrgtn: I do a better job in my other stuff

Batking: you have other stuff??

Batking: I’m going to be honest with you here, I only watched normal life so I had context to bitch about the boring new season with you

Eddie looks at the three little dots that indicate that Steve is writing appear a disappear a few times. Did he fuck up? Maybe he sounded too eager, maybe Steve thought it was a bit weird that Eddie assumed they would continue talking. But they have been talking for weeks now. Was it bad to assume?

Eddie closes the app, deciding to give the guy some privacy to write down what he wants to write down and heads to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. If Gareth senses the way his mood has soured, he doesn’t say anything about it.

It takes a couple of hours for an answer to appear. It’s simple.

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s nice of you

-

It’s Steve the one that starts the conversation a couple of days after that. Eddie only sees his messages an hour after he sends them, too busy with customers. The group of notifications on his screen when he is finally able to look at his phone very welcome.

Steve.hrrgtn: so I just realised

Steve.hrrgtn: well, my best friend made me realise

Steve.hrrgtn: she basically said that it’s weird that I’ve been talking with you for weeks and don’t know anything about your actual life and that you could actually be a stalker with a lot of patience or something like that

Steve.hrrgtn: so tell me about yourself? You are not living like down the street from me and waiting for the right moment to kidnap me like Robin says are you?

Eddie tries not to feel giddy at the thought of Steve talking about him to his friends. He has not done it himself, mostly because he tried once and they made fun of his ‘delusions’ as they called it. Whatever. He doesn’t really expect Steve to still be online, probably already swept out to his own job, so he just sends his answer.

Batking: a very reasonable fear, some facts to follow

Batking: I live as far from you as you live from Chicago

Batking: I am a humble employee at a record store where I have to deal with pretentious assholes daily that don’t really care about music and just about bragging about their record collection

Batking: I also have a band with my friends

Batking: we have a whooping 1756 listeners on spotify

Batking: I know, I know, you didn’t know you were talking with a rockstar try not to be very starstruck

The answer, to his surprise, comes almost immediately.

Steve.hrrgtn: 1757

Batking: what?

Steve.hrrgtn: what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t listen to your band now that I know it exists?

Eddie would be lying if he said that that didn’t make his heart skip a beat. Is this healthy? Probably not. Is he developing a weird parasocial relationship with the guy? Probably yes, but is it even a parasocial relationship if he is actually talking with the guy and he called him his friend? This should be considered a normal crush, a normal, hopeless crush.

Batking: a very shitty one tbh here’s the link

Steve.hrrgtn: can I ask something else?

Batking: course

Steve.hrrgtn: you only have one pic in your profile and it’s with your friends

Steve.hrrgtn: which one are you?

Eddie taps the back of his phone a few times. It’s only natural that Steve would wonder that. He could just tell him, or… Eddie opens the camera and takes a picture, too close to see his face properly but enough that Steve will know who he is in the group picture now.

Batking: *picture attached*

Batking: this one

Steve.hrrgtn: fuck

-

Steve.hrrgtn: okay so the thought of you only seeing me in normal life is eating me alive

The notification comes when Eddie is with his friends, preparing for a night of DnD. Eddie was looking up some music to get the atmosphere going, but the music app immediately gets abandoned in lieu of the message.

Batking: can’t get me out of your head?

He knows he has been unable to keep the stupid smile out of his face when Jeff tries to glance at his screen. Eddie immediately slams the phone against his chest.

“Jeez, I thought you were looking at stupid memes again, who are you texting that got you smiling like that?” Jeff asks. He moves back to sit straight, so Eddie can look at his phone again.

“No one,” he says as he reads the new message.

Steve.hrrgtn: so I have a couple of indie films that are very good

So Steve has decided to ignore his message. Okay.

“He’s been like this for WEEKS now,” Gareth intervenes as he sits down at his spot. “He said it was Steve Harrington when I asked him when he started and has refused to say anything else.”

“The white boy of the month?” Jeff asks.

“White boy of the century,” Eddie feels the need to correct.

Batking: that’s great and all but I can’t watch your limited release indie films anywhere

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s why I’m sharing a link to the latest one with you

Steve.hrrgtn: don’t share it with anyone though

Batking: aw breaking the rules for little ol me?

Steve.hrrgtn: yeah yeah don’t get too cocky now

Steve.hrrgtn: can’t wait for your reaction 😉

Eddie stares at the winking emoji in confusion. What is that supposed to mean?

“Can you stop texting your white boy of the century now so we can start?” Gareth asks.

“Just a second.” Eddie sends a quick message back before he moves to the music app again, chooses the first song he sees and puts the phone down.

Batking: send it to me, soldier, I will watch it tonight and give you my honest opinion

-

Eddie stares at the screen of his laptop, currently on his thighs as he was lounging on his bed, seeing the film Steve had sent to him. The film is currently paused, Steve’s face staring at him with eyes and mouth half open.

Okay, so Eddie just watched his famous guy turned friend have an orgasm – fake! Fake an orgasm, Eddie feels it’s very important that he makes that clear to himself – on screen after probably the most erotic sex scene he has seen in a non porno in the last 10 years. Fuck. How did he not know about the existence of this? How did this not make the news? Probably because it was with another man. Double fuck.

Maybe this is normal for Steve, for actors in general, to send their friends a link to a film where you have a soul shattering orgasm with a message about wanting to know their reaction with a winking emoji. It is not normal for Eddie. It is also not normal for his dick, who has not gotten the memo about this not being something it should be getting so excited about.

Eddie bites his lip. His finger moves on its own, backing the film a few minutes so the scene plays again. Eddie tries to convince himself that this is not weird if Steve was the one that wanted him to see this in the first place.

Eddie curses and takes a deep breath. He eyes his phone. It’s late, nearly midnight, but he knows that Steve is normally away at this hour.

Maybe this is not normal for Steve either, maybe he did want to get some kind of reaction out of Eddie.

Eddie snaps a picture of his laptop screen, careful to get the tent in his pants just in the edge of the picture. It’s very obvious on it what scene he is watching.

Batking: *picture attached*

Batking: you sure know how to get a guy hot and bothered

Maybe he can play it off as a joke if Steve didn’t mean it like Eddie wants him to mean it.

Steve.hrrgtn: glad to see my acting is that good

Fuck, Eddie fucked it up, right?

Steve.hrrgtn: it did come out very natural

Steve.hrrgtn: but the real thing looks better

Eddie feels on the edge of a precipice, as if there should be a warning on his field of vision about how his choice here will change the trajectory of his story.

Batking: can’t say

Batking: I haven’t seen the real thing, so I can’t really compare them, can I?

Steve.hrrgtn: would you want to?

Eddie can’t get his hopes up, he can’t assume, Steve is so out of his league, this can’t be happening to him.

Batking: have you acted in a porno I don’t know about?

Steve.hrrgtn: are you always this dense?

Eddie’s heart is dying in his chest, that’s the only explanation to how it’s feeling.

He doesn’t have time to type an answer, Eddie’s screen is suddenly filled with something else.

Steve Harrington is video calling him.

Eddie has never accepted a call so fast in his life before.

part 2...???

tag list: @steddiefication @tailsfromthecrypt @orionchildofhades @coralineinwonderland @theohohmoment (you didn't ask me to tag you but I guessed you'd want to see it?)

[inseobts]

Captain

characters: luffy, law, shanks, kid and ace

inspired by: 'Captain' - Kang Seungyoon || spotify || youtube || apple music

a/n: hope this doesn't suck tbh

words count: around 1.0k - 1.5k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Luffy:

The sun is hot on your back as you lean over the Sunny’s railing. Waves crash below, sparkling like tiny stars in the ocean.

You sigh, but it’s not a sad sigh, just… tired.

Luffy’s jacket hangs off your shoulders, far too big, smelling faintly of salt and him. He’d dropped it on you earlier without a word, like he always did. Just something that happened now, the way you always saved the last bite of your food for him, or how he tucked your hair behind your ear when you weren’t paying attention.

“Oi! You’re making a weird face!”

You jump a little, turning around fast.

Luffy’s standing behind you, hands on his hips, grinning like he knows something you don’t. Which he usually does.

“I am not” you say.

“You are” he says “That’s your thinking-too-much face. I don’t like that one.”

You squint at him “You don’t like my face?”

Luffy laughs and walks up, grabbing your hand “Nah. I like your laughing face way better.”

Your heart does that stupid flip again. Luffy is always like this… saying small, silly things that hit you like cannonballs. You wonder if he even realizes what they do to you, or if he just lives like this, naturally, saying the exact thing you need to hear without trying.

He tugs your arm “Come eat meat with me.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be when you see Sanji’s new meatball thing. He said he made it just for me. That means it’s good.”

You don’t want to argue, so you follow him. His hand stays in yours as you walk. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even think about it, like holding your hand is the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe it is. Maybe with him, all the strange, lovely things you thought you'd never have just… are.

The kitchen is loud. Usopp and Chopper are arguing about who can eat more. Sanji is yelling at Zoro to stop drinking straight from the soup pot. Nami rolls her eyes at everything. And through it all, Luffy’s hand stays in yours until he lets go just to sit.

Luffy sits down at the table and pats the spot next to him “Here. Sit.”

You sit.

Sanji brings over a plate with a small mountain of meatballs.

“Special recipe” he says, setting it down.

“Only for idiots who eat too fast and the people dumb enough to love them.”

“Yay!” Luffy cheers “That’s me!”

You raise an eyebrow at Sanji. He just smirks and walks off.

Luffy hands you a meatball. You take it. You chew slowly. He doesn’t. He shovels in three at once and nearly chokes. You thump his back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t eat too fast” you say.

“Too good,” he says between bites “Can’t stop.”

You laugh a little. He grins at you with his mouth full, face messy, eyes shining.

And somehow, in that moment, you feel more at home than you’ve ever felt on land. You bump your foot lightly against his under the table and don’t pull it away. He nudges back without missing a beat.

Later, when everyone’s tired and full, and the stars are peeking out, Luffy sits on the deck with you again. He lies down and folds his arms behind his head.

“Did you still have the weird face?”

“No” you say softly.

“Good.”

There’s a pause. The wind is gentle tonight. Your fingers inch toward his on the wooden deck until they touch. He doesn’t say anything, just shifts his pinky so it loops around yours.

You look at him and wonder if he knows. If he knows how much he saved you. If he knows that before this ship, before him, life felt so small.

“You’re thinking again” he says without opening his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be your captain forever, y’know.”

You blink “What?”

Luffy opens one eye and smiles at you.

“Even if you leave the crew. Even if you fly away like a bird. I’ll still be your captain. Okay?”

Your throat feels tight. You don’t say anything. You just nod and lie down next to him.

The stars look different from here. Brighter. Bigger.

Just like everything since you met him.

That night you have a nightmare... you often dream of fire.

It’s not real, not anymore. But the smoke curls around your chest when you wake up, and your heart races like you’re still running.

You sit up fast, hand on your chest. You're sweating.

The bed is warm beside you, a tangle of blankets and the faint imprint of Luffy’s sleeping form. He must’ve gone when he felt you stir.

Outside, the sea is calm. The ship creaks gently like it’s breathing.

You step outside the bedroom, careful not to wake anyone. The deck is dark, quiet. The kind of quiet that feels too loud when you’re carrying a storm inside.

You lean on the railing, gripping it hard. Trying to stop your hands from shaking.

You don’t hear Luffy approach. You never do.

“Bad dream?” he says softly.

You nod.

He doesn’t ask more. He just sits beside you on the wooden deck, cross-legged like a kid.

You look at him. He’s staring out at the ocean.

You whisper, “I wasn’t a good person before this. I did some things... things I can’t forget.”

Luffy shrugs “That’s okay.”

You blink “Okay?”

“You’re good now.”

Your breath catches “But—”

“I don’t care what you did. I care what you do now. You protect people. You laugh with us. You love this ship.”

You bite your lip “Sometimes I think I don’t deserve to be happy.”

Luffy’s head tilts “Why?”

“Because I hurt people. I made bad choices.”

He frowns, serious now “Everyone hurts people. Even me. You ever see me not punch someone?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” he says “Because I’m the captain?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

He scoots closer, his leg bumping yours “Listen. I don’t pick people because they’re perfect. I pick people who need a place. You needed one. So I gave you mine.”

Your eyes sting.

“And if you’re scared sometimes... that’s fine. I’ll be scared with you.”

You let out a shaky laugh “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Luffy grins “Thanks.”

Then he does something rare.

He reaches out and pulls you into a hug.

It’s warm and a little awkward, his chin bumps your shoulder, but his arms are strong. Solid.

Safe.

You lean into him, just for a second. Just long enough to feel like maybe… maybe you can breathe again.

“I still got you,” he says “No matter what.”

The next morning, you’re quiet at breakfast.

Not sad, just full in a way that makes your chest feel warm. Luffy sits beside you like always, stealing half your toast without asking.

You don’t stop him. You just shake your head like you always do and let your knee rest against his under the table.

“Oi, Luffy, chew!” Sanji shouts from the stove “Don’t scare them off with your lizard face.”

Luffy puffs out his cheeks “I am chewing!”

You shake your head “Barely.”

He grins at you with crumbs on his lips “You finally smiled.”

“Huh?”

“You smiled at me,” he says, like it’s some great discovery “I like that.”

You feel your cheeks heat up.

Chopper climbs onto the bench next to you “You look different today,” he says thoughtfully “Lighter.”

“Maybe you finally slept” Nami adds, sipping her coffee.

“Maybe someone got a good hug last night...” Usopp says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You nearly choke on your juice.

Luffy doesn’t react “I give good hugs.”

Zoro snorts from across the table “Not with those rubbery arms.”

You stare down at your plate, smiling to yourself.

Later, you’re helping Robin tie down books in the library when Luffy finds you again. He peeks in like a kid looking for snacks.

“There you are!” he says “Come with me.”

You follow him without asking where. That’s just how it is with Luffy. You trust him.

He takes you to the upper deck where it’s quieter. The sea stretches out endlessly, sky blue and soft.

He sits on the edge and pats the spot next to him. You sit.

“I was thinking,” he says, picking at the brim of his hat “About last night.”

You look at him, curious.

“You said you didn’t deserve to be happy.”

Your chest tightens again.

He leans back on his hands “But you look happy now.”

You nod slowly “I am.”

He grins “Told you. I’m a good captain.”

You laugh a little “You are.”

Then, softly, you say it “This happiness I have right now… it was gained simply by listening to you and following your lead.”

Luffy tilts his head, eyes wide and bright “Really?”

You nod “You gave me a place. You didn’t even know me, and you still let me stay.”

“I knew enough,” he says “You were lost. I don’t leave lost people behind.”

You look down, fiddling with the seam of your shirt “I think I was scared to feel like this. Like I belong.”

“You do.”

You glance up. His face is open, honest—Luffy in his rare, still moments.

“You really think I belong here?” you whisper.

He nods “You belong with me.”

Your breath catches.

Not “with the crew”.

Not “on the ship”.

With him.

── .✦ Law:

The storm isn’t just outside.

It’s in the way Law walks the deck—slow, sharp steps, as if each one might cut the wood beneath his feet.

You watch from where you sit near the stairs, arms tucked around your knees. He hasn’t spoken in hours.

The sky above is black. Thunder grumbles like it’s trying to decide if it wants to scream.

He doesn’t flinch.

“Go inside” he says suddenly, without looking at you.

You stay where you are.

“I said—”

“I heard you.”

Silence again.

Then: “The wind’s picking up.”

“I’m fine.”

He turns his head just enough to glance at you, eyes narrowing “You’re stubborn.”

You shrug “You’re angry.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Loudly.”

He exhales through his nose—one of those short, sharp sounds that’s not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

You unfold your legs and stand, walking slowly until you’re beside him. Close, but not touching.

Close enough to feel the heat of him. Close enough that if you leaned in just slightly, your shoulder would brush his. But you don’t. Not yet.

“Is it about the intel?”

“No.”

“Then it’s about the crew.”

“No.”

“Then it’s about you.”

He says nothing.

The waves crash hard against the hull. Somewhere below deck, Bepo is probably pacing, waiting for the worst of the storm to pass.

But Law… Law doesn’t wait for anything. He carries storms inside him and tries to outpace them with silence.

You speak softly “Be at ease.”

He turns to look at you now, not annoyed, just… tired.

Your hand drifts to his arm, fingers barely grazing the fabric of his sleeve. You step in, gently, like approaching a wild thing. Like you’ve done this before—offering comfort without taking anything away.

“Let me watch your back now,” you continue, voice steady “My captain.”

His eyes search your face like he’s reading something in a language he forgot long ago.

“I don’t need—”

“I know.”

You take a step closer, your fingers brushing his coat sleeve.

“I’m not offering because you need it. I’m offering because you deserve it.”

His jaw tightens.

You shift your hand just enough to slide your fingers into his, letting them rest there—quiet and warm.

“Someone has to carry the weight when you can’t,” you add “Let it be me, even if it’s just tonight.”

For a long time, he doesn’t respond.

Then finally, he murmurs, “You talk too much.”

You smile “And yet you’re still listening.”

He doesn’t smile back but his shoulders drop, just slightly. And when the next gust of wind hits, he doesn’t flinch.

Because you’re there.

Because someone’s finally watching his back.

You lean in and press a kiss to his shoulder, not dramatic, just grounding. A promise. You feel him shift slightly toward you, almost imperceptibly.

The storm passes, but the cold stays.

You and Law sit under the overhang near the helm, out of the rain but not the wind. The ship creaks with each wave, but now it’s calmer. The kind of quiet that always feels like something is waiting.

He hasn’t spoken since you told him you’d watch his back.

But he’s still here.

You’re still here.

And that’s something.

You let your head rest lightly against his shoulder. His arm doesn’t move for a long moment, then slowly, tentatively, he curls it behind you, just enough that your bodies lean into one another.

“I thought you’d leave” he says at last, voice low.

You glance at him “When?”

“After Dressrosa. After the Doflamingo fight. Most people would’ve.”

“I’m not most people.”

He makes a soft sound in his throat, something between agreement and disbelief.

Then he says it.

“I didn’t expect you to stay this long.”

You blink “Did you want me to go?”

“No” he says too quickly. Then quieter “I just thought you would.”

You wrap your arms around your knees, watching the wet deck glisten under the moonlight.

“People leave you a lot, don’t they?”

He doesn’t answer.

You don’t need him to.

You reach over and take his hand again, threading your fingers through his with the same steady warmth you always give him. Your thumb traces soft circles over the back of his hand.

You take a slow breath and shift to face him more fully.

“You don’t always have to be the one doing the saving, Law.”

His head tilts, just slightly.

You lean forward but not too close, just enough to be clear.

“I’ll protect you now.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You don’t move it.

He’s staring at you like he doesn’t understand the words. Like no one’s ever said them to him before and meant it.

“You think I need protection?” he asks, but there’s no bite in it. No challenge.

You smile “I think you’re tired of carrying everything alone.”

For a second, just a second, his expression softens.

Not in a dramatic way. Not like in the stories.

But his eyes lose that sharp edge.

He leans back against the wood behind him, shoulders dropping just a bit more than before. As if, maybe, he’s letting the idea settle.

Letting you settle.

You shift closer again and kiss his cheek, soft and slow, just near the corner of his mouth. He closes his eyes like he’s soaking in the quiet.

You don’t push it. You just sit with him, in the silence, your presence a quiet promise:

He’s not alone anymore.

The cold settles around you both like a second skin, but here, pressed close, there’s a different kind of warmth.

You lean into him slowly, head resting against his chest this time, right where you can hear his heartbeat. At first, he’s stiff. Not resisting, but still wired tight, like his body doesn’t quite remember how to relax.

You wrap your arms around his middle, pulling him into a soft, secure hold.

He lets out a breath against your hair. It’s quiet. Almost disbelieving.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” you murmur into his coat “Not with me.”

You feel it when something in him finally begins to loosen. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But like a knot unspooling deep inside.

His hand comes up, hesitant at first, then rests on the back of your head. His fingers thread gently into your hair, and you close your eyes at the feeling.

He doesn’t speak.

You tilt your face up toward him.

His gaze meets yours, wary, but no longer guarded. He’s let you in. At least a little. Enough.

You smile softly “Come here.”

And before he can argue, before he can overthink it, you press your lips to his.

One kiss.

Then another. Then another.

Soft and fast, like raindrops. Like a flurry of promises falling out of you all at once, impossible to hold back.

You kiss the corner of his mouth, his top lip, the edge of his jaw, then back to his mouth again.

With each kiss, you whisper:

“I will protect you now”

“My boss”

“My leader”

“My hero”

“My captain”

“My love.”

And something in him just… gives.

His breath hitches. His hands tighten around you, not pulling you away, but drawing you in. Letting you have him like this.

He exhales like surrender. His voice is barely above a whisper.

“…Fine. Do whatever you want.”

You press your forehead to his, smiling against his skin.

“I already am.”

And he doesn’t push you away. He doesn’t retreat behind silence.

He stays.

Wrapped up in your arms. Your warmth. Your words. Your kisses.

For once, Law lets himself be held.

── .✦ Shanks:

The first time you see him, it’s not on purpose.

You’re in a quiet port town, just passing through. Hiding, really. The kind of hiding that doesn’t involve running, it just means standing still long enough for the world to forget you.

Then the bar door opens.

And he walks in like he owns the ocean.

Red hair. Wide grin. A laugh that fills the room before he even speaks.

“Oi, Benn! I told you I could smell meat from a mile off!”

You glance up once and then away. You know who he is. Of course you do. Red-Haired Shanks. One of the Four Emperors. A name that carries storms.

You sip your drink and try not to look again.

It doesn’t work.

He notices.

You end up at the same table, somehow. He’s charming like that, pulls people in like the tide.

“What’s your story?” he asks casually, swirling his drink.

You shake your head “No story.”

“Everyone has one.”

“Not me.”

He smiles “You’re a terrible liar.”

You laugh despite yourself. It’s small. But he hears it.

“You’ve been drifting,” he says “I can tell.”

You pause “That obvious?”

He shrugs “Only to someone who’s done the same.”

Later, you’re sitting with him by the docks, the sea stretching out like a painting. He’s quieter now. Thoughtful.

You speak without meaning to.

“On a sea called loneliness… I’d come to lose my way.”

He turns toward you slowly, listening.

“My vision was dark. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t even know what I was looking for.”

Shanks doesn’t interrupt.

“But a single sailboat came close.”

He smiles faintly.

“And that happy ending became our story.”

He chuckles under his breath “You’re poetic when you’ve had rum.”

You smile, but it doesn’t fade.

“You’re the first person who didn’t ask me to explain why I left. Or who I used to be.”

“I don’t care who you were,” he says gently “Only who you are when you’re with me.”

The sea breeze lifts your hair. His eyes flick to it, and stay there a moment too long.

You don’t speak again for a while. There’s no need.

Two drifters. One sailboat. And, maybe, the start of something that doesn’t have to end in loneliness.

Years Later

The sun hangs low, golden and lazy, casting soft light across the deck of the Red Force.

Shanks is half-asleep in a chair near the railing, hat pulled down over his eyes. You’re sitting not far, feet propped up, notebook balanced on your knee. You don’t write often, at least not like this, but today feels different.

You glance at him. He’s relaxed, arms crossed loosely, the breeze playing with the hem of his coat.

Years ago, he was chaos walking. A whirlwind with a smile.

Now?

He’s still chaos. But he’s yours.

You smile and press your pen to the page.

“On a sea called L-O-V-E,

The sunlight dazzles as it reflects upon the water.

On that sailboat over there, are two people—

Just a captain and a sailor.

And that happy ending is our story.”

You pause.

Then close the notebook, leave it on the small table beside him, and go below deck. You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Later, just before dinner, he finds you in the galley. One arm wraps lazily around your waist from behind, pulling you in.

“I read what you wrote” he murmurs near your ear.

“Oh?”

“It was missing one thing.”

You raise a brow, glancing back at him “Yeah?”

He presses his forehead to yours “The part where the sailor becomes captain of the captain.”

You laugh, soft and full.

“In your dreams maybe” you tease.

“In our story” he corrects, grinning.

You shake your head and kiss him anyway.

It’s meant to be quick, teasing, familiar.

But Shanks doesn’t let go. His hand cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw as he kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. Like he’s been waiting all day for this one quiet moment.

You melt into him. The galley fades, the ship fades, even the sea feels quieter.

When you finally pull apart, your forehead rests against his. Neither of you speaks right away. You don’t need to.

He closes his eye, brushing his nose against yours “You still take my breath away, you know that?”

You smile against his lips “Even when I’m just trying to steal your coat?”

“Especially then.”

He leans back, just enough to reach into his coat pocket and pulls out something small, wrapped in an old cloth. He unwraps it with care, revealing a silver ring etched with faint waves.

“Was gonna wait,” he says softly, “but then I read what you wrote.”

Your breath catches.

“It’s not a proposal, not exactly,” he continues, “but it’s a promise. That whatever seas we sail, whatever storm hits… I’m yours. No matter what.”

You stare at the ring, heart swelling in your chest “Shanks…”

He slides it onto your finger, his touch feather-light “You don’t need to wear it if you don’t want. I just... I just wanted you to have something that says what I can’t always say.”

You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles “You already say it. Every time you look at me like I’m not just part of your crew, but like I'm part of you.”

He chuckles, a little unsteady “You are.”

The kiss you give him now isn’t playful. It’s reverent. Grateful. Fierce and fragile all at once.

Afterward, you whisper, “My captain. My anchor.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your forehead, murmuring between each one:

“My light. My home. My heart.”

Later, beneath a sky dusted with stars, you lie curled in the hammock together—his coat draped over both your shoulders, his hand resting over yours, thumb absently brushing the ring now on your finger.

He presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I used to chase the horizon. But then I found you.”

You smile into his chest.

“I’ll chase it with you,” you say softly “As long as you want.”

He holds you tighter.

“Forever sounds good to me.”

And with the steady lull of the sea beneath you and the warmth of him around you, you sleep in the safest place you’ve ever known.

── .✦ Kid:

The ship is on fire.

Well, not literally. But that’s what it feels like after the ambush.

Scorched sails. Blood on the deck. Your ribs ache, bruised or maybe cracked, and Killer’s bleeding from his arm, trying to stop Heat from collapsing.

Kid is in the middle of it all, rage and metal, torn coat, growling orders no one can follow fast enough.

“Damn it, where’s WIRE?!”

“Dead if we don’t patch him now!” you shout back, dragging your half-burned jacket off to wrap someone else’s wound.

He doesn’t answer. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes scanning everything like he’s trying to hold the whole crew together with nothing but anger and magnets.

But you’re not afraid.

You’ve seen him like this before. Broken knuckles. Cracked teeth. And still standing. Still fighting.

Still trying.

He doesn’t realize you’re next to him until your hand grabs his shoulder.

“Kid.”

He glances at you, blood across his cheek, chest rising like a storm trying not to explode.

“We’re not dead,” you say “We’re still here.”

He scoffs “Barely.”

You shake your head “You always think surviving means losing.”

“Because it is,” he snarls “Every fight takes something from us.”

“Now just breath” you snap, stepping closer “Look at me.”

His eyes go wide.

You don’t blink.

“I’ll follow you. I’ll follow you ‘til the end of my days.”

The words hit the air like thunder, loud, real, and permanent.

You lift your chin with your biggest smile.

“YES, SIR.”

Something shifts in his face, not softness, not yet. But a crack. A flicker. The kind of look someone gets when they realize they’re not alone.

His voice is low.

“You’re not scared of me?”

You grin.

“I was.”

“And now?”

“I’m yours.”

And for once, Kid doesn’t argue.

He just takes your hand, calloused and shaking, and holds on like it might be the only thing left that doesn’t burn.

The ship’s quiet now.

Not peaceful but quiet. The kind of silence that settles after screaming, after gunfire, after the medics say “He’s gonna make it” and you finally let yourself breathe.

You check on everyone first. Heat’s stable. Killer’s stitches are clean. Wire’s conscious.

Only after you’ve made sure the others are resting you walk down the hall to his door.

It’s half open.

You knock once anyway.

“…It’s open” Kid’s voice grunts from inside.

You step in.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bunk, shirt off, fresh bandages wrapping his torso and arm. His metal hand is still twitching from leftover stress—little sparks crackling at the edges.

He doesn’t look at you at first.

But he doesn’t tell you to leave.

You shut the door and walk over, slow and calm, like approaching a wild thing that might still bite.

“You good?” you ask softly.

“Peachy” he mutters, eyes on the floor.

You eye the bruise on his jaw “Looks like it.”

He grunts, but says nothing more.

You stand there for a few long seconds. Then you exhale, toss your jacket to the side, and without asking, climb onto his lap, straddling him gently.

He stiffens a little “The hell are you—?”

“Shut up.”

He blinks. You settle your weight down, arms looped around his neck, foreheads almost touching.

His breath slows.

“…You’re gonna make me soft” he mutters, voice rough.

“You are soft” you say, brushing his hair back from his face.

He huffs “Right.”

You smile.

Then, quietly, honestly, you speak “My hero.”

His jaw tenses.

“My captain.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Every day in this world feels like a battle… but you’re the captain who brought me to my victory.”

He looks up at that.

There’s a flicker of pain, disbelief, maybe guilt. He shakes his head.

“We lost.”

You don’t flinch. You bring a hand to his cheek, cupping it firmly.

“We all survived.” You lean in, eyes locked with his “Is it really a loss?”

The words hang between you, heavy and warm.

He stares at you for a long, long moment. Then finally, his voice low, almost gravel, he says “…No.”

You nod.

“Good,” you whisper “Now let me hold you until your stupid brain believes it.”

He lets you.

He even wraps his arms around you, tentative at first, then tight, like maybe you’re the anchor he didn’t know he needed until tonight.

You rest your forehead against his, feeling the tension bleeding out of him inch by inch.

His metal hand settles at your back, warmer than it should be. Steady.

“You always this bossy?” he grumbles, voice low but not annoyed. Almost… fond.

You grin “Only when you’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? I got impaled.”

“And still talking,” you say sweetly, brushing your nose against his “Clearly not fatal.”

A quiet sound escapes him, not quite a laugh, but really close. He pulls you closer, jaw pressing to your shoulder, voice muffled against your skin.

“You scare the hell out of me sometimes.”

You smile “Good. Keeps you on your toes.”

You shift slightly, just enough to ghost a kiss across his cheekbone. Then another, soft at the corner of his mouth. Then one more right on his lips, softer and a bit longer.

He exhales, like you’ve stolen all the fire out of him with that one simple touch.

You whisper against his mouth, “I meant what I said.”

“I know.”

“My hero.”

He groans lightly “You’re gonna kill me with that shit.”

“My captain” you say again, this time planting a kiss under his jaw.

“I’ll throw you overboard” he warns half-heartedly, pulling you tighter.

“No you won’t.”

He doesn’t argue.

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the slow thump of his heart, and he buries his fingers in your hair like it’s the only thing grounding him.

“You’re the only thing that makes this worth it” he mumbles after a while.

You grin again, eyes closed “Took you long enough.”

“Shut up.”

You don’t.

You just nuzzle in closer, his warmth surrounding you, his heartbeat steady against yours, and for once, even on a ship held together by bolts and scars and sheer, everything feels unshakably, impossibly whole.

── .✦ Ace:

The waves crash steady against the ship, stars scattered across the sea like someone spilled the sky.

You’re sitting on the edge of the deck, legs swinging over the side, the ocean dark beneath you. Most of the crew’s asleep. Only you and him are still awake.

Ace drops down beside you, barefoot and shirtless, sea breeze ruffling his hair. He smells like smoke and salt and freedom.

"You're gonna fall in one day" he says, nudging your leg with his knee.

You glance over "Then you better be ready to dive in after me. Oh wait, you can't even swim anymore!"

He grins "I'd like to see you try drowning."

You bump your shoulder into his "I did once, remember? Before you even formed this crew... That's how we met."

He goes quiet.

You weren’t joking.

Neither was he, when he dragged you back to the ship half-dead, coughing seawater, chest heaving as he yelled your name like it was the last thing keeping him afloat.

That was the first time he held you like something fragile.

And the first time you knew he’d never let go.

You look out at the sea again "You saved me."

"Hm?"

"Back then. And now. All the time, really."

He leans back on his hands "You act like I’m some hero."

You shake your head "No. You're not a hero."

He laughs "Gee, thanks."

You turn to him, steady “I'm your sailor. You're the captain. You saved me from drifting.”

He blinks. His grin fades, not in a bad way, just... softer. More real.

“I never saved anyone” he says after a second.

“You did, and I'm not talking about that time...” you whisper “You just don't realise it.”

He doesn’t speak, but you feel his hand brush yours, fingers grazing yours like he wants to hold on, but doesn’t know how.

So you do it first.

You intertwine your fingers with his, firm and warm.

“I didn’t follow you ‘cause you saved me that day” you murmur “I followed you ‘cause I finally felt seen.”

He swallows hard.

Then says your name... just your name, but it sounds like a promise.

Not grand. Not dramatic.

Just true.

And that’s all you ever needed.

Years Later

For once, everything’s quiet. No Marines, no missions. Just you, a sleepy harbor, and one very shirtless fire-user leaning against the rail with a half-eaten orange in hand.

You step outside, towel-drying your hair from the bath, and lean beside him.

He grins at you like always, like you’re his favorite sight in the world.

You smirk.

“Hey, Captain.”

Ace groans immediately, tossing the orange peel at your feet.

“You still call me that?” he says, exasperated “It’s been years since I stopped being a captain, Y/N. Drop it already…”

You shrug innocently “But it suits you.”

Before he can roll his eyes harder, you lean in and plant a quick, soft kiss on his lips.

Then whisper, just close enough for him to feel your breath “My boss. My leader. My hero. My captain.”

Ace exhales like you’ve just made his heart do a backflip, but he plays it cool... barely.

“Ugh,” he groans dramatically, gently pushing your face away with one hand “Can’t you just be a cute lover and call me… I don’t know, boyfriend? Honey? My love?”

You blink at him, lips twitching, then smirk.

“Alright, sure. How about... Flamey Hot Dumbass Supreme?”

He stares at you.

“...That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You grin wider “What? It’s affectionate.”

Ace covers his face with one hand, groaning “What was I even thinking that day I confessed to you and kissed you...”

You press a kiss to his cheek “That I was the only person who could make your life this fun.”

He huffs but he doesn’t argue.

He just pulls you closer, tucking you under his arm, and lets the sunset burn quietly around you both.

The laughter fades slowly.

Ace still has his arm around your shoulders, thumb brushing slow circles on your upper arm. You rest your head against his bare chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

The orange-sweet breeze brushes past. The sun’s dipped lower now, gold turning to pink.

He doesn’t speak for a long while.

And then softly, without teasing “You’ve been sitting next to me all this time…”

You glance up, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your chest squeeze.

“Yeah” you whisper “Where else would I go?”

Ace lets out a breath that almost sounds like disbelief. His fingers move up to touch your cheek, warm and careful.

“I was so busy back then. Fighting. Running. Trying to prove something. I didn’t even see it at first.”

“See what?”

“You” he says “Of course.”

You smile, nudging his nose with yours “Took you long enough.”

His other hand finds your waist, pulling you gently closer until your knees are nearly in his lap. His voice drops “I love you.”

You blink, heart thudding.

He’s said it before, during arguments, in bed, drunk off sake. But this time? This time it’s bare, and slow, and steady.

You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper against his lips:

“I love you too, firebrain.”

You’re both smiling into the kiss when—

“Yo.”

You freeze.

Ace groans out loud, forehead thudding against your shoulder as Marco’s voice cuts you.

You both turn, Ace’s hand still on your thigh, your face flushed, as Marco stands with a completely deadpan expression.

“Am I interrupting?”

Ace doesn’t even lift his head “You think?”

Marco shrugs “Well, you're not in your room, you know? That’s basically an invitation.”

You’re trying not to laugh as Ace flips him off without looking.

“Five minutes, Marco” you plead.

Marco holds up his hands, already walking off “Sure, sure. Just letting you know dinner’s ready... lovebirds.”

Ace groans again, shoving his face into your neck as you laugh harder.

“I swear I’m gonna set that pineapple on fire.”

“Sure you are, Captain.”

“…Don’t start.”

[1d1195]

💕 you're the best Monica!!!

Pucking Rookie VI

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~8.5k words

From me: last part for now 💕 thank you for all the support on this 😍

Warnings: violence Kael, some injuries, anger, some fluff and reassurance.

Summary: She is trying her hardest to keep Harry out; but would it be that bad to let him in?

Has Harry mentioned how much he hates Kael Crowe?

Harry had his hands in his pockets while they skated alongside each other. With gloves on her hands, she held them out slightly at her sides for balance. From someone looking at her, she probably still looked like a toddler when she skated. But she didn’t need Harry to skate backward in front of her anymore, which was a win in her book.

The chill in the air made her nose red and she looked so cute. She was all bundled, nice and warm. Harry wanted to find mistletoe even though it was well past Christmas. Granted, he would have done just about anything to kiss her. She bit her lip when she concentrated, especially while skating. The same expression when she focused on the eye piece of her camera making sure the picture would turn out perfectly. Harry swore his smile was going to split his face in half just looking at her.

Unlike her, Harry looked so at ease. She loved seeing him on his used skates, the ones that he clearly had for years and weren’t for the show of his games and because of his sponsors. He looked so tranquil and happy. The ice was his happy place. It almost seemed more natural for him to be on skates than it did on solid ground.

Also unlike Harry, she was not smiling. Especially not smiling like the joy was going to burst out of him like a princess singing a song.

“Y’look more comfortable on y’skates.”

“Mm,” she shrugged. “It’s getting easier.”

Harry noted that she had seemed a bit more introverted the last couple of days—a little more withdrawn. Something was clearly bothering her, and he couldn’t quite place it himself. Callie flirting with her didn’t even faze her (although it certainly fazed Harry). When she directed the guys to pose, her smile didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t joke about Asher’s good side (or lack thereof, in Harry’s opinion—especially when Asher insisted that she tell him he had a good side). At The Locker Room she didn’t laugh as much, and she didn’t invite Harry inside when he made sure she got home safely. “Rookie, is something wrong?”

“No.”

But she answered way too quickly. Immediately, Harry did an about face, turned to skate in front of her, gliding backwards so effortlessly. One eyebrow quirked up in question. “Talk t’me, Rookie,” he encouraged.

She took a deep breath. “We’re going to play The Wolves,” she reminded him. Harry had seen the schedule; he knew the game was coming up.

What did that have to do with anything? “Yeah,” he nodded. “So?”

She stopped skating, executing her little stop perfectly. Harry was so proud of her abilities and how much better she had gotten with practice over the last couple of months. Still, she looked upset. She rolled her lips into her mouth as she worked through whatever was going through her brain. “I don’t want you to get into it with Kael.”

Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Is that what you’re worried ‘bout? Why you’ve been so quiet the last few days?” She shrugged and looked away from his face. “Rookie, do y’think distancing yourself from me for a couple of shitty days is going t’make me less likely t’fight that sorry excuse for a man?” She glanced at him briefly, her cheeks turning pink under his assumption. His very correct assumption. “Bunny,” he frowned.

She sighed heavily. “It’s just... you’ll get in trouble, and I don’t want that, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I can barely handle it when you get checked into the boards. I’m always worried you have a concussion,” she grumbled.

Harry felt a tug in his chest over her sweet words. “You like me, Rookie," he wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

She glared at him. “Shut up, I do not.”

“You care about me.”

“I care about you the same way I care about Niall or..." he was praying she wouldn't say it. But she was feisty--one of Harry's favoirte things about her; so of course she was going to say it. "...Kian.”

He scoffed and narrowed his eyes at her. The flirtatious smile left his mouth. “S’not the same way y’care ‘bout Callie, Rookie. Not even a little.”

“You’re so ridiculous about Kian, Harry.”

“Stop calling him that. And quit distracting me,” he grumbled. Taking a deep breath he shook his head of thoughts regarding his least favorite teammate (which was a real shame because other than Niall, Harry loved Callie). Sighing, he smirked again as he watched her avoid his eyes. “You like me, Bunny.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Of course I like you Harry,” she rolled her eyes as she mumbled the sentiment.

“Yeah, but you like-like me.”

“Are you six?”

He ignored her fake insult and leaned in to peck her cheek. “I like-like you too,” he whispered in her ear.

She shoved him gently, but her cheeks remained flushed with color. “You’re insane.”

He took her hand and tugged her toward him to continue skating. “I don’t care ‘bout Crowe,” he said quietly. “I don’t want y’worrying ‘bout me over him. The last time we saw him... hopefully that got the message across,” he squeezed her hand. It was nice to pull her along now that she could skate better. He liked holding her hand. Touching her in general was one of his favorite past times. “M’worried ‘bout you seeing him again.”

“Well, I’m going to wear my number eleven jersey,” she smiled brightly at the thought. Harry thought he had won MVP, the championship game, all rolled into one. “So maybe you’re right. Maybe he’ll get the message.”

The face-splitting grin was back. “Yeah?” He spun again so he was in front of her, this time he pulled her flush against him. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss her. “Didn’t think y’would be one t’make someone intentionally jealous.”

She shrugged. “If you don’t want to be part of my plan, I could always wear Niall’s jersey, or Lang’s, or even Cal—”

“Do not finish that thought, Rookie,” he growled and pressed her face into his body where she laughed silently against him, shaking as she giggled. “You’re mine.”

*

The arena where The Glacier Wolves played truly felt like enemy territory. There was something palpable in the air; you could practically taste the venom coming from both teams. The last time they played, the whole team was pissed at Kael. She tried to keep her distance, but she felt the stares of the guys coming from every angle. Harry’s name and number were all over her body. She kept to herself staying by the media and press at the other end of the rink so that she wouldn’t distract the team.

“Is she good?” Charlie asked Harry.

Harry glanced toward the other end, finding her immediately in black and silver. “Think so,” he shrugged hoping it wouldn't be too obvious he was in love with his coach's niece.

“Styles,” Charlie’s voice was deeper somehow, filled with intensity. Harry looked at his coach. Instantly he swallowed nervously, seeing the seriousness on his face that clearly had nothing to do with hockey.

“Coach?”

“You’re going to take care of her?”

“With my life, sir,” Harry vowed.

Charlie ran a hand over his face and then through his hair as he pushed it back. Harry could see the anxiety all over his face. “You hurt one hair on her head, I’ll bench you for the rest of your career.”

Harry smirked and nodded. That wouldn't be a problem. Harry would welcome it. Plus, he appreciated the approval. “That seems fair t’me.”

“If you hit Crowe a little too hard today, I’ll look the other way. Or chip in on the fine.”

Harry smiled brightly. “You got it, Coach.”

*

Kael found Harry on the ice almost as soon as the game started. Both started essentially in the same position as the puck was dropped between Asher and Kael’s teammate. It was the matchup of the league. Every news outlet was talking about it leading up to the game. Two of the biggest names in hockey. Old rivals playing against one another just like old times. The shit-talking that ensued made him crazy but he tried to keep his cool for her.

Each time he was checked into the boards, he remembered her sweet face saying she worried about him. Harry didn’t want a single penalty (well, that wasn’t true. He wanted to knock every single one of Crowe’s teeth out). Instead, he caught a glimpse of her at the glass the camera lens pressed through the cutout for the media. His jersey with his name and number all over her.

He wasn’t going to fight Crowe.

Fortunately, Harry’s team was having a hell of a time doing it on his behalf. Collectively there had been almost one full period worth of penalties. Callie cheered from the penalty box when Asher laid Crowe into the boards. Their level-headed captain even got sent to the box for two minutes with a smile on his face. Niall didn’t let a single one of Crowe’s shots get past him. And maybe Niall tripped him up when he got too close to the net.

As such, the Chargers played short-handed almost the entire second period, yet they were still winning at the second intermission.

It didn’t stop Crowe from his onslaught of shit-talking despite being down. He told Harry how terrible he was, how shitty his stick handling was, and that he kept missing obvious shots. All his comments seemed to be a projection of how terrible he was playing and perhaps it was because the pretty photographer wearing Harry’s jersey added it to the mind games in Kael's head.

Maybe Harry would have to rethink the whole jealousy ploy she had going on. It was a nice touch (especially when he wasn’t subject to the feeling).

Harry smirked as he stood across from Crowe while they dropped the puck. Almost immediately Crowe slashed at him. Earning zero penalties and no looks from the ref. Harry growled but remained calm. He was only keeping calm for her and only her. Otherwise, he would have added himself to the penalty box. It would mean more to Crowe than it did to Harry if he lashed out about the pretty photographer.

There was only a minute left in the game and Crowe’s team was down by two, so it was sure as hell a win in the Chargers book. But Harry wasn’t celebrating until the piece of shit was off the ice.

With no one in the Wolves’ net, Harry stole the puck away from Kael and slapped it directly into the back of the net. He grinned brightly as his team cheered and tackled him, pressing him into the glass right near the pretty girl who had the camera pressed to her face. He winked at her amidst the madness and Harry couldn’t help but notice how big her smile—not even the camera obstructed how joyful she looked.

As the buzzer signaled the end of the game, Harry and his team skated for their bench. They were happy to win, but they were all thrilled to get off the enemy’s ice.

“Enjoy my sloppy seconds Styles.”

Harry could take the comments about his effort, his ability, his looks, anything.

But he would not, under any circumstance, take criticism about the lovely girl at the other end of the ice.

Harry skated right in front of Crowe standing almost the same height as him, marveling happily at how he was a couple inches taller than his opponent. “What the fuck did you say, Crowe?”

“Harry!” Niall shouted skating back onto the ice almost instantly. Camera flashes from every angle ensued.

“Styles!” Ray shouted from nearby.

“It’s not just talent and ability you want from me, you have to take my girl?”

“She’s not yours, you piece of shit,” Harry was gripping his stick tight, talking through gritted teeth.

“Harry!” She screamed—her voice was far away but Harry could pick it out of a sea of people.

“You couldn’t find your own girl, had to take mine. Don’t worry, I stretched her out for you. She’s a good lay—” Harry dropped his stick and gloves with a quiet thunk on the ice. By then his teammates made it to him, Callie and Asher lunged for him holding him back.

“Crowe, walk the fuck away!” Asher snapped. Harry pushed against him as he got in the fray; he could only imagine what the announcers were saying as they watched two of the top players in the league get dangerously close to fighting after the game had ended.

“Charlie!” She shouted, her voice was closer but not close enough.

“Harry don’t do it,” Callie begged. “Walk away," he tried to plead calmly. "Go get her and you can take her—”

“That’s right listen to every one of your teammates and that naggy bitc—”

Right as he clenched his hands into fists, he felt her soft, delicate fingers wrapping around his hands. She was on the ice. Unsteady and standing in front of him in just her boots. “Hey, look at me,” she begged her eyes a bit wild.

“Bunny—” He started his teeth clenched together. "Get out--"

“Cute, well you got one thing right, Styles. She’s a dumb little puck bunny.”

She shoved Harry as much as she could while he tried to get away from her gentle touch. “Sweetheart,” Asher warned.

Crowe laughed. “You sleeping with the whole team, baby? One whole team to replace me?”

She spun on her heel, nearly sliding to the ground, but Harry caught her by the elbow because he was certain his first priority would always be to take care of her no matter what. “Your problem is with me, Kael,” she snapped. “So, if you’re going to pick fights, pick it with the person you have an actual problem with, you coward.”

“I’m not the one calling you a puck bunny, baby. They are. You must like it if they all call you one,” he teased with a shrug. He knew she didn’t. She said it all the time while they dated. “That’s what you get for riding dick like it’s your job, Bunny,” his tone was antagonizing. Who was he trying to get a rise out of? Was it Harry? It couldn’t have been. Harry was already pissed. Was it her? Maybe. She already hated him.

“Get off the fucking ice!” Charlie shouted.

No one moved. Except Harry who was dying to get his hands on Kael.

Kael took his helmet off and looked at her. “You’re nothing but a groupie, baby. When Harry’s done with you, you’ll come crawling back. You have nothing.”

She was shaking, perhaps as badly as the rest of the team was. She wanted to smack him across his stupid fucking face, but she was trying to remain composed with so many cameras on her. This was already going to be a PR nightmare, and it was all her fault. Although she was sure none of the guys would care, it bothered her. Just another reason to add to how she fucked with the team’s energy and made everything different since her arrival.

“Kael, just stop. Leave me alone,” she hissed.

“Or what, baby?” He taunted. “Your group of fuck buddies will go after me?”

“Watch it,” Harry snarled still straining against Callie and Asher.

“Let’s go,” she whispered, pushing her hands into Harry's chest behind her. He slid backwards a little to create more space between them. “This isn’t worth it,” she said loud enough for Kael to hear.

However, he wasn't accepting their escape. Their way to take the higher ground. But before she could get away, Kael grabbed her arm, hard.

Time seemed to stop for a moment. Truly, suspended in disbelief as she gasped. "Ow, Kael!” She yelped.

“Oh, fuck no,” Harry growled lowly.

“Shit,” Callie grabbed at Harry harder and yanked him back before he could kill Crowe on a live broadcast.

Niall and Lang stepped forward as Asher helped Callie hold Harry back. “Let go of her fucking wrist, Crowe,” Niall said putting a hand on her back.

“You have two seconds to let go of her,” Lang added at the same time.

“Let fucking go of me,” Harry thrashed against his teammates.

She bent awkwardly trying to get her arm back, gasping at the pressure he pitted against her so effortlessly. “HEY!” It was Ray who shouted. “That’s enough! Crowe, let go of my niece or I’ll kill you!”

But Charlie was already on the move, next to Crowe in the blink of an eye. He was shorter than the bulky, built hockey player on skates by a head or maybe even two. Without hesitation he reached for Kael’s neck as if he were the same height and pressed on the space between his neck and clavicle. Within seconds, Kael was gasping, he dropped her arm instantly.

There wasn’t a break in his movements, everything fluid like he was skating on the ice as Charlie shoved his niece backwards making her lose her balance, but Harry caught her just before she hit the ground. “Everyone off the fucking ice!” Coach yelled.

Harry had never been so relieved to have her in his embrace as he skated off the ice, pushing her forward quickly even though he wanted to kill Kael.

“Are you alright, Sweetheart?” Callie asked.

“Shut the fuck up, Callie,” Harry snarled.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“Jesus, Styles, I just wanted—”

“Shut. Up.  Don’t ever get in my way like that Calloway, not when she’s—”

“Harry,” she repeated stronger as she nearly had to race to catch up to them on their long legs—even with skates. She grabbed his hand, still balled into a shaking fist. She gave it a gentle squeeze. “Kian isn’t the bad guy here,” she reminded him. Harry glared at his teammate, shoulders heaving with each angry breath. After a moment he nodded, his jaw flexing tautly as he did.

“Sorry, Callie,” she whispered, squeezing his arm which made Harry huff out a breath and look away. He strongly considered snapping his stick in half. Again.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart. We all get a little crazy about you,” he smirked. “Harry,” he nodded and headed into the locker room. She turned to Harry to remind him that his teammates weren’t the problem, ever.

“Are you alright?” Charlie asked, catching up as they stopped in front of the locker room.

Harry stared at her unsurely waiting for her answer with bated breath. She nodded, putting on a brave face. “Yes.”

“You’re sure?” Harry asked, taking a heaving breath. His hands were still shaking at his sides.

She nodded. “I’m fine,” because she was. There might be a bruise on her arm from the grip he had, but she wasn’t in pain anymore. He didn’t break anything (which was a horrifying thought) but it wasn’t any less true. “Please go change, I want to get out of here,” she urged. Harry’s eyes flicked to Charlie before he went into the locker room after his teammates. She twisted her wrist once he was out of sight. Charlie narrowed his eyes at the movement.

“Are you—”

Quickly with an awful realization, she touched her neck. “Oh fuck, I left my camera,” she grumbled rubbing her hand over her face.

Charlie was staring at her just as unsurely. “I’ll have someone go get it.”

“No, it’s fine,” she shook her head. “I need the walk, the air,” she sighed.

“I have a press conference. I can skip it. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Positive. I’m sorry I caused all this,” she frowned. “I really feel like you didn’t ask for any of this with the team.”

“Hey Sweetheart?” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I always hated Crowe,” he smiled. “You were way too good for him. If the whole team got in trouble for hurting him, well, that would be worth it in my book. If he ever touches you again, I think the whole team will kill him.”

“Well, we have a whole season to prepare for that,” she smirked sadly. “Thank you, Uncle Charlie.”

“Anything for you Sweetheart. Go take a few breaths,” he squeezed her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Wish you slapped him; you earned it,” he winked over his shoulder as he headed for the media room.

She smiled and took several deep breaths calming herself as much as she could as she walked back down the tunnel to the rink. She had been in the very arena hundreds of times. It never felt like home. Not the way The Arctic Chargers arena felt. In a shorter amount of time at that. The idea that she had ever thought she could live her life in this arena feeling like she was less was crazy. Especially when Harry and the entire team made her feel so important.

She said hello and waved to people she recognized from her days spent watching Kael. Her new media friends said hello as well. She waved to the man driving the Zamboni and snagged her camera off the visiting bench that she dropped there when she saw Kael antagonizing Harry from across the rink. She couldn’t believe she nearly lost it in all the commotion; but she supposed for Harry, it was worth it. It could have been a lot worse.

Following Charlie’s advice, she continued breathing deeply. Hoping to calm herself from the inside out. She was glad she didn’t hit Kael. As much as she wanted to. With her luck, he would have pressed charges or something. It would have played right into his act.

Hopefully everyone saw the way he grabbed her wrist.

For several seconds, she sat on the bench, her head between her knees breathing and collecting herself. Harry looked murderous. She hoped he showered and felt better. She would have to thank Callie and Asher again for holding him back before he did something terrible.

Sighing, she stood, headed for the locker room once more. Relieved there would once more be a whole year between now and the next game she would have to see Kael next season. She was going to forget about any of her stuff at their old apartment. He could have it. It didn’t matter. As long as she had her camera, she could make everything else work. She looked at the screen to continue calming herself. As soon as the boys were ready, they would head to the hotel and get some sleep before a red eye flight home. Her hotel room bed sounded like heaven (even if it was going to be missing a number eleven in her blankets).

She was so ready for this day to be over.

Right as she exited the tunnel and headed down the hall toward the locker room, she was shoved against the wall, hard. She didn’t know how the guys got checked into the boards all the time. Even with padding on that had to have hurt—and multiple times? Forget it. She felt an ache all over her back. The air in her lungs was displaced and she moaned as she tried to breathe through it. It felt like her body was one giant bruise in a matter of seconds.

Kael held her in place. His eyes dark and his face expressionless. “You’re a lot more vulnerable without a hockey team behind you.”

She gaped, as he easily yanked her camera from her grip and dropped it to the ground. Her eyes watered at the sound of all the mechanical pieces cracking. She whimpered. “Kael,” she gasped as the air slowly returned. “Let me go.”

“You were good for my image, baby,” he crooned. “Didn’t you like living the luxurious lifestyle?” He skimmed the back of his finger along her cheek. Other than a helmet and gloves, he was still in all his gear, skates, and pads, so he towered imposingly over her. She whimpered again. “You have no power here,” he reminded her pinning her in place by pressing close to her. If anyone walked by, they would think it was just a heated form of foreplay. His legs caged her in. His body holding her in place.

His hand closed around her throat.

“Stop,” she begged squirming to get away from him.

“You’re pathetic. You think just because your uncle is a coach and your new boyfriend is a sorry excuse of a look-a-like for me that you can do whatever you want,” his voice was low, threatening. If it wasn’t immediately following a game maybe someone would have seen the interaction. But instead, the players were in the locker room, coaches in the media room, other workers in the arena. It was just the pair of them. “You’re nothing, baby. You’ve got nothing.”

He was good. Waiting until she was most vulnerable. Even if she was lucky enough for someone to come by, she was certain he made it so he didn’t look like he was harming her or speaking terrible things to her.

But she was right there. Hearing every menacing word. Every word meant to cut her deeper than any physical harm he could cause her. “You’re nothing but a groupie, baby. You’ll always be a dumb puck bunny.”

“Please,” she croaked, gasping for breath. Her squirming wasn’t enough, he was too strong, and Lord knew how long until the boys would come out of the locker room and Charlie out of the press conference. No one was coming to her rescue.

She clawed at his arms, but the pads protected him. Everything was protected which seemed like a metaphor she couldn’t quite put together right now.

Everything except the hand on her throat.

She bent her head at an awkward angle allowing air to flow just enough. Thrashing against his hold hoping he would slip just a bit. He didn’t notice she was trying to reach for his hand. He must have assumed she was trying to escape. It didn’t have to be a lot she just needed something to give.

When it did finally give, she wasted no time. His hand moved just enough so that she could bend her neck completely. Once she could, she bit down as hard as she could on his finger.

She bit so hard that she tasted blood.

“What the fuck!” He growled yanking away instinctively. She didn’t waste a second and bolted. He was on skates, and she was in her boots so for once in an ice arena she had the speed advantage, and she wasn’t going to lose that.

Without really noticing where her feet carried her, the locker room burst open before her. She couldn’t even see because her eyes were blurred over with tears. She choked out a sob as the door shut behind her.

“Bunny?” Harry sounded concerned, curious, and confused all in one little word that she hated so much (especially right now) but loved when Harry said it.

“Oh hell,” Asher whispered. It was quiet then, no one moving, or speaking.

“Harry?” She cried, unable to see as she wiped uselessly at her face to rid herself of the tears and she pressed her other hand to the top of her chest trying to stop her heart from flying out of her ribcage and soothe the ache and burn of knowing his hand was on her neck. The other hand went to her mouth. Her face tilted down, and her hair fell in front of her face.

If the team was naked, she wouldn’t even know. Her vision wasn’t clear enough to see an inch in front of her.

“Bunny?” He repeated, his voice closer, his hands gently caressing her face. A massive juxtaposition to how Kael held her moments before. “Kitten,” he turned her neck ever so gently inspecting every inch of her face. “What happened?”

“H-he broke m-my camera,” she sniffled and swiped at her eyes. With a little more clarity, she could see Harry was half undressed, just his practice jersey and compression pants on him. He was sweaty and never looked hotter and she was a goddamn wreck.

“I’ll kill him,” but it was Niall who growled out the sentiment. Before another word could be uttered, she heard the locker-room door open.

“Oh fuck,” Lang was quick to follow.

“Bunny,” Harry crouched slightly to meet her gaze. “Kitten, what happened?” He repeated. She shook her head, her cries catching in her throat again. She buried her face into his chest and sobbed. Harry cupped the back of her head, curling around her protectively the way he always seemed to when she cried. “Fuck, Bunny,” he frowned. His lips found her ear. “Did he touch you?” He asked.

She nodded. The rest of the team must have already anticipated what she was upset over, because it was even quieter than when she entered. She felt Harry start shaking again. It started from the center of his body outward. She imagined his toes were shaking. Fully vibrating with anger. “I’m gonna kill him,” Harry’s voice was so low and so terrifying she shivered.

“Please don’t leave me,” she sniffled.

He groaned and tightened his grip on her. “Y’killing me, Rookie,” he mumbled.

“I just want to go home, please,” she begged her voice breaking.

His heart broke. “We’re heading to the hotel soon, and I’ll drive y’home when we land, Bunny, I promise,” he assured her. The thought of leaving her alone was repulsive. Almost as much as this whole moment with Kael.

“No... take me home with you,” she whispered.

Well, if there was one way to keep him sane, he supposed that would be it. “Take you home?” He repeated. “My home?”

She nodded. “Please, I don’t want to be away from you.”

Make that, two ways to keep him sane.

*

She refused to say what he did specifically. He didn’t do anything but hold her in the hotel bed until the team left in the middle of the night for their red eye flight. He sat next to her on the bus and the plane, carrying her stuff and wincing every time she sniffled. He combed his fingers through her hair, refusing to let go of her for anything other than the bathroom. He made sure she drank enough water and had medicine for all the aches she endured.

Charlie was fuming in his seat. Between what happened and her lack of response about what happened, he may have sent Harry several messages regarding how he would enjoy going to jail if Harry hurt her. He ignored those messages for the time being. But he did pay attention to the one where Charlie said he was looking into getting the security footage pulled before Kael could swipe it from the arena.

The team had no problem messaging Kael. The coward left before anyone could find him. Niall found her camera shattered to bits on the floor. Callie pulled the memory card from the wreck but there wasn’t anything that could be done to save the equipment.

Except of course, Harry ordered her a new, top-of-the-line camera while she showered in his bathroom.

After what felt like hours but was only maybe half at most, she finally exited the bathroom. Harry turned from lying on his bed to sitting on the edge watching her immediately. Her eyes were red-rimmed, hair damp. She looked adorable even when she was sad, and it was so unfair. She was wearing a T-shirt Harry pulled from one of his drawers. It had the Chargers logo across the front, and he wished more than anything it had his name on the back.

“Did that help?” He asked.

She nodded but held the towel out to him. “I don’t know where to put this,” she avoided his gaze which had to be next to impossible because Harry couldn’t tear his away from her. He took the towel and tossed it toward the corner of the room where his hamper lived, although he hadn’t done laundry in a week, and so the towel fell off the side to the pile beside it.

“Bunny,” he murmured. “Look at me please,” he whispered.

She shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. “I’m so embarrassed, I’ll cry again.”

“Y’have nothing t’be embarrassed ‘bout, Rookie, love,” his voice was gentle, he reached for her hip and pulled her toward him, opening his legs so she fit between his thighs. “What did he do?” He asked, keeping one hand on her hip and the other traveled up her arm, cupped the side of her neck and slid along to her face.

“You’ll get mad,” she whispered.

“M’already mad, kitten,” he reminded her.

“What is with you and the animal names?” Her voice was soft.

“You’re an adorable creature, Bunny, I don’t have a choice,” he smirked, spoke just as quietly as she did, but not falling for her dodging what he wanted to know. “Don’t distract me,” he brushed his fingertips softly along the outline of her face.

“You’ll be mad at me.”

“Never, Rookie. M’never mad at you,” he hoped he sounded as reassuring as he wanted to be. It was true. He was never mad at her.

“I bit his finger,” she mumbled. “Really hard.”

Harry tilted his head. “You what?”

“He...” she swallowed and pressed her face into the space of his shoulder and neck hiding. “He was choking me,” her voice was so quiet Harry had to strain to hear it. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the anger to stay at bay so she wouldn’t be scared. “And I couldn’t move and... and I just needed the right angle, so I bit his finger. Really hard. I tasted blood,” she explained.

Harry chuckled despite everything. “Good girl,” he pulled her to him and squeezed her tight. “And y’came t’me?” he mumbled thoughtfully cupping her face watching her eyes. He brushed his thumb along her cheek. It was selfish of him to ask when she was hurt. But he couldn't help it. She was his whole world whether she knew it or not and he needed to know.

“I didn’t want anyone else,” her skin turned the slightest pink. “Is that okay?”

Harry’s heart softened. “Yeah, Bunny. S’really okay,” he assured her, then he pulled her back against his shoulder, tucking her into his embrace. “The guys couldn’t find him... the coward,” he snipped.

Harry felt a smile on her lips warm his skin. He grinned half-heartedly and swayed her gently. “For the best,” she admitted. “I like your room,” she whispered glancing around. “Maybe I will take it.”

“S’fine with me,” he shrugged.

She stared at him pointedly. “I don’t want to live here for free.”

“Oh, come on, Rookie I have a hundred rooms with nothing in them.”

“I won’t live here for free.”

“Fine, but you’re not paying rent-prices. Y’can buy groceries or pay the electric bill. Or maybe the Internet bill. But not all three.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re keeping the car.”

“Certifiable.”

*

“Harry, are you awake?” She whispered.

“Mmm,” he hummed sleepily. Her soft voice in his bed was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. It was the first time they slept in his bed. Harry was a lot of things, and it was evident that possessive was a major one. He loved sleeping in her tiny bed when there was no room, so she always ended up burrowing into his side. Still, there something about having her in his room, his bed, wrapped in his blankets that made the Neanderthalic part of his mind undeniably happy. He kept space between them, as he always tried to maintain when they shared a bed. But he felt a compulsion to hold her hand between them as he stared at the ceiling unable to sleep thinking about how much he hated someone who hurt the pretty woman beside him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Bunny,” he whispered quietly shaking his head. “Y’never have t’thank me. Not for that.”

“I do though,” she sounded like she was nodding. “I don’t know why you like me so much. Like... from the start... and still. I’ve been nothing but trouble.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t think s’true. And does that matter from the start?”

“I don’t know... it never really happened to me before...” she trailed off. “Kael and I were just around each other for a while—got to know each other and it made sense. Then we were together for a really long time... I never had someone just like me for me, right away without knowing anything else about me. I guess I’m just worried that if... if you do like me—and I do believe you when you say you do—it will change because it changed for him. I’m not that special, you know? I’m not a celebrity. I just take pictures and—”

Harry sighed, if he was visible in the night, she would see him rolling his eyes at the ceiling and shaking his head. “Y’know I had a bunch of contacts for women for all the different cities we visit, right?” He interrupted. It wasn’t the best segue in conversation, and it probably wasn’t a nice thing to hear when he was trying to convince her he liked her infinitely more than he ever liked anybody. Especially after the day she had.

There was a slight pause. If she said something like that to Harry, he would be jealous for days and would probably have to break another hockey stick. So, he was well aware he needed to give her a second to think through her emotions. “Yeah...?” Her voice was quiet again. Unsure.

He reached beside him for his phone on his nightstand. He unlocked it, turned the brightness down, blinking awkwardly against it so he wouldn’t hurt her eyes as well. He opened his messages and handed it to her.

There were a good number of unsaved numbers listed in the threads. Many had the same start of each message previewed before clicking on it. I am deleting your number because I’ve met—

“Harry,” she said softly.

“Open one,” he offered.

She shook her head. “Harry, you didn’t do anything—I don’t want to go through—”

He reached over and tapped on one of the messages.

—a really lovely girl and I want to take it seriously. I won’t be contacting you anymore... You were a great person to know. I wish you all the best. Xx Harry

“Harry,” she whispered breathlessly.

Only some had answered. From what she could see, most who had responded thought it was sweet; they understood where he was coming from, it was kind of him to reach out and not leave them hanging. Some were less happy for him but since they all knew what they signed up for, none appeared to be outright angry or derisive. Harry took his phone back and opened his contacts. If the unsaved numbers were to be believed, he should have had plenty more contacts listed. Instead, it was just teammates, coaches, his family.

And hers. Rookie 📷🐇

She bit her lip.

“I think ‘ve been waiting for you, Rookie, love. I never wanted someone more,” he put his phone back. “M’not kidding. I’ll wait forever,” he promised. She felt her face crumple in half. Emotional over and in complete disbelief that someone so kind and sweet was willing to wait for her when he could truly have anyone he wanted. Someone way more talented and beautiful than her. "Go t'sleep, Bunny," he whispered softly and pressed a kiss to her temple. "We can talk 'bout it tomorrow."

*

Harry made sure she had everything she needed for the day; he snuck into her phone to turn her alarm off. He put a note on the bedside table. No work today. Enjoy playing hooky, Bunny. But please stay so I can see you when I come home. She wished she had her camera so she could take a picture of the note, but her phone would suffice for now. She dreaded the thought of purchasing a new camera. But she needed to deal with one thing at a time. First of which meant breakfast and coffee. She headed to the kitchen after using the bathroom.

The doorbell rang at the exact same time. She peered through the window and saw a man in a black shirt with a green apron. She tilted her head. “Rookie?” He asked tentatively.

“Uh... yeah?”

“Here you go,” he handed her a drink—her favorite coffee and the man left.

She blinked. “How many times have you been here?”

“I was instructed to come every half hour with a fresh drink and wait five minutes until you answered,” he explained backing toward his car. She smirked sipping it. It was delicious.

“Did he pay you at least?” She called tapping her fingers against the plastic.

“Excessively!” He shouted with a grin, pulling his door closed. She smiled, closed the front door, locked it, before heading for the living room sipping her favorite kind of coffee from her favorite guy.

*

She heard the garage door open around five and the door creak from the mudroom attached to the garage to the house.

“Do you like chicken noodle soup?” She asked. “I know that sounds silly, because it’s a classic. But because it’s a classic, there was a time when I was in high school, and I swear I was sick for a month and all I ate was chicken noodle soup. I haven’t had any since, I think. But on a whim, I had some last week, and it was literally the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten,” she explained while Harry took his shoes off. She grabbed the bread she was toasting out of the oven, and she smiled as he slowly made his way to the kitchen.

He looked around the room for a moment. “Did y’clean?” He asked ignoring her rant about soup, he ran his finger along the thin side table that was directly next to the counter. It looked dusted, and the little trinkets were placed back on the table just so.

She smiled sheepishly and nodded. “I know you hate when I do stuff like this, but I was really bored. I shouldn’t be allowed to have a day off. Idle minds, you know? I also figured you must not have time to clean often with your schedule. This place isn’t even that dirty, and I think I’m the one that tracks in all the snow and dirt from the pond,” she explained.

He stared at her as she spoke, dropped his small duffle bag beside him.

She blinked at his weird stance as she stirred the soup in the big pot she was using. “Are you mad?”

His gaze was unmoving from her face. He tilted his head toward the laundry room, the sound of the dryer humming from the hallway. “And laundry?” He asked.

Now she felt like she was in trouble. “Well... you had a mountain of it in your room and I was finished cleaning. Which meant I was about to go insane due to boredom again,” she shrugged. “You’re mad,” she frowned. “I was just trying to do something nice.”

“Dishes?” He jutted his chin toward the empty sink.

“That’s on you for leaving them. You know I love dishes.”

“Grocery shopping?” He hummed.

“I figured if I’m going to live here, I may as well chip in since you won’t let me pay for—”

“What’s this?” He asked looking at the picture frames face down on the kitchen table. He picked one up and inspected it. She had selected several photos. Some of the team, some from her series of photo. There was even one of Marc and Michael. But naturally, the one he picked up was one of the photos from the gallery night.

Harry’s arm wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on her hip. While she looked at the woman holding his phone camera, Harry was gazing down at her. His smile was full of adoration. She picked it to be framed because even though the camera didn’t get a look at his pretty green eyes for one photo (which was truly a loss), she felt like the most beautiful thing in the world with the way he looked at her.

“Oh, I thought they were cute pictures, and we could put them—” Harry put the frame down, turned toward the stove and flicked the burner off. “Harry...? What are you—”

He then faced her; he slid his hands along both of her cheeks. Gently, he tilted her neck, so her eyes met his. “My pretty, pretty Bunny,” he murmured brushing the tip of his nose against hers. Her breath caught in her throat. Whatever smart remark she was going to make about him being bossy or extra was stuck on her tongue. His gaze dropped to her lips and then she was overwhelmed by the color green again. Her face felt hot with a blush that she couldn't stop and she was only seconds ahead of what his intention was. “Y’can tell me t’stop, Rookie, love. I don’t want t’rush it.”

“Please don’t stop,” she whispered.

“Oh Bunny, y’never have t’beg for me, ever,” his voice was deep, gravelly. Filled with desire and wanting.

And he wanted her.

Harry had waited a very long time to kiss her. But these last few seconds leading to their first kiss felt like a literal eternity, but finally his lips met hers.

She moaned softly, a quiet almost-whimper, nearly the exact moment his mouth touched hers. He was so gentle; it felt like his lips were hardly moving and the drag of his mouth was so sinful she could feel it burning. It burned her lips and every other inch of her skin. Her mind was so entranced with the feel of Harry’s lips between hers, the way his tongue slipped gently along the seam of her mouth, carefully coaxing her open so he could get a better taste of her.

Harry knew she would taste delicious. He didn’t know it was going to be so instantly addictive. But he shouldn’t have been surprised.

She was a little unsure how it happened—too distracted by the feeling of the prettiest man in hockey kissing her, but she was lifted to the counter, her legs around his waist. His hips flush against the edge of the counter. With one hand, he cupped the back of her head, his fingers winding in her hair. The other was at the small of her back, pulling her toward him.

“God Bunny,” he groaned and peppered kisses along her jaw and down her neck. “I’ve wanted this for s'long.” She shivered feeling overwhelmed with his desire. Harry had a way of making her feel special and she should have known kissing him wasn’t going to be the exception. She was nearly out of breath and didn’t know how Harry could keep kissing her. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered into her throat.

“Harry,” she whispered.

He moaned. “Oh, Rookie, y’say m’name like that m’gonna be done for. What d’you want, Bunny? Y’can have whatever y’want... anything. S’yours.”

She laughed silently, her shoulders shaking as his mouth worked across her collarbone to the other side of her throat. He was so tender and intentional in his kisses of where Kael hurt her, and he took all that pain away. “Nothing, I just... like—”

He groaned again and brought her lips back to his, kissing her so passionately it ached. “I like you so much, Bunny,” he whispered, his mouth dragging along her skin. “I don’t want you t’go. Please don’t close yourself off from me. I’ll do anything.”

She felt bad that he felt like he had to beg for her attention. He had it, and he always had it. If she was honest, since the very first time she met him. “I won’t, I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.

“Oh, thank God,” he sighed and pulled her toward him. He wrapped his arms beneath her, supporting her weight and carried her to his room.

“Harry, baby, you gotta slow down,” she giggled.

He moaned or growled. Perhaps a little of both. He tucked his face into her neck again. “Y’call me baby, m’not gonna live.”

She laughed. “Oh, you have to.”

Carefully he laid her back on his mattress. Yeah, he slept beside her the night before. He had snuggled with her in her own bed several times as well. This was different. This was all her walls finally down. Her vulnerability and trust were on full display. Harry was the luckiest man in the world to witness it. To be trusted to take care of her. He didn’t know how anyone could betray such a sweet, perfect person.

“M’gonna kiss every inch of you,” he promised.

“You’ve been awfully patient, Harry. Don’t you want to jump to the good stuff?” Her cheeks warmed once more as she asked.

He shook his head. “No, not even a little. I want every single second of you. Every single kiss. I’d wait forever for you, Bunny.”

She didn’t deserve him, but she would happily keep him. “You’re too good,” she whispered cupping his face and stroking her thumbs along his cheeks. He rested his forehead against hers as he hovered beside her.

“M’not Rookie. You’re too good. Exceptionally intelligent, creative, and deliriously beautiful. My schedule is all kinds of fucked,” he reminded her. “I never had a girlfriend because I can only give you five months.

She smiled. “I’m literally with the team all the time, Harry.”

“But when y’open your studio, y’won’t be.”

“I’m not opening a studio,” she laughed shaking her head, her nose bumping his.

He rolled his eyes. He wanted to kiss her, hold her, and very much wanted to make her come all over him. But this was important to him because she was the most important thing to him. “Of course you are, Rookie. Y’have too much talent t’be wasting it on a group of rowdy hockey players.”

There was a wave of pride that bloomed over her. His unwavering support and constant belief in her. She grinned. “Harry Styles," she sighed. "You’re incredible. Number one twice for sure.”

He chuckled softly, ducking his gaze slightly at her compliment. It meant more than any other time he heard it because this was her saying it. “Thanks, Bunny,” he smiled and kissed her again lingering and holding her face in his hands like he never wanted to let go. “You’re pucking perfect.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @boopookie @indierockgirrl @stylesfever @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl

@emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10

@tulips4harry @sturnrc @sassamanda77 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mp-269

@jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry @dutchtheatrelore @copiastricycle @mypolicemanharryyy

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here