#she must be kitten sized forever

[knifegremliin]

dark room + black cat + bad phone camera makes taking pictures of her very difficult

[ghosty-writes-23]

I'm Home Sweetheart. - Leon S Kennedy.

!TAGS!: Fluff, Leon being husband material, NSFW Content, !CONSENT IS KEY!, Body worship, !WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!, Choking, Breathplay, Size kink, Spit play, Doggystyle, Blow Job, Eating out, 69, Dom!Leon, Aftercare.

Pairing: DI!Husband!Leon + Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: “Tell me about your book sweetheart, I want to recreate those scenes with you.”  Where your kind and caring husband Leon comes home early from a mission and surprises you by building a private in-home library as you were starting to run out of space to keep your precious books and wants to recreate your favourite scenes from your favourite authors.

Word Count: 3.7k

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

Ada's Version.

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18+ Content // Minors DO NOT Interact // 18+ Content.

Using your teeth to pull open the bottle cap top of the ice cold orange juice, you took a few huge mouthfuls as you waited for the stop light to turn green, the drink was cold and refreshing causing a shiver to run though your body as you placed the bottle on the passenger's seat. Today you were coming back from annual and yearly no boyfriends or husbands girls vacation weekend you and your best friend always planned since you were in high school.

The trip started out innocently just spending the day at the spa getting your nails done and relaxing, to only end up going clubbing last night and dancing on the table to when I grow up by the pussycat dolls in 6 inch stiletto heels. As much as you loved the girls' vacation and letting loose for a couple days, you couldn’t wait to get home and curl up next to your husband, with a spicy enemies to lovers book with your dog Ace cuddled into your side.

Ace is an old German shepherd that is also an ex police dog whose owner was killed in the line of duty, the poor dog was so confused on why his owner and handler didn’t come back, he would wait for his older owner to return, as time went on Ace grew more and more depressed he refused to work with anybody else or be social with other dogs.

It go so bad that the police department thought it would be better to put Ace up for adoption and hope he would find a loving forever home but Ace just stayed in his kennel hiding away, he refused to eat and would growl at anybody who came near him.

That was until he met your husband of 8 years Leon who was looking for a dog that could protect you while he was away on missions, but also he could play around with at the park or at home when he had time off, the moment the two of them meet they were inseparable and Leon rushed to adopt him that day and after waiting for a week you both welcomed Ace into your little family and you both became the dogs whole world.

Always coming for cuddles and acting like a huge baby even letting you put Leon’s sunglasses on him and take pictures, it filled your heart with so much joy when Ace started putting on weight and started looking healthier.

Then you have your sweet little Oreo who was just your average black cat with white little paws and little face markings with one marking on her chest that looks like a heart, she was a stray when you first found her huddled in a small box on a stormy night outside your mom’s bakery, she was so small and fragile you didn’t think she would make it through the night, she was really skinny and her fur was matted to her skin nearly, she must of been abandoned at a very young age which broke your heart. 

She had no collar and no microchip so it was pointless trying to find her old owners. So that night you wrapped her up in your warm woolly scarf and took her home, where both you and Leon very gently brushed her fur, clipped her nails and gave her some food and water after you asked Leon to get some kitten food before you got home. She warmed up to you both but she mostly stuck to your side always wanting cuddles and pets.

You ended up adopting her a few days later after she passed all the vet checks and got her vaccinations, she was a little cautious of Leon since he smelt like Ace, but Ace was a good boy and let Oreo get used to him, even if it meant he got bit and clawed at a few times but slowly they became friends, then even shared Ace’s bed on cold nights and play with their toys with each other.

When the stoplight finally turned green you started driving down the main highway listening to the music that softly played in your car, distracting you from the slightly throbbing pain in your head from your dull hangover. The drive home was quick and you pulled into your garage within 10 minutes, the throbbing in your head subsided and you didn't feel as bad but you where really hungry.

Getting out you grabbed your bag and started heading inside to where you could hear Ace happily barking at the front door, you could even hear his tippy tappy paws, it caused you to smile thinking somebody was excited that you were home. 

“Hey Baby.” You say happily after opening the front door, Ace was running around your legs, his tail wagging so fast it was almost like a dark blur as he was barking, it was so sweet, you heard Oreo meow from the small table by the door as if she was saying welcome home, putting your bag down you kneeled down and started petting ace and gave Oreo’s head a soft kiss.

“Yes yes I missed you guys too.” you say as Oreo rubbed her face on your cheek and Ace was nuzzling into your hand. “Where you talking to me sweetheart.” Your husband Leon says with a soft chuckle, causing you to look at him wide eyed before running over and hugging Leon tightly. “Your back early.” you say happily wrapping your arms around his neck, his large arms wrapped around your waist pulling your body closer to him. 

“Surprise.” he says as you nuzzle into his chest, you were so glad your husband was home in one piece. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you whined softly hitting his shoulder causing him to laugh before he grabbed your smaller hand in his larger one. “Because I have a surprise for you.” he hints as he starts walking down the hallway of your house, you were a little confused but you followed your husband anyway.

Soon you found yourself outside your storage room, it was a spare bedroom you and Leon used for storage since it was pretty spacious and you didn't really use it, pulling out a key from his pocket Leon slid the key into lock and softly popped open the door. “Go inside.” Leon says, by his tone you could tell he was excited for you to see his surprise, pushing the door open you gasped softly, your one messy and chaotic storage room was turned into an in-home library. 

There was black floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with your books and some new ones you recognized, there was also a small wooden ladder that travel down the bookshelves, a fluffy rug on the ground, your window seat was decorated with comfy pillows and a blanket, there was a small coffee table in the middle of the room with a container with bookmarks, colorful page tabs, highlighters fine tip pens, and a blackberry and guava scented candle accompanied by a box of matches, in the far right conner was a little coffee and tea station where you could make a hot drink and cozy up with one of your books, The room felt warm and cozy, you could feel your eyes tearing up at the sight.

“Leon…” you say quietly, your voice cracking slightly, you looked up at your husband teary eyed to which he softly cupped your cheek and kissed you softly. “Happy valentines day, I wanted you to have a place for all your books since they were kind of taking over the house.” he says with a chuckle as he rested his forehead on yours as his rough thumb stroked the soft skin of your cheek, it would explain the black paint smudge on his face.

“I love you so much.” you say wrapping your arms around his neck, sometimes you felt like you didn’t deserve Leon. “Not as much as I love you sweetheart.” he says as he gives your hips a slight squeeze.

Later That Night 

You where cozied up in your little library reading one of the new books Leon had purchased you, it was a spicy romance novel that has a few dark twists, just as you were about to turn to the next page your library door opened and saw Leon was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest he must of come back from his night run with Ace.

When your gaze met his there was a soft and gentle look in his baby blue eyes as he took in the sight of you reading your book, the soft light of the lamp casting a warm glow on your skin, to him you where Leon’s little slice of heaven from the rest of the chaos in his world.

“What's this book about?” Leon asked with curiosity as he walked into your library and rested his chin on your shoulder, his stubble tickling the side of your face. “A spicy forbidden romance between a DEA agent and a criminal mastermind.” you tell him with a small giddy look on your face, it was no secret that you had an ‘interest’ in forbidden romances but Leon was no stranger to that.

“Do you like a man in uniform?” he mumbled deeply in your ear as he started to press soft kisses to your neck, a soft sigh left your lips as you bit your bottom lip. 

“You know I do.” you say as your eyes flutter closed enjoying the loving affection from your husband, your book now just a passing thought. “How about you put your book down and get that pretty little ass upstairs.” Leon suggests against your ear, his voice a few octaves deeper causing you to squeeze your thighs slightly, you felt one of his hands make its way from your hip up your stomach and chest before he wrapped his fingers around your neck and gave it a light squeeze causing a soft whine to leave your lips.

“Okay.” you say looking up at him through your lashes, releasing your neck he placed an innocent kiss on your forehead before you started making your way to your shared bedroom upstairs.

Once you made it to your shared bedroom you could hear Leon doing something downstairs, but you just went and waited on your bed for him with your hands in your lap, after a couple moments you could hear his heavy footsteps coming up the steps “he must be wearing his boots.” you thought and when he came into view all the moisture in your mouth evaporated, thighs squeezed together and your pussy clenched. 

There Leon stood in his work clothing which consisted of a navy blue short sleeve top that was tight around his biceps, dark grey cargo jeans and black combat boots, but what really caught your eyes was the grey tactical vest that was strapped around his front and back. You felt yourself gulping slightly as you looked at your husband up and down, “I’m in danger.” you thought but you couldn’t help but be excited.

“Like what you see doll?” Leon asked, there was a slight tease in his tone as he walked over to you and gently grabbed your chin with his gloved hand, you nodded your head not trusting your voice as you nuzzled your face into his hand, hearing a soft chuckle you felt Leon gently tug your face up before he gently kissed you, his lips were warm and soft his kiss gentle and sweet.

Feeling his hand move away from your chin you felt him start to strip you of your oversized shirt that was clearly his, only breaking the kiss for a second to tug his your shirt off then tossing it on the ground before reconnecting your lips again, you feel back onto your plush bed one of his knees in between your legs as he hovered over you.

Your fingers found their way into his dark hair and gently tugged on his roots, earning you a soft groan from your husband as he tugged your leggings off your legs leaving you in your bra and panties. When Leon finally broke the kiss you looked up at each other breathing heavily, nothing but love and affection swimming in both your eyes for each other.

One of his gloved hands rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip sticking your tongue out slightly you ran it up the front of his glove before taking his gloved thumb into your mouth and gently sucking. 

“And you say I'm a tease princess.” Leon groaned, cheekily you gently bit his thumb and your teeth leaving a little imprint in his glove, before you leaned up and kissed him then used your strength to push Leon over onto the other side of the bed then straddle his waist, you felt his eyes on you but you where on a mission you wanted to pay Leon back for the library and the thoughtfulness then went into the idea.

You unclipped his tactical vest and placed on the ground be your bed before you trailed gentle kisses down his clothed chest and stomach as your hands worked on unbutton his pants and tugging them down his legs leaving him in his underwear. 

When you finally reached the top of his underwear that had a wet patch, you gently tugged them down revealing his hard cock that was leaking precum everywhere, you looked up at Leon as if to ask permission Leon nodded his head and ran his fingers through your hair and held it in a makeshift ponytail so your hair didn’t get in your eyes.

Smiling soft you let your tongue run up the side before you wrapped your lips around the tip and slowly began to bob your head you could feel every vein and ridge, he was heavy on your tongue but there was a small comfort, you made yourself at home placing your hands on his muscular thighs as you set a smooth pace.

Slowly bobbing your head occasionally he would hit the back of your throat, causing tears to prick your eyes but you blinked them away quickly.

Above you could hear Leon groaning and giving you soft praises of “such a good girl” and “feels so good darling.” the praise sent heat to your cheeks and kept you going, you wanted to make him feel good, you wanted to be his good girl.

You could feel your jaw was being to hurt slightly when your suddenly pulled off, breathing heavily saliva coating your slightly swollen lips a soft whine leaving your throat as you looked at your husband with a pout, he was breathing heavily his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Want to make you feel good too.” Leon says before you can think about what he said he pulls your lower half over his face, his stubble tickling the inside of your thighs, you could feel his warm breath on the wet patch of your panties causing you to clench around nothing and a soft whine to leave your lips.

When you felt him move your panties to the side and his tongue ran up your folds, a soft moan left your lips as you slightly arched your back. You could feel the heat running through your body as he feasted on you, as if he was in his own little world with his tongue deep inside you. 

Feeling his wrap his arms around your hips to keep you in place, you went back to giving him the same pleasure, your pillowy lips wrapping around his cock again and bobbing your head at a steady pace with your cheeks slightly sucked in.

You could feel him twitching in your mouth, you pulled away slightly and swirled your tongue around his tip causing his hips to jolt slightly you knew he was close, but so where you as your thighs shook slightly around his head. 

“Fuck doll cumming.” Leon groaned before you pushed him all the way down your throat, a few tears rolling down your cheeks at the sudden intrusion but you ignored the pain as your throat muscles tightened around him.

Leon came down your throat with a deep groan and even slightly bucked his hips, you soon followed and came with a loud moan, pulling away slightly you breathed heavily and wiped your mouth. Leon was breathing heavily but there was a huge grin on his face as he moved so now he was hovering over you. 

“Another round princess?” he asked as he reached into the bedside table and pulled out a silver square, you could barely pull a thought together but you nodded your head and let your husband position you how he wanted, lucky this time you were laid on your stomach with a pillow under your hips, your head resting against your pillow and soft hum leaving your lips as you where in a comfortable position.

You heard the sound of the condom packet being torn open and the lid of a lube bottle being cracked opened, it wasn’t that you weren't used to Leon’s size but sometimes it made it more comfortable, you heard the sound of the rest of his clothes hit the ground beside the bed as he stripped off, he even carefully took your soaked panties off and tossed them onto the pile of his clothes.

“Cold.” you whined softly as a shiver went down your spine, you felt Leon placed a small blob over your slit and gently rub it in. “I know sweetheart, you'll warm up soon princess I promise.” Leon says before you felt him at your entrance, you closed your eyes and waited for the familiar stretch, a soft moan left your lips as he slowly pushed in being careful and soon bottomed out a soft groan leaving both of your lips as you felt each other.

“Fuck.” you cursed as you placed your face into your pillow, no matter how many times you take him, he always overwhelms you with how good he makes you feel. 

“Are you ok?” Leon asked when you felt him gently kiss your shoulder, when he was this gentle with you it made your heart skip a beat, you nodded your head and gave him a smile as you leaned up and softly kissed her cheek.

“I’m ok but I do have one request?” you say when you notice he is still wearing the gloves on his hands, you saw him glance between you and his hands a small smirk on his face as he already knew what you were asking him for, moving his arm his bicep wrapped snug around your neck giving a soft squeeze Leon began to thrust slowly, teasingly but you here in heaven with his bicep around your neck.

“Such a dirty little girl, do you like it when I choke you? Deprive you of oxygen until you nearly pass out.” Leon asked his tone was mean and nasty as the pace of his thrusts picked up, your brain was going fuzzy you couldn’t focus on anything else but him.

You loved it when Leon was your kind and sweet husband but deep deep down a part of you liked it when he was mean and dominant, it made you feel so small being under him, his body towering over yours, his muscles and strength double if not triple then yours and it was such a turn on.

“Yes I do.” you choked out as you looked up at your husband, there was a smirk on his face as he thrusted into your soaked pussy, your gummy walls sucking him in and never wanting him to leave.

“Open.” he demanded and you opened your mouth without hesitation then you felt Leon spit into your mouth making you feel even dirtier, but you loved it and grinned up at him almost as if you were a crazed woman, you swallowed before you opened your mouth again and stick out your tongue. 

“Fuck I love you so much.” Leon groaned his voice deeper as he tightened his bicep around your neck, causing small spots to come into your version. You knew your safe word but you didn’t want to use it, this feeling felt like pure ecstasy and you were floating. “You close darling?” you heard Leon ask and you nodded your head feeling the familiar tightening in your stomach.

“Yes.” you choked out in between moans, your thighs were trembling and your head was feeling foggy. “Cumming.” you cry out as you let out a high pitch moan and came around Leon, you felt him soon follow. After a couple minutes you slowly felt him pull out then discard the used condom in the rubbish.

an hour later 

You were freshly showered and dressed in one of Leon’s shirts and a pair of panties, you both were relaxing in bed cuddled into Leon with Ace sleeping in his dog bed next to the window and Oreo resting and purring in between you and Leon. 

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” you heard Leon asked as he was tracing his thumb on your hip bone under his shirt you were wearing. “No, you were perfect as always.” you say you press a kiss to the top of his bare chest that had a few old scars, this caused him to smile and pull you closer to him being careful of Oreo as he doesn’t want to be attacked by her again.

“Happy Valentine's Day doll.” Leon says as he kisses your head and makes sure both you and Oreo are comfortable on the bed, “Happy Valentine's Day honey.” you say as you leaned up and softly kissed him, grateful to have a husband as kind, caring and gentle as Leon….

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[the-last-thread-of-my-sanity]

I bet in the path that led me to you, Armin had already mentally planned his and Annie’s wedding, what size house and what pets to get her before they’re sudden break up😢😭 poor boy must be heartbroken

He was definitely blind-sided. Poor guy.

I don’t know that he planned a wedding in his head down to the details, because I think he couldn’t imagine that for himself without knowing what she thought about certain things or what she wanted since she’s so private. He’d be happy to elope or sign a paper in a courthouse, anything just to make her happy and comfortable. That being said, I think he imagined being married to her quite a bit.

And as far as having a home with her, I think he imagined more domestic things. He would observe the things she liked to eat or her favorite snacks and imagine going grocery shopping with her. Like he probably thought to himself multiple times that he could never let their pantry run low on sweets in case she was feeling low. He probably thought about her plant press and her interests and imagined planting an herb garden in the front yard. And PETS? He would absolutely get her all the kittens her heart desired, even if he was aware it was slowly getting out of control. He imagines them cuddling their cats while they read or draw in bed.

What Armin daydreamed about really was the chance to live a ‘normal’ life with her- because when their relationship was a secret it ended up being a small escape mentally for them from the things that awaited them in life. But you can’t live in two realities forever, one of them has to win out eventually, in the case of this story :(

But things get slightly better between them in the most recent chapter!

[dolli3slvt]

{Forbidden love} Napoleon Bonepart x fem!King charles the third

Napoleon had been out for months, leading armies into battle and claiming territory for england. Some think that it was strange for him to provide a country with land that wasnt his own, and that he must have been paid very well to give up his hard earned territories to another country rather than claiming it for himself. The truth wasnt that he was being paid or that he had gone mad, it was something much simpler than that. Love. He had never imagined himself falling in love with someone who he had despised since hearing of her existence. But here he was, deeper in the confines of love than he ever had been in the apocalyptic trenches of war. Napoleon was to arrive at shore when the sun met the waves, finally to be reunited with his lover once more. Time creeped by slowly, as if taunting him with the idea that he’d never reach the sandy shores, never see his beloved again. This thought was irrational of course, and he had never let himself think any way but logically.

His arrival was quiet, discreet–a simple carriage ride through the village to the palace where he and his queen would be united at last. The anticipation had built in his chest until he felt as if he might just explode; still he remained patient, allowed himself time to admire the beauty of her gardens where he so often found her. And find her he did, sitting at the fountain like it was an alter of a god only she knew of. Napoleon was hesitant to break her meditative state, but he just couldnt help himself. He cleared his throat, watching as she snapped her head in his direction. She stood, her incredibly thin and sickly looking figure towering over his short frame, stubby and pudgy in comparison. Her nose took up fifty percent of the space on her face, her eyes small and beady and lips thin enough to give someone a paper cut. Napoleon smiled in the presence of his beautiful goddess of a lover, bowing down to her despite the fact that it left him at her knees with their height difference. Once he stood he allowed himself to speak, “Darling!!!! Im home from war!!!” he grinned, “Did my kitten whiskers miss me?” he smirked, babbling to her as if she was a baby.

“Oh yes my alpha!” her voice was high pitched and scratchy, shrill enough to shatter a wine glass if she were to scream. 

Napoleon was nervous but he got on one knee in front of her, “Queen charlotte philipa arthur george, will you be my omega forever?” he stuttered, blushing red. She bent all the way down as if she was going to pick a flower so she could reach him, picking up like a toddler in her arms and squeezing him tight. He felt her boney joints digging into his skin, roughly enough to bruise. He liked it though. “Oh yes My alpha daddy napoleon!” She screamed, busting his eardrums and causing him to bleed. 

He just smiled and kissed her, smashing their lips together like a toddler clapping their sticky, slimy hands.

The next day Charlotte gave birth to thirty baby napoleons, fresh out of the womb looking just like their father. She was sure they were healthy, even though their newborn bodies were the size of baby mice. She was able to hold all thirteen of them in both hands.

The day after that she gave birth to twenty five baby versions of herself, only this time they were three times the size of a normal newborn baby–just extremely skinny and boney like her adult frame. 

She knew they’d grow up to be just like her and her beloved daddy alpha.

[memxntomxri]

ｌｏｎｅｌｙ ｔｏｇｅｔｈｅｒ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ʜᴏᴍᴇ

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - kuroo tetsurou x kozume kenma

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 - fluff, comfort

𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤 - kenma has a breakdown over haters on the internet. kuroo comforts him.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 - 1.4k

𝘵𝘸 - online people being assholes, panic attacks, referenced stalker-ish behaviors

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 - fluff to make up for day 1's fic. thank you for discord server friends (LouEve_094, Lena) who listened to me screech while writing this.

｡o°✥✤✣ 　　 ✣✤✥°o｡

Kuroo’s assistant, Takahashi, tentatively stuck his head into the conference room, where Kuroo was currently listening to a pitch about doing a joint press venture with the baseball league. It was interesting, but not enough that he didn’t notice his assistant’s frantic finger-pointing and beckoning.

Kuroo murmured a quiet “Sorry” and excused himself from the table, stepping out to converse with Takahashi. Takahashi wouldn’t bother Kuroo unless it wasn’t urgent.

“Sorry, sir, but I’m so glad Suzuki-san informed me about the situation, I—” he began. Kuroo held up a hand. Takahashi was trustworthy and brilliant with a spreadsheet program, but he could also run on for hours if one didn’t force him to cut to the chase.

“Takahashi, what exactly happened?” Kuroo said. Takahashi shot him a confused look, then his eyes widened almost comically.

“Kuroo-san, did you not see your ring?” he asked. In their world, because of some god’s whim or something, everyone was born with a ring tattoo on their right ring finger. It acted like some sort of mood ring… for your soulmate. Blue meant sadness, red meant anger, green meant disgust or jealousy, yellow happiness, gold pride, so on, so forth. When you met them, the ring would flare a bright, distinctive color. Kuroo had been fortunate enough to witness his flare as a measly 8-year-old, and Kenma had been stuck with him ever since.

Kuroo automatically glanced down at his right hand. Shit, he cursed. It was black all the way through—that was not good. That meant that something had set off Kenma’s panic attacks—a bad one, because Kuroo couldn’t see the swirls of grey that meant that his fiancée wasn’t completely lost yet—and Kuroo felt horrible for not noticing.

Takahashi gulped. Kuroo had momentarily forgotten that his assistant existed. “There’s more, Kuroo-san.” he said warily, as if approaching a wild animal.

“What?” Kuroo snapped, then shook his head quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” Takahashi smiled gently, a reassuring one meant to placate Kuroo’s wild emotions. “It’s okay, Kuroo-san. Um… are you sure you want to know what’s going on with Kozume-san?” he grimaced. It must be bad for Takahashi, of all people, to be making negative facial expressions. “Just tell me.” Kuroo barked. He winced. “Sorry, didn’t mean that either.”

Takahashi replied, “It’s alright. Anyways, it seems that when Kozume-san beat out that beauty youtuber, Alice007, for the first Japanese Youtuber to get 10 million subscribers today, she went on a tangent on Twitter and caused a lot of her fans to start attacking Kozume-san. They… also mentioned you.”

Kuroo’s head whipped up. “What?”

“Apparently, Alice-san’s sister went to Nekoma High too and believed that she was your soulmate. If the tweets are any indication, both of them are a little, forgive me for saying this in a professional setting, delusional.” he said apologetically. Kuroo wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. On one hand, the love of his life was being torn down online. On the other hand, Takahashi was finally saying something negative about a human being.

Kuroo tipped his head back.

“Well, I’m heading home. Sorry for flaking out on the meeting, but can you please tell them a brief summary of what’s going on? Don’t go into too much detail though, Kenma values his privacy.” he requested. Takahashi nodded. God, Kuroo was lucky to have his assistant. “Thanks, Takahashi, you’re a lifesaver. Why don’t you take Friday night out and take Mizuki-san,” Takahashi’s 158cm tall spitfire soulmate who always seemed to have an infinite supply of dirty jokes, “out on a date?”

Takahashi allowed a small smile to break his professional face. “That would be very nice, Kuroo-san. Thank you. Now go, Kozume-san needs you.” he said, shooing Kuroo down the hall towards the elevators.

For someone who acted so demure while working, Takahashi sure could be forceful when he wanted to.

｡ₓ ू ₒ ु ˚ ू ₒ ु ₓ｡

Kuroo nudged the door to his and Kenma’s two-bedroom (one was Kenma’s streaming room) open. His arms were laden with bags from the nearby grocery store, filled with Kenma’s favorite comfort foods, a few new video games, and a box of prescription meds for his anxiety that Kenma had slowly moved on from.

“Kenma?” he called down the hallway. No response, except for sounds of muffled sobbing coming from their bedroom. Kuroo kicked off his shoes and set the bags down, heading down the hall to investigate.

He cracked open the door a few centimeters, and there Kenma was, curled up in a ball on the king-sized mattress, phone an arm’s length away, screen cracked. Kuroo tracked his eyes to the correspondingly-sized dent in the wall. He walked in, sitting down next to Kenma’s prone form, but not touching him.

“Hey, kitten.” he greeted quietly. Kenma reached for his sleeve, rubbing his hand twice, up, down, on Kuroo’s wrist. Ah. That was the signal for when he had gone nonverbal but wanted Kuroo to give him physical and verbal affection.

Kuroo scooped Kenma up into his arms, tucking him into his lap as he rested his chin on top of Kenma’s head. “I’m sorry people are being assholes, Kenma. I hope you don’t believe them, because they sure as hell aren’t true.” Small hiccups as more tears ran down Kenma’s face.

That was alright. Sometimes, Kenma just needed someone to hold him and tell him that he was alright.

“I bought that game you wanted. Overcooked? Yeah, that was its name. We can try it out when you feel up to it. Maybe invite Akaashi and Bokuto over. Chibi-chan and Kageyama too, if they’re in Tokyo.” Kuroo continued.

“You know, all these people love you, Kenma. It doesn’t matter what people online think, especially when they’re just following a deranged leader.” Kuroo reassured him.

Kenma looked up at him questioningly. Kuroo sighed. “Yeah, I heard. I have no idea who Alice-san’s sister is,” he said in response to Kenma’s silent question, “besides, I trust our parents and our own memories more than some beauty guru who can’t take being beaten.” he scoffed.

Kenma took a few deep breaths, a sign that he was slowly calming down. Kuroo rubbed comforting circles down his back. “T-Tetsu.” he murmured. “Am I a bad soulmate because I’m not that affectionate?”

Kuroo jolted, then cupped his hands gently around Kenma’s face, leaning down to press a light kiss to his lips. “No, Kenma, never. I know you love me, and you know I wouldn’t have you any other way. You’re my kitten, remember?” he reminded. Kenma nodded slowly. Good. Kuroo breathed a slight sigh of relief in his mind. It had been months since he had needed to do this.

Kenma continued, speaking even quieter. “Will everyone leave me? Am I going to be lonely in the end?” he asked. Kuroo’s heart ached. He knew that that had always been one of Kenma’s insecurities—that his aloofness would drive people away from him. “Kenma, if you’re alone, then I’ll be alone with you.” Kuroo said resolutely.

Kenma broke down into a few sobs, hopefully getting it out of his system. “T-Tetsu, they found our address.” Kuroo froze. “What?” Kenma nodded. “Yeah. S-someone sent me a red paint-stained picture of me with a knife stabbed through my f-forehead.” he struggled to get out.

“Shh, shh, Kenma, I’m here now. Don’t force yourself if you don’t want to talk.” Kuroo reassured.

Shit. They had both known that this could become a probability when Kenma had started getting famous, and they had been lucky for a few years, but someone finding out at this moment was just bad luck.

Kuroo wrapped his arms tighter around Kenma’s smaller frame. “Don’t worry, kitten, I’ll protect you. Always and forever, remember?” he said with a cheeky smile, pointing at the band (the metal one) around Kenma’s left ring finger.

Kenma’s quiet, melodic chuckle filled the air.

Kuroo chanced a glance down at his right ring finger. It was still dark and murky, but there were traces of pink and a pale color that he hoped was yellow. It wasn’t back to usual, but they were getting there.

｡ₓ ू ₒ ु ˚ ू ₒ ु ₓ｡

A few hours later…

Curled up on the couch, Kenma fiddled away at his PSP. Kuroo plopped down next to him, holding two steaming cups of chamomile tea. “Tetsu, I placed an order for a new phone.” Kenma said, not looking up from the phone.

“Oh also, you’re still going to have to pay half the rent for our new apartment. I’m not going to be your sugar daddy, no matter how much you beg.” Kenma deadpanned.

Kuroo snorted. Nothing ever really changed with his Kenma.

｡o°✥✤✣ 　　 ✣✤✥°o｡

© ʙᴇᴛʜᴇʏᴅᴏᴄʀɪᴍᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴇꜱ 2021 - ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ

[miraculousluvbug]

WINGLESS | Ch. 7

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: After Chat learns Ladybug told Rena her identity, Plagg's solution is simple: tell someone he's Chat Noir so they're even! Duh.

Unbeknownst to the three wicked stooges, Paris’s favorite cat boy sat perched upon a rooftop adjacent to the mansion, ogling the interaction between his father, his trusted assistant, and his absolute least favorite person in the entire world.

Next to Hawk Moth, of course.

As they tittered and conspired in the darkness, Chat Noir narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t help but find the whole thing . . .

Shady.

“Claws in.”

Plagg whizzed out of the ring and looked up at his holder with sad kitten eyes. Adrien avoided making eye contact, practically drilling a hole into the ground with the intensity of his glare. He hugged his knees to his chest and picked at his shoelaces.

“That was pretty rough, kid.”

Adrien sniffled and roughly smeared away his tears with the back of his hand.

“I was hoping her explanation would make me feel better, Plagg.”

Adrien hugged his knees tighter.

“But it made me feel so much worse.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Plagg crooned, shoulders drooping. He hesitated for only a second before flying to Adrien’s shoulder and nuzzling his holder’s neck.

“She doesn’t want to know me, Plagg. Am I really that bad?”

“Not at all. I already told you that no other Chat Noir could be you. I meant it. You’re the best Chat Noir I’ve ever had.”

Adrien’s sniffles quieted, but the tears persisted. He had no idea how to stop them now that they had started. With gut-wrenching envy, Adrien watched the person he hated most engage in chit-chat with his father as if it was the most casual occurrence. The man even went as far as sharing whatever was on his tablet, a feat Adrien had been trying to accomplish since before he could remember. His father always claimed to be private, unwilling to share any kind of imperfect designs with his own son.

But there Lila was. Conversing with his father more than he himself had in the past week.

And Ladybug had given her most sacred secret to Rena Rouge.

Was he invisible?

He felt so small.

Lost at sea.

A blip in the turbulent waters that no one knew was missing.

He was a boy overboard with no life raft. And no one knew to look for him.

His soul was cold and his heart felt numb.

“You know what?” chirped Plagg suddenly, snapping Adrien out of his spiral. “Ladybug is the new Guardian, right?”

Adrien nodded hesitantly. Where was he going with this?

“What’s her only rule?”

“We can’t know each other’s identities.”

Plagg hovered in front of Adrien’s eyes and flipped onto his back, making a show of nonchalance. If this was gonna work, Plagg had to make the kid think it was kind of his own idea. “Who can’t know each other’s identities?”

Adrien was unamused. To him, Plagg was beating a dead horse.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Plagg popped open one eye. He didn’t need to open both for Adrien to see the blatant impishness in them.

“So Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t know each other’s identities. What about . . . other people?”

The blonde ball of despair perked up, hair bouncing into his eyes, though they immediately narrowed at his Kwami’s scheming.

“But Master Fu--”

Plagg interjected, “--who isn’t the guardian anymore.”

Adrien blinked.

Kwamis, Plagg was so close to convincing his kid to be selfish for once. He just needed a push! A hefty, premeditated shove off the Fu-forsaken cliff!

“It’s like I’ve always said. Beg for forgiveness, not for permission.” Plagg folded his little paws across his chest, floating right up to Adrien’s nose. Adrien went cross-eyed trying to maintain eye contact. “Ladybug told Rena. So the question is: who’s Chat Noir going to tell?”

“It’s--” Adrien spluttered. “It’s risky, Plagg!”

“And so is being depressed,” Plagg snarled back, surprising Adrien. “Any other person gets minorly inconvenienced and akumatized, who saves them? You--” the Kwami jabbed a paw into Adrien’s nose “--and the bug. But you or Ladybug get akumatized, who saves you?”

Plagg saw the cogs turning in Adrien’s head. He briefly speculated who his kid might choose. Nino would be the obvious choice. He wasn’t as close to Kagami any more, but telling her the secret that had broken them apart would certainly be one hell of an apology. It could even, say, potentially repair what the secret had fractured.

There was also the off chance Adrien might choose Pigtails, who coincidentally doubled as Ladybug. Plagg would have to raid the Agreste kitchen for popcorn if that happened.

“If . . .” Adrien began.

Yes? Plagg internally coaxed.

“If I were to choose someone . . .”

Come on, Adrien.

“I think it would be . . . Nino.”

Yahtzee.

Plagg clapped his paws together over and over, rousing Adrien from his feet like a drill sergeant. “All right, then! Let’s go, let’s go! Hustle, bell boy. We’ve got places to be!”

Adrien reached into his pocket and pulled out a squishy triangle, letting loose the most intoxicating aroma Plagg ever did smell. It circled the pair and made Plagg salivate. “Don’t you want this first?”

Did I really forget about camembert? Plagg wondered incredulously.

“I--” Plagg scrambled for an excuse to atone for the touchy-feelies interfering with his one true love, but he came up short. “Of course I want that!”

Adrien smiled fondly at his Kwami and threw the camembert into the air. Not one to miss a beat, Plagg zipped and caught the cheese in his mouth, devouring the thing in one fell swoop.

“Now we can go!” said Plagg, belching remorselessly. Naturally.

Adrien chuckled. When he opened his mouth to say the transformation phrase, however, he faltered. Was he really going to do this? It . . . It felt disobedient, like he was betraying Ladybug. But could she really hold it against him, if she had needed to do the same?

Would his partner reveal herself to be a hypocrite?

The budding consequences of revealing himself to Nino weighed so heavily on his shoulders that he wasn’t sure how he would manage batoning into the air once transformed. The aptitude for disappointment just felt so tangible to him, as if it were physically chaining him to the rooftop, a meaty claw so solidly wound ’round his ankles it threatened to pierce his skin.

The thought that Nino might hate him for keeping the secret in the first place made home in Adrien’s cerebral cortex, further immobilizing him. It pulled up a chair and opened the morning newspaper like it was meant to be there, meant to remind him that not everything was just simple. Straightforward. Without fallout.

A tender paw touched his cheek, wiping away a runaway tear.

“Kid,” whispered Plagg. His eyes were misty.

Is that . . . because of me? Because he cares about me?

Holding his gaze a moment longer, Adrien uttered the words that once changed his life forever and seemed to be forever following him with new and improved ways to spice up his routine.

“Claws out.”

The energy washed over him like a cold shower, springing him into action. The need to move, to run, to fly nipped at his heels and before he knew it, he was vaulting to his best buddy’s.

If Adrien was honest, telling Marinette, his dearest friend, was his first instinct. He gripped that realization like it would fly away at a moment’s notice, at the slightest spook (he was on the precipice of truly understanding what his good friend Marinette really meant to him). But he had heard from Nino that Alya and Marinette were holed in for a “girls’ night,” so . . . Nino was the next best thing.

Nino was far from second place, however. Sharing the burden of his greatest secret with the guy who got mad at Gabriel Agreste on Adrien’s behalf was like a breath of fresh air. More than that, it was like Adrien would finally be able to steady his head above the tide.

(Telling Marinette would have been like sprouting gills and uncovering the mystery of the sea up close and personal, but Adrien didn’t want to unpack that particular conclusion yet.)

Wasting no time, Chat Noir landed nimbly on Nino’s apartment balcony and tucked his baton back into place. Giving himself just one more moment before life as he knew it was spun upside down--for better or for worse was yet to be determined--he raised a gloved claw to the sliding glass door and timidly knocked.

Nino’s balcony wasn’t decorated like Marinette’s. A few bikes of various sizes loitered against the railing, collecting dust. A few helmets hung limply from their handlebars, occasionally shifting to and fro in the passive wind. Chat could discern by the light-up training wheels which bike belonged to Nino’s little brother, Chris. The bike--which Chat realized must be new since his last visit--sported black spots against its red frame.

Chat shook his head fondly.

Someone obviously developed an appreciation for the bug after their last akumatization. But as the evening breeze softly twisted the helmet, the vision before him melted him into a puddle of endearment. Nino’s kid brother apparently also had a thing for Chat Noir.

The evidence?

A black helmet topped with an acid green paw print and two plastic cat ears to boot.

Un-fur-tunately, as much as the sight was incredibly thera-paw-tic, it also made his heart throb. His body ached for a larger family, from head to toe and down to his bones.

Adrien didn’t dream often in his sleep, but when he did . . . Oh, when he did, he was blessed with visions of him entering a cozy one-story home (his) and immediately being greeted by giggling and the blinding smiles of three faceless children (also his).

While his hopelessly romantic heart yearned for Ladybug to be his other half in that tender fantasy, lately his subconscious had a habit of inserting a particular blue-haired classmate. It baffled him at first, but he figured seeing her family photo that one time during Animan in addition to experiencing the Dupain-Chengs’ bolstering hospitality personally as both Adrien and Chat Noir made Marinette a safe space for his lonely imagination.

Whoever she married would be one lucky bastard, that was for sure.

The curtains behind the glass door swept dramatically to the side, revealing a bewildered Nino in Rena Rouge-themed pajamas.

“Chat Noir?!” he exclaimed. The glass between them muffled his voice.

A quick scan beyond Nino told Chat that his friend was home alone, but he knew he needed to be certain. “Are you home alone?”

Nino paled before realizing that a superhero asking that question wasn’t as bad as some random adult looking for an easy target. He exhaled, chuckling nervously. “My family went to the ice rink, but skating’s so not my jam.”

So he stayed behind. Good. This was gonna be a piece of cake! Adrien pointed at the door handle and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Oh, right. Sorry, dude!”

Nino clambered to unlock the door and wrenched it open. The smell of broth and herbs hit Adrien square in the nose. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunch. “What brings you here? An akuma?”

Stepping over the threshold, Chat tried to make sense of Nino’s question. Why would he come to a civilian if there was an akuma? “No, no akuma, Nino.”

“Oh, good, ’cause I-- Dude, how did you know where my room is?”

If Chat weren’t there to reveal his identity, he might have had a heart attack over accidentally bee-lining to Nino’s room like he’d been there before. He probably would have said something fishy like “In a house like this, it’s a given!” But he didn’t have to make up some ridiculous excuse. He wouldn’t ever have to lie to his best friend.

Never again.

“Because . . .”

Nino eyed Chat expectantly. His room was a mess. He really wasn’t expecting any visitors and his laptop was still open, his music and film ideas scrawled onto random pieces of notebook paper and scattered across his desk like a madman. Or an artist. Was there really a difference?

“Because . . .” Chat began once more.

Oh, gosh. This was it. He was going to do it. He was going to do the thing! He was alone at sea and no one from the boat had noticed him falling overboard. But maybe, just maybe Nino was the Coast Guard. Maybe Nino would throw him a buoy.

“Because claws in.”

Nino’s entire body went rigid. Crap, crap, crap!

“No, wait--!” Nino shouted, closing his eyes instinctually and reaching for Chat Noir. He had to pull him away from his laptop’s camera field! Had to get him out of sight! Why did he choose now to share Paris’s most coveted secret?!

But . . . he was too late.

The light had already dimmed behind his eyelids by the time his hands were closed around--

“Adrien?” Nino whispered, peering up at his best friend. The duckling he had sworn to protect and teach the ways of life was standing where Chat Noir should be.

Adrien smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but a high-pitched laughter rang out and the joy he felt was quickly replaced with sheer terror.

Nino grinned sheepishly.

“Uh haha, you remember my girlfriend Alya who I sometimes Skype with while working on scripts?” Clumsily, Nino rubbed comforting circles into Adrien’s arms as if he could rub away the embarrassment.

“You said you were home alone.”

“Actually, I said my family went to the ice rink.”

Adrien’s eye twitched.

Plagg, who couldn’t have foreseen this turn of events, hovered off to the side and figured if he didn’t move, he could pretend he was invisible.

Sure enough, Adrien craned his head to find an unhinged Alya screeching like a fox (he had seen a video of them laughing once on YouTube; they were so adorable!) from Nino’s computer screen. Behind Alya was a familiar cork board of friends and, well, lots of himself. The walls were pink. She was at Marinette’s like Nino said she would be.

Adrien had expected gasps. Finger pointing. A million questions. What he hadn’t expected was Alya laughing like he was the butt of a joke.

After a good minute of cackling and awkward waiting from the boys, Alya sighed and wiped a tear from her eye. Then she spoke, a dazed smile on her lips.

“I cannot wait to strangle that Hawaiian-shirt-loving Master of Unnecessary Manipulation.” Her words were completely contrasted by the amusement in her voice.

Adrien tried not to faint.

-----

We're now caught up with AO3 here on Tumblr (AO3 is where I first started posting this). Yay! :D Also, was anyone expecting Rena to be there? 😌I wasn't. 😳 Follow me for updates and check out my Instagram where I post art!

(7/?) Previous | Next

[fourmarkdove]

Cider.

Prompt: How about an angsty Henry x reader: she is told during a nightmare/dream that she has only one day left to live - and that she must not reveal anything to her loved ones! Waking up in Henrys arms and realize how lucky she was... Even if it couldnt last forever... @scorpionchild81

Title: Cider.

Words: 3k

Summary: Hurt/Comfort. Angst. Fluff. You hear in a dream you have only one day left to live.

Paring: Henry x reader

Warnings/Triggers: Anxiety, nightmares, panic attacks, dissociative disorder, death/dying. DD/lg if you squint and stand on one foot. (I think that’s everything?)

A/N: Pretty close to the prompt. Comments welcome. Thanks for reading!

~

Henry inhaled deeply, expanding his lungs audibly as he sat up in the bed you shared. He stroked a soothing hand over the curve of your hip while squinting in the dark, searching for the sound that woke him.

Clutching onto your pillow, you buried your face and mewled into it. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched you lying on your side, tense from the battle behind your closed eyes. His brows knitted with concern. It’d been so long since the nightmares claimed you, he thought for the last few weeks that maybe they’d gone altogether. He was clearly mistaken.

Dropping onto his forearm beside you, he carded his fingers through your hair and called to you gently. His first instinct was to burst through those fiery doors to hell and drag you back to this side of consciousness and safety, but it never worked that way. He had to tread gently, let you return to him on your own time. And it was incredibly painful to watch and wait for.

“Darling?” he beckoned, scratching the stubble on his chin over your shoulder like a puppy. “I’m here.”

Your lips parted and nails clawed into the pillow so sharply that the fabric finally ripped along the seam and soft white feathers fluffed out. A frown set his features hard. Cuddling his much larger frame to you, his thick arms encompassed you completely and thighs drew up close behind yours. He pressed his lips just behind your ear and let his warm breath fan over your skin.

“I’ll wait right here with you, Nugget.” As he began to gently rock your body, your grip on the pillow relaxed and he cooed into your ear about what a good girl you were.

Keeping his arms flexed tightly around your body, he hummed a soft tune, remembering how you always fell asleep in his arms in the hammock out back. He’d put a foot down to keep the two of you swaying, and he’d settle you on his chest, right under his chin, so you’d feel it when it’d rumble in his chest. Eventually you’d succumb to his comforting, and he’d feel your body melt into his long frame. He’d scratch the back of your arms, rub circles over your back, even hold your ass with a squeeze that’d make you sigh. You called it the ‘anxious hammock‘; his woman could call it anything she wanted so long as she felt protected and loved in it.

You’d been extra anxious lately with the news and social distancing and people in your social circle getting sick. And with him leaving your self imposed quarantine to focus on training going back to the Witcher set soon, it really ramped up your anxiety. 

It expressed itself little by little, starting with hugs around his neck as he was about to leave for the gym, but then when he would straighten up, you’d still be clinging on, dangling off of your feet. He’d chuckle and kiss all over your face, leaving you smiling. But other times, he’d find you hugging your knees, tears rolling down your cheeks until the shower ran cold and turned your lips almost blue. 

Other nights, he fully knew what your migraines looked like, so when you’d pretend to have one just so you could avoid dinner, he worried. He still finished dinner, cleaned up a bit, walked Kal and came to bed early with that lavender lotion you liked smeared into his palms. You and he spent a lot of time in that bed together, or the hammock, or the shower, just touching and being together. 

When things felt so uncertain and all of the words and tears were wrung out, you’d take turns massaging oil or lotion into each other. He always needed his kitten’s touch kneading against his sore muscles. And you needed his strength to pull you from the anxious knots you tied yourself into.

It really should have come as no surprise that the nightmares returned. The problem was that he wanted to do more - to solve an unsolvable problem - and that frustrated him to no end. He applied himself and conquered so many other areas of his life but in this part, the most important part, he had to be patient.

Sliding his arm under your head like a pillow, he gently tilted your hips back into him to locate the blanket you tucked between your legs. He knew this was more of a marathon than a sprint, so he settled in with a clenched jaw and tried to exhale slowly and sleep.

The black void is a gasping, vacuous, gaping maw threatening to consume first your sanity and then eternity. You can feel the voice rattling through your rib cage, long before the words make conscious sense.

“One day,” the voice calls from nowhere and everywhere. “One day left and then no more.”

Your entire body shudders free of its own volition and you’re aware of the crisp, scratchy bedsheets under your body. Antiseptic. Something metallic on your tongue. Dripping, beeping, wooshing. Buzzing purple fluorescent lights above. Your eyes roll open, vaguely aware of a nurse checking bags, pushing buttons, lifting your blankets. No privacy, no options, no voice.

Why am I here in this hospital? Why am I alone? ‘One more day’ and then - no more?

Panic sets in. You want to scream but the words won’t come out. There’s so much you wanted to do with your life. So many places you were going to see. You wanted to start a family with Hen... wait. Where is Henry? Does he know where you are? What if he doesn’t and you never get to say goodbye? 

The thought of tears spilling over those bright blue eyes of his, knowing you’d never be able to hold him again, kiss him again made everything in your being ache. You are desperate to cry out but nothing. It’s as if you’re dead already.

Almost as soon as his long lashes closed over his stormy blue eyes, like falling down into your own body, every muscle jerked and you gasped back into consciousness.

Scrambling to sit up, you drew your legs in to get your feet under you. You tore away the covers and your hoarse voice ripped through your parched vocal cords: “Hhhhhhennnnryyyy!”

“I’m here, Nugget,” he offered, his broad shoulders ghosting behind you.

Despite its size, his hand curving around your ribs was incredibly gentle. You shuddered at his touch; horror darkened your pupils and bottom lip quivered like a harp string vibrating to the point of breaking. Your nails clawed desperately into the sweatpants covering his thigh. Lips parted, but no words formed just yet; your eyes closed tightly and fingers touched your lips ruefully.

“Just a dream, sweet,” he comforted in a strong baritone, wrapping his whole hand around your small fingers. “You’re alright. See? Your Henry Bear is right here. Let me hold you, darling?”

Nodding emphatically, you dug your toes into the sheets and launched your whole body at him, not thinking for one moment about how pathetic your whimpers and trembling arms clinging around his neck might have seemed.

His brows lifted in the center and he continued to follow your gaze right up until you buried your face in his neck. The corner of his lips ticked upwards only briefly, before he nuzzled his face into your hair. 

It was stored in his muscle memory by now just where to grasp under your bare thighs, so you could bend your knees and spread over his hips so he could ease you down into a more comfortable position in his lap. There was no awkwardness negotiating who needed to move which limb where because you’d been doing this for years. 

Only recently there was less blushing over soaked panties or groans caused by awkward erections; just within the last six months you found yourselves single simultaneously and decided to give it a try.

Your breath was hot and stilted between sobs into his shoulder; his stubble along his jawline was scratchy against your forehead and temple but you didn’t mind. You just needed the closeness. Lifting your hair up into a ponytail, he pursed his lips, and blew cool air across your sweaty neck.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he questioned, rubbing slow circles with spread fingertips over your back. Your body tensed at his words but began to relax again when you wound your fingers dipped into his chocolate curls.

“I… don’t want to die,” you could barely whisper over his broad shoulder. “I don’t want YOU to die.”

“Oh Nugget,” he sighed, kissing the nape of your neck. “You dreamed I died?”

“No,” you hiccuped, pulling away and tapping the K on his soft gray shirt, attempting to distract yourself while you explained. “I was. And I wasn’t - wasn’t going to see you and - My heart, Hen. It - it feels broken.”

Cupping your face in both hands, he lifted your gaze and kissed your wet cheeks. “Look at us right now…”

Sniffling, you tucked your hands in between his biceps and forearms. “I know. I - It just felt so real. It feels so real. I’m not sure this feels real. It’s too nice to be real. You are too nice. I don’t know how to be sure...”

Deep worry lines etched over his forehead. Pressing his lips together in a flat line, his nostrils flared and he crossed his arms over his chest, peeling off his shirt.

The bear of a man breathed deep and slow, opening his hands to you. He gave you a wide berth; there would be no forcing - ever. His was a silent invitation to this familiar tango you’d only ever done with him.

Your gaze darted from his large palms resting against your thighs to his patient blue eyes watching you carefully.

“It’s alright, darling,” he encouraged, the softest of smiles lifting the apples of his cheeks. He wiggled his long fingers and you held your breath, sliding your hands into his. You felt the rough spots and calluses from the weights, the weaponry, the rope work, the horses. He worked so hard and should be sleeping right now instead of dealing with whatever mess you brought to him.

His soft kiss pressed to your forehead drew you from your thoughts. “Keep going,” he whispered against your hairline and you narrowed your eyes, focusing on his hands again. 

They were warm and so strong holding you and - oh - his middle and index fingers. The amazing things they did together. You forced yourself to stop thinking of it but your two fingers stroking inside his two fingers, and the furious blush across your cheeks, made him chuckle.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned broadly. Despite your blush, you continued to dance your fingertips inside his forearms, feeling the veins and sinewy muscle, the thick curve of his biceps and and shoulders. With a soft sigh, you lifted your head, kissed his clavicle and nuzzled into the light smattering of his scratchy chest hair. It was your favorite place to cuddle into. 

His particular masculine scent filled your senses and soothed every frayed, exposed nerve in your body; his musk reminded you of spices like cinnamon and nutmeg, orange and cranberry being mixed into hot apple cider on a crisp fall day.

You continued to lazily trace lines along his ribs and down his back, but he knew by your sigh that you’d come home. Tenderly sweeping your hair over your shoulder, he slowly and deliberately slid one arm high across your shoulders and the other low around the small of your back.

“I’m sorry, my love,” you murmured, your voice returning to its usual sweet timbre. It signaled you were returning from the frenzied dissociative state kicked off by that horrifically anxious nightmare. It meant he could speak to you differently, touch you differently.

“You don’t need to be, sweetheart,” he countered, kissing your forehead.

Sweeping your fingers along the stubble of his jawline, you cooed whisper softly and tentatively brushed your lips to his. Securing you to himself, he touched noses and parted lips, deepening the first kiss. Your fingers pushed into the back of his hair and tugged just gently enough to make you both smile.

With a deep, rumbling purr, he grabbed your hips and rolled you easily under him. He caressed two knuckles over your temple and teased your lips apart with his; he chuckled when you chased after his mouth for another.

But you pressed the heels of your palms against his chest and immediately he planked his body, lifting all of his considerable weight off of your much smaller frame.

Shutting his eyes tight, he huffed an exasperated breath and clenched his jaw. He should have known better. It was much too soon to touch you like this.

He intended to roll off and give you all of the comforting and cuddles you needed - until you wiggled a little under him. You shifted just a bit on the bed, reaching down and dragging your t-shirt up your bare stomach. His head was dropped just enough so his dark curls caressed your chest when you lifted your shirt off over your head and sighed softly under him.

You couldn’t help but giggle just a little at the arched brow and wide eyes he gave you when his gaze dragged up your nearly naked body to your face again.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “Ah, all better?”

“Yes, my love. Thank you.” Your answer was purely peaches and innocence during the act of wrapping your arms behind his neck drawing him down to you; only this time, he kept some of his weight lifted onto his forearms tucked under your shoulders.

“I thought I was crushing you.” He had a hint of playful warning in his tone.

“Oh. No, you know I love it even if you were,” you cooed, bending your knees and drawing your soft thighs up his ribs. “Isn’t it Oxytocin from the skin to skin contact?”

He smirked and grunted, catching one of your feet working on dragging the sweatpants down his hip. “I take it you’re feeling better.”

The corner or your lips twitched and your chest felt heavy all over again. You hated to admit it but the specter always lingered. “At the moment.”

“I know darling. We do these things one day at a time though, don’t we? Sometimes, by the minute?” He glanced up while you rolled the curls of his hair over your fingers. Collecting your wrist, he drew it to his mouth and kissed your hand.

Swallowing hard, you blinked but a tear escaped and rolled down your temple.

“Hey, shhh, Nugget.”

You sniffled and looked up into those beautiful, truly concerned, blue eyes of his. “You’re so much better than I deserve, Henry.”

He sighed and his shattered heart tore away from your gaze. Rocking his hips further down between your legs, he wrapped both arms under the small of your back and rested his head on your chest. 

It was the first he’d ever put himself in that position unless... he was there to give your breasts some attention? Your nipples hardened at the thought of his hot mouth sucking. He must have seen, or felt your nipple pebbling so near to his lips, because he fisted the edge of the bed sheet and covered your exposed skin.

Uncertain what to do exactly, you laid quietly and listened to his deep breaths and slow heartbeat for a long time. It wasn’t until you heard his breathing pause and stutter that your stomach dropped. “Henry? What’s wrong?”

“I just don’t know what else to do. What other way can I say it so you’ll understand?” His stormy eyes were dark and cheeks flushing pink when he put his chin on your sternum and glanced up at you. “I’m a patient man but you sure are putting me through my paces, sweetheart.”

Panic started to tighten your chest. Hearing your heartbeat and breathing quicken, he pressed his palm over it and spread his thumb away from his fingers to kiss your skin hidden under it.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. This isn’t what I wanted.”

“What did you want?” You asked bracing yourself with a fistful of sheets in each hand, practically panting the words.

Bearing his teeth, he sat up and stroked your cheek with his calloused thumb. “I want you to not be afraid anymore. I want to take away all of that worry in that beautiful mind of yours.”

As he swept the pads of his fingers over your forehead and down your nose, you gave them a kiss when they passed over your lips.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, swallowing hard so his Adam’s apple bounced. Your brows lifted, confused, but before you could ask, he dropped onto his side and pulled you to him, sheets and all. Legs and arms tangled together, you touched foreheads and shared the same warm breath fanning over each other’s skin.

“Hen?”

“Mhmm.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Nugget.”

“Hen?”

“Hmm.”

“I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Even if it was only a minute. And in the middle of nowhere. I’d want that last minute with you. That’s home… with you. If that’s okay with you, I mean.”

You thought for a moment that the wide eyed expression he gave you was surprise, until a smile lifted his features so brightly, his canines appeared. His mouth pressed to yours, gently at first, but taking a breath, he tipped your head and closed his lips over your top one, causing you to whimper and give him your bottom lip next. As your kisses became more hungry by the second, your attention was drawn from his tongue flexing into your mouth to his hands at your back.

They were fumbling with something, although you couldn’t tell quite what. Reaching behind you curiously, he grasped your hand and pressed his thumb inside your palm. Instinctively, you closed your fingers around it as he returned your hand to your chest.

He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and grinned. “Until I can get you a real diamond,” he panted breathlessly, lips reddened and slightly swollen.

Peering down inside your closed hand, you recognized the gold flash immediately. “Henry, darling, you can’t give me your signet ring!”

He scoffed, arching an eyebrow and collected your left hand, “’Course I can.”

Putting your entire ring finger in his mouth, he pulled off the artificial pearl you wore with his teeth and slid his ring on instead, making you giggle and wiggle your fingers.

“It’s a bit large,” you confessed, attempting to keep your fingers pressed tightly together. Turning your hand over, he let it drop into his palm and slid it onto your thumb instead.

“It’s only temporary,” he reminded you, lying back on the pillows and opening his arms so you could put your head on his chest. He let out a long, gruff sigh feeling your body settle down tucked in against him. Closing your eyes, you already felt your body starting to get heavy.

“You know,” he continued, gently raking his spread fingers through your hair, “I wanted to kiss you the first night we met.”

“That birthday party?” you cooed, nuzzling along his jawline. “That was almost ten years ago, Hen. I wonder where we’d be if you would have.”

“I imagine the exact same place. Only there’d be a couple more pairs of little feet running up and down the hall. What do you think, darling?”

You’d have absolutely agreed, and probably squealed at the thought, but you were already fast asleep by the time he finished his sentence. And it was the best sleep you’d had in months.

[bitterepiphany]

pawprints

Archive Of Our Own

warnings: none

summary: annie decides she wants to buy a cat

**reposting this on here since i moved it’s place on ao3**

Annie suppressed the urge to sneeze as the combination of the pet store’s scents invaded her nose; a vaguely unpleasant mixture of that distinct ‘furry animal’ smell, the sharp tang of disinfectant and bleach, and something that reminded Annie of straw, strangely. 

She adjusted quickly though, and wandered further into the shop, smiling noncommittally in response to the greeting of the young girl behind the counter. She surveyed the room. This was the third pet store they had been to that week, in search for the perfect companion following their conversation the previous weekend. 

****

Annie had been the one to bring up the subject, surprisingly. The thought struck her in the afternoon randomly as she was lazing around their living room, when it occurred to her that there was a gap beside the fireplace that would perfectly fit a cat tree. The idea didn’t repulse her, as many of her’s often did. She usually left the life decision-making stuff to Armin, finding that any period of time surpassing half an hour discussing something as menial as where to buy bedsheets or how to arrange the kitchen would lull her into an exhaustive stupor, without fail. 

The last time they went to a homeware store together, searching for an infuriatingly long amount of time for the perfect set of dinner plates, of all things - “They match the bowls, see!”, Armin had insisted - it had ended with Armin dangerously close to having said plates shattered over his head, and a terrified looking cashier who’s hands didn’t stop trembling as he scanned their items, spooked by the ‘I have been here to two hours too long’ look on Annie’s face. She and Armin had agreed afterwards that he would do the rest of that kind of stuff on his own, with the occasional help from Mikasa to carry things around. 

After waiting another hour and finding that the idea still persisted, she got up and searched for her boyfriend. After poking her head into a few empty rooms, she found him in the study at his desk, frowning at a document with a pen pressed up against his lips. He must be working on his paper for some fancy job application his old professor Hange had heard through the grapevine and recommended him for. Knowing he was in that type of zone where he barely registered his surroundings, she tapped on the doorframe, not wishing to startle him. 

He didn’t react at first. She leaned on the frame and knocked a little more forcefully. Armin jerked, blinking, and looked over at her.

“Annie!”

His face broke into that stupidly large, happy grin that he always wore when he saw her. Annie blushed unwillingly at the sight, automatically averting her eyes. He never failed to make her stomach lurch when he looked at her like that.

He leant back in his chair. She heard his spine crack as his back bent over the frame. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Oh, I wanted to run an idea by you,” she said, walking over to him. Armin pushed himself away from the desk, giving her room to climb onto his lap. His arms encircled her, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her exposed collarbone. “I’m all ears,” he murmured.

“Well…” She hesitated, struggling to formulate the ideas in words, despite its clarity in her head. “I was thinking… um… well I was sitting on the couch, and…”

Armin watched her patiently as she stuttered, eyes unblinking. A soft smile played upon his lips. 

God, just say it straight Annie.

“I wanna get a pet. Uh.... a cat, in particular.”

Her cheeks reddened immediately, and she ducked her face into his shoulder, finding the whole thing embarrassing  for some reason. Armin gently pushed her up straight so he could look in her eyes. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. Then he grinned. “Really?”

Why was she blushing so much? Still staring firmly at his shoulder, she nodded. 

Annie squeaked in surprise as she was suddenly lifted into the air. Armin pushed out of his chair and spun her around, humming happily. He set her down, hands sliding to rest on her shoulders, and beamed. He began to talk excitedly.

“Ooh yay, I’m so happy to hear that Annie! Do you want a girl or a boy cat? Should we buy one as a kitten or get a rescue? Hmm, we’d have to get litter if we don’t want it to go outside, but that’s kinda gross to clean… oh! Do you have any colour preference? Or the length of fur, or…”

He trailed off, blushing as he realised he was rambling. Annie just smiled and reached up to brush his bangs back off his forehead. 

“We’ll figure it out”

****

So here Annie was now, scanning the store for the cat section. She had been particularly partial to getting a rescue, feeling a kind of kinship with the abandoned animals. But their local shelter didn’t have any cats at the moment, specialising in dogs more, and Annie didn’t feel like travelling and searching for another one hours away. So Armin had eventually convinced her that buying a kitten from a pet shop would be just as good - “It means that this one won’t ever need to go into a shelter!”, he had said - and they began kitten searching. 

They had gotten the general supplies - things like food and water bowls, a bed, a tree (which fit perfectly into that space that Annie had imagined it to), toys, and litter from the other stores they visited. But they lacked the essential - the kittens themselves. Armin had to make some calls, and they finally found a shop in a neighbouring town that had a litter come in a few days ago. 

Annie walked past the dog collars, looking for the enclosures.

“Do you think they’re over here…?” 

She trailed off as she glanced to her side, realising Armin had completely disappeared. She frowned, glancing around. He was nowhere to be seen. Annie huffed. Trust him to get distracted in a place like this. She had an idea about where he might be, and set off to find him. 

As she made her way to the other side of the shop, a sharp yip to her left caused her to jump. Her head whipped around, startled, but she soon relaxed when she saw what made the noise. Annie was not very comfortable with dogs in general - there had been incidents with shitty neighbours and their untrained mutts throughout her childhood - but puppies were different. They were just too small and soft to do any damage, and she found the way they chewed on your hands with their little teeth to be endearing. 

A mish-mash of different puppies rumbled around in an open enclosure next to her. Annie crouched down and watched them as they played for a moment. A curious daschund pup came up to her, and she smiled as it sniffed and licked at her fingers through a crack in the enclosure’s glass. 

I wouldn’t mind getting a dog with Armin if they stayed this size forever. 

Right. Armin.

Annie stood back up, spotting the section she thought he would be in. Her suspicions proved right as she turned down the fish aisle, spotting her boyfriend crouched in front of one of the tanks, gazing at the little fish swimming around with a curious, awestruck shine in his eyes.

They already owned some fish. Annie didn’t think she would have ever been able to stop him from getting some, the crazy ocean nut he was. She let Armin take care of them though, terrified she would kill them immediately if she tried to do anything with them at all, satisfied with occasionally admiring their bright colours as they swam around in their tank. 

She approached her boyfriend, placing a hand on his head. He looked up at her, that starry-eyed look still on his face. 

“C’mon Armin, you know we aren’t here for more fish,” she reprimanded gently, running her fingers through his hair. 

“I know, I know, but I can’t help it…” He pouted his lips, that puppy-dog look entering his eyes. “They’re just so cool!”

Annie chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “You know that doesn’t work on me Arlert,” she said, tugging on his hair to hide the fact that that look did indeed work on her very well. Armin’s face melted back into that easy smile and he stood up, catching the hand on his head, pressing his lips against her fingers. “Sure, Annie,” he replied. “Ok, let’s go look at these kittens.”

He laced their fingers together and led her to the back right corner of the shop. “I spotted the sign over here on our way in,” he explained as an in-built wall enclosure came into view. Annie hummed. 

Something caught in her chest as she spotted the kittens. 

There were four of them, all tiny, little balls of fluff with stubby legs and wispy tails. Two were dark brown, one was ginger, and the last one was cream coloured. The brown ones were snuggled on a suspended platform sleeping, the ginger one was sniffing at a bowl of food, but the cream one was tottering around on its little legs, and came up to the glass and stared directly at Annie. 

Almost trance-like, Annie approached the glass and crouched down, locking eyes with the kitten. It had pale blue eyes, like hers, and it tracked her finger as she raised it up and hovered it over the glass near its head. She vaguely heard Armin walk over to one of the employees and requested if they could hold the kittens. Annie moved her finger around, entranced as the kitten pounced about, trying to catch it, its little paws pressed up against the glass. 

“Excuse me miss,” came a voice from behind her. Annie turned to see Armin and a female shop assistant with a pair of keys in her hands. “Would you like to hold one of the kittens?”

“Oh, yes please,” Annie replied, stepping back to allow the girl to unlock a side door and step inside the enclosure. 

“This one?” The girl pointed at the cream kitten Annie was playing with a minute ago. Annie nodded, and watched as the girl gently lifted the small cat into her arms and walked back to the couple. Carefully, the girl placed the kitten into Annie’s outstretched hands.

Annie gazed down at the tiny animal in her hold, feeling it squirm slightly, paws pressing into her bare arms, its long whiskers brushing against her skin. She bobbed it up and down slightly, almost automatically, as if she were carrying a small child. It wriggled a little more, before finally settling and resting its small head on her wrist. Annie watched it, wide-eyed, hardly daring to breath, lest she disturb it. Her fingers began to stroke through its soft, downy fur. Her breath hitched as its sides began to vibrate. It was purring.

Annie glanced up at Armin, a smile forming on her lips. He was grinning, looking very pleased. He approached them quietly, and bent down slightly to face the kitten. “Hey there little one,” he whispered. He offered his fingers for it to sniff; it regarded him with its big eyes and let out a tiny mewl. Armin’s smile grew even bigger. “Yeah, I know…” He looked up at the shop assistant. “Is it male or female?” he questioned.

“Female, sir.”

Annie stared down at the kitten, who seemed to be falling asleep in her arms, purring all the while. Armin looked at her. “I think we’ve found the one, huh? You two even match!”

Annie didn’t think she could leave this kitten behind if she tried. “I love her,” she murmured. She lowered her face, pressed it into the silky fur, and breathed in her scent. Unbeknownst to her, Armin smiled and grinned at the shopkeeper, nodding. He pulled out his phone and quickly snapped a picture of the new pair.

****

A sharp yowl cut through the air, wrenching Annie out of her fitful slumber. She lay there silently, waiting, hoping, praying that it wouldn’t continue. Of course, her wishes were ignored. Another cutting meow ran through the house. Annie groaned, rolling herself onto Armin’s chest.

“Armin,” she hissed, “I swear to god if that thing doesn’t stop whining right now, I will take it back to where it came from.”

She felt his arms wrap around her and his face nestle in her hair. He mumbled something incoherently, chest rising as he sighed. The thing in question let loose another cry into the night.

“Armin!”

He sighed again, arms tightening, then relaxing as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Annie followed suit, watching him as he rubbed his face tiredly. “Just ignore it,” he grumbled, “She’ll stop eventually.”

Annie shoved his shoulder weakly. “What?” he whined. 

“Armin, I’ve woken up five times in, what - “ she glanced at her phone “- two hours, and if I don’t get solid, unbroken sleep soon I’m… god, I'm gonna be fucked in the morning.”

As if on cue, their new pet, who had been named Donut on the car trip back home, cried out. It sounded like she was right outside their bedroom door. Armin cringed and Annie buried her face into a pillow. 

“Alright,” her boyfriend huffed, throwing back the covers. “Let’s try this then.”

He walked over to the door and swung it open, cueing a surprised sounding meow from the kitten, who looked up at the man in the doorway.

Armin bent down and gathered Donut into his arms. “Hey little one. What’s wrong? Are you lonely out there all by yourself?”

Keeping the door cracked open, he padded back to their bed, setting the kitten down onto the covers. He settled beneath the sheets again, watching as the cat began to sniff around, making soft, squeaky noises. Donut’s head jumped up as Annie shifted, locking onto her. She mewed loudly, before bounding over to Annie, and promptly began to crawl all over her body. 

“Aagh, no don’t step there, no- ow ow claws, Donut, stop-”

Armin laughed, making the bed shake, which only served to aggravate the kitten further into her scramblings. “Seems like she just missed her mummy, huh?”

Annie protested as she felt tiny pinpricks sink into her skin again. She grabbed the offender and gently placed her next to her chest, running a hand over her tiny body. This seemed to calm the kitten, and Donut settled and curled up, shoving her soft head beneath Annie’s chin. Vibrations ran through her, as she began to purr lightly.

“Ah, I can’t stay mad at you if you do that,” she mumbled, glancing up at Armin, who seemed to have fallen asleep again already. “Hmm… I guess you’ll have to stay with us until you get used to this place then…” Content, with warmth spreading through her body from the soft bundle of fluff nestled against her, Annie drifted off.

They slept through the night

[randomnoteforfuturereference]

So finally got started on something that has been bouncing around my skull for a while (and I mean a while). Though it would probably still be a while till I actually start officially posting the fic, I thought this rough excerpt would be apt for Day 1 of @nurseyweek2021

_X__X__X__X__X__X_

The doors open to reveal a cavernous room paneled with steel and wood. The only sources of light are from the southwest-facing windows that largely silhouette the long conference table and a rectangular skylight taking up half the ceiling; it takes me a moment to realize that the skylight supports a fish-filled pool that filters and dapples the light streaming through.

As executives and their high-ranking flunkies clear the room, one slim figure remains standing at the middle of the table and sorting through what I assume are documents of importance. Our entrance causes her to glance up, and I feel my insides clench out of pure instinct.

One time when I was hunting in my uncle’s woods, I stumbled across a log full of lynx kittens. Before I could move away without being noticed, I then stumbled across the mom. After a lot of walking backwards on my part, we managed to part ways without anyone getting hurt. And honestly, the logical part of me knew that lynx preferred running to getting into a risky fight. But forever seared into my mind was the way my body was on high alert as she sized me up during the standoff.

At this moment, Dr. Deborah Nurse imparts the same kind of pucker factor.

Yeah, I’ve seen footage and images of her on tv and publications, and I even listened to an interview with her on NPR. And yeah, of course I’ve met other folks with fame and influence; I really wish I was drunk enough to forget what I said to Jack during our little hazing. But nothing really compares with meeting someone like this in person.

Someone who, from appearance alone — between her close-cropped graying hair, simple jewelry, and sharply-cut black dress suit — just radiates indescribable power and brokers zero bullshit. Even though I probably have around half a foot on her, there’s still an irrational feeling that she could snap me in half.

Though Dr. Nurse and her son share the same eyebrow forms as well similarly sharp noses, their eyes can’t be any more different. Her eyes are a deep dark brown that are set in an ever observant and calculating gaze that sharply contrasts with Nursey’s soft and relaxed desaturated greens.

However, upon focusing on Nursey, something shifts in his mom. The severity in her poise and expression doesn’t drop all the way, but it does soften as she approaches us and allows Nursey envelope her in a big hug and kiss her on the cheek.

There's almost an absurdity here. Just minutes ago, she just got done playing what I assume was hardball with Raytheon. And now she’s asking Nursey about our trip and how she hopes that we will have another championship that she can attend. In all honestly, it doesn’t feel too different from how Ma talks with me. A little more deliberate in speech patterns sure, but still…

I’m so wrapped up in that thought that I almost miss that Dr. Nurse has stopped focusing on Nursey and is now having all attention on me.

“You must be William.”

And now the pucker factor is back.

[kaeyas-beloved]

To Brighten Someone’s Day {Jumin x Reader} [REPOST]

Note: So I was going through my posts and I found out that I deleted a one-shot I wrote about a year and a half ago which??? Is weird cause I usually make sure I don’t delete something unless I want to???

So Imma just repost it here and now ^^

Request:

Anonymous asked: The ask box is fixed now. My friend is a fan of your writing and loves Jumin Han. Her birthday and his are in the same day and she is sad lately. I was wondering if you could write a little story for it with mc and Jumin celebrating their birthdays on the same day. Thank you very much. Thank you for answering. -^=^ P.s have a very good day.

~~~

A groan escapes her lips as the early morning rays of sun shine through the blinds, blinding her. ‘Jumin must have opened them up’ she thought. Her days at work and school have been really stressing her out lately, dampening her mood even when not doing any work as a result. A groan rumbles in her throat at the realization on what day it is, ‘It’s Jumin and I’s birthday…’ With another groan, (Y/N) rolls out of the comfy and warm king-sized bed and heads to the kitchen, barring the best smile that she could muster up for the morning.

The scent of Jumin’s famous home-made pancakes can be caught upon entering the room, a sweet scent that brings somewhat truth to the fake smile. His pancakes never cease to bring a smile to her face. She walks up behind him and wraps her arms around him, placing her face flush against his back. Jumin spins in her embrace and gladly returns it. She didn’t know this but Jumin was well aware of her current drop in mood therefore leading him to plan and make this day the best for her.

Her happiness is his happiness after all.

“Happy birthday, my love” he wished to his wife, a smile on his face. (Y/N) moves her head to look up at Jumin in the eyes, returning the smile.

“Happy birthday to you too, darling.” She wishes back.

“I made your favourite, strawberry flavoured pancakes” Jumin turns back to the stove, (Y/N) standing to his right, watching intently as he cooked.

“But, Jumin, today is not only my day, it’s your too…” she reminds him. Jumin simply chuckles.

“Yes, I know kitten.” Is all he says before he turns off the stove and ushers her to take a seat at the table. Once she’s seated Jumin brings two plates full of nice, warm pancakes, setting one in front of (Y/N) and the other in front of himself.

“What are we doing to celebrate this time, Jumin?” she asks. She knows that Jumin is still somewhat of a mellow man, not to big on celebrations. He has enough of those with his job. The usual activities that are done is sitting at home, cuddling each other, as well as Elizabeth the 3rd, maybe watching a movie or two and finishing off with going out to a fancy restaurant for dinner. He will also usually state these plans, or at least some, but his next sentence leaves her confused and a little shocked.

“It’s a surprise, my love”

Finishing up breakfast, Jumin grabs the plates and brings them to the sink, (Y/N) following to clean them. When Jumin notices what’s she about to do he stops her, “I’ll get someone to clean these but I need you to go get dressed.” Again, confusion paints her face. She goes to open her mouth to ask a question but Jumin is quick to start talking again, “And no, nothing formal. Just something casual.” With a reluctant nod, (Y/N) heads back to the bedroom to get changed.

Summer is just ending and the weather is starting to turn into cool temperatures, perfect weather for a nice light brown hoodie, black leggings and a grey toque. Exiting and making her way to the door, she is surprised to see Jumin already in clothes, ‘Wasn’t he just in PJs?’, and casual clothes at that! Jumin actually looks pretty good without a suit, blue jeans and a grey t-shirt along with a blue jean jacket and a black toque replacing it. Man, Jumin Han is full of surprises today…

“Ready, Love?” (Y/N) nods her head yes and Jumin gives a small smile. Jumin and (Y/N) then exit the penthouse, off to the first mystery destination of the day.

Walking through a park like a normal couple has proven to be relaxing. No bodyguards, no renting out the entire park just for the two of them, just a normal walk. It actually feels really nice. The cool breeze blows throw her hair, hair ending up going in her face. Jumin leans down and tucks it behind her ear, sneaking a kiss on the forehead while doing so. Her cheeks are a light shade of pink, the breeze not being the only cause. Jumin merely chuckling lightly and continues to walk hand-in-hand through the park with her.

Next stop, Jaehee’s house. Why? Well because Jumin along with all the other members are throwing a surprise party for her and just a normal party for Jumin, since he was the one who thought of the idea. Walking into the home, immediately the RFA yell “SURPRISE” and confetti are popped. Wishes of Happy Birthday are tossed around by the members to both Jumin and (Y/N), smiles all around. Presents are given, cake is eaten and laughs are shared with the family she had made with them all, especially her husband, Jumin. 9 o’clock rolls around pretty fast when you’re with the people that you love the most, and its now time to go home. Walking back to the penthouse, a smile still on her face, (Y/N) has completely forgotten about all the stress and depression she’s been feeling and that’s a win for Jumin. He did what he was hoping to do, cheer up (Y/N) on such a special day for her and him.

An hour later that’s filled with wine and cuddles, Jumin decides he needs to tell her something.

“My love?” She hums in acknowledgment. “You know, I did realize your sudden change in mood, right?” (Y/N) chuckles slightly at his confession.

“Should have known, nothing gets past the Jumin Han…” It was meant as somewhat of a joke but Jumin, at this moment, is all serious.

“Darling, you know you can talk to me if something is bothering you. I hate seeing you so sad, even the tiniest bit hurts me.” Sensing the serious atmosphere, (Y/N) answers back with a sigh and the same level of seriousness as him.

“I know Jumin, I just… I don’t know…” Jumin pulls her towards him, arms wrapping around her, keeping her in a loving and warm hug.

“I won’t force you to tell me right now, just know that I am here whenever you need me. So… just come to me when need be”

(Y/N) exhales out of her nose, calm now that she knows that Jumin is here with her no matter what.

“I will, Jumin. Thank you, I love you.” She mumbles into his chest. His safe and secure and loving body. One that will be with her through ever step it takes to ease her problems.

Smiling Jumin replies, tightening his hold slightly and bringing (Y/N) closer, “I love you too, (Y/N). Forever and always, no matter what…”

[bonfire-at-the-crossroads]

Not-My-Kitty strikes a pose.

She magically produced a pair of kittens last August. She is a necromancer, as there was never any change in her size, shape, or behavior to indicate she might be plotting something.

I discovered them one afternoon in her never-used-not-even-once, cat house I made for her. A tiger and a little coal-black darling - both with blue eyes.

They disappeared overnight.

She must have moved them somewhere, as there was no sign of struggle or violence anywhere - they were simply gone.

Forever.

She has since become far more vocal in our interfaces. She keeps up a steady stream of cat-crying, which I answer as best I can. I’ve asked her many times what became of her babies - but she just looks at me.

I don’t think she knows either.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Blood Sister | Feeding Habits Update #5

Hey People of Earth!

Are we back for another Feeding Habits update? Today let’s chat chapter six!

Blood Sister is the first chapter in Harrison’s POV and also the longest chapter in the book (a little over 8k words). It took me about a month to write!

Scene A:

Harrison gets back to the NYC apartment he shares with his mother after running errands to ward off either the spirit that haunts their walls or to rescue whatever is stuck in them. His mother preps for a dinner as Harrison has invited his old pal Reeve over.

Scene B:

Harrison removes a litter of kittens from behind the drywall. One of the kittens is dead. Strangely, a German Shepherd puppy is also in the litter.

Scene C:

Reeve appears in a glamorous blur and makes an interesting first impression on Suz who seems slightly stunned and endeared by her.

Scene D:

At dinner Reeve confronts Harrison about his “straight-edge” lifestyle since moving to NYC and he realizes her judgements about his life being monotonous are very true--he lacks purpose.

Scene E:

Harrison and his mother clear the dishes and Suzanna confronts him on the fact that he hasn’t told her that Reeve is in fact Lonan’s sister. Suz knows the boys’ relationship is complicated, and plays Devil’s advocate by outright asking Reeve how her brother is. Reeve, who hasn’t seen Lonan longer than Harrison, has assumed Lonan lives with them or is close by, and feels semi-betrayed that Harrison has kept his whereabouts a secret.

Scene F:

Reeve and Harrison drive to a garden and he’s reminded of the event that lead to him and his mother’s return to the east coast.

Harrison meets Winona outside a convenience store, the same woman Lonan meets in ch.6 of Moth Work. She takes him to her mansion where she’s hosting a party and introduces him to her husband. Harrison makes multiple bad decisions which you can probably figure out for yourself!

Scene G:

Harrison wakes up in Winona’s house and is confused to see her and her husband standing over his leather jacket. If we remember what happened in ch. 6 of Moth Work, Lonan gets beat up by Winona’s husband and has Harrison’s jacket & angel chain stolen. We can assume from this scene that Winona has a) recognized the jacket and b) chosen him to come back to her house for the purpose of also beating him up (which happens).

Scene H:

Reeve and Harrison jump a fence into a garden to give the dead kitten an unorthodox “water burial” in the garden’s fountain. Reeve confronts him on why no one has seemed to care about her whereabouts for the last year, and also suggests the only reason he wanted to see her now is because he misses Lonan. Harrison miserably drinks too much wine.

Scene I:

Harrison wakes up in the cold, very drunk, and Reeve is gone. A security guard looms over him. Harrison asks the confused man if he thinks he was separated at birth. Harrison isn’t referring to feeling like he’s been removed from a sibling bond, like the kittens, but a deeper, “indissoluble bond” formed between two people (like the kittens and the puppy). This connects to the title “Blood Sister” as Reeve suggests she and Suzanna may be connected in this way, to the kittens, and to Lonan and Harrison.

This idea of “indissoluble bonds” was reinforced when I listened to Stephanie Harlowe’s coverage on the Parker-Hulme case, and this was the title of her video! This idea of an immutable connection between two people who are forever separated, like the dead kitten despite its death, still being connected to its siblings, was very relevant to how Harrison feels about Lonan.

Excerpts:

Here’s the entire first scene <3

Something has died in the drywall. Suz insists there must also be a ghost—she hears cries when she sleeps—so when Harrison returns to their apartment with both a handsaw and a bottle of holy water, she’s more than pleased.

Today, it snows in New York City, and no amount of brushing off his hair and jacket rids him of the snowflakes he tracks in. His face stings with the bitter early March air, and he’s resettled easily into the east coast grit; he likes the taste of instant coffee and the smell of gasoline.

Harrison shoulders off his jacket, the leather rigid with frost, and undoes the loop of his scarf one-handed. The apartment smells overwhelmingly of cloves and apple peel, and he is unsurprised when his mother rushes over to him, flushed from the kitchen heat, her #1 Dad apron bunching at her hips, and pushes a highball glass into his palm in exchange for his findings.

“It’s a secret recipe,” she says, twiddling through his errands. Suzanna lifts the bottle of holy water to eye level, unscrews its cap, and daps two soaked fingers to her lips just as he dips his fingers into the glass, around its rim, and then into his mouth. The hot mull of liquid bursts against his taste buds, citrusy. “Wish I believed in this shit as much as I believe nutmeg is my new holy saviour.”

Harrison downs the rest of the glass’s contents, the cider’s spice grafting down his throat. Its heat clings to the roof of his mouth, a subtle burn that numbs his tongue, but he likes it, its sweetened acid like a rucking back to life.

“Is that the secret?” He runs his pinky along the base of the glass so the last drops of liquid climb up his fingernail.

“The Lord?”

Harrison laughs and accepts the holy water she hands him, rescrews its cap in place. “Nutmeg.”

Suzanna takes his empty glass and whisks toward the kitchen. On the stove burbles two saucepans and one Dutch oven, the fan whirring like the pleats of an accordion.

“Maybe it’s both,” she says.

You asked for the entire second scene? Here Harrison finds the litter of kittens:

The first thing Harrison removes when he saws through the drywall lining the two-prong outlet is a dead kitten. Its body shifts onto his hand with damp weight, like an overripe pear, its silver hair glass-like under the beam of his flashlight. Though it sits comfortably in the pit of his palm, though he knows he cannot kill or revive it, his first instinct is to lay it on the beach towel Suzanna laid out because he fears he’ll crush it with just one pulse of his thumb.

Its eyes are the size of his pinkie nail, gently shuttered like it’s drifted to a lawless sleep. The animal will remain in this state—only death, but as he looks at it, braying its hairs back with his forefinger, he considers alternative options. Harrison knows little of necromancy, but considers anointing it with the holy water, lighting a red-cased candle in front of it, chanting a verse from Revelations.

With the flashlight secured between his molars, Harrison pulls out four more kittens, all that mew as they cling to his fingers, their noses twitching against his skin like it’s feed. They burrow into the beach towel, trampling over one another with blind fervency, all shimmery silver. In comparison to their deceased sibling, they wriggle, pink-nosed, and don’t settle against the grain of the towel, always wagging, like earthworms.

Harrison believes he’s done—removed the dead animal and rescued four more. Good work which he’ll take to a farm just outside the city—Suzanna has a friend. He’s nearly clicked off the flashlight when he sees it, just a subtle glint of something else—an animal that isn’t silver, but a dry brown.

At first, he thinks it’s a rat that’s raked through the walls to where it is now, but the longer he shines the flashlight, the more he sees it is not a rat, or even a kitten. What sits, jittering behind the outlet, is a pup.

Like the kittens, its nose twitches back and forth, its eyes small enough to be the ovular black beads on Suzanna’s rosary which hangs, decorative, above the front entrance. “It’s a cleanse for the spirit,” Suz said when he questioned her reasoning for bringing religious memorabilia into a house of two atheists. “Dianne from church told me.” Dianne is a beer-bellied schoolteacher, proud pothead and mother of four who frequently volunteers at the church’s weekend functions with his mother. “She’s into that kind of thing. Seances. Jesus Christ. I think she mentioned they had something spicy going on in college.”

“Something spicy?”

“Spicy. Like hot wings. Habaneros. One-night stands. I don’t know Harry, it sounded illicit.”

They both grinned.

Harrison does not know when him and Suz began getting along. There was no one date or time, no anniversary to look forward to for their official reunion. One moment he struggled not comparing her face to the one he knew in his early teens, and the next, they crouched over a salad bowl of burnt popcorn, taking turns painting each other’s fingernails with the same shade of red nail polish—Crazy for Carmine

The dog can’t yet focus its eyes on anything, but Harrison swears it stares at him. It fidgets from its position crouched on the outlet, so when he extends his hand, an offering, he’s surprised when it crouches onto the tip of his finger, shimmying into his palm. It’s even smaller when he holds it, plum-sized, and velveteen. Its eyelids flicker like the apartment’s bad TV signal, and when it opens its mouth to cry, its teeth, no larger than the tip of a toothpick, prick up.

“You’re not a tabby,” he says, drags his fingers through the suede-like gloss of its fur. The pup curls against his knuckles, murmurs languidly until Harrison pets its head again.

“Did you say something, Harry?”           

Harrison stands from his crouch when his mother materializes from her bedroom, the animal still pared delicately in his palm. When he glances at her, he’s surprised to see she’s changed out of her usual loungewear, a tank top and bell-bottoms, and into a patterned shirtdress that sways to her knees. The Matisse-like design, organic shapes, all the colour of a celery stalk, drapes to her knees, flounces when she twirls for him.           

“I thought we agreed on business casual,” he says, but smiles wider the longer he looks at her. Tulle gathers in a funnel down her waist, pluming her so she looks less like his mother and more like a fairy.          

“I’m taking the business side, and you’ll take the casual.”          

“She’s just a friend, Mom. She’s not expecting anything.”           

“She’s got an English last name,” Suz says. Her eyelids glitter with gold pigment, her lips tacky with rouge. “Of course she’s classy.”           

Harrison thumbs the back of the pup’s head and shifts closer to Suzanna when she cocks her head toward it.

“I think Reeve is more than classy,” he says. “Maybe stylish. Exclusive. Superior. Glamorous.”           

Suzanna shifts the pup from Harrison’s hands to her own, neatly patting its head with her pinkie until its murmurs soften. When she holds the animal, it’s like he no longer stands behind her. It’s just her in her Matisse dress and the dog, comfortably blinking in her hand. “You found a puppy in a litter of kittens?” she says, less of a question, and more of a declaration of wonderment. She lifts the animal to eye level. Its nose wrinkles, like the skin of a fig. “Looks like mama picked up a stray. A beautiful stray. You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Reeve making only iconic appearances:

Reeve appears in their doorway wearing cat-eye sunglasses, a bottle of pinot noir slatted between her arm and chest. Though it’s been storming since early morning and there has been no sun in the city since the week previous, her appearance is so believable—cheekbones subtly tanned like she’s mastered the timing for a perfect sunlike glow, the sunglasses teetering neatly on the tip of her nose and staying there, like they’re a dog she’s taught to sit and stay—that Harrison’s almost convinced she commissions the sun to come out twice daily for a private show, just for her.

“We booked an appointment,” she says, letting herself into the apartment in a faux-fur blur.

Harrison swivels as she unzips, tooth by tooth, the red skin-slick vinyl of her gogo boots. Her hair falls in an untamed fringe around her forehead, the front sections pinned back by an array of rainbow-coloured butterfly clips. It mimics the fray of her jacket, fluffed around the hood’s perimeter.

Reeve dusts snow off her corduroy culottes, readjusts the collar of her black turtleneck. “When I moved to the city, I forgot how gruelling the winters can become.” She taps the heels of her boots onto the welcome mat so slush flakes onto the rubber before slipping her feet out elegantly, like Cinderella. “I almost believed New York City existed in a fictional bubble where everything remained dry and hot, like in Egypt, or the Mojave. When I asked for a hellish climate, I was hoping for sun and the occasional forest fire. Not ice and more ice.”

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” Suz speaks where Harrison’s words shrivel. She steps from the kitchen to the entrance, her dress flouncing when she extends a hand toward Reeve. “William Shakespeare.”

Reeve looks up. The cold has pinched her cheeks pink, drooled water to her eyes so when she blinks, tears sprout to her jawline. “Suzanna,” Reeve says, and embraces his mother with willful ease, like they’ve been girlfriends for a decade, like they purchase pavlova from the same patisserie at the same time on Thursdays, like they help each other whip perfectly fatty meringues at the same baking class so they can master the same pavlova and never buy it again. “I’ve heard nothing about you and yet I feel we’ve known each other for years. What do they call that? Blood sisters.”

So here’s the whole third scene lol:

At dinner, Reeve pops the cork of a bottle of pinot noir with her teeth before Suz tells her she and Harrison don’t drink. She’s in the middle of saying she’s a prophet, the bringer of wine, her lips parted around the cork, traces of her lip gloss gumming around its circumference.

“No alcohol?” Reeve says, spitting the cork into her palm so a glob of red transfers onto her skin.

Suz stirs a serving dish of clams with an olive wood spoon, their shells phosphorescent in the artificial light. “Harry and I have taken a break from spirits. Except for the holiest one of course.” She points to the roof as if signaling to the man upstairs and dishes a spoonful of clams onto Reeve’s plates, the shells chiming against the ceramic.

“That’s so reverent.” Reeve pricks the edge of a clam with a toothpick and swallows its frill into her mouth. “So virginal.”

Harrison accepts a spoonful of clams from his mother and adjusts a sprig of rosemary so it lies perpendicular to the plate’s edge. Olive oil gums under his fingernails and soaks into the fibres of a slice of bread he rips at the crust.

“I always assumed you’d be a partier if you ever moved back to the city,” Reeve says, and it takes Harrison a moment to realize she’s speaking to him. “Disco. Karaoke. Cocktails. Men who buy you cocktails.”

“Has that been your life in New York, Reeve?” Harrison sucks a lobe of clam between his lips. Its brine coats his tongue in a burst of salt and cilantro.

Reeve tips the bottle of wine to her mouth, its red gift bow shifting, silverish with light. “You could say that. I just expected more. Not that your life now is boring. But I assumed there would be more glamour.”

Harrison sops up a dribble of oil onto a shear of bread, and says something like, “I thought so too,” before swallowing.

“We have glamour,” Suz says as Harrison absently eats more clams. She points to the chandelier the two found at the bottom of a New Jersey dumpster, yet to be installed, sitting in its crystal glory on the floor. She explains the story of how it came to be as Harrison eats and listens for the mewing of the kittens, thinks about their one dead sibling that now lies curled inside a shoebox, separated in eternal rest.

Reeve is not wrong. Life in New York City has been far from glamorous. He shares this apartment with his mother who pays for all of the rent—it’s been months since Harrison could hold down a steady job. He tries with odds and ends—repairing a neighbour’s bathroom sink, tacking sconces up outside the apartment for a hundred bucks. His room is a décor-less box that smells like wallpaper even though it’s sanded smooth and painted with two coats of an eggshell-finished oatmeal white. There is no dancing, no music, no colour, no partying, no alcohol or men with alcohol. Not anymore, at least. Her statement should not sting—this is the utter truth. The apartment is repetitive shades of indistinctive creams, furniture he and his mother pick up off the curbs of wealthy homeowners, incomplete, yet his home, nonetheless. No matter the story Suz tries to spin—look at the exposed brick, look at the counter space, look at the custom-moulded baseboards the previous renters installed—he knows what Reeve has said is true. Life in the city is comfortable but monotonous—an unrelenting kind of normal.

“We found kittens,” Harrison says, promptly interrupting the women’s conversation that has quickly moved away from the apartment to their favourite places to eat gelato. Suz’s clam drifts off her toothpick; Reeve almost chokes on a gulp of wine. Harrison swipes a chunk of bread through olive oil and chews. “That’s glamorous.”

Reeve sets the wine bottle back onto the dinner table and folds her hands over the other. Her manicure is chipped, just the remnants of a tortoiseshell marble. “What kind? Calico?”

“They’re just kittens. And a dog.”

“You found a dog in a litter of kittens?”

Harrison eats one last clam and finishes his portion of bread. “Glamorous,” he says, his mouth half-full.

The beginning of scene 4:

While Suz and Reeve discuss room décor and clear the plates, Harrison checks on the kittens. Dishes clank rhythmically as they’re soaped, rinsed, dried, the ceramic whimpering in time with the kittens. He hasn’t named any but understands their differences. Though the quadruplets share the same silver coat, one has a slightly larger nose than the rest, one has a fleck of gold in its blue eye, one has pinstripes scrolled across its forehead like a branch of lightning—small details like this differentiate them.

In his palm, the one with the golden eye crawls, its underbelly sateen. Tomorrow, he’ll make the drive just outside Brooklyn where he’ll drop the kittens off at an old farmhouse. Suz’s friend from rehab is selling it, some Theodore Harvey, but his wife fosters animals, and was delighted to have the new additions. Though he hasn’t spoken to his mother about this arrangement, he also knows tomorrow he will keep the dog. Juniper, he’s named her—June with the eyes like a solstice.

When his mother pokes him, he jumps, and the kitten shimmies off his palm.

The sounds of dishes clinking morphs into the filmy mutter of a talkshow Reeve watches, sipping absently at her gifted bottle of red wine.

She nudges a pastry into his hand, where the kitten once sat, the skin of the pasteis de nata oiling his hand. He crunches into it as she watches patiently, as if waiting for a review, and its caramel flavour ruminates on his tongue.

“This is good,” he says around a mouthful of pastry.

“$4.99.” Suz smiles and takes a nibble herself. “For six.”

Together they stand over the kittens, passing the tart back and forth until Harrison gives the final piece to his mother. The apartment whirs with the calculated singe of automated laughter and the purr of the kittens. He knows one sits dead in a shoebox on his bedroom dresser. The ground too hard to dig, a burial still necessary.

Suz licks a crumb from her thumb and wipes her palms along the skirt of her dress. Their focus shifts to Reeve who lies sprawled against the two-seater, yelling something at a contestant on the show who’s gotten an answer wrong—tulip, not two lips. That’s fabulous. You are fabulously a failure.

“You didn’t tell me she was Lonan’s sister.”

Harrison pokes at a flake of pastry and wipes his hands on the front of his jeans. Reeve’s bangles clatter in a cyan jangle as she applauds at the same contestant she previously ridiculed. There are so many things he could say to his mother—he knew Reeve first, Reeve isn’t just Lonan’s sister to him, more like his own, but when he adjusts himself, swallowing and tidying the hem of his shirt, all that comes out is, “I didn’t think you needed to know.”

“I would’ve like to,” Suz says. “Does she know? That you don’t know where he is?”

Harrison’s fingernail catches on a loose thread, and he yanks it out so even Reeve glances back at its upholstered plink. “I know where he is, Suzanna.”

Reeve and Suz being icons (direct continuation from the above):

Harrison turns back to the kittens who plow over one another like ants. Heat flushes his throat, prickles his cheeks and ears and suctions like a vacuum. Though Suzanna eventually leaves, joining Reeve on the couch, propping her feet on the same coffee table so their polished feet touch, toes pink like raw cherry tomatoes, though he knows they’re both right in knowing and not knowing where Lonan is, though he knows it should no longer matter to him, he finds himself leaning against the table where the kittens encase each other in a plastic shoe bin, ticking his fingers at his side.

He does not know what the reality television show is about. From the blots he hears from the TV’s can-like speaker, he concludes it’s something about botany, love, vengeance, fertilizer. No one theme—it does not even know what it is itself. Suz has materialized with another tart, and she and Reeve nibble at it with fervency, so close, their tongues almost touch as they dart across the custard. The sight is almost viper-like, their teeth notched forward, and it should be venomous, or at its worst—friendly, but all Harrison sees is girlish, maternal intimacy.

Suz and Reeve laugh at a contestant who wears a tartan printed jumpsuit and mismatching earrings—one the shape of a pineapple, the other an urn-like bead she claims holds the ashes of her great aunt. They outline her figure with their pinkies. They clutch each other’s hands. They flush like beets and wipe crumbs from each other’s mouths.

Reeve’s momentary lapse into delicacy:

Harrison turns his back and pretends to tend to the kittens. They all know he does nothing but thumb the backs of their heads, let them suckle against his fingertips—they all know, and yet, he continues doing it. Silence cuts through the apartment like hot glass.

If Reeve and Suzanna still touch toes, it’s because neither want to loosen the other’s pride. The only sound in the room belongs to the television which has moved away from dishwashing to a watering hose—four for four, as if this is a discount, as if anyone will truly need that many watering hoses.

“I haven’t seen your brother since late August,” Harrison says once the commercials simmer back to the gaudy laughter of the reality television show. At first, he doesn’t look at Reeve. He knows what he’ll see—some form of betrayal. She didn’t come here looking for Lonan. She hasn’t even asked for him, but he knows what he’ll see when he looks at her. Best friends do not keep secrets.

When he concedes, he is right. Reeve looks at him from under a thick smear of kohl, her eyes focused, like slate beads. Her lips are pink from wine and she unhinges a fleck of opal nail polish from her thumb. Her mouth does not move, a straight line that cranks with her jaw.

“Where is he?” she asks, fluttering her lashes when Suz pats her arm. If Harrison is right, Reeve hasn’t see her brother since she peered in on him when the two shared the tent, pearled a few smoke rings from Harrison’s cigar, and left for the east coast. Before he left, Foster filled him in on the details of her eventual cross-country desertion, though there weren’t many. How he’d last seen her at the motel, a margarita wobbling in her palm, what she’d said to him, to stay special, that there weren’t many people like him left, and how she had vanished like vapour by the time they realized to check. While Reeve hiked across the country by herself, he and Lonan swam through nighttide and badly waltzed in a four-by-four bathroom. She made an anonymous life in New York City, hailing cabs with just her eyes, and learning the easiest ways to shoplift. Alone. Her last memory of Lonan one where he pretended to sleep so he didn’t have to say goodbye to her.

“Las Vegas the last time I saw him,” Harrison says. He feels the urge to apologize for something, to hug her, or cry. Though her expression unbends from severe back to her perfected mould of glitzy conviction, her momentary lapse into delicacy startles him. He looks back to the kittens who seem more interested in themselves than him.

Reeve tightens her grip around the neck of the wine bottle and tactfully sips, her pinkie erect, her lips pursed just the right amount. “What happened?” she asks and sets the bottle onto the coffee table. She lets a dribble of wine fall from her mouth so she can dab at it like a wounded animal.

Harrison and Reeve in the car:

Harrison brings the box with the dead kitten and Reeve brings the bottle of pinot noir. Together, they settle in her red Beetle convertible, a car she insists she pawned for a quarter its listing price, though he figures from the way she settles in it, carefully placing the wine bottle in the cup holder, wiping her hands on her thighs as if checking for grease, that it must belong to a roommate or boyfriend, if she has either. The car smells faintly of pineapple and vanilla, a scent not unfamiliar to him, the waft strengthening as the tree-shaped air-freshener swings closer to him with every turn.

Reeve asks vaguely of his time in the city, how life has been for him and his mother since they moved from Vegas in mid October. Her mouth flutters with speech, each word like the hull of a hard candy she specially tastes before sharing. Has it been marvellous, just as you thought? Don’t you ever wonder how a city could become so brilliant? Isn’t the weather maddening? Don’t you adore it? She asks about Foster, what living with him was like, what saying goodbye to him the week previous was like—was it tragic—and he could tell her his move in with him and his mother wasn’t much of a plan—not a last resort either, but a salvaging. A necessary resuscitation. Reeve��s lips as dubious as shadow puppets.

Here’s some of the flashback with Winona at the convenience store:

The woman stood under the hex of the convenience store’s light, spooling her in a feverish blue. The sun had been down for hours, but its residual heat clung to Harrison’s arms in tacky gusts that wound up his fingers. Like the woman, he reached for his cigarettes. Vehicles spun across the highway just beyond the gas station, and when he raised his head after lighting the cigarette, the woman was staring at him.

“Aren’t you too young to be out without a parent or guardian?” she asked. Her hair was the colour of his mother’s candlesticks, a waxy boxed red. Her rings waggled in the false light.

“Maybe,” he said, a curl of smoke looping out of his mouth. “Can’t remember which life I’m on. There are so many. I could be ninety-seven. Tomorrow might be my birthday.”

It was September in Las Vegas. White licks of car exhaust laced the black sky, and though it wasn’t cold, Harrison pulled his jacket tighter around his chest.

Winona tries to figure out whether or not Harrison is a local by getting to know his eyes/face lol:

Harrison dropped the butt of his cigarette and stomped out its embers. When it was fully out, he fit his hands into his jacket pocket and approached the woman. Up close, her trench coat was pebbled with lint, a bead from her charm bracelet missing. She crushed her cigarette too, and when her hands were free, she stepped toward him with both palms out, and pressed them to his cheeks so he felt both the heat of her skin and the watery bite of her jewelry. She examined each plane of his face as if they were sides of a prism. Her perfume, a vinegary sort of citrus, stung his eyes the closer she got, the fur of her jacket’s trim brushing his chin when she pressed to her toes for a better look.

“You could be so many things,” she said, tilting his jaw at the same moment her pinkie slid from the jab of his nose bridge to his top lip. She pushed her face closer to his and inhaled, her plastic nail marking his skin with a pixel of glitter. “You’ve got the face of an angel. Which means you’re good. You’re sacred. You’re discreet.” When her finger poked into his mouth, her knuckle snagged on his canines. “Could also mean you’re a fraud. A criminal. You know, Lucifer wasn’t always the fallen angel.”

A bit of the party:

Winona’s front lawn was manicured, cropped neat at its soil scalp. Clusters of people huddled in different places—four gargling in the stone fountain just before the iron gate, two drinking from three martini glasses at once, a group of on their backs, arms wound like a wicker basket, shot glasses teetering between their teeth like human serving tables.

Winona parked opposite the house that pulsed with light. Harrison got out when she did, and with ease, she punched into the gate, leading him past her perfect lawn, her party guests, as if they were simply garden statues.

Inside, more people concentrated, all stopping Winona for a moment to say hello as she passed. She moved in a way only the owner of a house would, her strides easy, like she knew exactly where to take him and when.

“I know it’s busy,” Winona said, adjusting her volume for the holler of party guests. “I promise it’s always like that. Who is it that says we need partners for life? God or my therapist? This is that but every week. You meet so many people.”

Harrison listened to her haphazardly. Though he’d been in Las Vegas for a month, he hadn’t been out except for a few errands at the grocery store or for cigarettes, despite his mother’s insistence he quit. The party was overwhelming. Bass from the stereo caught him by the throat and held him there as he and Winona threaded through her house that seemed closer to a mansion. The interior smelled like cleaning bleach and fruit cocktails, and he could hardly walk without someone rearing into him. He should’ve left, known better, done better, but it thrilled him, every moment of the party’s chokehold.

When Winona pushed through her French doors and out to the back pool, Harrison tailed her closely, unsure he’d be able to keep pace if he lost sight of her, even for a moment. The backyard smelled artificially floral, like orchids, tuberose, the grassy melt of citronella candles.

Some of my fave Harrison dialogue:

“You should’ve told me you were into vintage. Cheap but chic. I like it, angel.” Her ring finger smushed into his jaw, and then against his hairline.

“What’s vintage about me?”

Winona laughed, though her eyes remained glass-like. “Your jacket, of course. You’re thrifty. Into second-hand.”

~~theme makes an appearance:

It was only later, when he stumbled, bloody knuckled, through their front door, stepping over partygoers and martini glasses, that he understood. He hadn’t come to the party thinking about Lonan but managed to attract the same people. He hadn’t drunk the magenta liquid thinking about him but managed to exit the house stumbling, as he did, his knees knotted like a newborn lamb. There was something inconceivably indissoluble about them—their bond mirror-like, one making one decision, and the other mimicking it with vigour, unknowingly inseparable.

God tier denial:

“What do you miss about him?”

Harrison blinks. He hasn’t expected her to speak to him again, in fact he’s pictured the night whittling into gauzy silence, them setting the box afloat in the fountain, and then leaving once more, wordless. Reeve drinks another sip of wine. Its scent stings, like earthy cranberries.

“I don’t,” he says, which is a lie, and they both know it. Harrison has never been a good liar, but especially a bad liar around Reeve who’s always managed to snuff out the truth. She looks at him in absolutes, like she sees his every answer scraped into his cheek and doesn’t need to check his work. Her eyes are feline and rimmed with kohl and aquamarine mica—she doesn’t need anyone to tell her the truth because she holds it in her fist. “He has a girlfriend. He’s happy.” Harrison rations more wine down his tongue, three times as much as he’s intended to drink.

“But what do you miss about him?”

Harrison misses nothing. He sleeps little and smokes too much because he misses nothing. He walks by himself, eats by himself, talks to himself because he misses nothing. He jumps from job to job, person to person, place to place because he misses nothing. He wakes up in dazes the colour of blackberries because he misses nothing. He blinks dreams from his eyelashes like they’re bad spells because he misses nothing. He holds himself, he drinks himself, he leaves no company for anyone because he misses nothing about Lonan. He misses absolutely nothing.

Harrison sits up and lifts the dead kitten’s box. He feels Reeve’s gaze when he lowers it into the fountain, the box giving into the slosh of water, and feels her gaze once more when he sits back and drinks more wine. The moon makes him miserable, its silver gloat like a reminder, of how easy it would be to look at it and see Lonan’s face appear in its dime. He doesn’t register how much he drinks, just that it feels better than not drinking. He doesn’t register that Reeve never takes the bottle, that it’s just him and its open gape of wine. As the kitten swirls around the fountain, he tries not to think of its siblings back at the apartment, all mottled over each other like burrs. An unbreakable bond, and what that means, even as one of them sits alone, gurgling along the current of a fountain.

If you didn’t ask for angst before, you sure did now:

He does not remember falling asleep, and so waking up feels illusory, shimmery, like a mirage. He focuses on dart of yellow light and a man wearing a security uniform telling him he can’t be here, here being the garden, past the fence, under the fountain. Snowflakes have clumped against his eyelashes and he blinks twice to dislodge them. The man must ask him if he’s intoxicated, never noticing the shoebox floating in the fountain, because Harrison says, “Who’s to say? I miss so many things,” and isn’t talking about the bottle of wine or Reeve that both seem to have vanished, as if they were never there. Harrison blinks again, searching for Reeve’s outline somewhere in the crisp bushel of dead foliage, but she never reappears—has he imagined the entire thing, or is she magical, effervescent, invisible? What was the last thing she said? Drink it all. It’s good for you. It’s like your own personal healing tonic.

“Do you think it’s possible I was separated at birth?” Harrison asks the security guard, who leads him by the elbow out past the iron gate and into the parking lot where he stumbles over a patch of glazy slush and onto his knees.

“Are you a twin?”

Harrison draws his index finger through the slush, doodling nonsense—letters of his name, an eyeball, a singular, faceless nose. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“Your twin?”

Harrison shakes his head.

Snow and slush dredge his jeans and the hem of his jacket; a streetlamp filters him and the security guard in foamy yellow. His skin has numbed from sitting out in the cold too long, and in some places, prickles with heat, like the fritz of pine needles. Reeve has dissolved in the fresh spatter of snow that settles on the pavement, his fingers. The fur fringe of her hood gone, the slick of her boots. She will not be here tomorrow. He may never see her again, and yet this is not what makes him ache in the way he does.

His hands move for him. Dividing the snow in slopes, curves, lines—letters. When he’s finished, he rests his chin on his own shoulder and dries the slop of slush from his nail. The security guard leans over, bends down to get a better look, but Harrison doesn’t have to look to know what he’s written. Chiselled so the flurries fill its gaps, like cement. His name will be erased by dawn. Lonan.

So that’s it for this very, very long update! See you for chapter seven!

--Rachel

[lokischocolatefountain]

Knight in Tulle Armour

Pairing: Loki x OFC

Rating: General 

Word count: 2.2K

Summary: Loki’s fiancé doesn't need to be rescued from bullying palace staff by a Knight in Shining Armour.

Astrid gasped and clutched her stomach as the seamstress yanked her back by the ribbons on her dress. “Can’t breathe,” she managed to choke out as the corset grew tighter and tighter. The woman finally let go and she fell forward but then clutched the mirror to steady herself. 

“Was that really necessary, Synnøve?” 

“My apologies, Lady Astrid. I often forget how fragile mortals could be.” 

There it was. It had been two hours since she was dragged into this room to try on wedding gowns and she was surprised that nothing had happened yet. She had been putting up with remarks like this for a whole month on Asgard. Loki knew nothing. When the two were seen together, the Æsir kept their remarks subtle. Loki wasn’t one to stir up conflict that would jeopardise political allies, so he dealt with them with similar subtle remarks and it had been fun to watch him tactfully bring down people’s sense of self-worth in a quintessentially Loki style. 

Attacks toward her when she was alone was a different case entirely. People talked shit blatantly, criticised her appearance, flaunted past trysts with her fiancé to her face, humiliated her, the lest went on and on. Apparently yanking her around by the ribbons of her corseted bodice was the hot new thing on the list. 

She was still in the initial stages of picking a dress, checking which silhouette she preferred. It was supposed to be an easy process until she discovered it wasn’t. There were load and load of options and different types of cuts and sleeves and silhouettes and colours. It wasn’t often that she wore any dress, let alone bridal ones. Her career didn’t allow her the freedom to wear anything other than ill-fitted scrubs and on occasion, well-fitted suits. Her motorcycle was her primary mode of transport and long flowy dresses were a safety hazard while short ones were a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. So, she had many things to blame for her lack of dress knowledge. But, that made the Asgardians here look down on her like she was some kind of peasant who had never seen a dress before. 

“Lady Astrid, Prince Loki requested your presence when you are finished here.” 

“Im finished,” she said hurriedly as she lifted up the layers and layers of tulle of her dress, jumped off her platform in her kitten heels and leaped out the door with the woman who called for her. Her facial expression contorted to suggest she was looking at an adorable puppy rather than a grown ass woman. 

“I remember being your age, newly in love and waiting for an opportunity to run off to meet my beloved.” 

Astrid just smiled and nodded, not having the heart to tell her that she was only rushing to be away from her banshee of a seamstress rather than to the arms of her lover. She was also surrounded by plenty of strangers the whole day and would kill to see a familiar face. She was escorted to Loki’s wing of the palace and left at the doorsteps. She quickly thanked her and stepped in. Loki was seated comfortable on his sofa, flipping through the pages of a humongous tome when you entered. He looked up from his book, surprised. 

“Get me out of this!” 

“Woah, woah! Breathe, darling,” he said in his silky smooth voice as straightened himself on the sofa. 

“I can’t breathe if you don’t get me out of this!” 

With just a flick of his finger, from a distance, the ribbons loosened and air finally entered her lungs. She plopped down ungraciously next to him and her dress took up most of the space on a sofa that would comfortably seat four Asgardians. She laid down with her feet on one side of the sofa and her head on Loki’s lap and kicked off her heels to the ground. 

“Nice dress,” he said, looking serious for only a fraction of a second before breaking into laughter. 

“Shut up, dick!” 

“No, I do not jest. You will make a wonderful cake at the ceremony.” 

She threw a cushion at his face, but the man continued laughing at your expense. Each time he simmered down and she thought he was going to stop, he began laughing louder.

“I’ve had a horrible day and I would appreciate if you stopped laughing at me and the ugly dress. If not, I will kill you in your sleep.”

“I presume it was unsuccessful…” 

“Could you remove this synthetic cloud smothering me to death?” she asked, lifting up some of the layers and letting it cascade back down. It took him very little time to vanish what she was wearing and replace it with cotton shorts and a t-shirt from her side of the wardrobe. 

“Thanks,” she sighed, relaxing for the first time that day. 

“Do you have anything to do, today?” 

“Yes, loads. Prince, remember?” 

“Ah, yes. People constantly remind me of that,” she said, dejected that she may not be able to spend too much time with him.

Her traced his index finger along her jawline as he looked at her in a way that drove her insane even after years of being together. “I always have time for you, my dear. Give me your word and I will cancel all my plans for you.” 

“No, you shouldn’t. You have Princely responsibilities and I don’t want to impede that.” If people knew that their Prince skived off responsibilities to play hooky with his ‘mortal pet’ as some called her, she would only face more shit on a day to day basis. 

“What is it? Tell me.” All the playfulness had vanished and he looked quite serious, so she decided to be out with it instead of mincing her words. 

“Could you possibly drop me off on Earth?” 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, I just- I think I like Earth dresses better…” 

“Is the fine hand-spun silk of Asgard not good for my lady?” 

“I think I will be more comfortable in Earth dresses.”

“I would take you to Midgard right now, but there are better solutions than traveling lightyears away to buy a dress. You could give all your requirements to to the seamstresses and they will make you a dress.”

“We don’t really work well together.” 

“That should not be a problem since you do not work together, she is supposed to work for you. Something unpleasant must have happened for you to react this way.” Shit. There was no way she could keep it from him now. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I shall find out on my own,” he said as he gently moved her head off his lap and set in on a cushion. Before he could leave, she caught him by his wrist. She was in no way strong enough to stop a God, but he respected her enough to stay.  

“No! Please don’t, Loki. They already infantilize me enough. If you go there, inquiring about who pushed me in the playground, they will only continue treating me like a child. So, don’t intervene.” 

He turned to her sharply and pried her hand off his wrist. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes showed hints of confusion and anger. “They have been infantilising you? Today was only your first appointment with the seamstresses… So, it is not just them, is it?” 

She stood up to be on level with Loki.  “Everyone, Loki. Someone called me your Midgardian pet. My first night here, an old lady mocked my tiny portion size at dinner. Just yesterday, the woman who dressed tried to give me advice and how you liked it- in bed- and she tried to get me to use some hair product she claimed drove you mad. The seamstress today- Synnøve, yanked me by the dress and basically went ‘Oopsie, I keep forgetting you’re so fragile and breakable’- I need a break from being an alien. Just, please take me home for a while.” 

“Astrid, why is this the first time I am hearing of this?” She had not expected the conversation to take such a serious turn. But, she didn't know what she expected in the first place. 

“I didn’t want to complain to you like a child!” 

He gripped her arms in her effort to bring her closer to him. She let him and even allowed herself to settle into his comforting embrace as he spoke to her, his harsh tone being replaced by a gentle one. “You may have different expectations from your subordinates back on Midgard, but here on Asgard, you are a Prince’s Consort and will be treated as such. If you do not set them straight now and demand the respect you are entitled to with your title, you will forever be humiliated in your own home. Is that what you want?” 

She separated herself from the comfort of listening to his heart beat and looked up at him. “I understand all that. I just don’t want to stir up anything. I don’t want to get a bad reputation so early on- that I’m rude or difficult or bossy.” 

“You mentioned that on Earth, there is a double standard in the judgement of women’s behaviour when compared to men. You are at a similar disadvantage here. They will speak horribly of you no matter what. You will be criticised for every breath you take, every move you make. You learn have to ignore them and when necessary, exert your authority over them.” 

She shook her head in disagreement. “I’m not married to you yet, I have no authority.” 

“Do you believe everything will fall apart before the ceremony and we may not be married?” 

She didn't have to answer him. 

“I will ask my Chief of Staff to bring you a list of the best designers in all of the nine realms. You could interview them tomorrow and choose a team of your favourite ones.” 

“That’s…” 

“Wonderful.” 

“-too much.” 

“I disagree. I think it is the appropriate thing to do.” 

“Thank you,” she said as she let go of him. 

“Now, I will ask for the portfolios to be brought for you to pick the best of the best.” 

“You do that, I have something to do.” 

Loki magicked the ugly dress back onto her as it was hardly appropriate for her to walk out in booty shorts and she left determinedly to face the woman she had run away from. 

The woman looked at her mockingly as she entered the fitting room, carrying her high heels rather than walking in them. She eyed the crumpled state of her dress and Astrid was sure that she believed she had just had sex in it. She climbed up the platform and stood in front of the mirror. 

“The Prince does like to have his pets at his beck and call,” she said in a saccharine, sing-song voice as she stood approached the dais to continue working. Her long spindly fingers began loosening the ribbons of the corseted dress.

“Does he, Synnøve? Thank you very much for informing me. You see, I am new here and not acquainted with the norms of the palace or the people here. However, I am certain that insinuating crudely about the Prince and his Consort is punishable.” 

Astrid could tell that she was taken aback by her as she noticed that a flash of panic crossed her eyes right before her hands stopped abruptly. As though unaffected by it, she continued unlacing the dress. They spent what felt like hours in an awkward silence as she freed Astrid from her tulle prison. She was glad that Loki magic these dresses off of her in seconds or she would spend years unlacing them manually. Even if he couldn’t use magic for the purpose, she was sure that the man would rip them off to get to her quickly. 

“Which dress would you like to try on next, Lady Astrid?” All hints of superiority and mockery had fled the woman. She looked constipated like the act of being civil to a Midgardian was physically painful. 

“That wouldn’t be necessary. I would like my dress back.” 

“So, this is the silhouette you would like,” she asked, confused by the lack of clarity in her words. 

“No, it’s quite hideous. I’d just like my dress back so that I can leave.” 

“Shall we continue tomorrow?” 

“No, the Prince believed it was only appropriate for me to choose a worthy designer rather than be assigned to a random seamstress.” 

“Oh.” All light had left her eyes now and Astrid swore that she saw the woman gulp. There were no protests from her and she was just relieved to be rid of the seamstress. 

As she stood in front of the mirror, being laced into the dress she wore to the fitting at the beginning of the day, she felt a little more confident in her ability to deal with people here. She may never fit in, never be seen as a fit bride for their Prince, but she wasn’t going to allow them to bully her into submission. 

[tuesdayschildd]

Seventh Grade

– \ – \ – \ – \ – Her outfit has been picked out for days - a tasteful scarlet Ted Baker dress, altered of course as the line doesn’t make junior sizes yet - paired with black kitten buckled heels, the highest her mother allows. Her classic strings of pearls hang at her neck and wrist. Betty helps Veronica adjust the finishing touch, a red satin ribbon banding around her head holding her sleek raven hair back, with a perfectly tied bow at the side of her part.

“Picture perfect,” Betty says, smiling and snapping a quickie photo of them posing in the mirror in the bathroom with kissy faces before giggling. Betty is also dressed up for the occasion, sweater adorned with hearts and Cupid’s arrows. She too has a pretty ribbon, a pink one tying up her usual ponytail. Their looks are complete with little gold chain friendship bracelets that Veronica had picked up on her last trip to NYC, with dangling crystal B & V charms. 

“Our Valentines won’t know what hit ‘em,” Veronica agrees, adding a finish touch of gloss to her lips. 

Betty shakes her head. “You know I don’t have a Valentine, V.” 

“Nonsense,” Veronica corrects, pouting her lips  in the mirror. “Jughead is a perfectly acceptable Valentine, even if he doesn’t know it yet.” 

The blonde rolls her eyes, sick of hearing about how Veronica thinks Jughead likes Betty. 

Jughead doesn’t like anyone, ever.

Archie makes Veronica the largest Valentine that anyone receives, poster-board size, proclaiming Will You Be Mine? covered in glitter and rouge glue and a couple of Vegas’s hairs he couldn’t get out. It’s so big that she carries it around all day as she can’t fit it in her locker, or so she says.

Much to her surprise after handing a friendly Valentine to Jughead - There’s Nothing Better Than a Friend, Unless it’s a Friend With Chocolate! - Betty receives one in return, a few lines from an Edgar Allan Poe verse about spring that she doesn’t quite understand, bringing a pink tinge to her cheeks that Veronica teases her about later. 

Veronica hands out custom lollipops she had designed in Manhattan for the occasion, colorful chocolate ones complete with ornate V’s. Jughead scowls, but quickly takes off the wrapper and sticks his in his mouth.

At lunch, Reggie hands out red roses to any girl wearing a skirt or dress, and Veronica scolds him for being such a pig - to which he just oinks in her direction before carrying on.

The day goes quickly, class otherwise exactly the same if not for lots of chocolates hidden inside desks and construction paper hearts falling out of lockers. The teachers haven’t lightened the workload just because it’s Cupid’s day to shine. There are still papers to hand in, notes to be taken, and math problems to solve.

Archie takes Veronica’s hand tightly when the final bell rings, waving goodbye to Jughead and Betty before slipping into the back of the Lodge’s private car. 

He stares down at their entwined hands on the seat between them, getting nervous while on their way to Pop’s for their date.

The handholding isn’t new per say - they’ve been doing that since the second day they met in Kindergarten when she grabbed his on the way out to the playground as if it was always supposed to be that way, Archie and Veronica. 

No, what is new is the way Veronica’s thumb caresses his now, sending butterflies fluttering in his stomach every time she squeezes his fingers. She’s been officially his girlfriend since the fifth grade when she demanded that he make an honest woman out of her. He’d had to ask her what that meant at the time. 

Reggie and the rest of the pee-wee football team think the duo has gotten to second base. But as it is, they haven't even properly kissed - just pecks on the cheek at school or when they're hanging around with Betty and Jughead. Archie once worked up the courage to ask Veronica if he could kiss her on the mouth after Moose announced to the team that Midge and him had touched tongues, Archie realizing that maybe they too should be moving on to the next level - after all they’ve been together forever.

But Veronica just giggled and said she had it all planned out, that it wasn’t the right time yet, leaving him with just another lip gloss imprint on his cheek instead, very close - but not close enough - to his lips. He had a frown all lunch period that day, and Jughead told him he looked like someone had pissed in his cereal. 

That had been a year ago.

Since then, Veronica seems to do something new every few weeks - tuck her head under his chin, run her nails up his sleeve, brush her thumb over his - like she is now. Just not yet properly kiss him. 

And that's all he wants as he stares at her in her pretty dress with her shiny lips sitting across from him, drinking her double chocolate milkshake in their booth at Pop’s.

“Did you like your Valentine?” She asks before brushing a bit of whipped cream off his lip with her thumb, referring to the box of truffles she had given him first thing this morning.

“Of course, Ronnie. They were great.” 

He had eaten all the truffles before the start of third period, but he wouldn’t tell her that part. 

He’s a little more nervous as Smithers drives to his house after their meal, and Veronica squeezes his hand in the back seat a couple more times. 

“Come on in for a minute, Ronnie,” he says after a deep breath. “I have to show you something.” He tugs her hand when the car slows to a stop. 

“I’ll just circle the block a few times, Miss Lodge,” Smithers adds, winking at her in the rear-view mirror as if he knows something she doesn’t.

Veronica fiddles with the bow in her hair as Archie leads her to the garage of all places, steering her to sit on the thread-bare couch before he grabs his guitar leaning against the wall.

He places the strap around his shoulders, fiddling with it anxiously before sitting next to her.

“I uh…wrote you something.”

She beams with her hands folded in her lap, watching silently as his fingers start to nervously pluck away an enchanting melody. It’s soft and flowing, and she feels her heartbeat pick up the tempo when he opens his mouth to sing. 

Be mine, it’s you

It’s always been you

Your eyes, they shine

I see the past to

Show me how we’ve grown

And I wouldn’t change a thing

I’m exactly where I want to be

Here with you

It’s you

It’s always been you 

When his fingers strum out the last chord, he feels time stop as she reaches for the strap of the guitar on his shoulder. She gently pulls him towards her as his eyes widen, closing the distance between them while his brain starts silent shouting It’s finally happening!

Her lips taste like raspberries pressing firmly to his, and he wonders how he’s spent so much time not doing this with her. 

It’s like fireworks on the Fourth of July, like the first snowfall of winter, like riding the tilt-a-whirl when the carnival comes to town and he and Jughead line up for it over and over again.

Her lips feel like two soft marshmallows, her delicate nose tucked neatly next to his.

He brings his shaking hand to her waist as she slides her lips up a bit. She opens them, taking a little of his upper one further into her mouth. His heart pounds so hard she must surely hear it when he swears he feels the tiny wetness of her tongue. 

Before he can tell for sure, she’s pulling away slowly, and he’s happy to find she looks as frazzled as he feels, her eyes as wide as his surely must be as all the circuits short in their brains and his heart sighs.

Stupidly, he almost says Thank you but then she’s crashing her sweet lips against his again so quickly that he luckily doesn’t have the opportunity to sound like an idiot.

It’s the best Valentine’s Day ever. 

...

Third grade   Kindergarten

[hjh-ceilo-monster]

Hybrid verse : Blindmate (PJM)

Jimin POV.

I stucked for a long time,as long as I remember.Staying inside the foster house or should I say the cage for animals.If you were guessing about me being hybrid,then you were on the right track.

Nothing much about me,my name is Park Jimin.I’m a normal calico cat hybrid however because I looked smaller than usual they seperate me from others. They thought I might have some kind of disease,wierd right?

In fact not only because of my size but sights as well.I’m blind since birth and that made me lived in the life game called ‘odd one out’.I was upset at fisrt but not now.Leaving alone isn’t as bad as I thought.

My wish was like the others,to get adopt.Even though I’m blind,I still hope some one would get me out of this cage.I didn’t like the smell of metallic and rust in here since they were abondoned me for who know how long.

I started singing because I’m bored“Just let me love....you.”I sang the last part however I heard someone sang the chorus for me.Her voice,I assume,is really smooth and angelic.

“You have a beautiful voice.” I heard the voice again.I touched my face and felt it was getting hot,blushing of course.I only smile widely,wish to have eyes right now.I wanted to see her face so bad.

The next three words made me froze.“I want him.” She stated out and I was really sure that the staff here must not believed what she said.Not their fault because neither myself believed what I heard.

“Are you sure miss? He’s smaller than usual and has many health problem.You need to take care a lot...” And the staff started ranting out why I was an odd one.“Yes I’m sure.” Another three words that hit me with a truck of emotions.

Finally I got my own house? Someone wanted to be my owner? If some one woke me up from the dream,I sweared to scratch their eye balls out.Oh my god,I’m so happy,excited,nervous and Idk what I should rant out anymore.

3 hours later : present time

“We are now arrived,kitten.” I blush with the pet name.First I get someone to adopt me and now she treat me nice already.Once in my life,I feel lucky.She guide me in,tell every details about my room before leave me alone.

“And remember if you need me,opposit room is always welcome.” Last statement before she exit.I don’t need to do anything since she already decorate my room.I lay myself on the bed,first time in my life to have such a soft bed.

‘You are just a peice of trash.’

‘No one want you,blind freak.’

Y/N POV.

I’m cleaning the corridor on the second floor,floor for our bedrooms.He’s really nice and fluffy also shy.His beautiful voice is actually a cherry on top and I really love it.Well let’s me introduce a bit about myself first.

I’m Y/N and from the beginning you could see my talent.I can sing yes but not that professional like artist.Still I consider myself as an artist,although I perform on the street or alley.My real job(?) is a staff in amusement park.

I wanna change though not because of it’s boring.I just want to be a real artist but it difficult since I lack my inspiration lately.To enter the new contest that going to come up,I need the inspiration.

When I hear his voice it’s fascinating and I hopt to learn a lot from him.Maybe we can be duo artist who knows.I think about that and smile but in the next second I run to his room after hearing him shout.

“Jimin,what’s wrong?” I hug him tight after that boy run into me.He explains what happen with him,the dream he had.Those lead us to a story time episode get to know Jimin better.I calm him down,comfort him and tell him sweat words.

A week pass

It’s been a week and Jimin can adjust with the new environment now.I put him in the university course since he never get a chance to study.He choose to study contemporary dance major since it’s been his dream.

I’m fine with him so far.He’s good with what he’s doing and that makes me happen,he even strike the class and become the top student in no time.For me,living with him make me get inspiration every day.

Author POV. 

Both of them go through thick and thin together.They both have their dream and it acts like their stand for their life.Y/N treat Jimin like human which make Jimin fall deeply into her so does Y/N when it comes to her feeling toward him.

Today is the final round for Y/N and she need to perform her song.“I can’t do this.They are so good.” She mumble however with Jimin sensitive ears,he hear them clearly.“You’re the best believe me.Believe in you like what I do.”

He says that while hugging her tight.Her name come up in the line and she get on the stage to perform.She start to perform what she got,pouring all emotion into the song.When it end,applause can be heard everywhere.

The luck really stay on her side.She finally get what she wants which is the chance to become an artist with money.She plan to surprise Jimin with the gift she prepared for all these years.

“And my surprise for him in that day was taking him to the doctor.The doctor said he had a chance to get normal eye sight.He gwent though a surgery and finally can see the world like I do.”

“And for me after that I entered the dance contest.I won that day which made me cry my heart out.We both started our career life since then.Thanks to her,she always stayed with me and went through the hard time in this career and here we are now.”

4 years later : Interview Program

They are now finish the interview and getting the first break.The second break is going to start soon.Their managers then prepare everything and the staff tell them about the script briefly.

“Start in 3...2..1...” The reporter then asking a few mor questions about their ‘couple’ life.That’s when the last question come up.“We all know that you’re together for 3-4 years right?Will there be a good new soon?”

Y/N confuse since that isn’t in the script but Jimin only smile.He then stand up and also grab Y/N up with him.“What are you doing?” She whisper toward him. The next action makes her gasp in surprise.

“Will you,F/N L/N,become the love of my life from now and forever?” He kneel down and take out the ring.She can only nod as a yes.No more speaking ability because she afraid her voice might betray her and let out the sob instead.

Jimin put the ring on her finger and all of sudden he lift her up.Her face is now the same level as him so his kiss her passionately.Everyone in the studio is in awe and some of them even cry.Pull apart from each other,he then whisper.

“Thank you for accepting it,my queen.I promise to love you more than yesterday but less than tomorrow.” She smile and peck him before speak.“No matter what, I’ll love you like the first day I start loving you.Love always,my blindmate.”

[5am-moonlight]

can i get some mcfreakin uhhhh voltron matt x reader fluffy times 👀

yo nonnie I’m sorry this took so fucking long

also the cat is based off a real stray cat that we kept for like two weeks on and off but it’s g he has a genuine home now also the allergy thing happened too 🤙

Uhh yes this is Christmas themed (I kno, it’s not Halloween yet, I hate myself too) but there’s no real mention of the holiday,,, warnings: uhhh idk mention of condoms but all still pg 12.

The minute you woke up on Christmas Eve, you started to really get excited. You’d known exactly what to get Matt, you saw how his eyes lingered on the new Killbot Phantasom: Battle for Earth. Apparently it was completely revamped, 4K HD Graphics, new mech characters. You liked games, not as much as him, you were more computer-y, but you played some PS4 games now and again when you had the time, and you had to agree it did look amazing. You had pre-ordered it months, even a year or so ago, and you were incredibly excited to see his face when you gave him his gift.

Meanwhile, Matt was absolutely shitting himself. He had wanted to get you the new Killbot Phantasom game, as it was something you guys could play together, but it had completely sold out. He could admit, his present choice was completely selfish but he would take any excuse to spend time with you now. Even as roommates, you guys saw very little of each other. You were working a part time undergrad degree in cyber security, and had a part time job, so if you weren’t asleep you were out of the house. Matt was a full time post grad student, and he sometimes even did bartending gigs to get some more funds in. You were both in school on scholarships, but money is something you could never have too much of in college. However recently, you’d managed to get the Christmas break off from your job because of the amount of overtime you’d done, and Matt had claimed he was ‘out of the state’ and ‘visiting family for Christmas’ so his boss would also let him have the few weeks too. He was adamant that you guys would be able to spend some time together, so he’d told you he’d had planned a Christmas dinner type thing and to buy some food (majoritly drink, he’d wrote it on the list three separate times,) and anything else that you guys might want, snacks and stuff. He knew you didn’t really like big events or anything and he promised it wasn’t actually anything like a genuine family Christmas dinner, neither of you actually celebrated Christmas, not enough money and not enough time, among other things, and you were incredibly excited. Hell, any reason to spend any time with Matt alone made you excited. He was your best friend first, and crush second but the more time went on the more you could tell this was starting to become something more than a crush. The way his laugh made your stomach get butterflies, or how he would stick his tongue out through his teeth when he was really concentrating, completely lost in his work. Or the days when he would come up behind you and pick you up in surprise. You knew he loved you, albeit only platonically, but you’d been in love with him for so long you’d happily take being his best friend over potentially loosing him. Didn’t really help he was really fucking pretty though.

Although if he was asked, he’d say the exact same thing about you.

When he woke up, he was incredibly nervous. He’d managed to scrap together some things he’d thought you’d like, but it wasn’t what he thought would be perfect. He knew you’d love anything you were given, but he wanted to feel like his gift was perfect. He’d also decided (see: be threatened by Pidge that if he didn’t she was gonna tell you herself) that he was gonna tell you how he felt, and he was terrified. Objectively, he knew he couldn’t keep his feelings for you under wraps for much longer. Every little thing you did was driving him insane. The way you’d look when you just woke up, sleepy and mumbling. The one time you accidentally poured orange juice into your cereal and turned around and buried your head in his shoulder, groaning. He’d spent the rest of the day blushing, so much so that Pidge actually thought he was ill. Or the way, sometimes, if he asked you about your day or your favourite hobby, your eyes would smile, and you’d get so excited. The main thing, that would always make him smile, no matter what, was the way you’d ask him to do something you knew he didn’t want. You would hug his arm, and beg “Please Matty?”. Your eyes would go big and you’d jump up and laugh and hug him if he’d agree. He always knew that you’d never do anything he actually didn’t want, and he trusted you with his life.

You’d come home once, drenched in rain, and in the middle of running to the bathroom, your jacket had meowed. Your eyes had gone really wide and then you’d slowly put your hand in your coat and brought out a tiny kitten, the size of your hands and placed him right in front of Matt’s face. “Please?”. You’d looked so mischievous and hopeful, he couldn’t say no. Also, the fact you’d hugged him for like ten minutes and kept on referring to him as “daddy” when talking to the kitten, which made his heart incredibly weak and made him feel incredibly soft. You’d called the kitten Monroe, and you were so soft for him. Until Matt discovered he was allergic to cats. You’d spent the night with him after you’d given Monroe to Pidge, just talking and watching movies. You’d seen how sad he was, which surprised himself, Monroe had been your baby, and made him a pillow fort in the sitting room, and gotten a ton of cat related movies on your Netflix. You’d fallen asleep on his shoulder and when he tried to move you to make you more comfortable, you’d mumbled and snuggled into him, clinging onto his chest. He remembered how his heart was going 50m/ph, and how peaceful you had looked. He hadn’t ever wanted a pet, but now he was happy you’d gotten one, no matter how it ended.

He started work on the “Christmas dinner” which was essentially his mother’s recipe for mac and cheese which included five different cheeses, some store bought potato salad, Doritos, dips, and a bags of jellies and sweets and chocolates. He managed to set everything up like a pic’n’mix stall, and got to work on the movie set up. His memory of you and him in the pillow fort remains one of his favourites, as the day he knew he had fallen in love with you. You texted Matt you were on your way home, after stopping from the shopping centre to pick up his gift, and some more sugary stuff, including a Lindt chocolate bunny that you would get each other every year, and a pack of condoms as a joke, since you’d seen him with a really smart, pretty new girl in his class. You knew she liked him, she’d come up to you at one point asking about Matt since she knew you two were roommates. He was always nervous around girls, with exception to you, which you put down to the fact you’d known him for most of your life, grown up together. You’d tried to set him up with some girls, and a few guys you knew, as a kind of way to force yourself to get over him. You’d been in love with him as long as you could remember, but realistically you knew it was never gonna happen. You didn’t like to think about too much because it made your heart hurt, like there was a hole in your chest, but you knew he was a genuine guy and whoever he would end up with was definitely lucky. Even if it wasn’t you.

You’d reached your front door at this point, and stood up straight, taking a deep breath.

“Hey! I’m hom-“ You were shocked. The hall had been decorated with fairy lights. You walked into the sitting room, speechless. You had obviously known that Matt was preparing something but not *this. He had taken his mattress, and yours you’d assumed, and put them where the couch had been. The couch had been pulled back and the cushioning taken down and put around the mattresses, for head rests and back rests, making a sort of crude looking chaise longue. There were pillows everywhere, and stacked piles of duvets and blankets. There was a small table on both sides of the fort, filled with what looked like movie bags of sweets, and wrapped presents,as well as a pic’n’mix table behind the couch. Matt hadn’t realised you were home, and he was still working in the kitchen.

“Matt”. You breathed out. “This is..insane. It must have taken you forever!”

He jumped a little bit at your voice, not expecting you some until another half an hour.

“Oh! Yeah hey y/n, I...uh, was-wasn’t expecting you until another while. D-do you like it? Everything?”

You placed your bag-for-life on the counter top and ran over to him, tackling him in a hug.

“Mattie, it looks amazing. What possessed you to work so hard on this?”

He blushed, a red flush working all the way up to the tips of his ears, and looked down to the floor.

You ducked under him, as he was much taller than you, and put your finger under his chin as to make him look at you.

“Hey, what’s up? Talk to m- hmmph”

He had slipped his strong arms around your middle and kissed you. You melted into the kiss, balancing yourself by putting your arms around his shoulders. He hoisted you up, so you would wrap your legs around him, as he held you impossibly close. You broke away with a gasp, after what seemed like hours. You’d only done it once but you knew you could loose yourself in kissing Matt.

“How long?” He seemed breathless, still holding on to your waist.

“Remember that time you defeated the final boss in Killbot Phantasom, and you picked me up and spun me around? Then”

He laughed at that, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Then? I was 10 years old, you’d gotten the game for your 7th birthday. That long?”

You ruffled his hair, and moved to hold his hand.

“C’mon. I’ve something to show you”

You brought him out to the sitting room, still holding his hand, then pushed him onto the mattresses. He made an indignant yelp, which made you laugh, and then you yelled as he pulled you down with him. You landed on him with an oof, laughing as he started messing with you, kissing your face and neck. You eventually came out on top, resting your hands on his sides. You reached over to his table, picking up your present for him, wrapped so carefully.

“Here. Open it.”

You placed it on his chest, still partially sitting in his lap while he sat up a little straighter. He looked incredibly excited, pausing for a second before mauling the gift open. He stopped when he recognised the cover, not even fully opening your gift before he carefully placed it beside him, and tackled you guys over, so he was out on top.

“You didn’t”

“I did”

“New plan for the Christmas break, we aren’t leaving the apartment until that’s finished. You started this, now you’re stuck with me”

You smiled, and pulled him down for another breathtaking kiss.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”