#so I had the brilliant idea to look up whether it’s possible to cry so hard you throw up/make yourself sick because that’s what we’d been

[nope-body]

.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Y'all, I've been glued to this saga because L and R are so similar to what I went thru with my ex, like down to the sleeping on the couch thing, only reversed, that I don't know whether to laugh or cry. A and S don't know what they're in for.

Storytime: My ex's Rory is called Mike and they met playing a sport in college when X was a freshman and M was a super senior, so he's ~4 years older. M took X under his wing and they became bros for life I guess. M is super nice and goofy but a hot mess as a person, can't be trusted with the simplest of tasks but gets by by being beloved by everyone. X has consistently thrown him bones, brought him on to projects and recommended him for gigs at the expense of his own career and reputation. You can't make this shit up.

X and I were long distance for the first ~year of the relationship, I moved out to him to a small ass town an hour away from anywhere because of his job and because it was cheap. We were in a 1bd apartment and the first little while was bliss, hot and heavy, amazing. It was my first time living with a partner. Maybe a few months in, M calls X - he got a job in the city an hour away and he's moving down. X gets the brilliant idea to invite him to stay on our couch until he finds a place. I was fine with it at first because he was a super nice guy but I had no idea what I was getting into. Ladies, when I tell you I became the 3rd wheel in my own relationship and a ghost in my own home, I'm not being dramatic.

I was working from home so I was alone all day in a town where I knew no one who wasn't connected to X in some way and when the two of them would get home, they'd bro out with each other and I basically had to compete for my bf's attention. We stopped doing anything that didn't include him and constantly had to be mindful about how loud we were in the bedroom because he was on the fucking couch. I couldn't relax in my own home that I was paying rent and bills for. Mind you, M at this point was further along in his career than X and making way more money. Two months pass, he still hasn't found a place and instead commutes an hour each way to work. Then the fucking pandemic hits. I was the only one working initially and I was at home with the two of them playing video games, working out, watching TV, yelling, laughing, on TT, on Zoom with their other buddies 24/7 while I was trying to work. We'd constantly end up doing whatever they wanted to do. Dude stayed on our couch for like 10 1/2 months, only paying for groceries, takeout and activities here and there. I kinda snapped during the holidays, I drove across the country alone to be with my family and didn't go back, my dad then made a round trip to go get my stuff because I just couldn't even look at X. Only then did it occur to X and M that maybe M should move out. But you know what the narrative in his friend group is about me? That I'm a cold bitch who broke his heart.

I look back on it now and I'm angry at myself for being such a dummy, I was a total pushover. My X wasn't a bad dude, he was just too much of a bro to know how to be a bf. He always felt a need to include everyone but that cut into the little time we had together. In my defense, he was really hot lol.

It's crazy to think how different my life is now with my fiance, we just bought a house earlier this spring, which wouldn't have been possible with my X because he spends all his money on his hobbies. X literally did the same HBS thing L did after I dumped him, hit the gym like crazy, he follows like a thousand half naked girls on IG, likes all their posts and thirsts in the comments, it's beyond cringe. This is also on his fully public IG account that he also uses for work. He hasn't been in a serious relationship since, I'm told he's become quite the fboy, but he's collected a seemingly infinite amount of new bros judging by his posts. M is still in the picture, of course, although he has his own place and a serious gf now, while my ex has a new roommate who he plays an expensive, niche equipment sport with that he spends every penny he earns on. My ex was a Leo, so I'm not surprised L has it prominently in his chart.

This stuff is not uncommon among younger Millennial men. My now fiance is 5 years older and he is a Man. He shows up for me the way I show up for him, he doesn't make plans without considering me and he's on top of his finances. He's a serious person. I never knew I could be at peace like this. I know what I'm building towards with him. A and S are just sidepieces to the main love story that is L and R and if/when one of them gets dumped, the other one will as well. They're there because they go along with what L and R want. It'll come back to bite them in the ass but they'll learn an invaluable lesson the way that I did - don't date a manchild who won't prioritize you over his friends.

some good advice for the youngins

thank you for sharing 💜🥃

[writer-in-theory]

best night, worst fight — spencer reid

summary: when spencer and reader broke up, they were sure staying roommates was a good idea. that is, until reader starts bringing partners home. request?: no pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader category: angst with happy ending content warnings: 17+ for frequent mention of flings/fwbs, breakups, language word count: 2.9k a/n: i'm super excited about this one, so i hope y'all enjoy. this is for the march/april roommate challenge put on by @imagining-in-the-margins

masterlist

Being your ex-boyfriend’s roommate seemed like a good idea, it truly had.

Looking back on it, the breakup should have been obvious. While the two of you had been fantastic friends, little problems in your romantic relationship kept compounding until eventually neither of you could stand to be in the same room without screaming or crying—or on the rare occasion, both. When it came time to decide who would keep the apartment you’d leased together, the answer was similarly clear: both of you would. You were roommates before you’d been dating, surely you could continue to be friendly roommates after?

It went well for the first few weeks, honestly. Though there was the occasional awkward moment of you blasting Adele and crying over the breakup just across the hall from the man who had broken your heart, you’d say that you and Spencer still made good roommates.

It got tricky when one of your coworkers and best friends suggested you find a rebound. “How can you possibly get over the guy when you see him every day? A good rebound fuck is the only way, I’m telling you.”

You found your rebound in the gorgeous woman who came into the same coffee shop as you every morning. She told you she wasn’t looking for a relationship and you’d responded by saying all you needed was a consistent partner in bed. It was a perfect arrangement until one morning she was awoken no less than 7 times by Spencer’s loud music. She’d hurried out of the apartment that day, thanking you for a brilliant partnership but admitting it wasn’t going to work out.

You spent the night wondering when Spencer started listening to rock music.

The next partner came in the form of a man named Tyler who you’d met at a bar. Spencer complained for weeks that no relationship that began in a bar could go anywhere but you’d insisted. Tyler was nice, after all—a culinary school student who wanted to travel to France for his future studies. Strangely, the morning after he’d suggested you come with him the salt in the shaker turned into malic acid, making his breakfast the sourest food he’d ever experienced.

Five partners later, you knew something was wrong. It got more and more ridiculous as time went on until eventually, you were wondering when Spencer would say anything about it all. Instead, he continued to treat you exactly as he had before—smiling and agreeing every time you asked if it was okay for you to have someone over before no doubt rushing to his room to pick out his next plan.

“Avery’s coming over tonight, don’t forget,” you called out to Spencer as he grabbed his bag for work. The man startled, shoulders jumping and hand clenching around the strap of his bag. “Did you forget?”

“No, I didn’t forget,” Spencer denied quickly, “Are you sure you want Avery over?”

“Why, is there something wrong?” The man always found something in each of your partners. Whether they be friends with benefits or romantic partners, there was always a complaint to be had. With Tyler, it had been that he was too arrogant. With Carter, it had been the way their shoes were tied (Y/N, who sticks loose laces into the top of their shoe? That’s not a good sign for the future”).

“I think he’s not right for you.”

“Of course you don’t,” you laughed, no longer taking stock in his opinion. Spencer was a wonderful friend but his taste in partners wasn’t exactly great. The moment he’d brought Max around to the apartment you truly thought he’d picked her to get a rise out of you. As much as you wanted him to be happy, you were secretly thrilled when they broke up. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly wrong with Max—there had just been a feeling that she wasn’t right for him.

“I’m trying to look out for you, Y/N. I don’t think he’s a good guy,” Spencer tried, busying himself with making a to-go cup of coffee you knew would likely be gone before he fully exited the apartment building.

That pulled a complete laugh out of you then. “Spencer, I love you but Avery volunteers every weekend I think he’s a pretty okay guy. Just because I’m not a profiler doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself.”

“I know you can handle yourself,” Spencer laughed in return, “Remember the guy at the bar?”

“You mean the creep who wouldn’t leave you alone? Of course, I do,” you returned, smiling brightly at the memory of one of your proudest moments. Protecting an FBI agent on a day he just couldn’t find the strength to do it himself? “But Avery isn’t like that guy, so he’ll be here tonight. And I really like him, so try to be nice, okay? Have a good day.”

“You too,” Spencer returned before slipping out of the apartment, leaving you all the space in the world to get ready for your own workday.

Waking up beside someone was something you’d never get over. From the moment the world returned to clarity around you, a feeling of warmth and safety rushed over you as you realized there was someone curled against you.

“G’morning, Y/N,” Avery greeted with his morning rasp, pressing a kiss to your lips in greeting. 

“Good morning,” you said back, knowing you couldn’t live forever under these sheets but wishing you could anyway. It wasn’t even fully about Avery—he was nice but you couldn’t say you were anywhere near loving him. But you could, eventually, because he was kind and funny, and he hardly ever argued with you. Life with him was as easy as laying in bed this morning was.

“I can make us some breakfast while you shower?” Avery offered while you stood and grabbed your bath towel. He was sweet like that, always offering to do little things like that to show he cared. 

The shower was quick, leaving you refreshed and a little more awake than you had been just moments before. You knew Spencer would likely be awake too at this point and would likely be sitting at the table with Avery, however, you weren’t expecting a third person—or rather, cat—to be sitting on the table just in front of Avery.

Avery, who was now sneezing and coughing up a storm in your kitchen area because of the cat sitting calmly in front of him. The cat which you decidedly did not own. 

“Spencer, what’s Sergio doing in the apartment?” you asked, taking in the way Spencer seemed to be completely focused on his bowl of cereal rather than the scene playing out in front of him.

“What do you mean?” he asked, glancing up at you but quickly looking away when he likely noticed your face. Because, what the fuck was this? He’d promised he’d be nice and yet here he was bringing in Penelope’s cat for some unknown reason.

“You know what the fuck I mean,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Y/N,” Avery began, practically sneezing between every word as he stood, “can I call you later? I need to go.”

“Of course, I’m so sorry about the cat, I know you’re allergic,” you told him, hoping he understood that this wasn’t a normal occurrence. Still, with the look in his eyes and the way he shifted his body slightly away from yours, you knew it was highly unlikely you’d be hearing from Avery again.

As you led him to the front door, your fears were only confirmed.

“You know, I’ve heard of a lot of strange living situations but never an ex,” Avery pointed out, gaze pointed over your shoulder at the man eating cereal at the table, unbothered by the scene in front of him. “I can’t handle him trying to break us up.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be talking to him I promise.”

“Y/N, I think you two have some stuff to figure out,” Avery told you, “I hope you figure it out soon.” And with as much of a goodbye as you were going to get, he was out of the apartment.

Meaning, there was absolutely nothing standing between you and Spencer fucking Reid.

“Who do you think you are?” you snapped once the front door was shut and latched. “You think it’s cute to sabotage all of my dates?”

“I’d hardly call them dates,” Spencer huffed, setting his spoon down but not looking up from the bowl.

“What would you call them, then? You have something to say to me, you say it you don’t bring your friend’s cat to the apartment!”

“How do you know it’s Sergio? A stray cat could’ve just gotten inside,” Spencer pointed out as if that were an easy thing to convince you of.

“Spencer, he’s wearing a fucking sweater,” you returned, a hand reached out to gesture toward the cat still curled up happily on the table. That light pink sweater could have only been the work of one Penelope Garcia, who doted on that cat more than you’d ever seen anyone else do. “You brought Sergio over because you knew Avery was allergic to pets. I want to know why you think it’s okay to keep me from being happy.”

“I’m not trying to keep you from being happy,” Spencer told you then, finally standing up and beginning to close the distance between you. 

“Then what are you doing?!”

“I don’t know!” Spencer admitted with a loud shout, looking as surprised as you were at the words. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I can’t stand seeing you with these people.”

“And why not? Just because you don’t want me doesn’t mean I’m not worth loving,” you returned, watching as his expression twisted up as he figured out all of his emotions. 

“I never said that, Y/N. You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m not, Spencer! That’s what it feels like! Why can’t you just let me be happy?”

“Because I want you to be happy with me!”

Silence. It was like the words were a dart straight through your throat rendering you unable to respond. Your lips parted but no words came, how could there be anything left to say? What could be said to something like that? This was Spencer, the man who you’d thought you could love forever, the man who you couldn’t make it work with no matter how hard you tried, the man you thought you could be friends with.

Who you thought you could be roommates with.

“I have to go,” you whispered, making a move for the door but Spencer’s gentle hand around your wrist stopping you. His grip with light enough that you could have easily walked out of it—even now he was giving you the choice of walking away from him and everything you’d built together.

But hadn’t he walked away from it first? Hadn’t it been Spencer who drew the first blade by breaking up with you? Hadn’t it been him who worsened the wound by preventing you from finding other partners?

“Please, Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Spencer pleaded. You were still facing away from him but even now you could practically see his expression—eyebrows pinned together and hazel eyes swimming with unshed tears because his dad had told him boys didn’t cry once when he was still around, free hand gripping the side of his pants tightly so it didn’t shake. 

“You always say that,” you sighed, “but do you ever really mean it?”

Spencer let you go that time. He let you walk out the door and when you came back the next weekend to grab your things, he let you. For months he let you leave, let you stay gone.

He let you grieve for everything you thought you could keep together. You’d tried to stay with him in any way you could, tying the broken pieces of your relationship together with loosely knotted twine but never stopping to make sure the pieces fit back together the way they had before.

“This is my first date in a while,” you admitted to the man sitting across from you at dinner six months later. The outfit you wore felt stiff despite having been your favorite date night choice just months before. You couldn’t help but squirm in your seat, and though your heart wished the man in front of you wore a different face your brain told you this was the best option.

The man in front of you was a veterinarian, a man who kept out of trouble and didn’t have any intentions of hurting you. He was gentle and kind, and though he didn’t make you want to soar he could be enough.

You repeated this like a mantra all through dinner. Even as he asked you what wine you preferred and he didn’t judge you for the food you ordered. As he asked about your life and laughed at your jokes, you told yourself that he could be enough. He didn’t have that curly hair you loved to run your fingers through, and he didn’t hold you close to whisper gentle translations of movies in languages you didn’t know. And when you had a bad day, he brought you flowers instead of reading a story you both loved aloud.

But that was okay, because he could be enough.

This contentment could be enough.

Until, on your walk home you passed the apartment you used to love. The apartment with the light still on despite the late hour.

And suddenly you were rushing inside, waving at the woman at the front desk who still knew you. Your hands were fumbling against the elevator buttons until you found the right one, and your legs shook as you made your way to the door you knew by heart.

It took Spencer a few minutes to answer. Though there was a door between you, you’d spent enough time living with him to know that this was because he was scared of unsubs coming after him. He would be gathering a weapon, would find where the nearest phone was sitting, would have an escape route mapped before he ever unlatched the front door.

And when he did, the baseball bat you’d bought him for Christmas dropped from his hand with a loud clunk. His eyes widened impossibly wide and his lips parted in shock. You used to know exactly what he was thinking based on one look but now all you saw was this expression. And maybe that had been why it had all fallen apart before. Maybe you two had grown so close as friends and couldn’t see past the expectations and images you had of each other.

Maybe you needed these six months, these cloudy and grey six months without him.

“I hate my exes,” you blurted out, not expecting that to be how you started but quickly scrambling to explain. “When I break up with someone, I make it a point to cut them out of my life. I don’t want to see them because I stop caring entirely. I can’t stop caring about you, Spencer.”

“What does that mean?” Spencer asked, and you supposed after everything he had every right to be hesitant. He’d admitted he still cared about you and you’d walked out the door, you’d told him that what he’d done was too much to get over.

“I want you, Spencer Reid,” you admitted, voice shaking a little with the nerves taking over your body. “I want us to start over. And if it’s too late, then that’s okay too, I understand. I just want you to be happy, too.”

Spencer didn’t say anything for a long time. The seconds felt more like minutes as you waited for him to process and consider your words. Just when it was beginning to feel like it was a mistake to come here after your failed date, Spencer rushed forward to kiss you, hands holding on to either side of your face. It was the intensity of someone who thought they’d lost the one you loved, who believed that the second they let go they could lose everything. 

“I want you too,” Spencer told you when your lips parted, pulling a gentle laugh from you.

“I hope so after that kiss,” you teased, smiling softly at the gentle blush that spread across his cheeks. “I guess Penny was right that being roommates was a bad idea.”

“It worked out in the end,” Spencer reassured you before gently guiding you back through the door of the apartment you’d always sought comfort in.

And that it had.

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[finelinevogue]

omg could you do a fluffy little thing based on your nyc insta request where mc meets fans and they ft harry and it’s just like the world’s glimpse into their relationship 💓

yes let’s do this!! this is short and sweet, but i hope you love it all the same!! ;

You were walking out of Starbucks when a group of girls approached you.

The day was not the nicest in New York, but you had errands to run within the city so you thought you’d get them done when it’s not a brilliant say and save the nicer days to do something fun with Harry. You’d been to the Apple store to fix your phone because it keeps on playing up. You’d been to Gucci to pick up a delivery for Harry. You’d been to the local florist to pick up some flowers for your best friend, since she was feeling under the weather. Finally, you’d just picked yourself up a coffee before you had to head back home.

Unfortunately Harry was at a fitting appointment for his tour outfits, so he couldn’t run errands with you, but he sent your good friend, and bodyguard, Aaron with you to keep you company, but more importantly keep you safe. New York could be absolutely crazy when it came to fans, but even more so when it came to creeps who had no respect for women or boundaries, so having a bodyguard helped keep things calm.

“Hi excuse me, you’re Y/N L/N right?” One of the young girls ask and you instantly knew this was a group of Harry’s fans. The giveaways? One of them had a Fine Line tote bag. One was wearing Harry’s merch. One was wearing a green frog bucket hat that Harry had worn only once.

“I am yes, hi.” You smiled politely at them, holding the warm cup of espresso between your hands. Aaron was stood near you, but not making it look like he was here for security.

“Hi, we noticed you in there a minute ago and just wanted to say hi and that we’re really big fans of you, and obviously Harry, and that we really love you guys.” The one with the tote bag spoke, who was also the one that had introduced them. You guessed that they were the most confident out of all them, because it did take balls to speak to a stranger in the way they did.

“Yeah, you’re both so sweet together and you clearly make each other happy. It’s so lovely to see actually.” The one with the frog bucket hat spoke up next. The one with the Harry merch kept a lot more quiet and you could tell by their body mannerisms that they were very nervous and shy - a lot like you actually. You had been an awful lot like them before you met and then he helped you come out of your shell and experience the world in a much brighter and safer light.

You’d be forever grateful for your boyfriend. Your best friend, Harry.

“Aww that’s so sweet of you all, thank you!” You cupped your hand over your heart in awe of their kindness. Harry’s fans always never failed to surprise you with their passion for love and spreading positivity. You admired people like this in general and it was only made more special when they were inspired by your Harry. “What are your names?”

“Oh i’m Alanna.” The one with the tote bag introduced themselves first, holding out their hand for you to shake which you shook kindly.

“Bethany, or just Beth I don’t really mind!” The one with the frog hat introduced themselves next, receiving a handshake too.

“Love your hat, Beth.” You pointed to it and they smiled excitedly.

“Harry was the inspiration!” Although you already knew that you let Beth have a moment to themselves and be happy over the little anecdote.

“And what’s your name, lovely? I’m Y/N.” You reintroduced yourself to the last girl, wanting them to feel as comfortable as possible with, not only you but, meeting new people.

“Marissa.” They smiled and shook your hand willingly.

“Oh I love that name! My aunt is called Marissa, but she goes by Mar though.” You told them the most useless bit of information just to make them feel that bit more at ease.

“People call me Mar too.” They smiled brightly and you felt like you might have cracked through even just a portion of their shell.

“Well, can I call you Mar then?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool! So you guys from New York or..” You asked, looking at all the shopping bags they carried. They’d been to all the shops you once could only just about afford, now you were lucky enough to be able to shop in the places you only ever window shopped in.

“We’re from New Jersey but just came shopping for the day.” Alanna explained. “Never expected to run into you though so that’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, definitely made my day!” Beth added, smiling brightly.

“Well I can only apologise that i’m not Harry or he’s not with me. He’s currently at tour fittings.” You explained and they told you not to worry about being sorry. You had a brilliant idea though.

“No, seeing you is so amazing Y/N!”

“Yeah, you’re Mar’s fashion inspiration!” Mar blushed, as their friends exposed them for being such a huge fan of yours. It helped explain why they were so nervous in front of you too.

“I’m honoured.” You laughed and pulled you phone out of your pocket, hoping to run with your great idea. You prayed it worked. “Just one second.” You held up your finger to them and they just nodded eagerly, sort of hoping that you were doing what they thought you might be doing.

You opened your phone and clicked on your most recent contact. The familiar beeping of a face-time ring rang through the air surrounding you.

“Hello my favourite human being. What’s up? You okay?” Harry’s golden face came up on the screen, your face high up in the corner. He looked so pretty. He was in his brown Gucci coat and had his hair all ruffled from where he’d washed it this morning but not dried it. His hair went crazy when he didn’t intentionally tame it - a bit like yours. You admired his worry for you, smiling as he kissed his camera as if to virtually kiss you.

“Hello my favourite boyfriend.” You teased him. You often greeted him like this and it always made him smile, just at how playful you were being. “I’m doing good, miss you though.”

“Miss you always babe.”

“You free?” You asked, looking briefly to the girls who were all grinning wildly. They were so excited and it made you chuckle, which caught Harry’s attention.

“I am yeah, why? What’re you laughing at? Better not be some hot celebrity you’ve accidentally bumped into.” He rolled his eyes, letting the jealousy get the better of him. You smiled and returned your attention back to your beautiful boyfriend.

“No, there’s no hot celebrity in my presence except from you baby.” That made him beam with happiness and blush with love.

“To what do I owe your beautiful face calling me then?” Harry asked, taking note of your background to recognise that you were still in the city.

You turned the camera towards your new friends, you in the bottom of the picture and them in the top above you. They were huddling together and waving towards the screen. Mar had tears in their eyes and Beth had their hand over their mouth in shock that this was actually happening.

“Met some lovely people who deserved a special hello from you.” You explained to him simply.

“Hello!” Harry stressed the ‘o’ making it sound more like hell-oo. He was so socially awkward greeting people over face-time, but he made it seem so easy nevertheless. He never wanted his fans to feel awkward or unsafe so he had to be as socially brave as he could.

“We have Alanna, Beth and Mar. They’re so kind and Mar says i’m their fashion inspiration.” You winked at Harry, understanding where Mar was coming from because Harry takes fashion inspiration from you regularly too.

“Which one’s Mar?” He asked you and you pointed the best you could to the girl wearing his merch.

“Um pretty sure Mar’s wearing my merch babe! Are y’sure they said you were their inspiration?” He laughed, which made Mar laugh and you were really happy to see that.

“No I did say that.” Mar backed you up, which earned a fist bump between the two of you and you sticking your tongue out to Harry.

“Yes bestie!” You laughed, knowing that was the language Harry’s fans used with one another. Not that you were on stan twitter or anything…

“Sorry if Y/Ns causing any trouble for you lot, believe me she’s quite the bloody handful!” Harry joked, making you scoff and then laugh at how rude he was being. You knew it was all a joke and a front, but he was so cheeky to be so playful in front of people he’d just met.

“Oi y’wanker. Sorry about him.” You apologised on behalf of Harry for no reason whatsoever.

“Harry?” Alanna spoke his name and he dedicated his attention from you to them.

“Hello? Alanna was it?”

“Hi, yes, Um, I just want to say that i’m really proud of you and all your achievements. I think you’re an absolute treasure and we all love you so much.”

Before Harry could get a word in they each continued to add onto Alanna’s praise. Harry started blushing, never being very good at taking praise. On the other hand, giving praise, he was remarkably good at - you could vouch for that.

“Yeah Harry your music is second to none and it’s really been such a blessing to be a fan of yours. You’re ridiculously talented.”

Mar was last to speak and although they didn’t say much, their words held gravity and were clearly very important to them. Maybe that’s why Harry appreciated Mar’s words the most.

“Thank you, Harry.” Was all was said, but it was enough for Harry to clear his throat so he didn’t start crying in front of these people. He didn’t need stories getting out of how he got all weepy because of some sentimental things his fans said, God the papers would twist that story a thousand different ways - and none of them good.

Harry kept the conversation with them for a little while longer until Harry announced he had to go back to his fittings. After they’d each said their goodbyes to both you and Harry, and even Aaron, they quickly asked whether they could post any of the photos they took from today - to which you and Harry were both completely fine with. The three of them then walked off and waved back to you, you waving too. You smiled so brightly, feeling so full of joy from meeting such wonderful young women. Not all Harry fans were that nice, so you were glad that those were the ones you had the pleasure of meeting. You turned your attention back to your loving boyfriend who was already looking at you - with so much love in his eyes you thought they’d turned heart shaped for a moment.

“What?” You asked, smirking at his cheeky face which gave you a belly full of butterflies.

“You’re just so amazing, d’you know that?”

“Oh stop being so soft i’m going to bloody cry otherwise.” You turned your head away for a moment to catch the tears before they could form, only to look back at him and he had his eyebrows raised as if he already knew that you were on your way to crying. “Shut up, you.”

“I’m sorry, y’too cute not to torment. Alright call me when you get back home safely babe, alright?” He asked and you rolled your eyes at him, he laughed at your childishness but knew that he only meant well for you.

“Okay. I love you, baby.” You kissed your front camera as a signal of goodbye that you did every time.

“Love you so much. Bye, bye, byeee.” He kissed his camera every time he said bye and you laughed at him before ending the call. God you loved him so much. Now all you wanted to do was get home and have a warm bath with your loving boyfriend and, little did you know, soon-to-be fiancé.

[amaya-writes]

Hi!! I know you already have a request for him, but could I request an L x reader angst/fluff where the reader and he have something going but he doesn't let things get serious, finding his feelings weird and being afraid they'll be hurt too. But then one day they get into an argument or sth and he says something hurtful, and then later regrets it when despite it, reader continues to care for him. He ends up confessing in the end. Take your time with it, I can wait!

Warnings: slight angst, arguments, sort of a cold L

Gender neutral reader, use of Y/n, 2nd POV

You could never compare to L Lawliet.

He was the smart one. The brilliant detective who could solve any case and bring justice to any criminal. The man who single-handedly made ploys and plans to deal with the international criminal who everyone was looking for.

L Lawliet was the skilled one in your relationship, you knew that, but you had never let it get to you.

After all, you might have not been as talented as he was, but you had your skills. Sure, you weren't the world's best detective, but you were pretty well versed compared to others.

At least you thought you were until now.

"Y/n, I would appreciate it if you didn't try and advise me on this case. You aren't fit for detective work."

He paused whatever he was doing to turn and look at you with a frown so deep you wondered whether he was going to scold you.

"I would prefer if you didn't bother me during my scheming."

At first, you didn't know how to react to his words. L was known for his bluntness and lack of empathy, but you had never let that get to you.

You had never asked nor expected L to change the way he was and accepted him for who he was, even supported him through his bad days when L would be a little worse than rude.

L Lawliet wasn't one to care much about others' emotions, you knew that, but it didn't mean that his words didn't hurt.

Nonetheless, you weren't one to cry over spilt milk and simply left L's side to instead busy yourself with other tasks.

It had been an hour since L had asked you to leave.

You had tried to preoccupy yourself with other tasks, really you had, but as you watched Watari approach his room with a box of sweets you couldn't help but feel the need to try and make things right.

It wasn't your fault that you weren't as good of a detective as L or Light, but that also didn't mean you should have bothered him while he was working.

Thus, you decided to let go of your annoyance at being belittled and tried to be the better person.

Disturbing L yet again while he was looking at files for the Kira case certainly wasn't a wise idea, but you hoped the peace offering you had would at the very least distract him from anything he tried to say to you.

The plan wasn't the best one out there, but you found yourself walking past the threshold and towards his hunched over form before you could rethink it.

By the time you realised how oblivious you had been to think L of all people wouldn't speak his mind, it was too late to turn back.

"Oh, Y/n."

The way he said your name only worsened your nerves as you held out the box of sweets for him.

"Look, L, I know-"

"I'm sorry."

You gasped. It was an almost inaudible sound that you were certain he couldn't possibly catch, but that didn't stop you from smiling sheepishly as L accepted your peace offering and turned back to his work.

"It was rude of me to insult your intelligence. I am aware that it might be hard to keep up with or be as good as me when it comes to Kira, but I was still being rude."

He opened up the box as he spoke, only turning back to you once he had retrieved a sweet.

"Honestly speaking, I enjoy your company while working, and would like it if you stayed. I-"

L scrunched up his face in thought, even going as far as to cock his head to the side and analyze your features

"-I like you, Y/n, and over time, if you're willing, I would like to be more than just friends."

It took you a moment to process his words and confirm that he was actually saying what you thought he was, but when you finally got past the initial shock, you couldn't do much except nod your head vigorously and mutter out what you hoped was a coherent response.

"I would like to be more than just friends two."

Things weren't easy with L.

You couldn't just randomly start dating and hope for the best, but had to respect his boundaries and decisions while slowly easing into a relationship until he was ready.

L Lawliet was complicated, unconventional, and at times difficult to be around, but as you sat back down in your seat and held up a sweet for him, you realised that you didn't quite care what L was like.

Regardless of his difficult personality, you would still always want to be with him.

[blossom-hwa]

inspired by an idea I came up with a while back that you can find here :)

wc: 1.8k ~ changbin x gender neutral!reader ~ pirate!au ~ triggers: mentions of blood and death ~ stray kids masterlist

~ Pirates attack, but with the blood comes an old memory.

[ riptide prince ] When the pirates come, your village hides. 

In theory, everyone knows what to do. Flee to the forest if you can, ensconce yourself and your loved ones in the bushes and the trees or far enough in its depths that you only have to hide from predators of the Earthen Mother instead of pirates with their shining swords and lightning eyes. It’s the closest bet of safety from the carnage that will line the village the next day.

In theory, it’s a plan. A procedure, if you will, meant to take the edge off the anxiety when one mentions the possibility of the unexpected expected - the blood and plunder that line stories of old and new. It probably helps. To some, at least. 

But not you.

Because there’s always been something that bothers you about this standard procedure, this clear-cut plan. It looks so clean, so orderly, so unquestionable in its directions - one, get to the forest, two, hide yourself. One almost forgets what it doesn’t say. 

What do you do when the forest isn’t an option?

Maybe that’s because the answer is so simple it doesn’t even need to be said.

Hide. And pray. 

Something you’re glad to have had experience with, because when the pirates attack this time, you’re too far from the forest to take any sort of chance to run.

They spot the ragged flag in the early hours of morning, from what you understand. The unknown ship was but a spot in the distance at that time. Anyone by the water had enough time to race for the trees, to hide themselves in green foliage or even the next village if they were fast enough. 

Those who lived further away would not be so lucky. 

You see the ship before you hear the warning - that’s how late it is. Few are so selfless as to risk their own safety to bring news to the damned (what is the point of warning them, you’ve heard people say, if they’re already doomed to die?), but one brave soul arrives just minutes after the initial panic has begun to set in with news that confirms your worst fears. 

The ripped flag is exactly what you dread most. 

Pirates. 

There’s no time to run, then. Not to the forest, not anywhere that could provide sufficient cover. People panic around you as your heart races faster and faster, memories rushing back of the last attack five years ago that you survived by the skin of your teeth, arm and shoulder slashed and blood dripping over your clothes, enough blood that they thought you were dead when they passed your body, giving you enough time to crawl your way back to your ransacked apothecary and hide behind a fallen shelf. 

It was devastating, then. So many dead. Your parents, cut down by swords as they tried to run home from the market. Your neighbors, mere bodies in the streets by the time the pirates were finished. And worst, worst of all because you never found the body, never found proof that he was dead, never heard anything that told you whether or not he was still alive -

Changbin, disappeared that day from the manor. Not... dead, probably, at least not then. Kidnapped, maybe. Held for a ransom. 

The pirates didn’t know that his parents didn’t care for him. Not the second son, the family disappointment who mingled with the common folk. They didn’t know that the village aristocrats wouldn’t pay a copper for their second son’s release. 

He’s probably dead now. Your best friend with the silk tunics he didn’t care were dirty, with the dark eyes and bright smile that only grew more and more brilliant as the years passed. The boy you cared for as a friend, and later as a lover - taken hostage by pirates, then probably drowned at sea. 

A choked cry sputters from your lips. The sound of your own voice jerks you from your thoughts, clears your blurred vision and muffled hearing until you can see and hear the panic overtaking the village. You blink at the clear ocean, at the ship coming closer and closer - 

And duck into your rundown apothecary, locking the door shut behind you. 

You knew you’d never have time to run. You knew - only those who lived further in would ever reach the forest. You sweep through the tiny rooms, shutting windows and bolting doors, before throwing yourself into the cramped closet. 

You know when the attack has started by the screams. High-pitched, terrifying shrieks coupled with the rough shouts and yells of get out of the way before someone else screams and you swear you hear the thump of a body fall. The very earth seems to shake beneath your feet, the flimsy closet creaking and swaying as footsteps pound closer and closer. 

Your eyes slam shut. Your hands clench into fists so tight your nails begin to bite sharp into your palms, dull pain to keep your mind off the screaming that grows louder and louder by the second, by the minute -

But there is no screaming. 

You open your eyes to the closet’s darkness. Commotion still sounds in the distance, but the shouts have gone. 

It’s quiet. 

You blink. You could’ve sworn you heard the screams getting louder before they stopped - is it really all over so soon? 

One minute passes. Two, then three. You count the seconds to the beat of your racing heart - four, five, six...

Maybe it is over. Maybe it was just that fast. 

You take a shaky breath, slowly releasing one of your hands from its clenched fist. It reaches out to push open the closet, slow, slow -

A knock sounds at your door. 

. . .

It takes every fiber of your being not to scream.

Heart in your throat, hand over your mouth, you wait. Five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen seconds... at five minutes, you decide, if five minutes pass and you hear nothing again, it was a hallucination. Just a hallucination.

Thirty seconds. Thirty-five. Forty -

It comes again, drumbeats of Death at your door. You keep your eyes shut tight, biting your palm in an effort not to shake so much that the tiny shop comes down around you. Maybe it’ll be fast. Hopefully it’ll be fast. No suffering, no pain, just reunion with your lost loves -

But -

A familiar voice calls your name.

“Y/N?”

. . .

Something in that single word knocks the air out of your chest. It isn’t so much your name that was spoken but the voice - the voice with which it was said -

You know that voice. You know it. Even deeper, raspier, coated with a slight accent that didn’t used to be present - you know it, even though the last time you heard it was many years ago. 

The day before the pirates attacked, when Changbin smiled and bid you goodbye until the next morning.

Something seems to drag you, an invisible force that opens your trembling fist and pushes open the closet, pulls you forward until you reach the door with silent shuffling steps. But as your hand opens, touches the doorknob -

You pause. Because what if it’s a trick? And you know you have done nothing to the gods to warrant such a cruel trick, but just - what if -

“What did we do on your twelfth birthday?”

Your words carry through the door, the barest hint of a whisper that filters through the wood. For a moment you feel stupid - what kind of question is that, why did you ask, what if someone isn’t even there - but then the deep rasp of a familiar voice speaks with a certainty that breaks the final wall around your heart. 

“We climbed a tree to see the moon at night, but I fell off the branch. You tried to catch me and fell off too.” Nostalgia tinges the edge of that familiar voice, wistful amusement aching in its tones. “I broke my arm, and you hit your forehead against a rock.”

A pause. 

The voice grows softer. Hesitant.

“If you open the door, I can show you where.”

A choked sob builds in your throat. Your hand curls around the doorknob. 

And flings it open. 

He looks the same, but at the same time, he doesn’t. Black hair frames his face in longer locks that would have made his father rage, and a sword hangs by his side. Blood stains patched clothing and more of it drips down a cut on his face, but his eyes - 

They’re just as you remembered. 

A rough, calloused hand reaches out, a far cry from the smooth skin of a pampered noble boy that he used to boast. Those familiar eyes lock into yours as the hand rises, fingers coming to rest on your forehead where the scar you used to have has long since faded, but where the memory of that birthday lies. 

“Here,” Changbin whispers, fingers brushing against your skin. “It was here.”

It was here. 

A scar disappeared from a place no one would know but him.

It was here.

A choked noise rips through your throat as you finally let yourself fall into strong arms that you had long since despaired of seeing ever again, let alone feeling them wrapped around your torso once more - you never thought you’d see him, you thought he was dead -

“I’m not dead,” Changbin whispers, and when something wet drips onto your shoulder you know he’s crying too. “I’m not dead, Y/N. I’m back. I came back for you.”

For how long you stand there, incoherent sobs stifling the air, you don’t know. But when the tears have finally faded to a trickle, when you finally let yourself push away only slightly with the uncertain knowledge that he won’t disappear once more, Changbin grips your hands gently, tightly, rough palms scratching over your skin. 

“I came back for you,” he says again, the same smile you fell in love with spread across his lips. “Will you now come with me?”

You look at your joined hands, at his teary smile. Your eyes rake across his face, taking in everything that has changed and everything that has stayed the same. Finally your gaze settles in his, in the dark eyes that used to hold worlds of comfort. 

In the dark eyes that still do.

It doesn’t take you long to make your choice.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 heart for a reunited couple!!!!!!!)

[yslkook]

UNFUCKWITABLE (9)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook convinces you to take a staycation with him for a few days (a week).

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, oc and jk discuss their unprotected sex practices, vomiting, some jealous jk, mild exhibitionism, fingers in oc's mouth grinding, making out, oral (m), titjob

word count: 7k

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts. also...cant believe mom manifested into butter jk im in pain

****************************************

Jungkook is unsurprised to enter your home with the key you’d given him the other week and find it completely empty. You’ve been working early mornings and incredibly late nights for the last week and a half, and he can tell it’s beginning to take a toll on you. The first sign that you were beginning to wear down was when you had skipped dinner in favor of sleeping. The second was when you had snapped at him in irritation and then immediately cried over hurting his feelings.

He can think of about a dozen other things, including the even more pronounced bags under your eyes. You’ve always had dark circles under your eyes naturally from hyperpigmentation but these days, not even concealer can help you mask them.

In fact, the reason that you’d even given him a key was because you felt like work was taking over your entire life. You’d hardly had a chance to see anyone who wasn’t a work colleague, and you just missed Jungkook. At least this way, you could wake up and go to bed with him.

You had only been calling Jungkook your partner just shy of four months, and he had a key to your home. Perhaps it was fast for other people, but with him, it felt right. So he keeps a copy of your keys on his lanyard- it’s possibly his most prized possession right now. Jungkook usually only comes when you ask him to, he’s been staying at your place for the last week because of how tired and busy you were.

Usually you stop by the tattoo parlor at least once or twice a week, but you have been sparse because of work. So he’s here, in your home without you. It felt strange the first few times he’d been here without you, but then he started leaving little pockets of himself- his shoes next to yours, his hair product on your shelf, and his two of his jackets hanging near yours in the closet. He’d even purchased a new plant to keep on your windowsill in your living room (which you take turns dutifully watering and making sure she gets enough sunlight).

It’s all very domestic. He had jokingly told you not to expose him to your shared friends, specifically Mina and Mei. To which you had rolled your eyes.

Though some small, very small, part of him wonders if the magic will fade away soon. Considering how fast you both are moving both physically into your home and in your relationship.

It’s only been a few months, and you both were incredibly comfortable with the idea of unprotected sex- after all, Jungkook always pulls out in time. Until, of course, you’d had a pregnancy scare. Hoseok and Yoongi, ever the pair of realists, had scolded him when Jungkook had revealed that you both hardly ever used any protection-

“Are you trying to knock her up? Is that it? You both ready to potentially be parents?” Yoongi says mildly as he polishes off his wine, looking at Jungkook expectantly. Jungkook’s cheeks burn.

“No, I’m not trying to knock her up and no, nobody’s trying to be parents-”

“You both are lucky you haven’t knocked her up already,” Hoseok says, with more heat in his voice, “You both are fucking stupid, but you especially.” He even smacks the back of his head with the book in his hands and Jungkook glares at him.

“Hey, my pull out game has always been strong, and I’m serious about her. We wouldn’t fuck raw if-”

“Oh, yes, then we definitely have nothing to worry about,” Yoongi says, “Keep it moving, Hobi.

“Talk to her about it, or else,” Hoseok threatens, “I don’t wanna hear about another pregnancy scare because you’re both idiots.”

“I know, I know,” Jungkook relents, “We’ve been talking about it. It just sucks that birth control can fuck up a woman’s body like that, you know? Mood changes and appetite changes, nausea and everything…”

“You could always get a vasectomy,” Yoongi says bluntly.

“Mei said the same thing. She was way more mean about it, though. Told me she’d cut my balls off if I didn’t get my shit together.”

“I don’t blame her, considering what a mess you both were last month.”

“We were not a mess!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so stressed ever in your life, not even when your first bike got run over by a car. Or when your tattoo got infected three consecutive times. And I’ve never seen her cry so much before.”

“Alright, maybe we’re a little bit of a mess.”

In the end, you and Jungkook had both decided that yes, condoms were probably a good idea. Considering the pregnancy scare you had last month, you both were on edge and a little paranoid. Jungkook hadn’t even mentioned the idea of you taking birth control or getting an IUD, knowing that your last few experiences with the former were unpleasant-

“I can get a vasectomy, you know. In fact, Yoongi suggested it,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly but your jaw drops.

“Jungkook. I don’t think vasectomies are reversible like that. Think about what you’re saying,” You murmur, “I’m touched you’d consider a surgical procedure so I don’t have to take birth control, but what if-”

“I looked it up, they can be reversed-”

“But Jungkook! You don’t know that, what if you want to have kids later and you can’t because you decided on a fucking whim to get a vasectomy? It’s still trauma on your body! You can’t just snip snap, snip snap your vas deferens tube whenever you please. At least with birth control you can start and stop it, even if that’s not a completely benign process.”

Jungkook looks at you long and hard, his tongue poking his cheek and you sigh. “But I don’t-”

“Honey. I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” You murmur, squeezing his hands in yours, “But we’re both being stupid. We’re both acting like condoms don’t exist. Why don’t we start with condoms and then think about getting your tubes tied or me getting an IUD?”

“You spoiled me,” Jungkook complains dramatically and drops his head to your chest, “With your pussy. I’m spoiled now.”

“Shut up.”

And so now, a box of condoms sits in the drawer of your nightstand and you’ve taken to bringing a few with you in your purse as well (and so does he). You’d been far more nervous buying condoms than you’d ever been of buying anything else, and Jungkook had only cockily grinned at you.

Today’s Friday and it’s the day of your deadline. Meaning that you’d hopefully be home soon and be his for the rest of the weekend. He fully plans on getting you to relax and stay in for the majority of the weekend, so that you can catch up on sleep.

But then you come home past dinner (you had sent him a text earlier telling him that you were going to be late. He knows your mood is sour- you had been in a foul mood all week, and the fact that you’re so close to being home but so far just makes it worse). You come home with an empty belly, a weary mind and wetness along your lash line. Climbing into bed next to him, you circle your arms around his waist and cry tiredly into his chest.

“J-Jungkook,” You hiccup, “I’m so tired, they kept me s-so late today but it’s done. Everything is finished-”

“Oh, baby,” He sighs, rubbing your back soothingly, “It’s okay. We can just sleep now. You should take a few days off next week, baby.”

“I don’t know…” But your eyes are wide and considering it.

“You’ve been running on empty all week,” Jungkook points out, “For longer than that. Your job can handle two or three days without you while you recharge. Text your boss, baby. You need to rest, too.”

He nudges your cheek with his nose and you hum in agreement. “Okay. Five day weekend? Sure you won’t get tired of me?” You murmur and laugh when he squeezes your waist.

“We can make it a staycation.”

And you’re already texting your boss, telling her that you needed a few days off next week. She gives you a thumbs up and encourages you to rest up, making it a point to recognize how hard you’ve been working. She even suggests you take the full week off, which you jump at and Jungkook only grins at you.

“My brilliant girl, charming her way into a full week off.”

You swat his hand away and hide your burning but satisfied face in his chest. “Yeah, your bad habits are rubbing off on me.”

“Oh, that’s not the only thing rubbing off on you,” Jungkook says wickedly and pushes his hips into yours, earning a fierce pinch to his bare waist.

“Hush, I’m trying to nap,” You mumble, your voice muffled. Without warning, you lick his neck and bite lightly at the base of his neck, ignoring his soft yelp. He doesn’t have a chance to question you on what that was, as you’re already falling asleep.

You’ve always thought from the beginning, even when you and Jungkook were just friends, that he was an ass man. You’ve caught him staring at your ass many, many times- in jeans, in a dress, in a skirt. And now that you both are officially together, he spends any and every moment he can with a hand on your ass. Casually, when you both walk side by side. And purposefully when you’re both just in his bed or on your couch. His hand is a well known presence on your ass, not that you’re complaining.

One of Jungkook’s favorite places to nap is on your ass, with his cheek pressed into you and one hand firmly gripping your ass. He also likes laying with his head on your lap. But his favorite place to nap is with his head buried in your chest, specifically buried in between your tits. He is currently analyzing his hypothesis that your right tit is smaller than your left, a thought he’s had for a while now, but needs further samples of evidence to properly assess.

But he’s always had an affinity for your tits, whether you’re blissfully unaware of it or not. You don’t notice it not really- you like any and all of his touches on any inch of your skin, as you’ve told him many times before. Especially when he holds you close next to him or under him and you feel protected, surrounded by only him.

He holds you, looks at you as if you’re as soothing as the sea and as bright as a supernova. And yet, the universe is contained in his big, doe eyes.

But really, at the end of the day, it’s an affinity for you. Jungkook loves every part of your mind, body, and soul, and he thinks he has for a long time. His heart has been tangled with yours since the first time he had seen you years ago at Hobi’s surprise birthday party that you had planned. Jungkook is sure that when he had seen you with a homemade red velvet cheesecake with a ‘Happy Birthday Hobi <3’ written perfectly in red icing in your arms, a silly party hat on your head, and a shy, beaming smile on your lips, he had been magnetized to your center of gravity from then on.

But even then, he had only hovered. Barely introducing himself, if it weren’t for Mina and Mei. He thought he had known girls like you- girls who baked cakes, planned elaborate birthday parties for their friends and wore flowery dresses liked other predictable people. It’s another one of his hypotheses (which has been clearly debunked)- but by now, he knows not to be so judgmental of others.

But he doesn’t dwell on that for long. Even the first time he met you, right after he had introduced himself to you and you had stared at him with starstruck eyes and stammered a quiet ‘hello’ in return, Sora had cornered him. And told him to back off from right then, that you were off limits. That you’d never be interested in a guy like him, so to not even spend a second in his stupid little mind even entertaining the ridiculous idea.

So he backed off subconsciously, thinking it wasn’t worth it to even know you as a friend. He’d convinced himself that it was too much trouble, and Jungkook has always been an easygoing kind of guy in most instances. After all, your best friend would know you best, right? And really, what did he care? As the saying goes, there were about a million other fish in the sea.

However. Even then, with each word uttered between you both, with each laugh that he pulled from your soft mouth, he couldn’t help the reluctant fondness for you that began to bloom. You had surprised him every few months after that, just saying hello at events that you were both present at and asking how he was. With that stupidly beautiful smile and those bright, shy eyes.

You were a smart, kind woman, always remembering details about others. And he was no exception.

That was years ago. He’s known you since your third year at university, hanging by a thread just outside your orbit. But this is now.

This is now, and your lips are against his neck, your chest pressed to his. You climb into his lap haphazardly, nearly knocking your mug off of the coffee table. You both have only just woken up and stumbled out of bed for coffee and breakfast. You had combed the tangles out of his bedhead with his head in your lap, but now sleepiness has washed away and you’re tugging at his oversized shirt.

You promptly bite him, right where his neck tattoo starts and ends. Jungkook meets your eyes with an incredulous, breathy laugh. “What’s gotten into you?” He murmurs, palming your chest from under your shirt.

“Nothing. You just have a very biteable neck, I told you,” You say, resuming your inspection of the vein next to his tattoo, “What a juicy jugular vein-”

Jungkook holds your wrist and flips you so that your back is on the couch. “My sexy vampire girlfriend. Love when she starts talking about my jugular vein.”

“Watch out, I might drink from it. You never know,” You giggle with a wink, squirming in his grip.

“You can do whatever you want,” Jungkook murmurs but then an idea that has been planted in his head for weeks now spills from his lips without him meaning to, “I wanna fuck your tits, baby.”

Your eyes go comically wide, mimicking Jungkook’s own. His cheeks are a little pink from his abrupt confession as silence falls between you both.

“That’s really interesting,” You muse.

“Is it?” He asks, feeling a little lightheaded. You tug a little at his purple locks to pull him down to you.

“Yeah. Always thought you liked booty. And legs,” You shrug, “But I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

Jungkook’s throat is too dry for him to reply coherently. But he finds his voice after you give him a reassuring smile, “Uh, when it’s you, I like everything.”

“Me too. When it’s you, I like everything,” You mumble, heat rising in your cheeks, “And uh… you can. Do that I mean.”

“Do what?” He asks teasingly, tilting his head to the side.

“Don’t play dumb,” You whine, shoving his shoulder.

“C’mon say it,” Jungkook jeers, not unkindly, “Put your big girl panties on.”

“I hate you,” You sigh dramatically, “Fine. You can fuck my tits, if you so desire.” His face splits into a grin as he thumbs your chin and ducks his head into your neck. He playfully nips at your skin, murmuring that he’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine, but you feel his half hard cock pressing against your thigh.

The image of his cock wet and slick between your tits is now imprinted in your mind, and when both of you want something, you’ll surely get it.

Despite your eagerness of making Jungkook’s wish a reality, neither of you have had the chance for your usual shenanigans just yet. You still have quite a few days of your staycation left, so you won’t rush it. You had spent most of the first two days sleeping, cuddling, spooning, eating and lots and lots of slow sex.

You think you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve left your bed. Jungkook has been nothing short of wonderful, bringing you food (just this once, you hate eating while in bed), giving you shoulder rubs and booty rubs without you asking. Your favorite ice cream is in your freezer. Life is good.

His shirt hangs off of your shoulder and you’re too lazy to fix it. In fact you’re too lazy for pajama bottoms, only settling on your favorite pair of comfortable panties (nothing flashy. Just a standard black cotton panty) to wear under your shirt. One might even call them granny panties or whatever, but lace was uncomfortable on your skin. Lace and thongs are for very, very special occasions (hardly if ever) and you are in the comfort of your own home. You’ll be comfortable if it’s the last thing you do.

In fact, you’re too lazy to even raise your head to pucker your lips for a kiss from Jungkook. You only open your arms and hum, as if he’s supposed to telepathically know what you want from him. But he does, and he flops onto you once he tugs his shirt off. Jungkook’s face remains buried in your chest as you gently rub his scalp.

He hums happily, nearly purring at your touch and shoves himself closer into your hold. You can’t believe this man, the man who mildly intimidated you for years, is now in your arms and purring like a baby kitten. He’s admitted a few times that his scalp has been irritated and inflamed ever since he dyed his hair purple. One of his favorite things is to lay in your lap while you massage a mix of coconut oil and peppermint oil into his scalp.

He looks up at you, warm heat blazing in his eyes. You’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about but he palms your pussy from under your shirt- your still swollen, puffy pussy from the four times he’s made you cum already.

“Can I help you, Jungkook,” You ask flatly, but your poker face breaks when he dots you with kisses up and down your thighs.

“Yeah, fuck,” Jungkook groans, voice slowing to a whine, “I’m still hard, baby, fuck. Help me.”

“How are you still hard,” You wonder with a grin, “Damn, Jeon. You must really like me, huh?”

“If that wasn’t obvious then I’m clearly not doing something right here,” He breathes into your skin.

“Gimme a kiss then,” You murmur, pushing his long hair behind his ear. His eyebrow piercing glints in the light of your bedroom and you trace it gently with your fingertips. Jungkook desperately pushes his lips to yours, parting your lips easily and slipping his tongue into your mouth. He kisses your teeth hungrily, strands of his hair brushing against your cheeks.

His hips roll into yours impatiently, hands already pawing at your shirt. The air in your bedroom is suddenly so stifling, thick and nearly choking you both with the intensity of your desire. You just want him to feel good with you.

“Jungkook,” You say softly with warm cheeks, “You can use me, however you want. Tell me what you want, bunny.”

He lets out a quiet gasp, his eyes bright and wide.

You’re both on the same page, because he’s scrambling to chuck his boxers to the side and you’re tossing your shirt on top of his boxers.

***********************

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook groans. He’s breathless, heart racing erratically. All he can do is hold your shoulders as he watches with a piercing, hazy gaze as his cock is swallowed in between your tits. You squeeze them tightly together, trying to create as much friction as you can for him.

“Fuck,” He whines, “Fuck, you look so good, baby. O-oh, shit, my pretty baby, you’re pretty-”

Jungkook nearly cums when you mischievously stick your tongue out to brush against the head of his leaking cock. The visual is almost too much for him and his breaths are choked, strangled as he forces himself to look into your dark eyes.

“So big, bunny, look,” You say softly, “You like this? You’re so hot like this…”

He’s nearly in tears, eyes shining and wet at how good this feels. If your pussy was a slice of heaven, then your tits were the next best thing. You moan softly, feeling your own wetness and heat pooling. Jungkook’s cheeks and chest are flushed, eyes wild and wet as he slides his cock in between the valley of your tits languidly. Almost as if he doesn’t want the moment to end.

You’re so warm, warm everywhere.

His muscles are tense, the furrow in his brow beginning to appear when he’s about to cum. “Shit, baby, oh my god, I love your tits,” Jungkook moans, tossing his head back, “Fuck, I love everything about you-”

You don’t know how he’s able to form coherent sentences to you when he’s this close to cumming. But he’s always been a man of many talents.

“You know what I just realized,” You gasp suddenly, “Neither of us made it official that we’re dating. Like I never asked you ‘out’ and you never asked me ‘out’-”

“Fuck, you talk too much,” Jungkook nearly snarls, “My cock is literally in between your tits and I’m about to fucking cum all over you and you think I belong to anyone else?”

You swallow thickly, Jungkook narrowing his eyes at you. He looks intimidating and intense above you, his powerful, golden thighs straddling either side of you.

“N-no, I was just-”

Jungkook shoots you a glare, reaches behind him and gathers your wetness with two fingers. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he pushes two fingers into your mouth to shut you up. You send him a glare right back, but it melts away quickly when you swirl your tongue and suck on his digits.

He cums without warning, hastily and with a broken sort of sound ripping from his throat. It’s warm and sticky as it lands on your chest and your cheek. But he cums so much and much to your chagrin some of his cum gets in your eye and you nearly shriek at the burn.

“Jungkook! What the hell, your cum is in my fucking eyeball-”

He’s still panting above you, like some sort of golden boy, and it takes him a few seconds to register your irritation. “Oh shit,” Jungkook says and jumps into action. He tugs you into the bathroom to gently wash your eye for you (after washing his own hands), with you grumbling the entire time.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. You roll your eyes and demand to be taken back to bed and lavished in kisses as penance for his cum shooting into your eye.

Jungkook tastes himself a little when his tongue slips into your mouth, but it hardly registers as he rolls on top of you, caging you in between his arms.

Jungkook fleetingly thinks he should’ve spent more time trying to convince you to stay home with him. Maybe with a few soft, long kisses to your neck, he might have. You looked delectable, good enough to eat- your dress fitted around your hips, nails, hair, and makeup done, the scent of your perfume subtle but not irritating to his sensitive nose.

You had asked him to pick what jewelry to wear, so one of his long necklaces sitting around your neck and disappearing into the valley of your chest. It doesn’t really match with your dress, but you don’t care.

And Jungkook… well, it was difficult for you to keep your hands off of him as well. His hair is tied back into a neat ponytail, he’s wearing a sequined black (fitted) button up with the top four buttons undone, a thick, silver chain and ripped, black jeans. Your eyes are glued to his chest and he knows it- you can’t help but grip his arm, his bicep whenever you can.

Neither of you really enjoyed the club scene, but you had wanted to go out since it had been a really long time and after all, you were on your staycation. Mei had planted the idea in your head, and so now here Jungkook was.

Here he was, catching flashes off the satin, coral colored wrap dress that you were encased in. For someone who doesn’t like the scene, you blend in effortlessly. But you’re a grown woman, so he takes his eyes off of you and orders a round of shots for him, Jimin, Taehyung and Jin while nursing a bottle of soju.

In the midst of the thumping bass bouncing off of the walls in the club, you’re only aware of you and Mei while you both sing along to whatever song is blasting through the club. Mina disappeared a while ago, presumably to find Jimin.

You’re holding two drinks, one in each hand, and all you feel is the vibrations of the club. Along with your own drunkenness. Mei holds your arm to keep you steady as you move your hips in time with hers. You laugh loudly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders at something she said. Everything is amplified and muted at the same time, the swirl of alcohol settling comfortably in your veins.

You’re having a great time with your friends, dancing, swirling, singing and drinking. It’s a nice night to unwind, in the company of dear friends and strangers.

“Hey,” Mei murmurs in your ear, “I gotta pee and I’m gonna go find Seulgi-”

“You can just say that you wanna go find her,” You giggle, “Don’t blame your bladder on it, Mei.”

“Oh, you’re funny. I’ll text Jungkook and tell him to come find you, alright?” Mei says, patting your head. You nod and tell her to go find her girl, and she does. Leaving you to your own devices for a bit, at least until Jungkook makes his way to you.

However, what neither of you realize is that the cell reception in this building is terrible. Mei’s text never goes through and you stay in your bubble, with your two drinks in your hands and bounce along to the music.

You’re not sure how much time goes by, but it feels like you’ve been alone for quite a while. You squint your eyes at your phone to check the time and send a text to Jungkook. A text that never goes through. You frown and are about to turn on your heel to link up with your man (wherever he might be), but you hear a surprised call of your name.

It’s hard to keep the incredulity out of your face when you come face to face with Yunho, the man who had stood you up all those months ago. The air has almost been punched out of your lungs, and you have to squint at him to believe what you’re seeing.

He calls your name again, giving you a wave and a bright smile. “Funny seeing you here, huh?”

“Uh…”

“Can I buy you a drink? I feel like I owe it to you after…” His eyes are sincere. At least you think so, with your drunk goggles on.

“I don’t know, Yunho, it’s okay…” You mumble unsurely, “Isn’t this weird?”

“It’s only weird if we make it weird,” Yunho says and pulls a chuckle out of you.

“Oh, alright. I guess a drink won’t hurt,” You shrug and lead the way to the bar. The least he can do for you after standing you up and hurting your feelings is buy you a drink, you think.

“Hey listen, I owe you an apology,” Yunho says, sliding your drink towards you.

“Oh, it’s- it was a long time ago,” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. Sure, it was a hit to your ego, but in hindsight it doesn’t matter. Not when you have Jungkook. Honestly, you’ve forgotten that Yunho had even been a blip in your radar once upon a time. It was only because of Sora, anyway.

“I had something urgent come up last minute that day and I asked Sora to tell you,” Yunho continues, “I’m sorry I didn’t follow up or even reach out to you after. But I’d heard that you were with Jeon now, so didn’t want to… overstep, I guess.”

And even through your drunken haze, you understand. You sigh deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Oh boy,” You groan, “Sora never told me about that but we’re not close anymore, Yunho. It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry she got you, too.”

Yunho’s lips part in surprise, “She didn’t… Alright. What’s done is done, I guess.”

“Yeah,” You murmur airily, “And yes, I am with Jeon. Though I can’t seem to find him…”

“I’m happy to keep you company until you do.”

Despite how well you and Yunho seem to hit it off (most of your time spent bitching about Sora), you can’t help but think of Jungkook. You quite miss him, not having seen him all night in the club. You want to dance with him, and little do you know that he’s been scouring the entire club for you in a frenzy once he ran into Mei and Mina and hadn’t seen you with them.

He had sent them a glare, his jaw clenched and walked away to find you. So when his eyes finally land on you at the bar, after about twenty-five minutes of searching and trying to get through strings of people around you, his heart soars. But he sees you laughing with someone else at the bar. With Yunho.

Jealousy is petty, he tells himself. But he struggles to keep it at bay as it rears its head and comforts him. He’s always been protective and possessive of those he loves and cherishes. You’re definitely no exception.

You wobble a little on your feet, but you hold your own. Even from here, he can see the drunkenness of your smile, beads of sweat as they race down your neck to hide in the valley of your breasts. He zeroes in on your necklace (his) around your neck and reminds himself. It’s his necklace that you’re wearing, after all.

Then why is the man who stood you up all those months ago making you laugh like that?

You must have a sixth sense or something for him, because you turn your head a bit as if you can sense him. Your entire face lights up when you see him, in a way that makes his tough heart swell in adoration.

You make your way over to him with your drink and peck his lips chastely, despite his desire to pull you into his arms and kiss you long enough that your knees buckle. So that Yunho sees that he is yours.

“You disappeared on me, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, adjusting your necklace. He’s gripping it tightly, but you don’t notice.

“I was with Yunho, remember him? ‘Member, he stood me up but he didn’t because it was Sora’s fault-”

“That’s no surprise,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes. You take his hand, squeezing and introduce him to Yunho. As if he doesn’t know him already. Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t like how Yunho looks at you, how his gaze lingers on your skin and the curves of your dress. You lean against Jungkook heavily, absently playing with his fingers. You stay mostly quiet, sipping your drink as the two men speak (rather tersely).

Jungkook knows he’s being ridiculous.

“Kook, finish my drink?” You murmur, offering him the glass. Jungkook maintains eye contact with Yunho as he downs the remainder of your drink in a few solid gulps.

“Was nice to see you, Yunho,” You say, “I think Jimin and Mina are looking for us, Jungkook. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

With that Jungkook firmly holds your waist, keeping you close to him. You both know that neither Jimin nor Mina are looking for either of you. You’d only wanted to be alone with Jungkook.

So Jungkook leads you to a spot where he knows Yunho can visibly see you both. You let loose, giggling as Jungkook twirls you easily and moving your arms to match the beat of the music. He makes you laugh with his moves, winking at you and shooting finger guns at you as he twirls and swivels around you. He’s always been a great dancer, you realize. That’s funny, because you’re sometimes clumsy on your own two feet. He pulls you into him, his chest to your back and his hips pressed against your ass. You sigh contentedly, head lolling against his shoulder and you rest your hand over his hand to let him lead you.

His nose is buried in your neck, lips lightly brushing your pulse. He bites your earlobe gently, earning a soft laugh from you. Jungkook tilts your jaw to the side to meet your eyes and plants a deep kiss to your glossy lips. He holds you steady when your knees weaken, your belly flipping at the intensity that he pours into you.

Jungkook is all around you, encasing you within his arms and there’s not a single place you’d rather be. When you pull away for air, you thumb away your gloss on his bottom lip and bite his bottom lip gently.

“I adore you,” You say dreamily, “You are so… Everything. Everything. I adore you.”

Jungkook’s cheeks burn, but he ducks his head for another sharp kiss. And if Yunho is watching him shove his tongue down your throat and holding your hips to his possessively then that’s fine by him.

The journey back home is a quick one (after you both stop for fried noodles, despite the inevitable heartburn it’ll give you both the next day but you’re both so hungry). You both stumble into your home in a mess of giggles and groping, nearly falling to the floor due to your clumsiness.

Jungkook has been hard since he kissed you in the club, in front of Yunho. He knew Yunho had been watching, feeling the man’s eyes on you both the entire time. His jealousy has crawled back into the box that it was unleashed from, but he knows that’s something to revisit later.

Something else to revisit is that he liked that someone else was watching him with you. He stores that information for later, instead focusing on keeping you upright from falling.

Somehow, through your blurry vision and wobbly legs, you get on your knees and palm Jungkook’s cock through his pants. A shameless moan rips through you- any and every inch of him makes you dizzy with desire.

You like him so much that it nearly makes you cry.

“Gonna blow you now,” You announce happily, fumbling with the button of his jeans and using all of your concentration and strength to pull his pants down along with his boxers. You sloppily kiss your way down his chest, spending extra time on his tattoo and licking (then biting) his happy trail before humming around his leaking cock.

He’s so wet already, and it’s all because of you.

Jungkook groans, eyes closing in pleasure as your pretty mouth wraps around his cock. He thrusts lightly into your mouth, peeling his eyes open to watch you. Only to find you already staring up at him, your makeup smudged and tears already forming in your pretty eyes. He cradles your cheek affectionately, stroking your cheekbone-

But before he can compliment you, softly praise you, he hears a noise. It originates from the back of your throat, something both familiar and unfamiliar. You gag uncontrollably around his cock, and while it’s certainly not the first time it’s happened, it’s different this time. Because you’re a little drunk. So he should be unsurprised when you retch on his cock, pull yourself off of him before your drunk self can get any more vomit on his cock and sprint into your bathroom.

You manage to lock the door in your frenzy of utter humiliation and alcohol addled mind. You hover over the toilet bowl, the sounds of you throwing up bouncing off of the walls. You’re crying, sobbing more like it- from both the pain in your chest from vomiting violently into the toilet bowl coupled with the humiliation of quite literally throwing up on your boyfriend’s cock.

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, as if that’ll erase the memory.

“Baby,” Jungkook calls softly, his cock fully hanging out in the open, “Baby, please open the door. It’s not a big deal, but I need to wash my dick off.”

You let out a choked, watery laugh at that and move to flush the toilet and rinse your mouth out. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you unlock your bathroom door, and you can’t bear to look Jungkook in the eye. But he holds your wrist to his when you try to escape into the safety of your bedroom.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest, heat flooding your ears in shame. It feels like your head is empty, static filling up the spaces that the silence between you both doesn’t.

“It’s just me,” Jungkook coos, “Do you want to shower with me?”

“Jungkook, ‘m absolutely mortified,” You say flatly, voice a little high in pitch as fresh tears burning behind your eyelids, “I want to evaporate from this plane of existence in about three-point-four seconds, I literally threw up on your penis, I’m so sorry. Don’t even look at me-”

Jungkook winces at your tone and the way your shoulders are hunched, hands gripping the hem of your dress unsurely.

“Baby,” Jungkook sighs, “It’s really okay, there’s nothing to apologize for. Come shower. The vomit is drying on my dick-”

But that’s the wrong thing to say because you start to cry immediately, shoving your face in your hands. Jungkook sighs, mentally kicking himself and running a hand through his purple locks. He calls your name softly and pulls you into his arms for a tight hug, despite the drying vomit on his dick, which is hanging out and brushes against your hip. You sniffle, peeking at him with shy eyes and he rubs your back soothingly.

“When I say it’s okay, I mean it,” Jungkook murmurs into your hair, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how drunk you were. I know you feel embarrassed, but it’s just me, baby.”

He kisses you, despite your protests, and helps you rinse your mouth again. You allow Jungkook to somehow maneuver you into the shower, peeling you out of your clothes. You feel grimy and sticky from the club and you’re grateful for the cool water against your skin. You stand behind Jungkook, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face in between his shoulder blades, letting him wash himself.

“Can I wash you?” You whisper, voice unsure. You feel awful, cheeks burning but still. He nods and you take your body wash and lather him with it, washing his now limp dick gently and swallowing nervously.

“See? Not a big deal,” Jungkook says, coaxes you out of your nervousness, “Lemme wash you, baby.”

And so he does, taking your loofah and gently rubbing your skin. Under the cool spray of water, your nerves slip away with each giggle and kiss that he pulls and plants from your lips. Your eyes are still a little shy, a little slick with alcohol. But it’s just Jungkook, and you’re safe with him.

Jungkook nearly wrestles you to get you to eat something more, after throwing up the remainder of your guts after you both had showered (it was mainly just water and alcohol at this point). You’re nearly falling asleep on his shoulder but he manages to shake you awake for a slice of leftover noodles and two glasses of water. But eventually, he coaxes you into eating with a few kisses, hugs, and shoulder rubs.

Once you both are in bed, Jungkook wraps himself around you, his hands immediately drifting below your sleep shirt to your belly. Your cheeks burn as the events of the night replay in your mind’s eye and you press your face into your pillow with a groan.

“I can’t believe I threw up on your dick a-and you’re so nice a-about it,” You mumble, “You really are everything.”

“Well, what else am I going to do if the girl I like vomits on my dick,” Jungkook murmurs, “Don’t worry about it, baby. It happens.”

“To who? Only to me,” You say sadly, “I drank too much. I’m sorry, Kook-”

“Shhh,” Jungkook says, tightening his arms around you and kissing your forehead, “I promise it’s okay. I promise I’m not looking at you any differently.”

His words make you relax in his hold and you nod. Jungkook tilts your jaw towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You don’t say anything else after that, only allowing your soft, breathy sighs to spill out of your lips and into him with every comforting kiss and every slip of his tongue in your mouth.

He tells you to rest in between kisses, but your eyes are already closed.

**************************************

MOM TAGS: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505 @dreadity @mysugarkoo @ultraanonymousey @moonchild1 @fan-ati--c @yeotan07

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

[loverhymeswith]

Straight To My Head | Takeshi Kovacs x F! Reader | Four

Pairing: Takeshi Kovacs x F!Reader

Summary: Two stubborn idiots...

Warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, suggestive language

Words: 3,235 words

A/N: Well, after a massive delay, it's finally here. I hope you enjoy! It must be said that if it wasn't for @a-reader-and-a-writer, this story may not have ever been continued! So a huge, huge thank you to Vee, for letting me bounce ideas off you and for contributing your brilliant mind!

Taglist: @dazzledamazon @a-reader-and-a-writer

Masterlist | Previous

Four Hours.

His bruised knuckles rest against the smooth wooden panel of the bedroom door, but he doesn’t knock. Not yet. The sound of you breathing, soft and steady, filters through the small gap above the floor. Have you fallen asleep? Tak isn’t sure what he’s doing here, not really. Or why he waited so long to follow. He can’t even say for certain what drew him towards you in the first place. He just knows that for some reason it’s impossible to stay away.

Perhaps it’s your fiery temper. You remind him of a storm; formidable, unpredictable, beautiful. He recognises you as an old soul trapped in a young body – something he can emphasise with only too well. Maybe it’s the loneliness. A year has passed since he was spun up in this sleeve, but ever since he stepped foot in this new world, he’s been alone. At least in all the ways that matter.

And that isn’t about to change any time soon.

Whatever happened today, you ran from him and that should tell him all he needs to know. Even if it didn’t, you’re a Meth and he’s an Envoy. This was never going to work.

Hands still balled into fists he turns away.

Four days.

That’s how long has passed since Kovacs took you apart in the library. Four days since you returned to the sanctuary of your room, waiting for him to come after you.

But he never showed.

The memory of his touch lingers on your skin and in your mind. In dreams, you relive the encounter over and over again - how it felt to be broken and reformed beneath his hands. Throughout the decades of your existence, you have never experienced such bliss, such ecstasy. You’ve never had such a powerful connection to another being. Perhaps it’s just his Envoy intuition, but Kovacs seems to understand you in ways you don’t even understand yourself.

Did you really think you could walk away from all of that - from all of him - unscathed? Did you think you would still be the same person afterwards? He shattered you so thoroughly, so exquisitely, that when he put you back together again, the parts were never going to fit the way they once had.

It’s possible that fleeing from him was a mistake - a misguided attempt to protect yourself, but at the time it seemed like your only option. Because men like Kovacs aren’t looking for a connection. All they seek is a form of escapism, be that through pleasure or violence. Even so, you can’t help wondering whether the pain of this uncertainty is worse than rejection.

If there is even a chance that he feels more for you than raw physical attraction, don’t you want to know?

Four weeks.

The fighting helps, or at least that’s what Tak tells himself. There’s comfort in the violence and bloodshed. It’s familiar. It helps him forget. Every kick and punch and scratch and graze helps him to forget your smooth and supple skin, pliable beneath his fingertips. Every bullet fired helps him to forget the sinful sounds you made, crying out his name as you rode him to your release.

Who is he trying to fool?

There’s no forgetting you.

With renewed vigour, Tak kicks his assailant to the ground before swiftly blowing out the guy’s stack. It’s not like he’s actively seeking conflict. It just seems that once again everyone in Bay City is out for his blood. Some things never change.

Covered in fluids and viscera that are not his own, he makes his way back to The Raven. Like everything else in his life it’s a calculated decision. Poe will complain about him spoiling the carpets, but he can’t bring himself to return to the mansion above the clouds. In fact, he’s made a concerted effort these past few weeks to stay away. But when necessity makes this impossible, it takes every ounce of his self-control not to rush to your room.

Your father locates you in the library.

It isn’t a huge feat. After four long weeks of lockdown, it’s clear to all the household that this is where you’ll be found. Not that anyone - Kovacs included – has sought you out until now. And you haven’t made any attempt to leave, either. The guards continue to be stationed outside the door, but you barely notice them anymore.

Claiming the opposite armchair, your father silently appraises you with sharp eyes, but you make a point of ignoring his presence until he finally speaks. “I have a job for you.”

You can barely restrain your brow from twitching upwards. While your siblings all have a role to play within the family’s empire, you’ve often believed that as the youngest child your father has little use for you. Torn between making a smart comment that will only ignite his wrath, or pushing for more information, you settle on the latter. “Oh?”

“I’ve come to an agreement with the Yakuza,” he tells you, in that emotionless way of his. “They may expand their territory in the city on the condition that the threat to our family is lifted.”

His words leave you speechless. Stunned. Not only because it is so unlike your father to concede even an inch of his power, but the news also means that in theory you are now free to leave the house. “What do you need me to do?” You wonder aloud. His answer, presumably, will be a condition of your liberation.

“I need you to sign the deal in my place. I have other pressing business to attend to.”

“Why me?” The question leaves your mouth before you can rein it in. Because surely your siblings are far better placed to carry out your father’s wishes. Your knowledge of the family’s business amounts to a great deal of nothing. Not to mention that the idea of meeting the Yakuza terrifies you. If their threats were as serious as your father claimed them to be, can they truly be trusted?

It was wrong to question your father. He stares back at you as if you are no more than a speck of dirt on his pristine linen jacket. “Were you not trying to barter for more independence, for more freedom, only a matter of weeks ago?” His voice is full of scorn. “I thought you’d relish the opportunity to leave the confines of these walls.”

He’s right, and you hate him for it. You are desperate to leave. To feel the sun on your skin and the grass beneath your feet again. Humans weren’t meant to be caged like this. With no room for argument, you school your features into a semblance of bored indifference, much akin to your father’s. “Where am I to go?”

“Isaac Bancroft is holding a party at Suntouch House tonight. Take the Envoy with you.”

Your heart lurches at the mention of Kovacs and for a split second you consider asking for someone else. Anyone else. You’ve successfully avoided him for the last month, but you know he continues to prowl around the house, lurking in the shadows and taking care of your father’s dirty work.

“Don’t look at me like that, daughter. I know he may be… an acquired taste. But he really is the best man for the job.”

Leaning against a marble pillar in the otherwise empty hallway, Tak lights another cigarette. He doesn’t appreciate being kept waiting. Unfortunately, with Meths having infinite time on their hands, he’s had no choice but to get used to this lack of urgency. According to his ONI, it’s been nearly thirty minutes since he arrived to see his employer. Does the man think he has nothing better to do? He could be working his way through Poe’s permanently stocked liquor supply, for a start.

A sarcastic quip is poised on the tip of Tak’s tongue when he eventually senses movement above, but the words die on his lips when he hears a second, softer set of footsteps. Pushing off the pillar, he stalks towards the bottom of the spiral staircase and casts his gaze upwards.

Trailing behind your father and dressed in an exquisite creation of ivory silk that clings to every curve, you begin to descend the stairs. Your eyes are fixed firmly ahead, and your face is set into a beautiful mask of indifference, but he can tell by the way you carry yourself, shoulders stacked, and fists clenched, that you’re anxious. Whether this is the result of Tak’s presence or your father’s, he can’t yet be sure. Only knows that this is the first time he’s seen you in four weeks and he’s unable to ignore the rush of heat that floods his body.

He’s also pretty damn sure he’s not going to like whatever your father has to say.

“Ah Mr Kovacs, thank you for coming on such short notice. I do hope we haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

The man knows exactly how long he’s been waiting, but Tak resists the urge to roll his eyes. He’s trying hard to focus on your father, on anything but the way the light catches your dress, causing the silk to appear almost sheer. “Let’s just cut to the chase,” he grunts. “What do you want?”

Your father grins, never faltering in his presence, despite being acutely aware of how easy it would be for the Envoy to end him. After Bancroft, Tak swore off helping Meths. Swore to stay out of their selfish, messy lives. But he quickly discovered that his reputation had preceded him. With the exception of Poe and the Elliots, nobody on the ground wanted anything from him but blood. So, when your father came calling, the money and the chance of work was too good to refuse.

“I need you to escort my daughter to a meeting in my place. Make sure that nothing happens to her, would you?”

Tak can’t help but raise an eyebrow. No wonder you seem tense. To his knowledge, your father has never sent you to conduct his business before, not to mention that the timing seems strange. He feels the weight of your gaze as it finally lands on him, but he keeps his own attention on your father, puzzled by the man’s sudden change of heart. “What happened to the lockdown?”

“That is the purpose of the meeting.” Your father smiles again, showing too many teeth. “If all goes to plan, after tonight the threat will be over.”

Tak bristles, clenching his fists. “You’re sending her to meet with the Yakuza? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Once the deal is signed, the threat will be over,” your father explains, ignoring Tak’s insolent tone.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” The news comes as a surprise, especially considering it was only last night that he thwarted a break in at one of your father’s re-sleeving clinics. “A little heads up would have been nice.”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

With your eyes fixed firmly between the broad expanse of his shoulder blades, Kovacs leads the way out of the house. You trail behind him, reluctantly. It’s a warm, pleasant evening, but any joy you expected to feel at finally being free has been overshadowed by your trepidation towards this meeting. Not to mention the fact that the Envoy has barely looked at you. Was what the two of you did really so bad?

With every second that passes, you’re beginning to think you have your answer.

The stilted silence finally shatters in the safety of the car. Beside you, Kovacs is the first to speak. His voice is low and gruff as usual, despite the audio-blocker between yourselves and the driver. “Why is he sending you?”

Four weeks, and these are the first words he says to you? Four weeks, and not so much as a ‘hello, how are you?’ But then again, that’s never been Kovacs’ style, has it? You wish it didn’t hurt quite so much.

Adamant that staring into those deep hazel eyes will only cause more pain, you refuse to look at him when you reply, choosing to watch through the window instead as the car begins its steady ascent. “I have no idea.”

He shifts beside you, so close you can feel the heat of his thigh against the bare skin of your leg. “I don’t like this.”

That makes two of us, you think.

Kovacs’ attention is still centred on you as the car navigates its way through the Aerium, but he doesn’t speak again, an unreadable expression settling on his face. Back in the house, you didn’t fail to spot the fresh assortment of cuts and bruises marring his otherwise smooth skin. At least nothing has changed in that respect. He still can’t keep himself out of trouble.

Lapsing back into silence, the tension is a tangible thing between you. It fills the air and your lungs like syrup, sticky and sweet. Everything you’ve wanted to say to him, to ask him, is fighting for freedom. But the words won’t come out, held back by the fear of rejection, of scorn.

Ever the picture of brooding boredom, Kovacs folds his arms and leans his head back against the seat, legs spread wide enough to brush your own. Staring down at your hands, clasped tightly in your lap, you force yourself to think of anything but the touch of his body. Still, unbidden, the memory of that night careens back to you.

He purrs, gripping your jaw as he brushes his mouth over your lips, the ghost of a kiss…

“Thought you hated me” ... Your fingers gently trace the marks on his face, the healing cuts across his brow and nose. You’d kiss every one of them away if he’d let you…

“Does this feel like hate to you?” Kovacs bows his head. His lips trail a path of hot wet kisses along your neck and collarbone and -

No.

Not this again.

It’s taken too long to purge these thoughts from your mind. Too many nights spent lying awake, replaying the moments repeatedly until you’re almost sick with sorrow. And now, all it has taken to crack your defences is ten minutes together in the car, with barely three sentences spoken.

As the car continues its approach towards Suntouch House, you realise that time is rapidly slipping away. If you have any hope of ending this lingering awkwardness before entering the meeting, one of you is going to have to take the first step.

It was never going to be Kovacs.

Turning to look at him now, your eyes drift to the dark line running over his brow. With a painful jolt, you remember how it felt to brush your lips over his scars. Forget whatever VR can do, this is surely the purest form of torture. “You’ve dealt with the Yakuza before. Any advice?”

In response, he pulls something from the pocket of his long dark coat - a small transparent disc. “Want you to wear this.”

You peer down at the item resting in his giant calloused hand and frown. “What is it?” It looks like a broadcast blocker, but you already have one of those.

Tak reaches over and takes your wrist, turning your palm up to face him. The unexpected contact sends a shiver along your spine. “It’s a Hawkeye tracker, courtesy of BCPD,” he tells you, dropping the disc into your waiting hand. “If we get separated, I’ll be able to find you.”

Ignoring the flurry of fear that his statement instils, your fingers close around the tracker. “I’m guessing they don’t know you have it, Kovacs?”

The corners of his lips twitch upwards, giving you all the answer you need. “We’re back to Kovacs now?” He cocks his brow. “Liked it better when you called me Tak.”

Tak follows you into Suntouch House. He’s absolutely not watching the sway of your hips or the curve of your ass as you ascend the steps. Just like he absolutely did not let his touch linger when you allowed him to place the tracker over your stack.

On the threshold of the mansion, the guards appraise you while Tak is relieved of his guns. He’s not expecting things to go south tonight, but even if they do, the lack of weapons isn’t going to be a problem.

“Someone will be with you shortly,” a stern-faced guard explains, gesturing for the pair of you to enter the magnificent hallway. You nod your understanding and glance over your shoulder to ensure Tak is still following. As if he would be anywhere else.

The party already appears to be in full swing, with crowds of expensively clad guests milling around the atrium. Tak is no stranger to these events, or this building, thanks to his previous employment. The mansion bears little difference to your own grand residence, but he would be willing to bet you’ve never truly felt at home there.

Grabbing two champagne glasses from a passing waiter, he hands one of them to you before leading the way towards a quiet alcove. Although the tension between you has begun to slowly thaw, you still look like you could use a drink.

Tak can readily admit that he was quiet in the car, even more so than usual. Conscious of the driver’s presence, whilst also trying to gauge your temperament, he didn’t want to speak out of turn. But in the relative privacy of this packed room, he lets his guard down.

“Nice dress,” he observes, making a point of gazing over your body as you sip the sweet wine. It’s intentional, both the statement and the gaze, intended to distract you from your obvious unease. Your father is an asshole for forcing you into this situation. Although the comment does still stand. He can barely take his eyes off you.

“Uh – thanks.” You look up at him, doe-eyed and full of uncertainty. The confident, fiery woman on display back in the library is nowhere to be seen this evening. How much of this is his fault? Did he take something away from you that night?

Tak murmurs your name, and you blink, clearly surprised by the sound. He knows you’re more accustomed to the pet names he had reserved for you. ‘Sweetheart’ and ‘Princess’ - both mocking at first. But something shifted between the two of you that night and he knows first-hand that nothing beats the intimacy of hearing your name on your lover’s lips.

“About that night-” he begins.

Startled, you cut him off. “Did I do something wrong?” At the same time he wonders, “Did I hurt you?”

Taken aback by your query, he takes a step closer until there is barely an inch separating you. “Wrong? He frowns, wondering what you imagine you could have possibly done wrong.

Meanwhile, you’re shaking your head, jaw set. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

“I thought…”

“You didn’t…”

Before either of you can continue, a deep voice interrupts. “They’re ready for you.”

[novamirmirsblog]

FwB minor safe

THIS IS SAFE FOR MINORS. and by minors I mean 15+ cause there's still some kissy kissy and implied sex. AND SWEARING. Seriously tho, no under 15s reading this.

When you had first met Natasha, she hated you. Or at least that’s what it seemed like. She ignored you, refused to train with you, and when she did train with you, you always ended up in the medical bay, and she always, always had something to say when you came back from a mission. You had really hoped to at least had a friendly acquaintance with the other woman on the team. You always had Wanda but she was often pining after a certain red synthezoid. You only realised Natasha wanted to be friends when Clint let it slip that she was like a cat. He was clearly sick and tired of the two of you constantly fighting and wanted it to end. Or perhaps it was Steve who finally wanted it to stop. It didn’t really matter who because now you had a way in.

Your friend’s grandmother used to rescue stray cats and while Natasha certainly wasn’t a cat, you figured the same rules applied. First, you would make extra food when you knew she would be there, telling her there were leftovers if she wanted them but never pressuring her into eating with you. Then, you slowly began just sitting in the same room as her, always a distance away from her so as to not make her uncomfortable. Eventually she began to warm up to you, even going as far as letting you sit on the same sofa as her.

Things all changed one night when Natasha came back from a mission gone wrong. She had been given bad information and the data she was supposed to collect wasn’t there. She was pissed. Steve called you into the lounge and told you to stay out of her way if you valued your life. It made you slightly nervous. The two of you were friends but you weren’t that close. Not close enough to know for sure whether or not she would hurt you. Everyone retreated to their rooms and locked their doors, not wanting to be in the way of an angry Black Widow. Because that’s who was coming back. Black Widow, not Natasha Romanoff.

You couldn’t sleep that night so when you saw a figure enter your room, it scared you shitless. You grabbed the gun from under your pillow and pointed it at the figure.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“That’s kinky babe and maybe we should revisit that idea but right now I want to fuck you senseless.” Natasha - no the Black Widow’s voice spoke out in the dark. It was that kind of muffled sound that you only heard in the depths of the night when no one else was awake.

You lowered your gun but didn’t take the safety off. Just in case.

“There’s no need to be nervous darling. I’ve seen the way you act around me.” Natasha walked towards where you were on the bed, leaning down and lifting you by your chin up to her lips. “Just tell me to stop and I will.”

You moaned as Natasha’s lips connected to your neck, roughly sucking and biting her way to your collarbones. She leaned you back and wrapped a hand around your neck as she looked at you. Even in the darkness, you could see how black her pupils were and feel how heavy her breathing was.

“I need you to understand that this doesn’t change anything. We are still just friends.”

"I understand." You leant up to kiss her but she just laughed as she pushed you down and kissed you harder, leaving you alone once she had finished playing with you.

Nights like that became routine between the two of you. If either of you had a bad mission, or were just feeling lonely, you would end up in your bed. It was never Natasha's bed and most of the time Natasha was in control. Occasionally however, if you had a particularly bad mission or Natasha had seen unspeakable things, she would relinquish control and you would savour every minute of it. Perhaps if the two of you were dating, you would be able to have control more- no you couldn't think like that. It was a dark hole that you couldn't go down.

Somewhere between the rough nights and the friendly movie nights the two of you had, you had fallen for the fiery woman. Natasha made sure that you always remembered that it was just a 'friends with benefits' arrangement by never sleeping in your bed. It was a tricky balance for her though because she would cuddle you all the time during the day. It was almost as if she regretted sleeping with you.

The friendly flirting between the two of you drove the team absolutely crazy. It was like everyone except you two could see how perfect you were for each other. You just fit together. Yet whenever they asked either of you about it, you both denied it vehemently with a sad look in your eyes. The team had had enough. They were done with the two of you fucking, flirting and then crying yourselves to sleep when you both realised you didn't have the relationship you wanted.

It was Wanda's brilliant idea to have a game night. She had watched a sitcom where the characters played truth or dare and confessed their love for each other.

"I'm not so sure that will work witchy." Tony said after Wanda had finished explaining her plan. "Maybe we should play 7 minutes in heaven or spin the bottle."

"Why? How is that better than my plan? All they do is suck each other's faces off. We need them to admit their feelings for each other." Wanda stood up, slightly defensive over her plan.

"I...I think I have a better idea." Steve spoke up and everyone turned to look at him. "How about we kidnap Y/n? Y/n wont believe us if we tell her Natasha loves her and Natasha isn't going to admit it over a game of truth or dare. If we kidnap Y/n and stress Natasha out a little, then she might finally admit she loves Y/n."

The room was silent. "Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you" Clint muttered, causing the rest of the room to break out into a slightly nervous laughter.

"When's Y/n's next mission?"

~~~~~

You were sent out on a routine solo mission. It was something a lower level agent could have easily done but you were happy to get out and away from the compound for a bit. You loved your family but their constant questions about Natasha were getting too much. It was a constant reminder that you guys weren't in a relationship at all. The more you thought about it, the more you tried to convince yourself that a relationship wasn't even what you wanted. You had been on a few dates since your arrangement with Natasha had begun, mostly to throw her off the scent of your growing crush. However, when you returned from your failed date (because they always failed), Natasha was always there to fuck you hard and rough. Sure, she would leave it a few days, distancing herself as much as possible, sometimes completely ignoring you, but she would always come back. The mission was complete and you were making your way back to the Quinjet, too distracted in your thoughts of Natasha to realise someone was creeping up behind you. You were knocked out cold.

When you came to, you were in an abandoned warehouse, tied to a chair. It was all very James Bond like. You tried to look around, but everything seemed blurry.

"I can't believe you hit her so damn hard!" You heard a voice ring out.

"I didn't mean to! Oh my god she's going to kill me." A deeper voice, probably male, spoke.

The voices sounded kind of familiar but you couldn't work out where from.

"Natasha, we found her!" that was the last thing you heard before passing out again.

"I am going to murder whoever did this to you Y/n." Natasha told you as she carried you to medical. She refused to let anyone else touch you and didn't let you out of her sight for one second.

The usually fearless avengers all froze and turned slightly pale. They were 100% going to blame this all on Steve. If anyone had a chance of surviving the Black Widow, it was a super soldier and besides, it was Steve who had knocked you out. Bucky had told him not to use his shield to do it.

You awoke to find yourself in a hospital bed with a very concerned Natasha holding your hand. You gave it a little squeeze and smiled at her.

"Never ever ever do that again. Do you understand me? I thought I lost you..."

"It's okay Tash, I'm fine." In that moment it was so hard to remember that the two of you were just friends, that you would never be anything more than friends.

"Date me."

"What?" You were stunned and not completely sure you hadn't just hallucinated.

"I can't do this friends with benefits thing anymore. I know I was the one who said it was nothing more but I think I'm falling for you Y/n. Do you know why I was so distant with you to begin with?"

"Because you're a cat?"

Natasha smiled, she couldn't even bring herself to laugh she was so nervous. "No Y/n. It was because I really liked you. You walk into the compound all happy and beautiful and I dont know what to do. We would spar and I would get weird tingly feelings wherever you were touching me and it made me confused. I tried so hard to stay away from you but then you started leaving me food, or sitting with me, or trying to make jokes and I just couldn't stay away. When you didn't come back to me on time, I was so scared. I thought you were dead. When we found you..." She ran her hand through her hair, her other hand never letting go of yours. "The relief I felt nearly made me fall to my knees. I understand if this ruins our friendship but I really can't continue on just being your friend. I think... I think I love you." Natasha whispered that last part so quietly you almost missed it.

"I would love nothing more than to date you Natasha. I was so worried that I was reading too much into things and that my feelings were wrong and would ruin everything. It's why I dated other people for a bit."

"Well good. How about we-" Natasha was cut off by an announcement from F.R.I.D.A.Y.

"Considering agent y/l/n is up, Mr Stark request's both your presence in the lounge."

When the two of you made it to the lounge, hand in hand, they all clapped. Natasha scowled and held on tighter to your hand and you just laughed.

"Why did you call us here?" You asked

"Well, the thing is, we don't want to be murdered so we're really hoping you'll stop Natasha from doing anything drastic."

"What did you do." Natasha let out lowly, she knew you shouldn't be up and about, that it was better for you to rest until you were feeling completely better again so she wanted this over as quickly as possible.

"Well...-"

"IT WAS STEVE'S IDEA!" Wanda blurted out. "I just wanted to play truth or dare but nooo. Stars and Stripes over here wanted to make things all dramatic." Wanda waved her hands in the air.

"What was Steve's idea?" You asked, still a little slow on the uptake. Natasha wasn't though. You could feel her becoming tense and you held her hand a little tighter.

"...The kidnaping..." The team hung their heads in shame, trying to simultaneously look at their shoes and keep an eye on Natasha.

The room was completely silent before you burst out laughing. "You're kidding me? You actually kidnaped me just so Natasha would admit her feelings for me? Guys I'm dying." You wheezed as you tried to catch your breath from laughing so hard.

Natasha however, didn't find it nearly as funny.

"Natty, darling, it's fine. They did it because they care." You whispered into her ear, leading her out the room before someone could get easily injured. Getting blood out of carpets was a pain.

"Your days are numbered Super Soldier. I'm coming for you." she said, watching as Steve's face turned completely white before turning and leaving the room with you.

[dragon-kazansky]

Love can be cruel | Helmut Zemo

I like writing angst, but this kind of hurt 😭

Zemo had been in love before. That love was cruelly ripped away from him because of the Avengers. He had loved and lost, suffering the consequences of their actions on his own.

Then he was alone.

Locked away in a prison cell on his own for years. Nothing but his memories to keep him company. Still, the loneliness set in.

Then there was you.

This was the first time you two met. You had entered his life unexpectedly, but he wasn't complaining. You're wonderful, brilliant, funny. Zemo was fond of you from the moment you introduced yourself to him.

How could he resist the light flirting?

His charms seemed to work. He knew what to say to get you to smile, and what to do to get you to laugh. He turned up the charm when he wanted to get a blush out of you. Zemo had worked you out and he was adoring every second of it.

However, he should have known life would be cruel to him again.

When it came to a point where he thought something was happening between you both, it was all taken away from him.

Of course you were taken. Any fool would be lucky to have you. He was a fool for thinking otherwise.

He found out the worse way possible. He had overheard you talking to Sam, saying you had told your partner you were going to be away a while longer. Your mind was on the mission right now.

You had someone waiting for you.

Zemo did not.

Still, he went on acting as if hadn't known this information. He continued to smile at you, tease you, look out for you. He couldn't have you in the long term, but he had you for now and that was enough.

At least, he hoped it would be.

Every day he would wake up and see you. He would fall just a little further in love with you. The sound of your laughter had him swooning. The smile you would have only for him brightened his day.

Yet, time was running out and soon it would be over.

Standing at the Sokovian memorial, he thought about his wife and son. For just a moment he had allowed himself to think you may have been the second chance he had been looking for, but now he knows how wrong he was. He felt a fool.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure exactly who the apology was for, but he needed to say it.

"Zemo?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hadn't expected you to come. Bucky, however, he had.

He turns.

There you are in all your glory. You look just as stunning as the day you met, except this time you looked sad. Why were you looking at him like that?

"Y/N."

"You left."

"Apologies."

You stand directly in front of him. He sees your eyes flicker to the memorial behind him, but he can't take his eyes off you. He needed to commit all of you to memory.

He wouldn't see you again.

"You didn't say goodbye." You sounded disappointed in him. He deserved it.

"I know."

"Zemo, say something. Anything. Please."

He doesn't. He stands there with his hands clasped together in front of him, looking at you with a furrowed brow.

You try to keep your emotions in check.

He had no idea what he was doing to you.

"Helmut," you had never used his first name before, "please."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Anything." You plead.

"Should I lie to you?" He asks.

"No. Unless you've been lying to me all this time, then yes."

"I haven't been lying to you."

"I haven't been completely honest with you," you say, feeling like your heart was shattering.

"I know. You don't have to say anything."

"So tell me!" You semi-yell.

"Tell you? Tell yo uwhat exactly? That I am utterly in love with you and I have been falling in love with you every day since we met? That I thought, perhaps, I had a second chance at life with you? That I'm asking you to walk away and pretend we never met? Tell you that I feel a fool for letting my guard down and opening up to you? Is that what you want to hear?"

"Zemo-"

"No, life has been cruel. Love is even more cruel. My punishment is that I am not allowed happiness any more. Whether I complete my work or not, I will never be satisfied because fate brought you to me, made me fall completely for you, only to have you taken away because someone got to you first."

You cry. You can't hold back any more.

"I deserve what I get. You have someone waiting for you when this over. I have a prison cell waiting for me. You'll go home and return to your life, I will return to be isolation with my books."

"Zemo, please tell me this is the lie."

"You told me not to unless I had already."

Despite everything, he catches you when you are no longer able to stand. You clutch onto his arms and cry into his chest.

"I can't... I can't walk away knowing this is how you feel. Why would you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry."

You shake your head and clutch onto the sleeves of his coat harder. This is the last time you'll get to hold him.

"This isn't fair."

"It never was," he whispers.

The Dora Milaje are here. They stand behind Zemo waiting. Once you let go of him, they will arrest him.

"What am I suppose to do now?" You ask him, looking into those big sad eyes if his.

"Go home. Forget about this."

"How can I possibly do that?"

"You'll forget soon enough." His thumb runs across your cheekbone.

"No, I won't. Not when you're taking half my heart with you."

He wishes you had never said that.

"Y/N..."

You kiss him. It's sudden, sloppy, and salty thanks to your tears. He doesn't pull away. He can't. He should, but he can't.

"Y/N." That's Bucky.

You stand up with Zemo, not yet letting go of him. You look him in the eyes.

"Damn you, Baron Helmut Zemo. Damn you, for making me fall in love with you."

He smiles.

He deserves your harsh words.

The moment you let go, the Dora Milaje take control and escort him away. He turns around only once. You state at him.

Bucky comes to stand beside you.

Love could be so cruel.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn

@lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna

[sobdasha]

been thinking about the really weird dynamics of the Honda family

and the ways they parallel with the Souma family.

Tohru's relationship with Grandpa Honda has always been really inscrutable to me. It seems like Kyouko liked him quite a lot, and the feeling was mutual, so their relationship ought to be close, right? But despite relying on Grandpa around the time of Katsuya's funeral, I get the impression that Kyouko and Grandpa aren't very close after that? He takes Tohru in after Kyouko's funeral, but doesn't provide a place for her to stay during the renovations, and they don't seem to keep in touch.

I figured this was for the convenience of the plot. If Tohru was close with her grandpa, then she wouldn't have no family, no one left, after her mom died. If Tohru had somewhere else to go, it wouldn't be so vital that she be allowed to keep living in the Souma house.

I've been thinking about Shiki, though, and about Akito and Shigure as parents within the Souma estate, and I'm wondering now if this wasn't actually a parallel playing out in brilliant Takaya fashion.

Starting with a recap, because a summary of info is always useful to me:

Kyouko grows up in a family that is very much about Keeping Up Appearances and Knowing Your Place. Her dad is verbally and emotionally abusive and isn't above slapping people either. Her mother isn't affectionate and doesn't protect her, probably because she's primarily concerned with protecting herself from the fallout when anything sets off her abusive husband. Kyouko has never had her emotional needs met and she's never been socialized to see others as real people with real feelings. Before even 7th grade she's become part of the gang scene in a cry for help and attention, and because these are the only people she can kind of understand. Her father has told her she's kicked out of the house at least once prior before he finally makes good on it and disinherits her at the end of 9th grade.

Katsuya and his younger sister grow up in a family that is also very much about Traditional Values and Keeping Up Appearances. Grandpa Honda is a teacher, and he puts a big emphasis on Proper Manners (and probably also other things like Good Grades, Fitting In, and Knowing Your Place). He's stern and pressures Katsuya to become a teacher as well. We don't know what Katsuya's mother was like, but I'm assuming she was also not particularly affectionate. It's only after her illness and passing, probably when Katsuya is somewhere around 20, that Grandpa Honda reevaluates his life and what's most important to him.

From a young age, Katsuya flew under the radar by heavily masking--ie, he made a cardboard cutout of what society expected him to be, so Polite, Quiet, Respectable, Studying To Become A Teacher, while underneath it all being filled with apathy, resentment, and loneliness. His moral compass is deeply skewed--see his teasing of people, his attitude of looking down on people, his bragging admittance to using his father's influence to get away with things, his creepy expressions that are identical to those of The Root Of All Evil (ie, Shigure). He has no real interpersonal relationships--family, friend, or romantic. He's a 23 year old TA who is fixated on and marries a 15 year old girl because she's the first person he ever recognized as human--he saw her in the middle of a violent meltdown and it was the first time he was ever really struck by the realization that someone else might feel the same feelings he does.

(Which, in addition to the dubious legality and widely-regarded ickiness, is just downright pathetic. I'm sorry, but it's true. Fruits Basket itself backs me up.)

The first parallel that jumps out at me is between the stories of Kyouko and Katsuya, and Ren and Akira:

Ren is an Outsider. We don't know what her family life was before joining the Souma clan, but based on everything about her I feel it's safe to assume it was also abusive. A large percentage of the Souma family is against the marriage, but Akira is adamant because Ren is the first person he's ever connected with. Similarly, the Honda family (save Grandpa) disapproves of Kyouko and she remains forever an outsider to them.

In Kyouko's case, Katsuya is able to ditch his family and start fresh with Kyouko. Ren, on the other hand, has to live within the toxic Souma family to be with Akira. Both husbands die, leaving a grieving widow and child behind. Kyouko treasures her daughter and finds a new reason to live in Tohru, away from the rest of the Honda family; Ren, already jealous of Akito for getting in the way of her relationship with her husband (and not dealing well with being pulled even further into the Souma family bullshit with all this curse stuff), and trapped within the toxic Souma family with no one on her side, chooses to perpetuate the cycle of abuse.

The thing I've been thinking about most is the parallels between Tohru and the Honda family and Shiki and the Souma family:

As I said before, Tohru's relationship with Grandpa Honda is very strange. It's not just me--Yuki and Kyou make comments to this effect also, I'm pretty sure. But I think I can finally make sense of it now, if I think of it in light of Shiki.

I think there are a couple chapters of FBA out there that I haven't read (the one with Akito, and were there other chapters beyond volume 3?), but Mutsuki implies--and I think we should take this at face value--that Akito and Shigure hope that Shiki will leave the Souma family. They are not kicking their child out. They want this as loving parents, who have done their best to raise their child in a good home in the midst of a very toxic environment. I like to think they will do a good job of explaining this to Shiki, explicitly and clearly. Akito could have walked away from the Souma family, but she chose to stay because she had a hand in perpetuating the toxicity and generational abuse in the Souma family and she is taking responsibility for trying to end the cycle. She has finally stepped up as the head of the family. She could have walked away, but she didn't.

Shiki had no hand in making the Souma family what it is. Shiki is not obligated in any way to put up with that bullshit. Shiki can and should walk away from that toxic environment, go somewhere new, and be happy. He and his parents and all his non-toxic relatives can visit and call each other and still maintain relationships, but in healthier places, as everyone learned to do at the end of Fruits Basket.

This, I believe, is what Grandpa is also doing for Tohru. He's just less explicit and messes it up at first.

I don't know exactly why we don't see more of Grandpa's relationship with Kyouko and Tohru after Katsuya's death. Is it because Tohru, as the narrator, is prioritizing Only Me And My Mom stories? Is it because Kyouko didn't want to be a burden (is that part of where Tohru absorbed it)? Is it because Kyouko couldn't maintain a good relationship with Grandpa with the Honda Family Toxicity in the background?

The Honda family toxicity shows up in full force again when Kyouko dies. Tohru is a riceball that doesn't belong in the Honda family fruits basket. No one, save Grandpa, will take her in.

And then he invites his daughter's family, which he knows is toxic and will abuse Tohru, in to live with the two of them.

I don't know who came up with the idea--if it's Grandpa, that's a bit cold, as he should be caring for Tohru. If it's his daughter ("Dad, you're getting older, you should be living with us so we can take care of you") that does make sense, both as a reasonable social expectation (which dad raised her to adhere to) and as a power move (the Outsider shouldn't be getting so cozy with dad, and dad's inheritance, without supervision). I'm leaning towards the daughter, as I don't think the family combining was intended to get Tohru to leave. I think the remodel, though, was something Grandpa Honda saw as a good opportunity to convince Tohru to leave the Hondas.

I think "I'm having the house remodeled and I'm staying with my daughter, but you weren't invited, I could pull my weight or maybe you could find your own accommodations with a friend?" was intended to give Tohru permission to not feel obligated to the Honda family. I think it was intended to let Tohru find someplace she would actually be happy, a found family living situation where she could flourish. I think Granpda sincerely thought Tohru would move in with Hanajima, instead of into a tent, and realize that she was so much happier and fulfilled there that she never came back to the toxic Honda family and had no regrets.

Grandpa's judgment was a little iffy there but he tried.

I'm realizing that, if everyone moved into Grandpa's house because it was bigger, and it's being remodeled specifically for that purpose...the fact that Tohru is sharing a room with her cousin is very significant. Grandpa was so confident, there is no place for Tohru in that house. Tohru was never supposed to come back after the remodel.

(I don't know that much about houses so it's possible that they just didn't have room; depending on whether that's the uncle or the son, you've got to have 4 or 5 separate bedrooms, which I guess could be a lot. But this is a manga, they aren't strictly constrained to realism, and Takaya makes every damn detail count.)

Tohru isn't supposed to come back after the remodel, but she does. She does, and the family is toxic to her, and Grandpa tells her more overtly that she is not obligated to live here out of familial loyalty. If there's somewhere else Tohru is happier, even if it's a really unconventional living situation, she should feel welcome to choose that instead.

Grandpa's a parallel to Akito here. He's been becoming aware, since his wife died, that his priorities were all wrong. That he raised his children wrong. That Katsuya appeared to have no real emotions and had never connected with anyone outside of Kyouko and their daughter. (Maybe he learned to make work friends?? But I doubt it.) That his daughter is judgmental and cares more about the appearance of being proper than about not being rude.

Don't think poorly of him, Grandpa says. Deep down, they're just evil people. But Grandpa recognizes that he had a hand in creating those evil people. And instead of being like Machi's mom, who goes "well maybe I fucked up" and then throws her out of the family, Grandpa takes responsibility for the family he made. He recognizes that he raised his kids in a way that caused them to be shallow and rude and to think of people as means to an end, and he also recognizes that it would be shitty to reject his kids for turning out exactly as he raised them. He has to live with them (and his choices), he says, but Tohru doesn't.

Looking at it like that, I respect Grandpa Honda more. He seemed a bit wishy-washy before--useful for some plot and character development points, but wishy-washy all the same. But it's a tough decision, and having to prioritize people is always shitty. Grandpa not rejecting his daughter means sacrificing a stable home for Tohru. Akito staying as the head of the Souma family so she can ensure the freedom of the former Zodiac means that her child will be subjected to the same generational abuse, no matter how loving and supportive of a home life she and Shigure provide.

But they're both trying to do a right thing in a crappy situation.

And Tohru, like so many of the former Zodiac, does find happiness and fulfillment in the new family she's able to make for herself. She learns to make her world bigger, and she learns that leaving doesn't have to be the same as cutting ties. And so I'm very optimistic that Shiki will find the same.

[britishboystm]

The Reunion | The Day We Met: A Fred Weasley Mini Series

Inspired by:

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ (minor dni!) oral f & m receiving, handjob, fingering, unprotected vaginal penetration (please be safe please, for the love of god!) swearing, fighting, arguments, angst, fluff, mentions of possible depression

WC: 7k+

Chapter Summary: A year after that infamous night, will flames be rekindled?

Series Masterlist

***

As promised, George and Y/N wrote to one another.

Fred had excluded himself from the letter exchanges as he felt that it would be too painful to put words to paper. He was also worried that the process would bring up deep unsurfaced feelings of regret and remorse.

George would often ask Fred if there was anything he would want him to add to his letters to Y/N. Fred would always say to write; Fred misses you a lot. But that was it.

It had now been a bit over a year since Y/N last saw the boys fly away into the dark sky that cold April night. Keeping her promise, Y/N continued her studies at Hogwarts and immediately began training to become a healer once she graduated. She was lucky enough to be granted a mentorship with the ever so helpful Madam Pomfrey during her last couple months of classes.

Now, on one hot May afternoon, Y/N found herself with Alicia, Katie and Angelina, walking aimlessly around Diagon Alley. All four girls had been so wrapped up in studies and work that it had been months since they last saw one another.

It was nice to finally catch up with her old schoolmates but Y/N did have an ulterior motive to her visit however. As they strides the cobblestone walkways, sitting at the bottom of Y/N’s tote bag was George’s last letter.

And in that letter, contained what seemed to be a plea for help.

Dear Y/N,

I hope training is going well and you are putting everyone in their place like always. We are so proud of everything you’ve accomplished in such a short amount of time. I’ve got to admit though, things aren’t going that well over here. The store is doing fine, brilliant actually! That isn’t the problem. It’s Fred. He hasn’t been getting any better. I know in our past letters you have said that it would take time for him to adjust and get over everything, but I’m not so sure now. It’s been over a year and nothing has really changed. He smiles and jokes around the shop like he always does and I know he loves what he is doing but it’s the nights that are the worst. He turns into a completely different person. I think it's the quietness. He doesn’t like his brain being the only thing he can hear. In the shop everything is so loud and energetic that he can distract him from his thoughts. But once that closed sign is put up and we head up to our flat for the evening he shuts down, almost like all of that energy has been drained out of him. He doesn’t even come out for dinner anymore. I usually just leave things on the table for him and he hobbles out to grab it when he feels like it, only to go back to his bedroom right away. I haven’t been in his room for months by the way and quite honestly, I’m scared to even try. Who knows what type of monster has formed in there. I’m also finding it hard to sleep. The walls aren’t thin in this place so I can usually hear him cry at night. I’ve been constantly casting silencing spells to drown him out but nothing’s working. I guess what I’m trying to say is, could you come visit? Only for a bit, you have no obligation to stay long but I think he really needs it. He misses you and I know you miss him too. So for my sake and both of yours, could you please find the time to come down here? You won’t regret it. I’ll bribe you if I have to, just name it!

Consider it Y/N,

Love George

After reading that letter she couldn't sleep for an entire week. Tossing and turning, Y/N contemplated on whether it was a good idea to go see them... to go see him and what would happen if they reconnected and all of those old feelings resurfaced? It would just make it that much more painful when she would have to leave. There was no sense in showing up only to give him false hope... right?

Then came the call from Angelina asking if she wanted to join her and the girls for a day on the town in Diagon Alley that weekend. Y/N wanted to say no, but something inside her forced her to say yes.

She instantly regretted it, but didn’t have the heart to cancel. She thought that maybe this was her subconscious telling her to finally bite the bullet and walk through those shop doors.

So here she was, avoiding that part of Diagon Alley. The four girls walked around in the heat, stopping along the way to window shop for what felt like hours. They even took a nice long lunch break at the Leaky Cauldron which provided a nice cool down for awhile. Things had been going fairly smooth sailing up to that point. Then they left the Leaky Cauldron and began walking around again. Y/N’s worries of having to face Fred Weasley started to re-emerge. But even though her brain was setting off red alerts for her to stop and turn around, something kept her feet moving along the path to where she remembered George saying they were located.

“You alright Y/N?” Katie asked as she linked arms with her old roommate. Y/N nodded slightly and let out a shaky breath.

“Hey, we don’t have to go in there if you don’t want to.” Katie said with care as she gently grabbed Y/N’s arm to stop her in their tracks. All of her friends knew how Fred and her left things the year before and that it was a sensitive subject for her.

“I’m fine Katie, really. Thank you for checking though.” Katie gave her a sad smile in response. Y/N didn’t know if she was fine to be honest.

The group continued to walk a little longer before they came to a sudden stop. Looking up from her feet for what felt like the first time in a while, Y/N came face to face to one of the most ridiculous looking shops she had ever seen. The huge robotic head tipping it’s top hat that resembled the boys almost perfectly was the first thing that caught her eye. Then she noticed the etched golden letters that spelled out Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes just above the door. It would also be fair to say that the bright orange and purple paint coating made it the most colourful building in all of Diagon Alley.

Of course this was their shop.

“Fancy a visit with the boys?” Angelina asked cautiously. Y/N could feel all of the girl’s eyes on her, waiting to see if she would agree or not. It was now or never.

“Yeah, sure.” She said hesitantly. Katie gave her a reassuring rub on the back before they all walked up to the loud building, dodging hyperactive children rushing past them in both directions.

The second they stepped through the door, a gust of warmth and the smell of gunpowder hit Y/N in the face. The inside of the shop was even louder then the outside. Kids and parents ran around different displays and shelves of magical toys, trinkets and miscellaneous items.

It was incredible and Y/N couldn’t help but gasp at what the twins had created. Everything started to make a bit more sense as to why they were so adamant about leaving before graduation.

The girls began to walk further into the shop, clearly familiar with the space, unlike Y/N. They had formed themselves in a way that Katie and Y/N trailed behind, hidden from anyone’s view.

“Ladies, welcome!”

Y/N froze in place upon hearing that oh so familiar voice. He did sound a tad older though, almost as if his vocal chords had grown accustomed to constantly yelling over the many ecstatic customers they have gained in the past year.

But it was him.

Her Fred.

She began to turn around before Katie grabbed her, keeping her planted in place.

“Hey Freddie, George!” Angelina chirped before sauntering over and engulfing them into a hug.

From where Y/N was standing, Fred seemed nothing like how George mentioned in his letters. His face was bright and radiated a youthful energy.

She shouldn't be here, she thought. And yet something told her to stay. Something more than Katie’s tight grip on her shoulders.

“Guess who came to visit?” Angelina suddenly said with a cheeky grin. Fred frowned down at her, traces of a smile still evident his face.

“Who?” Once he asked, the girls all moved away from where they were standing, leaving Y/N completely exposed. There was no turning back. She had been spotted and struck. No escape in sight.

The second he laid eyes on her, his smile dropped. Everything was happening in slow motion.

Even though it had only been a year, she looked so different. She looked like a woman. Not that her face had aged at all but just from the way she held herself. Like an adult witch who was making her way in the world. She was no longer the young naive Hogwarts student that he had fallen in love with all those years ago.

That love never disappeared though. He could still feel it dancing within his chest and gut as she shifted awkwardly in place, clutching her canvas tote bag in an attempt to grounding herself.

Fred also looked older to Y/N. He had grown taller since the last time she saw him, if that were even possible. He looked more strongly built, most likely from lugging around all of those boxes of inventory day after day. His face had filled in a bit and the waistcoat he had on hugged his sides nicely underneath his colourful dress jacket. He looked great, amazing actually.

“Y/N.” He gasped out as he dropped the small box of fever fudge he was holding.

“Hi Freddie.” Her face was flushed and the pounding in her chest held a strong presence within her. She wasn’t given any more time to speak as he ran up to her and pulled her in for a bone crushing hug.

“I’ve missed you so much. What are you doing here?” He muffled into her hair. It smelled of the lavender and sage shampoo she used throughout their school days.

Such good memories.

“Girls day I guess.” She awkwardly giggled, pulling away from him and looking down at the floor.

He couldn't help but stare at her intently, happy she had finally decided to come see him.

It didn’t take long for Fred to take Y/N’s small hand in his. He gently tugged her away from the group and pulled her through the chaotic space, showing her everything that him and George had worked so hard to obtain. It was as if he had completely forgotten about the last year.

With every minute, Y/N became more and more relaxed. She watched him intently as he explained things with so much animation while his hands flailed around rapidly. It was really nice to see the childish excitement behind his eyes again, the childish excitement that made her fall in love with him in the first place.

Shit.

“You’re staying for dinner right?” He asked out of the blue while the other girls bid their adieu to the younger of the two twins.

“Freddie I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I have a lot of work to catch up on an-”

“Please.” His big brown puppy dog eyes were exactly why she shouldn’t have come in the first place, but it was too late. She had already been caught in his web.

“Alright. Only dinner though, and then I need to head home.” His face lit up and his eyes formed those same old endearing crinkles in the corners that she adored so much. Not thinking clearly he began to lean in for a kiss before he stopped himself, suddenly remembering where they were in their relationship.

“Sorry.” He whispered bashfully as Y/N shifted away from him, looking everywhere else but his baby browns. She had to set boundaries.

“You coming Y/N?” Alicia asked as the girls started to exit the shop.

“Umm,” Y/N looked between Fred and the girls, finding it difficult to decide on what she should do. Fred’s hand then found itself placed on her lower back, sending a nice tingle down her spine. Her final decision was finally made.

“You lot go ahead. I think I will stay back for a bit.” The girls nodded, grins sitting on all of their faces. This was clearly planned and Y/N had fallen for it.

“Thank you ladies for your help.” George muttered under his breath while he led them out and placed the closed sign on the door. Y/N thankfully didn’t hear him say a single word.

Once the shop had fully settled and filled with quiet, George began to subtly examine his brother's behaviour, already noticing a difference. His shoulders weren’t slumped over and his eyes weren’t hooded with pessimism and exhaustion.

“I’m really glad you came Y/N.” George explained as he finally walked over and went in for a welcoming hug. It had been sort of difficult to do so earlier, since Fred had kept her glued to his side the second she got there.

“Nice to see you to Georgie.” She replied with a small laugh. Once they finally detangled from one another, the twins led the third member of their long lost trio up the stairs and into their shared flat .

It was a good thing that she was there really. The twins couldn’t cook to save their lives, so the minute they began preparing dinner, Y/N shooed them out of the kitchen, only allowing them to approach if she needed help with something small or uncomplicated. It was like the good old days when their mum made meals for them. The scents of cumin and cooking oil as well as the sounds of long lost laughs wafted through the space. Things were going swimmingly, and if anything, solidified the fact that Y/N had missed Fred and George dearly.

“Godric, Y/N. It really is great to see you again.” George beamed as he sat back in his chair, easing into the fullness he was feeling from Y/N’s amazing grilled chicken dish.

“It took me a while but yeah, I’m glad too.” She stated, blushing slightly as she looked over to Fred. With the three of them together, everything was fine. It reminded her of when they would run and hide within the halls and walls of Hogwarts at the peak of their pranking careers.

Y/N being alone with Fred however, was a completely different story. Wounds had yet to be fully mended and deep scars still very much remained.

George took a moment to dart his eyes back and forth between Y/N and Fred as an obvious awkward aura danced around the cozy flat. George knew exactly what to do to remedy the tension.

“Well, I’m stuffed. Should probably be heading off to bed. I’m so glad you agreed to dinner Y/N. I hope we do this more often.” She abruptly looked up at the younger twin with a pleading look in her eyes that screamed; please don’t leave me with him!

He read it perfectly, but chose to simply give the begging girl a sly grin and an obnoxious “good night.” before patting his brother on the shoulder and retreating down the hall to his room.

Damn George Wealsey. Damn him to hell.

The awkward silence remained but it was now so much louder. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Fred shift around in his seat, trying to calm the uneasiness that they were both clearly experiencing,

Someone had to say something before one of them spontaneously combusted from all of these pent up emotions.

“I’m sorry.” They said collectively. There was a moment of shock that they had spoken the same words at the same time, then small smiles that led to shy blushes.

“I meant everything I said that night you know. About me waiting for you.” He said while staring down at the table, folding his napkins over and over again to busy himself and ease his anxiety.

“Fred I-“

“I’m serious.”

“Then why didn’t you write to me?” Her words were laced with hurt. It was quiet for a moment. He then bowed his head slightly in shame before bringing his hands up and through his red strands of hair, letting out a sigh.

“It would have hurt. Trying to keep something alive that you didn’t want anymore. But the minute I saw you walk through that door this afternoon, I felt like hope was restored.”

She relaxed slightly at his answer, but only slightly. She never wanted it to end, so for him to think she wanted to let go of what they had killed her. This conversation was happening though, and that was all that mattered

“It’s been a weird year. I found myself at times picking up the phone or running to grab parchment to tell you about crazy events that had happened. Then I would remember, remember that you weren’t there.” He frowned, being slightly offended by this.

“I never really left. If you wanted to, you could have. Called and written that is.”

“You’re one to talk.” She scoffed, folding her arms.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He retorted in a state of defensive confusion.

“It means you aren’t allowed to be mad at me when you didn’t contact me once all year!”

“You hurt me Y/N! I had everything planned out for us and you ruined it!” Voices were beginning to rise.

“I’m sorry?” She was this close at screaming at him. The first time they fought, she had been scared. This time was different. She was stronger, maturer and quite honestly, sick of his shit.

“Last time I checked, you were the one that left school to open a fucking joke shop! What? You just thought I would up and leave an actual future so I could be your little housewife? Fuck you Fred Weasley!” They were both standing at this point, moving in closer and closer to the point of them almost touching. He towered over her and she couldn’t help but notice that feeling.

“Oh get off it L/N.” He spat down at her. The image they took resembled a Chihuahua trying to gain dominance over a Great Dane.

“You, are a man child Fred Weasley. When the fuck are you going to grow up and face the real world?” She shoved a finger into his chest, which didn’t even him an inch.

“A man child?” He chortled mockingly with a raised eyebrow and obnoxious smirk.

“Yeah.” She retorted, grounding her feet to make herself feel bigger and stronger. Her Gryffindor was shining through like no tomorrow.

“Say it again.”

“What?” She asked confused.

“Say it, again.” His tone was low and direct. He exerted an intense sense of power and strength that she secretly loved.

“You are a man child Fred Weas-“ Before she could finish her sentence, he grabbed her cheeks into his palms and slammed his lips against hers. Her eyes widened in pure shock but she quickly closed them and grabbed his wrists in her hands, giving into the sensation. It was a sensation that she had been craving for so long. They moaned and groaned into each other’s mouths before he pushed her back and hoisted her up onto the kitchen counter by her arse. His hands then squeezed into her sides, causing her to squeak and squirm.

“Fuck.” She whispered as their mouths seperated for a moment of breath since she had gripped the base of his neck hair and pulled him away from her.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” She continued as he moved his lips down her neck. She was slightly mad at herself for giving in to him so easily. Deep down though she knew it was going to happen eventually. She had just been too proud to admit it.

“Why?” He whispered as he sucked on her jugular, making sure to reach every single beauty mark that painted her neck.

“B-because I-. Fuck Freddie I can’t speak.” Her words were getting lost with each lick and smooch he planted on her jawline.

“Then don’t.” He muttered into her flesh. She dropped the subject and chose to grip on to his hair once again. His hands slowly moved from her hips down to her thighs, stroking them softly. The feeling triggered Y/N’s memories of the night he left. She wanted to yell at the top of her lungs; Don’t leave again! But all she could do was whimper at the touch of his warm and inviting fingers circling against her quads.

The whimpers she was releasing made Fred stop and look into her eyes which he had been dreaming about for over a year now.

“You are so beautiful.” He stated as tears began to form in his lower waterlines. He hated himself for being such a prick and for not fighting hard enough for her. Instead he chose to put his tail between his legs and accept defeat. That wasn’t the Fred Weasley he knew.

But this girl, this stunning girl with her chest heaving and legs open had changed him. She had changed him for the better.

Just from the mere sight of him crying made her tear up herself. Unable to watch him suffer any longer, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into her chest as he continued to silently sob.

One of her hands crept up his back in hopes of soothing him. She began to rub gentle circles between his shoulder blades. Her other hand came up to caress his hair as she shushed him gently.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out through weak whimpers.

“I let you down.” Her heart broke at this statement.

“You didn’t let me down. I’m sorry too Freddie. I didn’t mean what I said about the shop. I am so proud of you and all the hard work you have done.” She leaned down to kiss the top of his head. This made him tighten the grip he had on her.

She let him hold her for as long as he needed. Merlin knew just how much they both needed it.

When he finally started to feel the emptiness within him fill slightly, he pulled himself away from her grasp to look into her red puffy eyes.

“Stay? Please?” He was desperate for her. Desperate for her touch, her body, her laugh, her voice, her smell and everything in between.

“Freddie, you know I can’t.” She spoke softly while she closed her eyes, forcing out a tear.

“Just for tonight, please.” She sighed as she laid her forehead against his shoulder in frustration, wrapping her calves around his waist to pull him in closer.

Neither one of them spoke for a while, instead choosing to listen to each other’s laboured breathing, finding that missing comfort in the inhalation and exhalation.

“Just for tonight.” She spoke quietly. He closed his eyes in relief, smiling to himself before pushing her off of his shoulder and gently taking her face in his hands.

“Thank you.” He spoke, lightly pecking her on the lips. She smiled back and removed her hands from his neck.

“I’ve missed you.” She said in a whisper as her right hand grazed down his torso, stopping at his crotch. She began to palm him, making sure not to break eye contact. He sputtered out and buckled at her touch.

“Fuck.” He softly groaned, his face tucking into the curvature of her jaw and neck.

“What do you want, baby?” She asked, speeding up her movements.

“You.” Was all he was able to vocalize. This sent a sensation right down to her underwear.

“Stand up straight love.” He followed her instructions immediately, pulling all of his weight off of her and struggling to find a solid stance. She then hopped off of the counter and found her way down onto her knees, preparing herself for what was to come.

He tried so hard to not go absolutely feral as he watched her look up at him with these soft doe eyes. Her hands then came up to tug at his belt, making it so his hips dipped forward from the force of her pull. Never in his wildest imagination did he think that the sound of a clanking belt would be so heavenly.

“Need you.” He said through a gasp, gently stroking her hair. He could feel her fingers dance along the elastic band of his boxers before tugging them down to above his knees along with his work trousers. The cool air hit his member once it sprung free and lightly tapped his lower stomach. The feeling sent shivers down his spine and caused his leg hairs to stand on end.

His tears had now become dry against his cheeks as he strangled out a new cry. This time from pleasure as Y/N thumbed the tip of his member gently.

Noticing how desperate he was, Y/N continued to stroke him until his cock was covered in any kind of wetness he could offer.

Once she felt it appropriate she leaned forward and took a deep breath, taking him into her mouth and as far down her throat that she could. Everything she couldn’t swallow was dealt with by her hand.

Fred groaned profusely through his bitten lip, trying hard not to be too loud. His brother was just down the hall after all.

“Fuck love.” He encouraged, holding the back of her head lightly in a make shift ponytail as he gently thrusted forward, causing her to gag and slobber slightly. The strangled chokes she let out around his member made him subconsciously quicken his pace. No longer in control, she gave up on taking care of him with her hands and chose to lay them flat agaisnt his tense thighs for support instead.

Her breathing began to shorten and the choking was becoming a tad bit unbearable, so she lightly tapped one of his thighs, making him pull her off of him and up to her feet. She wobbled slightly at the feeling of coming up to fast and from the lack of oxygen as she fell into his arms.

“You alright love?” He asked with concern through erratic pants. She could feel his still rock hard member cuddled up against her hip as she leaned against him.

“Yeah, just thought we should take this into the bedroom.” He nodded in agreement and let go of her for a moment to pull up his trousers and boxers. He hissed at the fabric grazing against his sensitive area but paid it little attention. He couldn’t worry about himself since he wanted to be fully invested in Y/N and her wants and needs. He would be dealt with soon enough, that was for certain.

Once he was fully clothed again, he decided to pick Y/N up, catching her off guard by throwing her over his shoulder and making her squeal out in excitement.

“Shhh, don’t want to wake up George do we?” He whispered through a sly smile.

“Depends.” She spoke seductively.

“You cheeky little mink.” He growled jokingly while placing a palm down on to her arse with a firm smack, making her squeal out once more, this time in pleasure.

He carried her down the hall and into the room right across from the one George disappeared into. Once they were fully inside, Fred threw Y/N down onto his unmade bed.

She took a moment to take in her surrounding, mentally referring back to the letters George had sent her. She thought about how worried he was about the depressive hole Fred had found himself in and that his room would be a good indication of it, even if he himself hadn’t been in there in months.

It wasn’t terrible. Laundry scattered the floor, clearly making it difficult to differentiate dirty from clean. A few bottles of fire whiskey sat in a dark corner by his work desk, almost as though they were being shunned from the rest of the room. Used tissues were placed on his bedside table in the formation of a small hill, making it unclear which ones were used from his nights of tears and which ones were used for his nights of self pleasure to calm the tears, both actions having her in mind.

She observed all of this as he laid on top of her and licked up her neck.

“Freddie.” She moaned out, finally coming back to reality from her thoughts.

“Yes baby?” His lips attached to her upper chest.

“Off.” She said, brain too fried from the pleasure to speak in fully formed sentences.

“ ‘f course.” He mumbled before detaching himself from her collarbone and sitting up to straddle her waist. His fingers traced up and down the buttons on her light summer dress before he started to unbutton it, allowing her bra to be exposed to him. It wasn’t a fancy lace or an elegant silk, but rather a sweet light yellow cotton that drove him absolutely mad.

Because it was her. It was always her.

He took a moment to admire the canvas that was laying below him that he couldn’t wait to paint before tugging the bra down, revealing her breasts to him. She let out a small whine as the cold air struck her bare skin, making her nipples perk up in the process. He shifted his gaze between her face and her chest. She nodded slightly, giving him the go ahead. With her approval, he leaned down and latched his tongue and lips around her delicate areolas.

She hummed with ease and shimmied her hips underneath him. He took a good minute to praise her supple mounds before bringing his hand down and underneath her dress, tapping her hip. She caught the hint and lifted herself up, allowing him to pull the floral patterned fabric from underneath her and toss it amongst one of his numerous piles. She then arched her back, making it so he could remove the constricting bra fully. He let out a small groan before shifting his body, specifically his lips, down her stomach to her navel. His lips littered her skin with kisses but he could tell she was craving a different kind of touch.

“So good f’ me, love. Have always been so good f’ me.” She smiled at this and shut her eyes as he started to tug her underwear down her bent legs. Almost automatically her knees fell open, giving Fred admission to his own personal holy grail. His gaping mouth emitted a hot breath that hit her centre, causing her to squirm.

“Freddie, please, right there, ‘m ready for you.”

God she was so perfect.

“I know baby. I can see it, can see all of it.” His index finger stroked down her wet folds, making her shudder.

“So sensitive.” He tutted softly as he grabbed both of her ankles and tugged her further forward, placing the back of her knees over his shoulders.

“Need it now,” Her whining made it abundantly clear that she was unable to handle much more of his teasing.

He couldn’t torture her any longer, so he leaned in and let a small amount of spit to drop from his lips and on to her sensitive clit. Then he brought his tongue down to swirl the liquid he released around her entrance, making her moan out loud to indicate to him that he was doing his job really well.

All he could think about was the sounds she was making and how she tasted just like he remembered.

So sweet.

“Taste so good love.” She gripped the sheets at the vibrations of his words of encouragement.

“Whenever you’re ready, come f’ me.” He spoke as he stopped his movements against her clit and dropped her legs, allowing her to be laid out for him. He then laid himself on his stomach between her legs and I nserted a couple of digits into her hole, hoping to speed up the process of bringing her to a fully euphoric state.

“Okay.” She whined, along with a submissive nod that was so innocent, he couldn’t help but rut his hips into the sheets beneath him to try and calm his own ache. His fingers sped up and he attached his lips to her once more. She dug her heels into his upper back, pushing him further against her heat.

“Right there, right there, fuck I’m go-going t-” She couldn’t even finish her sentence as she released onto his face. They both wheezed out in exhaustion and once he felt like he could finally move, he sat up, kissing her roughly, making it so her wetness transferred from his lips to hers.

“Too many clothes Freddie.” She sighed out as she weakly tugged at his waistcoat button, while she slowly came down from her orgasm.

He was utterly bewildered by her and what she had just done that he had no choice but to scramble to sit up more and almost rip off his clothing in anticipation.

He moved off of the bed and tried to keep eye contact with her as she leaned back on her elbows, naked and open for him. He could see their mixture of slick fluids covering her thighs reflect in the moonlight.

Once he was fully nude, Y/N stopped him from moving towards her like a dog in heat by pressing her foot against his chest.

“Stay there. Wanna get a good look at you.” He tilted his head slightly in confusion, but obeyed his queen nonetheless.

She just wanted to see how he had changed over the past year. A year since they first made love. His arms were more toned and his abs carried a deeper definition. His thick thighs made her practically salivate.

“Okay.” She breathed out shakily.

“Get over here.” She continued, giving him the come hither motion with her finger. He smirked and quickly crawled over to her, hopping on top of her, pinning her down underneath him and smothering her with kisses.

She laughed out, trying to pry him off of her small frame.

‘Okay, okay enough! You’re crushing me!” She giggled.

He finally stopped, not expecting her to then lunge at him and roll them over so she was on top.

Her naked figure straddled his hips and he couldn’t help but to stare up at her in awe as he stroked her figure gently.

“I’ve missed you.” She said out of the blue. He smiled sadly in return.

“I’ve missed you too.” They both went in for a kiss.

“Want you inside me baby.” She mumbled against his lips. He nodded and shifted so she was hovering right above his erect shaft.

She let out a shaky breath of release from her sweaty, heaving chest as she eased down onto him, making him groan out loudly and grip her hips harder than before.

It had been a whole year since he had felt the touch of a woman but it had been totally worth it in the end. Because it was with her and that’s all that mattered.

“Oh Freddie.” She moaned, placing her hands against his chest as she began to rock back and forth. He could feel his toes curl just from the mere sight of her getting off on his cock. Her lashes sat gently against her soft cheeks and her plush lower lip was stuck between her teeth.

Unable to bear it, Fred began to thrust up into her with a rapid and rough pace, trying to catch up in the chase. The sounds admitting from both of them and their collective wetness grew. He knew neither of them would be able to last much longer. Especially after being away from one another for so long.

“Come ‘ere.” He panted, sweat forming in his hairline and on his upper lip. She nodded and leaned down so he could wrap his arms around her in a hug. They stayed like this for a while as he continued to slam up into her again and again. He made sure to have her ear close to his lips, so she could hear just how good she was making him feel.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He winced as his orgasm began to rise to the surface.

“It’s okay, let go.” She struggled to whisper. He nodded in response and squeezed her arse, pressing her further down on to him with every rough slam of his hips.

He then let out a shuddering sigh as he finished inside of her, all of his muscles relaxing that had been clenching during their heated escapade.

Y/N continued to whine and rut herself against him, making it clear that she hadn’t reached her climax yet.

Fred laid his head back on to his pillow in exhaustion, taking her with down him. He wasn’t done though. This was all about her and Fred be damned if he didn’t make her come at least twice.

His hand crept between their sweaty, connected bodies and pressed his fingers to her sensitive clit. Small ministrations were made to her bundle of nerves and she couldn’t help but kiss up his neck and grind down on him in return, a lot like when she would use her pillow after they broke up, always thinking of him of course.

“Freddie, baaaby!” She cried out, making his body tense up again as well as his cock.

“Yes baby?” He asked while stroking her arse with his other hand.

“Almost there.” She answered through heavy breaths.

“You look so good for me, love. Using me as your personal sex toy. Fuck I love you so much.” His words encouraged her to quicken the pace of her hips which made her clench her thighs against his sides.

“Oh god.” She groaned out as her eyes rolled back slightly before shaking and then relaxing, dropping all of her body weight on top of him.

Hot air deflated from her lungs, hitting his sweaty chest.

“Fuck I’ve missed you.” He quietly chuckled while rubbing her moist back with one hand and combing through his now wet hair with the other. She giggled in return and dragged her lips over the skin of his chest tiredly before reaching up to kiss him.

“I love you.” She hummed.

“I love you.” He responded candidly.

It didn’t take long for sleep to take over the young couple as they held on to each other for dear life.

May 8th, 1997

The next morning Y/N woke up with a jolt. Remembering it was a Sunday she relaxed again.

Her eyes roamed around the space for a moment, recalling that she never made it back home the day before.

Looking to her left, she saw Fred laying naked on his stomach with a leg draped over her torso and his arms tucked underneath his pillow. His face was sunken into the feathery fabric as he emitted soft peaceful snores. The poor bloke probably hadn’t had this good of a sleep in over a year.

She didn’t want to wake him right away. Instead she allowed herself to watch him and enjoy his beautiful features that she adored so much. Almost as if he were a spectacle.

She shifted over so she was laying on her side. Fred’s leg slipped off of her frame in the process. Her hand then came up to his face to caress his cheek.

“Mm, hello there.” He spoke through a dopey smile and deep morning voice, sending her into a tizzy. She chuckled lightly and began rubbing his exposed bicep in a soothing manner.

His eyes stayed closed as he let out a deep sigh, pulling Y/N further into his chest.

“Freddie?” She asked quietly. He hummed in response, pressing her even closer to him.

“I should be going soon.” She hated to break up the lovely moment but she couldn’t stay for much longer.

What would happen after this moment, no one knew. But what was most important was that the year of silence was now finally over.

“No, don’t.” He whined and pouted as he shifted down a bit to nuzzle his face in between her breasts. His favourite place to be.

She let out a sigh and gently played with the hairs at the back of his neck.

“Freddie, you promised.” She warned. He groaned out in a huff and finally let go of her, followed by getting out of bed begrudgingly.

She watched him as he walked around the bedroom, picking out an outfit for the day from the numerous piles of clothes.

“Fred talk to me.” She hated the silence.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He was unable to look her in the eye as he paced around his room, continuing to get himself dressed.

“I don’t know where we go from here.” He gripped his dark oak drawer at her words, frustrated that she was still being so stubborn, even after the events from the night prior.

“Look, I want you here, always. I want to wake up in the morning and have your face be the first thing I see, then have it be the last thing I see before I go to sleep. Is that enough of a forward for you?”

She groaned in aggravation and threw herself back down on to the bed. It seemed as though no compromise was ever going to be made.

“Look Fred.” She stared up at his ceiling.

“We can take it slow. I can make more of an effort to come see you on the weekends and you can make more of an effort to write to me. We will see where things take us, you know… slowly.” He turned at this with a sigh and walked back over to the bed, crawling over to her and placing a loving kiss to her lips.

“If it means the possibility of us being us again, then yes, I’ll do whatever it takes.” She smiled and grabbed his face, kissing him once more.

“Deal.” She sat up enthusiastically and stuck her hand out for him to take. He looked down at it as if she had an extra thumb. She waited patiently and he rolled his eyes, finally grabbing her hand in his and shaking it, almost as if they had just closed a business deal.

He then tugged her towards him by the hand which made her land on top of him. He began to tickle her and she immediately squirmed in his grasp.

“Stop, I need to get dressed!” She squealed.

“Who’s the best shag of your life?” He asked teasingingly.

“You!” She laughed through her struggle.

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you love.” He further pushed through a cheeky grin.

“Fred Weasley is the best shag of my life!” She knew this was the only way that he would let up.

“Right answer.” She scoffed at his smug response as he let go of her.

“Only shag is more like it.” She muttered jokingly, just loud enough for him to hear.

“And don’t you forget it.” He winked before smacking her bare arse and rolling off the bed. She yelped and gave him a look of light hearted warning.

She soon got up herself and began to change, noticing out of the corner of her eye, Fred watching her from the doorway.

“What?” She asked in false annoyance.

“Nothing, just looking at you is all.” He was beaming from ear to ear. She rolled her eyes playfully in return.

Once she was done getting dressed, he reached his hand out for her to take. She walked over and grabbed it, allowing him to lead her out of the room and down the hall.

When they reached the kitchen, they didn’t initially notice George sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying a bowl of cereal.

The couple were to busy poking and prodding each other as they looked through the fridge for breakfast.

“Mooorning.” They quickly shot up and shut the fridge, turning to see George smirking at them, who was as it seemed, clearly aware of what had occurred the night prior.

He gave them a wink and a knowing look before going back to his bowl.

[thessalian]

Thess vs TLoVM Ep. 7

Yeah, I’m going through these fairly slowly but I am SAVOURING THEM and also I do want to play video games and I’m not distracting myself from this gloriousness with video games no thank you.

Anders already makes me want to punch him in the face. And this is ... okay, we’ve seen him at the end of the last episode and let’s face it, his design is kind of surfaced-blobfish looking so he was designed to look really punchable but the voice as well. Well done, Stephen Root.

(That reminds me - need to watch The Book of Boba Fett. Root was in that, apparently.)

Wait. I know that voice-- did they get the same voice actor to do Lady de Rolo and Lady Briarwood? *checks* They did. That’s ... thematically brilliant.

It doesn’t say who’s voicing Lord de Rolo but ... I’m pretty sure that’s Taliesin.

Yeah, I think the thing I’m loving best about this is the flashbacks. Anders is ... such a shithead.

The introduction of Orthax in this slow and steady drip-feed way is incredible and--

Oh FUCK OFF, Scanlan! ...Okay, the thing I like about this is that they really do have the characters down. I mean, I know everybody did the Scanlan Shorthalt Precious Cinnamon Roll Can Do No Wrong thing back in the day but Sam himself flagged up that part of his -2 Wisdom modifier was the fact that he had absolutely zero filter. He gets uncomfortable and breaks the mood the only way he knows how, and he probably knows on some level that it’s inappropriate (reasonably high INT, if I remember right) but he doesn’t care as long as the uncomfortable stops. He doesn’t like being alone with his own emotions or anyone else’s and Sam’s not saying it’s right or appropriate or a good thing to do; Scanlan just does it because it seems like a better idea than having to stew in emotions he doesn’t like. And since Travis and Sam co-wrote this one, it’s nice to see that his tendency to do that “jokes to clear the air” shit at the worst possible time and in the worst possible vein continues, because Sam intended it to be an in-depth character flaw, not just something funny to do during sessions. (So yes, thank you, Vex. Not the time. This is when I want Manners.)

Oh, poor Sun Tree! ...I’m not sure whether I want there to be the Matt Stoner Sun-Tree voice or not. On one level, I loved it. On another level, I’m not sure they could do it with the format. Sudden tonal shifts are not, as stated above, always the friend of a solid narrative.

Though that is a good question, Vax. And also Scanlan. And I bet Percy’s never been so grateful for a Keyleth-related problem in his life.

THANK YOU, ARCHIE.

SCANLAAAAAAAAAAN. Thank you, twins.

Okay, come on, guys, listen to Scanlan for once. Can you guys please listen to when he’s clearly serious? ...Then again, it’s pretty clear that they’re as worried about him not having back-up and no one’s getting that.

...HELLO MATT.

“Totally meant to do that.” Well, he is hopping walls like a cat. I’ve seen cats fall off shit and then look around like ‘I meant to do that’ all the time. Which I assume is the joke.

“Oh shit.” Literally, from the sounds of things... Now that kind of tonal shift works. At least in part because it eases in from the absurd into the terrifying by ... somehow combining both. Good job, Travis and Sam.

“Roll to see if you hit--”............ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!? D&D-ception! Also ... hi again, Matt. It really is just like watching a Pillars of Eternity Let’s Play. Matt is everywheeeeeeeere.

So let’s see ... very interesting take on Dimension Door, and Enlarge/Reduce. Emphasis on Reduce. Also I am crying laughing right now.

Oh, right, the Potion of Fire-Breathing!

Triceratops tiiiiiiiiiiiiime!

“Doors are such bullshit!” Every party in the world has said this at least once.

Poor worried Vex. I swear, Vox Machina was effectively the party of Complete Inability To Show Any Reasonable Emotion Without Somehow Being An Asshole About It. Ironically, I think the best one at that was Percy, who (while obviously having some Orthax-related issues) dropped all his defenses like hot rocks the moment Vex seemed even slightly upset.

...With very good reason, the worry for Scanlan. Though giving him the finger at that moment is impressive-- OH! Hello Scanlan’s Hand! Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. I seem to remember this fight being slightly less involving whaling on Scanlan. Then again, we do need the drama.

Seriously, all you’re going to do with arrows is piss Grog off- yeah, see, there you go.

And the crotch lightning saves the day. And yes, see, Scanlan? THAT is where you save the jokes for. I wonder if he just treats most of his life as a dress rehearsal for those triumphant moments where the one-liners are appropriate. I mean, I guess he needs to get his material from somewhere.

Oh. Shit. Yeah, I remember this one. They somehow made it more heartbreaking. I mean, I seem to recall that there was a little more discussion about maybe Cassandra not getting-- yeah, that.

Oooooooooooooooooh FUCK YOUR CLIFFHANGER. I mean, I know what happens but still FUCK IT UP THE ASS WITH A CACTUS SIDEWAYS.

So ... yeah. I guess video games are just going to have to wait. Then again, my Shenanigans Saturday’s cancelled tonight so I have time for video games later.

[another-miracle]

Nobody actually told Obi what exactly happened to make Shirayuki leave Tanbarun (now on AO3)

Leave it to Sarah to know the exact “right to the good part” scenario I needed to scratch my writing itch. This one’s for you @claudeng80 :) Set before Eisetsu arc when Shirayuki, Obi and Ryuu are still travelling on the road together.

Dinner starts off as a simple affair. Miss cooks up half the dishes while Obi settles the other half in the in-built kitchen of a decidedly-not-small room they’ve found themselves in (wonders what accommodation one affords with all that sweet Wisteria cash; they are delegates after all). A trade-off that they’d agreed on so that they could cook and have dinner in the same space they would reside for the night - instead of going down to the common area. Ryuu sets the table as best he can.

Eventually, they settle down to eat. The conversation steers towards Miss’ early days in the pharmacy - Ryuu still a boy who hid under tables, a fact present-Ryuu did not appreciate being brought up - and Miss still desperately trying to find her footing in a foreign land. It’s new to Obi, to hear of their endeavours before his arrival to Clarines, and he finds himself enjoying the journey down memory lane. That is, until Miss drops a wayward comment that catches the both of them off guard.

So casual, she says, “It’s so funny. And to think I’d almost had to live my life as Raj’s concubine.”

Ryuu freezes and his eyes dart over to Obi. Similarly, Obi’s glass has paused over his lips. It feels like the air in the room has been abruptly sucked out. The word ‘concubine’ rings in his ears as Miss continues to laugh between bites.

“What do you mean concubine?” Obi asks carefully. He’d thought she’d been invited to the palace to be a princess, or perhaps a lady-in-waiting. To be seen, not...

“Oh yes,” Miss shares, something almost fond lining her lips. “Raj and Sakaki-san had pretty wild ideas back then. Sent me poisoned apples and everything.”

“Miss-what?”

Shirayuki looks up, only now noticing Obi’s tone. Next to him, Ryuu lowers his utensils down and places them on either side of his plate. Obi immediately fixates on Miss’ form. His eyes dart down to her arms, searching for any scars, mind desperately rifling through memories of when they first met, whether she had been constantly wearing long sleeves. She’d worn leggings all this while hasn’t she? Obi resists the urge to bend down to look under the table.

“Oh,” Miss starts again, startling Obi’s gaze back to hers. “Oh! He didn’t get to me- I mean, he did. It’s a funny story actually- Zen ended up being the one eating said apple and getting poisoned. I’d only followed to get the antidote, but thankfully-” she glances at Ryuu, “Zen has had quite a resistance against most poisons, and he was fine.”

The sentence is met with tense silence. Ryuu seems to be staring at his plate as if the peas could conjure up a response. A part of Obi wants to shake the boy and tell him not to worry, to crack a joke to diffuse the air. The other part is blinded by red hot anger. The urge to retrieve his knives and march right up to Tanbarun to commit regicide thrums wildly in his temples.

Friend of the Crown? What on earth was Master thinking - working with someone like that. What on earth was he thinking? He’d spent every afternoon for a month, watching, not knowing, as the two - kidnapper and concubine-to-be - traipsed through the gardens of Tanbarun castle, sat next to each other for hours in the libraries. He’d carried the man on his fucking shoulders.

A touch to his hands and his eyes fly open. Miss’s hand is placed on his, on both of their hands. A small smile plays at her lips. Obi turns to Ryuu. The boy looks frustrated enough to cry.

Miss gives a small laugh. “Hey, it’s over alright? I didn’t bring it up to see you guys upset. It was just in passing. And look, we’re all here now. Royal delegates, serving the Wisteria Crown for the greater good of her people!”

Miss glances up at him, then flicks her gaze at Ryuu. Obi suddenly remembers how distraught Ryuu was when they returned to Clarines after their visit to Tanbarun, having only received news that Miss had been kidnapped. He also remembers the fear in his eyes when both he and Shirayuki succumbed to the then-Lyrias disease.

Obi sighs.

His hand reaches out to ruffle Ryuu’s hair. “Yeah,” Obi says, “Miss wouldn’t let something like that get her down. She’s strong, isn’t she, Little Ryuu?”

Ryuu stares up at him, unshed tears, his gaze darting between the both of them. Obi gives him his best reassuring smile; he knows Miss does too, even if he doesn’t look at her.

The boy sniffs. “Yeah- she is. Yeah.”

--------

Later when the plates are cleared and Ryuu has fallen asleep, exhausted from the additional emotional tirade he had earlier, Obi finds Miss by the window. She sits with her feet propped on the sill, arms wrapped around her knees, gaze focused on the distant horizon. The moon is out, deciding to grace Miss in all the splendour and glow her countenance deserves. If Miss thinks he looks good by the firelight, then it should be of no consequence for him to say-

“You look good in the moonlight, Miss,” Obi tells her, holding out a cup of tea and sitting down by her. Miss accepts the drink with a smile before looking out again. She is quiet - more so than usual. Obi sips his tea and waits.

She thumbs at the rim of the cup, looks down, then up at him. With a sheepish smile, she says, “I wonder if that’s something I might have heard from...men...if…”

She trails off, bringing the cup to her lips, the picture of grace and relief. Obi, on the other hand, is struck frozen for the second time this evening. That’s not what he meant. That’s not what he meant.

“Miss-”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Miss rushes out. “That wasn’t fair- it’s just- it’s my fault, I’d brought it up. I don’t mean to say that you’re like any of them- I don’t-”

Miss breathes, a shaky exhale. Obi watches as she struggles with something bigger than her, bigger than the both of them. It’s something more immense than even the distance between two countries, if he’s honest. His heart pulls toward her; the burden she has been carrying for almost two years - the shame, the fear - feelings he has no way of possibly understanding in this lifetime. He aches to reach out for her, but he’s not sure- in that moment, he rehashes every single touch between the two of them. Belatedly, he also finally understands why she’d run when Master kissed her.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, an assurance that falls flat in the space between them. Miss hums in response, forcing out a smile at him in apology. And- Obi doesn’t want that. How many smiles has she hidden behind? Sweet words that fall from her lips - not just to him, but to the very people who’d wanted to kidnap her, to turn her into an object of possession, to reduce her brilliant mind and her wonderful soul and the endlessly faith-bearing light in her eyes into a mere ornament to be gawked at, prodded until nothing is left. What has he been doing? What have they all been doing?

Obi places his mug down on the table before sidling up to the sill, back to the scenery, hands clasped in front of him. He notices Miss is looking at him curiously. Obi sets his gaze on the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the concrete. He doesn’t do this- doesn’t offer more than platitudes to soothe, doesn’t give others more than he should, more than he can spare another human being. But- he thinks of the broken smile on Miss’ face-

“I’d almost lost my life once,” Obi tells the ceiling. “Thought myself hot shit and went around accepting jobs that were clearly beyond my pay grade. Risked my life because I’d thought it a resource to be utilized when needed - as long as it puts bread on the table, money in my pocket.”

Obi turns down and gives Miss a wan smile. “And it’s funny, because that was me when I met you. You, with all your incredible courage, this red-haired girl who’d walked forward in face of an arrow shot at her. Who’d saved an entire colony in face of a disease no one knew. Who’d jumped off a tower. Who’d walked straight back into the place she’d been running from, head held high, into the den of the very person who’d deigned her an object.

Miss flinches at this. And Obi aches.

“And-” Obi pauses. Breathes. “So much of me just wants to ride down the South back to Tanbarun, go up to Raj’s door and wrangle his neck - him and Sakaki both. But beyond that, Miss-”

Obi stares at her, willing the words, “You are beyond what anyone says of you, beyond whatever value anyone places on you. You’re not some object that someone just picks up and calls their own. Because whatever that’s in there,” Obi jabs his thumb against his chest, “it’s not something that can be assigned by anyone else. You are your own person, Miss. You belong to you. And it’s this you who has toppled boundaries, created antidotes, you and your brilliant mind, and your wonderful soul and everything that is you.

“And-” Obi wrenches his gaze from her, hand coming up to push down on his shoulder. “I can’t imagine myself without you. I’ve changed, because of you. Myself and many other people you’ve met in Clarines - Little Ryuu, too. So please-

“Don’t think you are anything less than who you have made yourself to be. Don’t let anything cause that- not Raj, not Master, not Izana, not even me. You are yours, Miss.”

Obi says it quietly, a whisper taken by the wind into the meadows ahead of them. But he knows Miss hears it all the same. Obi lets the words take up the silence, let them take root. He hopes, desperately, that in between the awkward cadence and messy phrasing, Miss may find some comfort in them. An unspoken assurance that he is on her side - always have, and always will be.

Sneaking a glance at her, Obi is startled to find Miss’ head buried in her knees, shoulder shaking.

He jumps up and immediately frets. “M-miss, ahh- I didn’t mean to make you upset! I’m sorr-”

In an instant, Obi’s hand is enclosed between both of hers, warmth effusing through skin. A warbled laugh escapes her and she looks up from her knees up at him. Arrested by the tears in her eyes, Obi watches as she smiles that broken smile again - only this time, he knows it isn’t forced. She brings his hand close to her, and places the back of it against her forehead. Obi’s hand twitches, almost aching to cup her face and rub the tears trickling down - but clearly Miss is having a moment as she closes her eyes and breathes.

“Thank you, Obi,” Miss tells him, words entangling around his fingers. “It never gets easier- I don’t think it will, but-”

She takes his hand and cups it against her cheek anyway, collapsing all his walls. “You, being here. You remind me that I’m worth more.”

He can’t resist his fingers running across the apples of her cheekbones. He wipes away every tear that falls and bends down close, leaning his forehead against hers. There are no words to describe the monument of a woman before him now, and as he draws strength from this little form of comfort he’s offered, he only hopes she receives the same.

It will not be easy, probably never will, as Miss says.

But Obi will be damned if she ever faces it alone again.

[fireemblems24]

Merit Based System

This is a bit all over the place. Sorry about that. I watched a show this weekend that really illustrates why I no longer believe in Edelgard's system after her support with Ferdinand.

Spoilers for Fire Emblem Three Houses CF route and Edelgard & Ferdinand's support and the show Segodon up to episode 8.

Segodon is a taiga drama that retells the life of historical figure Saigo Takamori a. k. a. the last samurai. This man was a brilliant politician and played an instrumental role in Japan's tumultuous 1800s where they overthrew the shogun and instated a modern government. The show itself is absolutely fantastic so far (though, I love anything to do with the Bakumatsu, no, that's a lie, there's some real shitty Bakumatsu anime.).

Like the real life Saigo, the fictional representation has a lot of "merit." As the show writes him, he has a high level of empathy for people who are hurting because of Japan's horrible, outdated systems and is constantly does whatever is in his power to convince the powers that be to back off a bit because their taxes and punishments are so harsh at times, his native Satsuma was at serious risk of starving its entire agricultural force out of work.

Not only is Saigo intelligent, but he's also tenacious. He "dares" to ask his "betters" to see the errors of their way, goes out of his way to try and get audiences with people far above his station, and does everything he possibly can to help everyone around him. Whether he's tackling problems with a larger system or a hurting individual around him, he's trying his best to make things right. And when people listen to him, things improve. People are also naturally drawn to his leadership and overall gentle disposition.

He's also broke.

Saigo comes from a very poor, very large family. So when the powers that be grant him an opportunity to travel to Edo (then capital of Japan), where he could get real experience, where he could start rubbing shoulders with the right people and find ways to gain influence, learn, etc . . . He can't. Because his family can't cough up 30 ryo.

No matter how much merit Saigo has, his upbringing keeps him from reaching his full potential. The top leadership of the area invites him to the opportunity of a life time, but even with an open invitation, he can't so easily accept it.

His mother, father, and grandfather had all just died (and this is a historical fact, at least) and left him in charge. The family went into even more debt buying medicine during various illnesses. There's younger and elder family he needs to look out for, a sister who he now needs to find a husband for, and a new wife on top of everything else. They don't have 30 ryo to spare.

No matter how much merit Saigo has, no matter how much he wants to make a difference, he can't. Because he was born into poverty, because he can't afford to step away from the family land or else risk running out of food in the winter. His merit isn't enough. You need privilege. And he's already got privilege in that he wasn't born a farmer, that he has the personal attention of those in charge through connections and channels his family name permitted him, he's already jumped over hurdles others can't - and he still can't take advantage of his merit.

A merit based system benefits those who have and punishes the have nots. All the rich kids with rich parents who don't have to think twice about spending 30 ryo and have servants to take care of the elderly and young in their families. They can take every opportunity so the gap widens even further. Even worse, a merit based system tells the people born poor, born sick, born neurologically divergent, born into an abusive family, born into a historically disadvantaged race/gender/sexuality/etc, etc . . . that it's their fault they're not at the top. That if they just "tried harder" and had "more merit" they could make it. You too could be a billionaire if you just pulled on your bootstraps hard enough, and failure means you didn't try hard enough. And, yes, this is very much happening in our culture today.

That Edelgard didn't even consider something as huge as inequality before starting a war that would kill thousands really shocked me. Her support with Ferdinand exposed just how naive she is and how narrow-minded her world-view and experiences are. If she's going to sacrifice thousands of people for her supposedly better system, I wish she'd put at least some thought into it.

I do not expect a Fire Emblem game to get hyper-political or into nitty-gritty details. Honestly, I wish this support didn't exist. If their A-Support focused just on educational reform or even Ferdinand cementing himself as a actual check/rival to Edelgard, then I'd be more willing to believe she could make a good leader. But, for some reason, they decided to use this support to show how little Edelgard actually thought about her actions despite the dire consequences of them. These details aren't needed. These lines could be completely omitted and let the reader imagine Edegard has the political know-how to actually pull what she wants off. But instead the game went out of it's way to show she doesn't really have a single clue what she's talking about, and I cannot fathom why. This isn't even touching on her admitting it didn't even occur to her that her actions would leave a power vacuum and would need to fill it (like - what -), but that's for another day.

THIS is why I can't get behind Edelgard. Because her merit based system isn't worth all the lives she destroyed in her war. She thinks her ideas are worth everyone that dies, but her ideas aren't well thought out. This episode 8 of Segodon illustrated perfectly why Edelgard's system is a house of cards that will do nothing but pat the nobility and otherwise rich and privileged on the back while blaming farmers and otherwise disadvantaged for their continued poverty because "lack of merit."

I honestly can't express how badly I wish these lines in this support didn't exist. It serves no purpose except to expose Edelgard's lack of forethought and lack of understanding about the lives of the people she's claiming she's making better.

But, yeah, watching this episode just made me think about Edelgard's system and reminded me again of the exact moment I gave up on supporting her war.

(spoiler alert about Segodon: all those people he kept helping scrounge together 30 ryo so he can go to Edo and leaves the lands in charge of his younger brother, and yes, he's going to go down in history, but also . . . prepare for a downer ending if you actually watch this (I mean . . . it's the Bakumatsu). I already know I'm going to cry my fucking eyes out and I haven't even meant this version of Sakamoto Ryoma yet)

[jj-5656]

Insufferable

With; Newt

A/N: This is an addiction at this point. I seriously cry every other day abt this man. I just want to say thanks to anyone who likes or comments on my work. And those who reblog AND comment? You inspire me to keep writing so big thanks to you. Special s/o to @jenny33996 for yet another prompt idea. Enjoy!

   You hum softly as you work, fingertips intricately pressing down on the soil of your newly-planted tomatoes. The sun beats down on you and the other track-hoes without mercy, and it’s taken some time to get accustomed to the humidity of the glade. Despite the muggy weather, you’re completely focused on the task at hand. Making sure to remain gentle with each plant you come across.

“Love, you know the plants can’t actually hear you?” You roll your eyes at Newts remark, shaking your head knowingly as you observe his rough workings against the greenery surrounding you.

“They can actually. Studies have shown the emissions of carbon dioxide and the vibrations from talking or singing can promote efficient growth in plants.”

“Is all your free time spent researching then?”

“Precisely, and it’s the only reason the rest of you shanks don’t get a scolding from Alby. I practically carry the track-hoes!” You argue dramatically, laughing when Zart nods in agreement.

“Good that.” Zart comments idly, not noticing Newts offended expression as he lets down his rake.

“Since you two shanks like to talk so much, maybe you won’t mind working an extra ten minutes on turning the soil?” It comes out as more of an order than a question, and the two of you give a silent nod and the keeper walks off with the rest of the track-hoes.

“You’re bloody humming’s got us an extra ten on the garden, shank.” Newt chucks a cherry tomato at you as he speaks, chuckling when you toss it back to him.

“It was actually your bloody jokes, that aren’t funny might I add.” You mock his accent dramatically, smirking when his eyebrows raise in bewilderment.

“Your accent is insufferable.”

“So is yours.” The two of you laugh harder at your lighthearted bickering, getting up from your kneeling positions to pick up the discarded tools in order to tend to the soil. As Newt takes a step towards you, he trips over a stray vine. Each of you letting out a Yelp in surprise when he practically tackles you to the ground. He’s smart enough to roll over to break your fall, but you still feel a sharp pain on the side of your head when it comes in contact with one of the shovels.

“Shuck, are you that clumsy slinthead?” You mutter in annoyance as you rub your temple.

“Sorry.” Newt can only get one word out before the two of you start giggling again, only ceasing when you realize his hands are still secured around your waist. Not to mention you’re practically sprawled out on top of him, and can even smell the combined scent of mint and some type of wood coming off of him. Suddenly, the eye contact and the heavy breathing aren’t as funny as they were before.

She’s close, really close. Close enough for Newt to feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest, and her breath mingling with his. He could move his head just a few inches more, and actually kiss her. But he can’t, right? Not when she’s practically his best friend, and the one of the only people he can truly trust. She’s means too much to him for him to jeopardize their relationship. But she’s just so....impossibly close. Maybe if he just-

“Earth to Newt? My head, i-it really hurts.” She mutters softly, cringing in pain when she rises to get off of him. It’s only when he lifts her completely off of him that he realizes how sickly she suddenly looks. Sweat beading on her skin as she takes heavier breaths and-oh shuck

“What? What is it?” You question worriedly, realizing the sensation of hot water running down the side of your head. You go to rub it off, only to see your palm covered in thick red blood.

“Y-you’re bleeding.” Newt responds dumbly, eyes wide with concern and shock as he discards his shirt from his torso.

“No shuck.” Even with how lightheaded you are, you manage to make a snarky remark at the blonde in front of you. Wincing when he presses the bunched up fabric to your head. If your brain didn’t feel as if it were being stapled to your skull, you think you might’ve taken the opportunity to admire his muscled arms.

“You need to go to the med-jack, right now. Can you stand?” His demeanor is calm now, but you can tell laced within his tone is deep worry.

“Yeah, I think so.” You nod softly, cringing at the dizziness the action creates. Newt grabs at your arms to hoist you up, and you stumble with a groan at the sudden movements.

“Shuck, sorry.” Is all you hear before the ringing begins. And you know it can only get worse from there when little black dots begin to cloud your vision. Your legs feels as if they have no bone supporting the tissue, and it takes all your focus to attempt to stand. There’s shouting in the distance, or maybe from right beside you. It’s hard to tell with all this damn ringing...Did the world always feel this spinny? The last you see is the brilliant, shining sun before everything goes black.

************************

When you come to, the ringing has finally stopped. It takes you a moment to recognize your surroundings, especially since the lighting is so dim in the room. There’s shouting, but you can’t seem to decipher the voices just yet. Still, you silently pray for the arguing to stop so the raging headache will cease.

“How could you let this happen? How careless could you possibly be Newt?”

“That’s enough Minho, it was an accident. He feels bad enough.”

“Yeah, and you know we can’t afford accidents Alby. Because you know what happens? People die!”

“I said that’s enough. I know damn well what goes on around here. Now slim it.” The voice is stern, but remains tranquil as anger laces each word. Alby

“Jesus shuck, stop talking.” You croak weakly, voice unbearably hoarse from however long you’ve been out. You try to swallow some saliva, and hum weakly when a cup of water meets your lips.

“If you guys are going to argue, I suggest you do it elsewhere. It’s bad enough she’s lost consciousness after a head injury. Right now, she needs as little stimulation as possible.” Clint informs strictly as he readjusts the bandage on your forehead. “If you’re going to stay in here, you all need to slim it.” You follow Clint with your eyes as he walks towards the supply stable, noticing Alby and Minho stood glaring at each other in the doorway. Newt sits in a chair beside Alby, hand rubbing over his mouth in thought as he studies you intently. Only averting his eyes when you meet his gaze.

“Do you know your name?” Clint speaks gently beside you, finger moving in front of your eyes in a silent order for them to follow it.

“Y/n.”

“What about where you are?”

“The med hut, in the glade.”

“Good, and who’s that over there?”

“Minho and Alby. The blonde shank is Newt.” You joke half halfheartedly, wanting more than anything than to see the boy smile. He doesn’t make a move or attempt to speak, just meets your eyes with an unreadable expression.

“Very good. Y’know how you got in here?” You nod, but Clint raises his brows to have you elaborate. “We were working in the garden, and I fell.” You look over when Minho lets out a huff before shaking his head.

“It seems to me like she fainted from the loss of blood. It could have been shock or anxiety, because I’m not noticing signs of significant head trauma. No memory loss, nausea, or lack of reflexes as of yet. Just to be sure though, I want her here for the next week so I can monitor her. I don’t want to take a head injury lightly.” Clint informs without looking up from his reflex-test on you. The boys look to each other briefly and nod in understanding.

“I need to cool off, you’ll be okay?” Minho asks abruptly, voice much quieter this time. He rubs his thumb gently over the bandage as you offer him a weak smile.

“Minho, I’ll be fine.” He gives a curt nod before attempting to back away to leave, but you grab his wrist and pull him to you once more. “Please don’t be so hard on him. He didn’t mean it.” Minho considers your words for a moment, before looking between you and Newt. He gives another nod before parting your hand and leaving the room, still a bit frustrated. As much as he hates to admit it, or to let the other boys see, he really cares about you. You smile to yourself at the thought, strong and sassy Minho worried sick over someone. It’s heartwarming, but Newt’s pale, solemn expression brings your focus back to the glum energy of the room.

“Hear that? Sounds like you’ll be alright, shank. I’ll let you get some rest for now. And you’re not moving from this bed for a week, you hear? Clint gives the orders in here.” Alby affirms sternly, deep brown eyes the dead giveaway he’s a lot more scared than angry. He squeezes your shoulder gently before making his way out of the med hut. Leaving you and Newt alone when Clint rambles on about needing to grab herbs from Frypan for tea.

“Newt.” Your voice is so soft, you’re not even sure the boy has heard you. “Please, come over here.”

“I-I have to go talk to Minho.” He fumbles lamely, obviously trying to come up with an excuse. It’s all his fault.

The overwhelming guilt and shame has been eating at him for the past hour, wondering whether or not he had just seriously injured the girl he’s head over heels for by tripping over a shucking vine. He let his guard down, something he really only tends to do around you. It’s too dangerous, to love you. Shuck, he loves you. He can only admit it to himself right then, and the the thought that your injury was with him to blame makes his stomach churn. He was so stupid, so careless to think he could even try to be carefree for one second in this shucking hell of a plac-”

“Newt? Hey, don’t spiral on me please.” Your voice is more sad now, pleading with him to come to you. Reluctantly, the blonde walks over to sit on the side of the bed. You grab his hand before he can refuse, and give him that beautiful smile as his thumb absentmindedly moves over your knuckles. “Look at me, you heard Clint. I’m gonna be just fine. It was an accident-”

“That could have gotten you bloody killed.” He interrupts almost instantly, running a hand over his face to contain his composure in order to not raise his voice. “You understand passing out meant you could have not woken up, yeah?” He inquires, looking to you with narrowed eyes as your own drift up to look at the ceiling rather than him.

“But I didn’t.”

“But you bloody could have, and it would have been my fault.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence, and your eyes dart over to meet his, not letting the moisture filling in the corner of them go unnoticed.

“Newt-”

“No. We have lost too many people to start getting stupid now. I-I can’t keep...I can’t keep doing whatever this is with you in good conscious, not after today.”

Your face contorts in confusion at his words, and if you weren’t so weak you’d hit him for being so vague.

“Wh-what? So, you’re just not gonna talk to me anymore because of a shucking mishap?”

“I can’t lose you!” He counters immediately. He doesn’t yell, but his tone is desperate when he tugs his hand from your own. Not understanding he’s doing more damage now than that stupid shovel ever could. “I can’t be sick with worry like that, n-not again. I couldn’t breath when I saw that blood on your face. And I could barely explain what happened to the others. I can’t-I wasn’t able to stay calm when I saw you like that. I wasn’t myself. So, I don’t know if it’s a good idea if we-”

“Slim it. You’re giving me more of a headache than I had before. You’re telling me you want to ignore me forever? Let...Whatever this is-whatever we are, just let it go because you’re scared? I’m scared all the shucking time Newt.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Only because you’re making this so complicated.” You’ve always been stubborn, but Newts still bewildered by your insistence despite your weakened state.

“I’m scared all the time!” He mutters sternly, staring into your eyes as if it’ll somehow translate to you. “I mean, every day I’m scared. But I let my guard down, and you got hurt. I love you too much to hold onto you, can’t you get that through your bloody skull?”

Your eyebrows raise at his words, wondering if he’s actually just admitted it as he rolls his eyes.

“There, you know now. I’m head over shucking heels or whatever. Doesn't bloody matter, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Oh, so just because you’re afraid we don’t get to be together? Believe it or not, this is a two way street. And it’s gonna take a lot more than a shucking shovel for me to stop loving you Newt. And to hate you? Well, that’s impossible.” You lock gazes as you speak, challenging him to look away or continue the argument before he sighs. There’s a long pause before he looks at his feet, shaking his head before replying.

“I’m sorry about what happened. But you need to get better before we can talk about this, alright?” He cups your check and runs his thumb over your jaw as you slightly nod, lips pulling up into a smile when he places a soft kiss to your temple before backing away.

“Will you come read to me later on? We don’t have to talk about...This. I just, I don’t want to be alone all day.” You trail off when you finish, expression brightening when he nods happily.

“Alright, any requests?”

“Maybe you should leave a request in the box for Botany For Dummies. Considering it was my squash vine your shank ass tripped over.”

“Again, you’re insufferable.”

“Don’t get all jacked because my singing actually works.”

“Tell that to my bleeding eardrums.”

“Tell that to the gash on my head!” Newt shoots you a stern look at your teasing, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway.

“Too soon?”

“Slim it already, will you? I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m counting on it.”