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p-eppermintea · 3 years ago

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love is a drug (but it never comes with a warning)

AO3 LINK

Pairing: Erwin Smith / Levi Ackerman (Eruri) Characters: Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Isabel Magnolia, Farlan Church Rating: Explicit Warnings: No warnings apply Word Count: 13186 Tags: Sexual Content, Hook-up to Lovers, Pining, Angst, Croissant the cat, Love Confessions, Christmas, Yes I wrote the Christmas scenes in June

Excerpt / Summary:

So, here’s the thing. Levi really isn’t the type of person who invites strangers over for sex. Sure, he had a couple of hook-ups, quick fumbles, and one-night stands after nights out in his younger years – but that’s about the extent of it.

NOTE: I started this in October and very slowly finished it over the past 8-ish months. Quality control courtesy of ADHD and my inability to force myself to edit, mixed with my impatience to post. Sorry about mistakes!

So, here’s the thing.

Levi really isn’t the type of person who invites strangers over for sex. Sure, he had a couple of hook-ups, quick fumbles, and one-night stands after nights out in his younger years – but that’s about the extent of it.

The older he gets, the less he cares about sex. He’s slowly paying off a mortgage, has hobbies and a good job and a couple of even better friends. Meeting people just seems like a waste of time, and sex is just so unnecessary and messy.

But after almost two years of celibacy and with the house to himself for the weekend, he caves and downloads Grindr. He pours himself a glass of wine, downs it, and meanders around the house for a little bit. He feeds his cat. Pours himself another glass of wine. Polishes his already meticulously clean coffee table. He finally opens the app properly.

Making a profile doesn’t take him too long, and most of that time is taken up by choosing a profile picture. He settles on the gym photo he sent to Isabel a week earlier. He doesn’t really take a lot of photos of himself either, so it’s not exactly hard for him to choose.

Levi takes one look at the array of profiles before he sighs heavily and throws his phone to the other side of the couch. This is so stupid.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. He’s thirty, for fuck’s sake. He’s gone through all of the stupid hormonal-fuelled confusion from his teen and early adult years, and he hasn’t been self-conscious about himself for as long as he can remember. He doesn’t even get nervous before big presentations. So why is this making his heart race and his palms sweat?

He sits and finishes his drink slowly, listening as his phone buzzes every now and then in front of him.

About twenty minutes pass before he eventually gives in and grabs his phone again.

Three messages. Alright, not bad. He can deal with three messages.

They aren’t really anything special. It’s about what Levi expected; “Top or bottom?”, “Come here often?”. And, of course, a dick pic straight away. Levi scoffs at that last one. It’s an okay photo, he supposes. It’s a just dick, though, there isn’t really much more to it. He’s worth more than some low-effort and unsolicited dick pic, though, so the message is ultimately ignored.

He’s actually a little disappointed by the choices. Maybe he’s a bit too old for this, but it just seems like people have gotten lazy when it comes to looking for hookups. They could’ve at least put some effort into their first messages, for fuck’s sake.

Levi shoots a lazy reply of “Switch” to the first guy. He looks okay in his profile picture. Attractive, but with soft features and the build of a particularly thin tree. He doesn’t really find himself gravitating towards that type of man too often.

Mr. Cheesy-Pick-Up-Line is more his type. Tall, wide shoulders, chiselled, and downright handsome. Erwin, thirty-five. A little bit closer to his age, too.

Too bad his first message is so lame.

Erwin: Come here often?

Levi: What is this, the nineties? Does that even ever work?

Levi: I just downloaded this.

Erwin: Not yet, but I’ve got my fingers crossed! What brings you here?

Levi: Looking for a hook-up, I guess.

Erwin: Any luck?

Levi: Not yet. Unless one mediocre dick pic counts.

Erwin: Unfortunate. I find that it’s quite rare to find a decent one. I could definitely send a much better one

Erwin: That was a joke. I think. Unless…?

This guy is so lame.

Levi: Ha. Ha. Ha. Hilarious.

He chews on his lip, contemplating. He flicks off the lid of the wine bottle and takes a swig. Fuck it. He might as well throw himself right in the deep end and get it over with.

Levi: Alright then. I’ll warn you though, I’m a tough crowd to impress.

And, well.

It’s something, alright. He was right, at least – it is much better. Warm early-morning lighting, with soft shadows that define the sharp planes of his hips. He’s kneeling on a bed, hard and curved in his hand, and okay. Levi’s stomach twists deliciously.

Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.

Levi: When can you come over?

When turns out to be right this minute.

Levi chews on his fingernails for the entire forty minutes it takes for Erwin to get to his house.

It’s not until he hears a car door slamming closed out on his driveway that it finally sets in. He’s known this guy for approximately… What, an hour now? And he’s coming over. To his house. At damn near ten o’clock at night.

Oh God, what if he’s a total catfish. Or a serial killer?

By the time there’s a knock at the door, Levi still hasn’t decided whether or not he can actually go through with it. He spends way too long pacing by the door and swearing to himself under his breath. He picks up his cat, and puts her down, and then picks her up again, before finally opening the door.

Erwin is standing in front of him, way taller and way more handsome than his photo looked. “Levi?”

The cat squirms in his arms. “Um.” Levi swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, that’s me.” He steps aside and gestures inside, inviting him in.

Erwin steps inside, moving slowly and smiling kindly at Levi on his way past. “Cute cat,” he comments while Levi is bumping the door closed with his hip. He steps closer – way too close – and immediately starts rubbing behind her ears.

“Her name is Croissant,” Levi mumbles. She’s a little sand-coloured thing, with big green eyes and a fluffy tail. The name suits her. “She’s my housemate’s cat.”

Erwin laughs. “Nice to meet you, Croissant.” He’s leaning down and cooing over her, and she’s purring. That little shit, who almost never purrs when Levi is petting her, is actually purring.

Before Levi can get too annoyed that Erwin is giving the cat more attention, Erwin straightens up and looks at Levi with a bright grin. “How shall we do this, then?” he asks. “Would you feel more comfortable if we sit down and talk first, or just get into it?”

Levi contemplates for a moment, Croissant squirming in his arms until she breaks free from his hold and dashes off into the kitchen. It’s not like they’re on a date or anything, so getting to know each other first seems a little pointless to him. “What do you usually do?”

“I don’t do this too often, but when I do, I find it easier to start slow.” He’s already pretty close, but he steps forwards, moving more and more into Levi’s space. They’re basically breathing in each other’s mouths. Levi wets his dry as fuck lips and shuffles nervously. “Is this okay?”

Levi nods, and Erwin’s hand starts travelling lightly up his arm. His body jerks automatically in response, but he quickly relaxes. His hand eventually stops on Levi’s elbow, and he leans even closer. “Tell me when to stop,” he mumbles.

Erwin is taking his sweet time, studying Levi’s face. He squirms under his steely blue gaze. The anticipation is fucking killing him. It’s almost unbearable.

So Levi kisses Erwin first. He raises up onto the tips of his toes and smashes their lips together, throwing his arms up around Erwin’s neck, slow be damned.

It’s good, as far as first kisses go. Erwin is soft and tender, but there’s this underlying dominance to him. He allows Erwin to kiss his way into his mouth, his hands sliding up Levi’s arms and finding their way onto his cheeks.

They move slowly to the living room, hands and mouths roaming carelessly, and clothes slowly finding themselves strewn out on the floor. They fall onto the couch together, Erwin pulling Levi’s shirt off over his head and dropping it onto the floor next to them. Levi shudders at the sight of clothes discarded on the floor haphazardly, but then Erwin is kissing him again, and pushing him down into the couch cushions, and climbing on top of him, and suddenly he just doesn’t mind.

“Do you mind if I mark you?” Erwin asks, looking down at Levi with narrow eyes.

Levi’s breath catches in his throat, and he shakes his head quickly. Erwin moves downwards, and Levi’s head immediately falls back to expose his neck, his eyes rolling back when Erwin’s lips attach to his skin.

Part of Levi wants to roll Erwin over and make him beg – he usually takes on a more dominant role during sex. But they’ve only been making out for about ten minutes, and Levi just wants to lay there and let Erwin do whatever he wants to him, as many times as he wants. Levi groans quietly as Erwin digs his teeth into his skin and sucks hard.

They just seem to click.

Afterwards, when they’re both sweaty and exhausted and very much satisfied, Levi makes Erwin a cup of tea, and they sit in the kitchen and drink in silence.

After Levi’s usual hook-ups, he usually either kicks the guy out, or passes out immediately afterwards and pretends to still be asleep in the morning as he sneaks out, never to be seen again. He doesn’t have time for casual conversation with random guys from clubs.

This time feels different – he actually kind of likes Erwin. He’s definitely the best sex he’s ever had, that’s for sure. He really has no idea what to say, though.

Croissant is sitting in the doorway, eyeing them both suspiciously. Levi can feel her judging them.

“So,” Erwin starts, setting his cup down. “What happens now?”

“I don’t know,” Levi admits. He takes a sip of his tea. “You do this more than I do, you tell me.”

“I mean… unless you’d like me to go, perhaps we could put on a movie?” Erwin’s eyebrows wriggle suggestively. It’s stupid, and lame, and annoyingly cute. “And not watch it?”

And that’s how they find themselves back on Levi’s couch, making out lazily with some shitty rom-com that Erwin chose playing on the TV.

Erwin is exactly the right size for Levi to be far too comfortable lying on top of him. He’s big enough to wrap himself almost completely around Levi’s body. He feels oddly secure.

He’s also the perfect size, it seems, for Croissant to insert herself directly in-between them, pushing her little head between the two of them and lying down directly on Erwin’s chest. She starts purring immediately, flexing her claws in Erwin’s shirt, and flicking Levi with her tail.

“Oh wow,” Levi says, sitting up and crossing his arms. “Are you some kind of cat hypnotist or something?”

Erwin laughs, scratching Croissant behind the ears. “I guess she just likes me.”

Levi scoffs. “The little bitch doesn’t like anyone except my dumbshit housemate,” he replies. “She doesn’t even like me that much.”

“That’s surprising, you’re very pleasant,” Erwin replies, smiling cheekily. The joke is obvious behind his eyes and toothy smile.

“If my stupid cat wasn’t between us right now, I’d kick your ass.”

Erwin laughs, a bright and hearty sound that rumbles deep in his chest and startles Croissant. She merely looks at him in alarm for a moment, and then goes back to purring. He continues to fuss over her, making little kissy faces and squishing her face delicately in his hands. “You are so cute,” he coos, wrapping his arms around her gently and pulling her closer to his chest.

All Levi can really do is just watch as his Grindr hook-up, still in just his underwear and a T-shirt, gives his cat more attention than him. He can’t help but smile a little bit to himself, though, as he watches Erwin interacting with Croissant. It’s actually pretty endearing, in a way.

“I think someone’s in love,” Levi comments. He watches for a little bit longer, before his erection starts to go down and he gets a little too impatient. “Okay, time’s up. Shove her off and pay attention to me again.”

Erwin rubs his nose lovingly against Croissant’s forehead and picks her up, putting her down on the carpet. She looks disappointed, but opts for staring up at them instead of jumping up again. He looks back up at Levi and wets his lips, pulling him down with a large hand on the back of his neck.

It’s not until after half a movie, two more rounds, and a few episodes of Friends later, that Erwin yawns loudly, stretching his arms over his head.

“It’s late,” Levi observes. The clock above the TV reads somewhere after 2 AM. He really wasn’t intending for Erwin to stay for so long, but part of him really didn’t want him to leave. If anyone asks him, he’ll probably say that hormones were compelling him to let Erwin stay – it has been a while since he’s had any kind of sex, after all. But the truth is that he actually just really likes spending time with him.

“Yeah,” Erwin replies slowly.

“You’re probably too tired to drive home.”

“I guess I am, yeah.” Erwin’s eyebrow rises, waiting.

Levi looks down at his hands, scraping at an invisible speck on his thumbnail. “So maybe you should stay for the night. Y’know. So you don’t fall asleep at the wheel and die.”

Erwin huffs out a laugh. “That sounds good to me.”

Levi stands up, rubbing at his tired eyes with his sleeve. He reaches out his hand sheepishly, and leads Erwin into his bedroom – Croissant following close by.

“Just don’t leave in the middle of the night and steal my shit,” Levi grumbles. “I’ll know.”

When Levi wakes up at 9 AM in the morning (which is uncharacteristically late for him), he’s almost shocked that Erwin is still in the bed with him. For some reason, he kind of expected him to get up and disappear during the night. He doesn’t seem like the type, but there’s always the possibility. And of course, Croissant is curled up on the pillow, right next to his head, and snoring quietly.

He sits up in bed and watches them for a little bit. While Croissant is a bit of a cuddle bug sometimes, she’s never really connected with anyone as quickly as she seems to be connecting with Erwin. Even when Isabel brought her home as a rescue kitten – it took her a couple of months to get to this point. What’s so special about Erwin, then?

Levi is almost tempted to take a photo of the two for Isabel, but he really doesn’t want to be that guy who takes weird creepy photos of his hook-ups. He also doesn’t even want to think about all the questions and comments she’ll have for him. Knowing her, she’d be on the first train back, just to get a glimpse at Erwin. No, it’s probably better he keeps this to himself. She’ll inevitably find out eventually, though.

Erwin shifts and groans in his sleep, and Levi startles, whipping his head the other way. He quietly crawls out of bed and retreats into his en suite, closing the door carefully behind him. He busies himself with brushing his teeth, keeping an ear out in case Erwin stirs more.

He has no idea what he’s going to do when Erwin wakes up. He supposes he should make him breakfast and tea, and then what? Would it be rude to ask him to leave after that? He could always use work as an excuse if he needs to.

Levi sits on the side of the bathtub for a little bit, eyeing the spiderweb in the corner of his ceiling with disgust. It’s been there for a few weeks, but he doesn’t have the heart to get rid of it while there’s a spider still living there. After all, she keeps the flies out.

He sighs loudly and gets up, leaving the bathroom quietly. Erwin is sitting up in bed with Croissant, stroking her back quietly. Unfazed by Levi’s re-entrance, she rolls over onto her back, purring loudly as Erwin rubs her belly.

“Wow, you have her so whipped,” Levi observes.

Erwin smiles up at Levi. “I guess I just have the magic touch or something.”

Levi lingers in the doorway, shuffling his feet. He watches as Erwin leans over and presses his face into Croissant’s chest, scratching her cheeks. It’s stupidly cute, and Levi hates it.

“Um, so,” Levi starts. “Sleep well?” He cringes. Small talk really isn’t his thing, obviously.

Erwin sits up, smiling handsomely up at Levi. “I did, thank you.”

Levi sits down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to Croissant and softly petting her head. She looks up at him, looking downright offended that he’d even dare to look at her right now. In one swift motion, she flips over and bolts out of the room, sprinting down the hallway at full speed.

They both sit in silence, avoiding eye contact like the plague. Or, at least Levi avoids it. When he finally looks up at Erwin, he’s looking right back at him. His cheeks turn hot.

It’s not long until Erwin is pushing him down into the mattress and slowly kissing his way down Levi’s chest. His mouth is hot and wet when he takes him all the way down.

Levi makes both of them breakfast and they eat quietly in the kitchen, exchanging casual small talk every now and then. Erwin is a sous chef. He has no siblings, both of his parents are dead, and he lives alone. He likes dogs more than cats, but cats are cool, too.

They both have such regular, boring lives. No wonder Erwin is so freaky in bed.

Erwin puts his empty teacup down carefully and stretches, groaning loudly as he does. “I have to go,” he starts. Levi deflates a little, strangely disappointed. Erwin continues, “I’d really like to see you again, though.”

“I’d like that too.”

They say an awkward goodbye to each other at the door. Levi gives Erwin his phone number with a shy, “Call me whenever,” and watches as Erwin gets in his car and drives away.

Croissant sits by the door for most of the day.

Levi: I think you broke my cat.

Erwin: Oh?

The image Levi attaches is of Croissant, sleeping right next to the front door.

Levi: She’s been here since you left yesterday.

Erwin: I guess she misses me!

He also replies with a dorky laughing emote, and seriously Levi is so close to just blocking him. What is he, eighty-five?

Levi: My housemate came home, and the cat barely even looked at her. Usually, you can’t keep them away from each other.

Erwin: Oops! :)

Levi: She might get too lovesick, so you might have to come over again soon, maybe.

Levi physically cringes after hitting send on that one. This sort of weird flirting thing is new to him, but he quite likes Erwin. He never knew how enjoyable slightly awkward non-conversations and really good sex could actually be. It’s enjoyable enough to actually let himself talk like this, he supposes.

Erwin: Just tell me when

When Erwin comes over for the second time that Tuesday afternoon, he immediately scoops Croissant up into his arms and rocks her in his arms, pressing little kisses onto her forehead. She squirms in his arms until he loosens his grip and climbs up onto his shoulders.

Isabel slides up next to Levi, eyeing them both curiously. “Wow, I thought he was joking,” she comments, eyes wide. “But there she is, happy as a peach.”

They go through the weird introductory stage as fast as they can. Luckily, Isabel and Erwin are both rays of fucking sunshine, so they get along really easily, readily going into a full conversation about Croissant while Levi stands there awkwardly. They don’t talk for too long – Croissant is far too insistent on Erwin’s full attention for that – and soon move to the kitchen. The plan is for Erwin to cook dinner, Isabel to “have a nosy at her big bro’s new man” (her words), and Levi to suffer eternally until she finally leaves them alone.

Isabel sits herself down on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, resting her chin in her hands and looking between Levi and Erwin. She’s smiling uncontrollably at them, and it’s seriously creeping Levi out. She makes a happy little noise when Erwin sets Croissant down in her lap. Surprisingly, she settles right down, staring back at Erwin with big eyes.

Isabel and Erwin get back into their easy conversation, with Levi chiming in every now and then, while Erwin gets to work. He’s making vegan spaghetti and meatballs, as per Isabel’s request. Levi and Isabel half-play Scrabble while they wait, and Croissant eventually jumps down from her lap in favour of following Erwin around the kitchen – nearly tripping him up every five minutes.

It’s getting dark outside by the time Erwin finishes. Levi pours them all a glass of wine each, and they eat at the dining table.

Surprisingly to himself, Levi finds himself really enjoying himself. Erwin and Isabel seem to get along really well, which is good. He probably wouldn’t be able to see him anymore if she didn’t like him. It’s not exactly hard to get Isabel to like you, so if she doesn’t like someone, there must really be something wrong with them – especially if they’re willing to make dinner. And enough for leftovers, at that.

“God, you should cook for us every day,” Isabel groans, shoving her clear plate forwards. “I will give you Levi’s entire paycheque to be the head chef at Casa de Levi and Isabel.”

Erwin laughs, scratching his neck and blushing bashfully. “Oh, well…” he trails off, glancing at Levi, who just shrugs. “In that case, I’d quit my job in a heartbeat. I’ll even cook dinners for little Croissant here.” He looks down at her, where she insisted on curling up on his lap while they ate. She’s usually not allowed to be at the dinner table while they eat, but… well, Levi couldn’t exactly say no to all three of them, could he?

Isabel claps her hands together and looks at Levi with mock-pleading eyes, jutting out her bottom lip. “Oh please, Levi, can we keep him?”

Levi raises an eyebrow and pretends to think about it for a moment. He might as well play along. “I guess so, but only if you promise to clean up after him.”

Next to him, Erwin chuckles quietly. He reaches over subtly and places a hand on Levi’s knee under the table. Levi nearly jumps out of his skin, but manages to disguise it as shifting in his seat. His hand shifts, moving upwards slowly and eventually settling again high up on his thigh. When he glances at Erwin, all he gets is a small, polite smile.

Isabel grins hugely at Erwin, leaning forwards. “Looks like you’re staying here forever, then.”

“You’ll have to help me pack a bag,” he counters, somehow smiling back with the same intensity as Isabel. All while slowly sliding his hand between Levi’s thighs. When he opens his legs a little bit more, almost instinctively, Erwin’s hand moves further forwards. He rubs Levi through his jeans slowly, and Levi feels himself hardening, and okay, okay, okay.

Levi jumps up, completely startling Croissant and causing her to wriggle off of Erwin’s lap and shoot off out of the kitchen. “I’ll clean up,” he blurts out. He busies himself with taking all of the plates and empty wine glasses to the sink. Erwin looks up at Levi as he takes his plate, one eyebrow raised in concern. He smiles minutely, just to assure him that everything’s okay.

He cleans the dishes as quickly as he can manage whilst still being as meticulous as he usually is, and Erwin and Isabel continue their casual conversation quietly amongst themselves. He dries off his hands and turns around, tossing the handtowel at Isabel’s head. “Alright, fuck off now, it’s my turn.”

Isabel stands up abruptly and throws the towel back at him, missing completely. She’s smiling. “Alright, Mr. Grumpy Bones, I’m going!” She turns to Erwin on her way out and gives a little wave. “It was nice to meet you, I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, you too!”

She turns back just before she leaves the room and stares Levi down, her eyes saying, “Don’t you dare fuck in the kitchen,” in every way.

Levi huffs and slowly walks towards Erwin, waiting until he hears Isabel close her bedroom door behind her until he finally throws one leg over Erwin’s legs and climbs into his lap. “That was pretty mean,” he tells him, quiet and under his breath. He grazes his lips lightly against Erwin’s cheek, feeling him shudder.

“What was?” Erwin asks, smirking slyly.

“You know.” He nudges Erwin’s lips gently; not kissing him yet, but teasing. He puts a hand on Erwin’s cheek, using his thumb to part his lips and open up his mouth, and Erwin chases Levi’s tongue with his own.

They finally kiss, Erwin sighing contently and wrapping his arms perfectly around Levi’s waist. “Which one’s your bedroom again?” Erwin’s words come out as a whisper against Levi’s lips. They kiss again, and Erwin pulls Levi even closer, their chests pressing together. He slides his arms down and heaves both him and Levi up in one movement.

Levi’s legs wrap around Erwin’s waist, clinging to him like his life depends on it. “First door on the left down the corridor, make it quick.”

They have their first kind-of-but-really-not date on the following Friday.

It starts with Isabel harassing Levi from the second he gets home from work about how they “absolutely must go out tonight!” As much as he hates to admit it, Levi has never really been able to say no to her – and she knows it, too. That’s why there are photos of them all over the house, and a cat called Croissant.

Levi plays along and protests weakly for all of two minutes before giving in; she really does have him wrapped around her little finger. He feigns annoyance as he trudges to the bathroom to shower, just for the drama of it all. Truth is, they haven’t really had a night out together for a while. She’s been working pretty hard recently, and she deserves to have a nice time.

Levi showers as quickly and as thoroughly as he can manage without Isabel knocking the door down. He barely gets his underwear on before she’s barging into his bedroom and insisting that he dress up, immediately digging through his wardrobe to find him a shirt. She throws a dark blue button-down with white flowers to him – a shirt that she had gifted to him a few months ago after receiving her first paycheque. Levi isn’t really a flowers person at all, but it’s his favourite shirt. He’s allowed to be a sentimental bitch every once and a while.

Isabel pretty much forces him into a pair of inappropriately tight dress pants and pats him sweetly on the cheek. “So handsome!”

He shrugs her off of him, his cheeks growing warm. “Yeah yeah, get ready, and let’s fuckin’ go.”

She orders them both an Uber into the city – with one stop on the way to pick Farlan up – and walks them so quickly to the bar that she’s practically running. They end up in a fancy-looking underground cocktail lounge on the main street. It’s not quite dark out yet, and the clouds are grey and dense with rain. It had rained for most of the day already, but it didn’t seem like it would stop any time soon. Inside, there’s dim, warm lighting from the little chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, swing music playing on the speakers, and a lit fireplace. The whole nine yards.

They’re escorted to a small booth in the corner and given a couple of food and drink menus. Farlan and Levi go into a conversation about their respective days at work while Isabel immediately snatches up the menus and pours over them.

It’s been far too long since Levi and Farlan last caught up properly, but they fly back into comfortable conversation with ease. The three of them have a lot to talk about, especially after a couple of drinks each.

Levi gets up after a while to use the bathroom, slash buy the next round, slash flirt awkwardly with the stupidly cute bartender while he makes their drinks. When he walks back to their table, there are noticeably a couple more strawberries in the glasses than usual. He supposes that’s all he’ll get from his weird flirty banter, but he’s okay with that. He admires the professionality more than he cares for getting his number.

He barely sits back down and starts up the conversation again before Isabel gasps loudly, squirming in her seat. “Erwin’s here!” she squeaks, far too loudly, and pointing at the other side of the restaurant.

And yep. There he is. Of course, she invited him.

Levi hides behind his drink and watches as Erwin rushes over, all handsome and tall and button-up shirt tucked in with the sleeves rolled up and a stupid navy tie, and who even gave him the right to look that good?

“God, sorry I’m late,” Erwin says hurriedly. “We were late with closing, and then I got stuck in some traffic, and then I had to go home and change, and –”

Isabel cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “Don’t worry about it!” She stands up from her seat next to Levi and pats the now-vacant chair. “Sit! I’ll get you a drink – the espresso martinis here are so good.”

She runs off to the bar before Erwin can get another word in, let alone protest to her spending money on him.

There’s a long beat of weird, awkward silence before Farlan sticks his hand out, switching from awkward to his usual friendly self in a split second. “You’re Erwin, then,” he remarks.

Erwin shakes Farlan’s hand. “And you must be Farlan,” he counters. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Isabel.”

“Likewise,” Farlan responds, not without taking a not-so-subtle glance at Levi and raising his eyebrows suggestively. It takes every bit of strength in Levi’s being not to throw his drink straight at him. Instead, he just chews on his flimsy paper straw and grunts in acknowledgement.

“I think you just might be Isabel’s new favourite person,” Farlan continues. “She’s already completely smitten.”

Right on cue, Isabel gently places two espresso martinis down onto the table, before sitting down heavily herself next to Farlan. “If you and Levi split up, I’m totally swooping in and making you my housewife,” she jokes. “I do love some good home cooking.”

Erwin laughs nervously and sips his drink. “Well, I mean… There isn’t really anything to split up,” he adds in, glancing warily at Levi. “So… I suppose I could be your housewife whenever, then.”

All Levi can do is stare down into his drink and fidget with his hands. It is true that they aren’t actually together, but there’s something about the way Erwin said it, just like that - and he sounded so sure about it. For some reason, it hurt.

Levi tries so hard not to wear his emotions on his sleeve. Everyone who’s known him for more than a minute knows that he’d rather shove his head into a spider web than show his emotions, but that hit him differently for some reason. Perhaps it’s just the fact that he was always under the impression that there was something to split up – they’ve been seeing each other regularly for a while – longer than anyone has ever wanted to be around Levi for, other than Isabel and Farlan. Does Erwin actually think that way, or is he saying it because he thinks that’s what Levi thinks?

The thought of that, and coupled with the fact that Isabel didn’t even mention that he was coming, sends his brain into overload. He listens to Isabel and Farlan continue to talk at Erwin, until the staticky feeling in his brain starts to become too much and he downs the rest of his drink in one go. “Excuse me,” he says, getting up on wobbly legs and high tailing it to the bathroom as fast as he can.

He washes his hands once. And again. And then once more, for his own peace of mind.

Levi sighs and stares at himself in the mirror – at his tired, sunken-in eyes; the dryness of his lips and the paleness of his skin; his messy, dark hair. Every part of his brain is screaming at him. That he’s not good enough for Erwin; that he’s just going to leave him at the first chance he gets. It shouldn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, just let it play out. His throat is dry, but he swallows down his anxiety and turns the tap on again, frantically dispensing soap onto his hand.

Two men enter the bathroom, chatting obnoxiously loudly with each other, and Levi uses it as an opportunity to escape back to their table. Nobody says anything, thank God¸ but Isabel slowly pushes a pink cocktail in a jar towards him. She gives him her best puppy-dog eyes, and he forgives her instantly. Of course he does.

His heartbeat thumps loudly in his ears as he sits down next to Erwin. He’s good at acting natural, so he warily hooks his foot around Erwin’s calf and puts a hand down on his thigh. He gets a warm smile in return, and Erwin leans in closer.

“So… Isabel didn’t mention that I was coming, then,” Erwin starts, quietly.

“No, she didn’t.”

“She said that she’s sorry for making you uncomfortable,” he offers.

Levi sighs. “Yeah, I know she is. She just got a bit carried away.”

Erwin raises an eyebrow at him. “There’s not much she can’t get away with with you, huh?” He sounds surprised, as if he hasn’t been in the same room as both of them at once. It’s laughably obvious how lenient Levi is with Isabel. She could come home with a whole litter of kittens, and he’d let her keep all of them if it would make her happy.

Of course, he wouldn’t actually tell her that, because she’d probably come home with a box full of cats the next day. But the sentiment is still there.

Levi shrugs passively. “She’s like a little sister to me,” he explains. “It’d be very un-big-brotherly of me to not let her get away with everything.”

That seems to make Erwin smile. “That’s really sweet.”

They sip their drinks together, in a silence that’s comfortable but still so painfully awkward.

Across the table, Isabel and Farlan are arguing over a basket of sweet potato fries – Farlan keeps stealing all of the crispy ones before Isabel can even look at them, how dare he. They’re both laughing about it, but Levi really wouldn’t be surprised if Isabel jumped over the table and started clawing at him.

Levi stays mostly quiet for the next hour or so, only chiming in on conversation every now and then. He just sits and sips on cocktail after cocktail, sinking into a fuzzy haze. By the time everyone starts to get ready to leave, his cheeks are numb, and it takes him a good few seconds to stand up on his shaky legs.

“We should head home before I spend all of my money,” Isabel sighs, pulling her coat over her shoulders.

Erwin slowly stands up and looks around at them, unsure what to do with himself. Isabel hooks her arm around Erwin’s and pulls herself close to his side.

“Come back to ours,” she says, looking up at him. “I have some wine left, and you can stay the night.” She turns to Levi. God, she knows he can’t resist her stupid puppy-dog eyes. “Right?”

Levi shrugs, acting as nonchalant as he can. “Sounds good.”

Erwin smiles, “Sounds good to me, too.”

It’s not long until Isabel is wine-drunk and singing and swaying around the kitchen with Croissant huddled securely to her chest, whilst Levi, Erwin, and Farlan play Uno at the table. It’s definitely not Levi’s game of choice – not by a long shot. He’s unnecessarily competitive and impatient, and everyone knows that when you mix that with Uno, friendships get destroyed and someone ends up crying. He sits there, grumpy as ever and holding about fifteen cards, and glares at Farlan from across the table. He somehow managed to get all of the pick up four and reversal cards, completely fucking Levi over, because he’s a fucking coward who doesn’t even dare target the new guy.

“Fucking hell Is, it’s your turn,” Levi groans, picking up her hand and throwing it at her weakly. The cards flutter down around her and land softly at her feet.

“Noooo, no cards. Time to dance with the baby.” The baby, who is actually a four-year-old adult cat, seems content to just sit in her arms and be swayed.

Erwin looks on with amusement. It’s the first time since they got home that Croissant hasn’t stuck to Erwin like glue. (Although, she did get a bit upset about being stolen from her comfortable perch on his lap.)

“My turn, then!” Farlan says. He’s far too excited, Levi notices. And… yep, another pick up two card. Yet again, Levi doesn’t have anything to refute it with. He grumbles in annoyance as he picks up another two. He’s so getting his ass beaten later.

Next to him, Erwin takes his turn, happily exclaiming, “Uno!” as he sets down a yellow reversal card.

Levi throws his card onto the pile unceremoniously, and then Farlan takes his turn, and ultimately, Erwin is declared the winner.

“Thank fuck that’s over,” Levi hisses, dropping the rest of his cards onto the table. “I forgot that you’re an asshole.”

Farlan laughs happily. “Not my fault you’re bad at Uno.”

“I will punch you, and you know I will,” Levi challenges, standing up. It’s all just casual banter, and they both know that he probably wouldn’t punch Farlan. (Probably.)

“Let’s go, then!” Farlan jumps to his feet, puffing out his chest comically. He moves into an open space and beckons at Levi, planting his feet down firmly on the ground and bracing himself.

Erwin looks alarmed, but he doesn’t say anything. He just watches quietly as Levi lets out a (reasonably volumed) war cry and immediately pounces on Farlan like a cat. Their actual cat squirms out of Isabel’s arms and bolts off out of the kitchen. They wrestle with each other, and it’s like they’re kids again. Except much less messy, and more… two men who are getting way too old for wrestling.

Levi manages to pin Farlan down, jamming his hands under his shirt and wriggling them against his sides. He tickles Farlan until he’s a mess of laughter and surprisingly high-pitched noises, thrashing around and begging him to stop.

“It’s like watching two puppies fight,” Erwin remarks amusedly. He steps back cautiously when Levi’s head whips around to look at him.

“You wanna go too, big boy?”

Erwin raises an eyebrow at him. “You really think you could take me down?” he challenges. He thinks for a second before adding a wary sounding, “Short stuff?”

Isabel and Farlan gasp dramatically. “You didn’t,” Isabel laughed.

Levi gets up rather ungracefully and starts towards Erwin, flipping his hair out of his face and cracking his knuckles. Erwin doesn’t seem to be too worried by his “boy on the streets” intimidation tactic. He seems confident that Levi won’t actually hurt him or anything, but they both know that Levi is stronger than he looks.

Levi is also a lot quicker than he looks, too, and he manages to dodge around Erwin and jump up onto his back. He uses all of his weight to clumsily pull Erwin down onto the ground, rolling him over onto his back and throwing a leg over his body to straddle him. Isabel cheers for him enthusiastically. Even though Erwin’s tipsy state makes it a lot easier to take him down, he still huffs in triumph at his win.

“I wasn’t expecting you to actually be able to do it,” Erwin observes. He subtly places a hand on Levi’s thigh, stroking it gently. “I stand corrected.”

Levi grumbles under his breath nervously, his face warm and flushed. He moves to stand up and Erwin strikes, wrapping his arms around Levi and flipping him over onto the ground. The impact knocks the wind out of Levi’s lungs a little bit, and he gasps for breath.

“You dirty bitch,” Levi hisses, immediately struggling to regain control. Erwin just laughs and sits down heavily on his thighs, restricting his movement.

Erwin shrugs, grabbing Levi’s hands and pinning them down by his head. “You don’t win by playing nice and following rules.”

Levi sticks up his nose at Erwin, giving him his best annoyed face.

All he gets in return is a big grin as Erwin leans down, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose. “For such an angry little man, you sure are cute,” he points out.

From the kitchen, Farlan fakes gagging sounds. “I’m going to throw up, stop it.” Isabel giggles next to him.

Just to be rude, Erwin leans down and kisses Levi properly, laughing against his mouth. And what kind of person would Levi be if he didn’t kiss him back?

It happens slowly, but eventually, Erwin ends up spending most of his time at Levi and Isabel’s place. It started as one or two times a week, but then Levi suggests that it could be nice if Erwin spent a weekend there. After that, his toothbrush starts making an appearance in the bathroom, and Levi finds at least three pairs of his underwear in his wardrobe. They go to work at the same time, Levi comes home, and then he and Croissant just sit and wait for Erwin to come back a couple of hours. Sometimes it feels like years, but he doesn’t think too far into that.

Levi isn’t entirely sure what it is that keeps Erwin coming back. It could be that he gets along with Isabel really well. Both her and Croissant seem to follow him around wherever he goes. He comes home one day to all three of them asleep on the couch, some cheesy TV show playing in the background. He tries not to feel too jealous about their bond, because he and Erwin do still spend plenty of time alone together. But Levi just seems to struggle to connect with people in the same way that Isabel has always been able to, and he’s always been uncomfortably insecure about that.

Awkward lapses in conversation slowly turn into comfortable silences, though, and slowly but surely, it gets easier.

It’s hard for Levi to believe that someone like Erwin could genuinely like him, sometimes. He wouldn’t exactly brand himself as someone who’s easy to tolerate, never mind actually like. But apparently Erwin, who is relentlessly pleasant to be around and far easier to get along with than Levi is himself, really, actually, genuinely likes him.

Levi brushes his teeth and stares at Erwin’s razor, sitting on the side of the sink. It’s just sitting there, like it pays rent or something. And it should annoy him, but it doesn’t. Erwin is very slowly invading his home, his social life, his thoughts. Surprisingly, he’s okay with it. What started out as a hook-up and then really good casual sex is now… a friendship, he guesses. The sex is still good too, which is a bonus.

He sighs and puts his toothbrush back in its holder. What is he turning into?

They don’t see each other for about two weeks, making sure to text every now and then and communicate through Isabel. Even Levi will admit that it gets a little sad around the house without Erwin around. Croissant goes all around the house trying to find him, and Levi feels bad enough for her that he lets her sleep in his bed for a couple of nights.

Levi comes home on Thursday night from what is turning out to be his longest and most exhausting week in a long time. He fully intends on just lying on the kitchen floor with his cat for the next few hours and disintegrating into a pile of sand. He groans, hanging his work bag up on the hook by the front door, and heads towards the kitchen. The smell of sautéing onions gets stronger the closer he gets, accompanied by some faint pop song on the radio. “God, Isabel, I swear,” he starts, “if another one of the assholes I work with tests me, I’m going to start punching.”

He rounds the corner into the kitchen, only to be met by broad shoulders and blond hair. He blinks at Erwin, standing at the stove with Levi’s stupid old apron on. It’s pink, with big black letters on that front that invite you to kiss the cook. It’s also about two sizes too small on Erwin, and Levi has to work hard to suppress his laughter. “My, Isabel, you sure do look different today, did you cut your hair?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Erwin replies, turning back to the stove. “She let me in and went out for the night.”

“Right,” Levi says, suspicious. He approaches the kitchen island cautiously. Croissant is sitting on one of the stools, flicking her fluffy tail and watching Erwin intently. He sits on the stool next to her and reaches over to pet her head.

“I mean,” Erwin continues, pushing the contents of the pan around slowly, “she told me you were having a bad week and invited me over. Y’know, to help make you feel better.”

While he has never met them, Levi knows that Erwin has friends of his own. Which, as Levi understands it, loosely translates to having something better to do with his time. He doesn’t say that, though, because the last time he brought it up, Erwin just looked really sad and said, “What could be better than this?” Levi felt guilty for a whole week after that.

“I have this whole thing planned for tonight, so you can just go sit down and relax,” Erwin explains, reaching over to turn the kettle on. “I’ll bring a cup of tea out for you.”

Levi starts to protest, but Erwin gives him a look of pure don’t even try that’s somehow scary enough to scare Levi, of all people, into just shutting up and following instructions.

He heads into the living room, taking off his blazer on the way and folding it up neatly, placing it carefully on one of the armchairs. He throws himself down onto the couch, clicking the on button on the TV remote. He doesn’t really indulge himself on TV at all, but flips the channel until he lands on the opening song of this soap opera that he and Isabel started watching ages ago. She slowly lost interest and stopped watching, but Levi still catches up on it every now and then.

Erwin comes in and sets a mug down on the coffee table, taking care to put a coaster down first. Levi watches as he meticulously shifts the coaster around until it’s in the exact spot (more or less) that Levi puts it every time he uses it. He softly kisses Levi on the forehead on his way out, having said nothing about his evening TV viewing choices – Levi sighs in relief at that.

Levi takes a big gulp of his tea and sits back. He swims in and out of consciousness for a little bit, only half paying attention to his show. It’s been such a long and shitty week that he can’t even watch his favourite soap opera for longer than ten minutes without just wanting to fall asleep immediately.

The next thing he knows, Erwin is standing over Levi and gently shaking his shoulder. “Dinner’s ready,” he says softly when Levi opens his eyes.

Levi groans and crawls off of the couch, still half asleep. His soap’s credits sequence is playing on the TV, so at least he hasn’t been asleep for too long. He follows Erwin to the dining room, yawning obnoxiously loudly as he trails slowly behind him. “Thanks for making dinner,” he mumbles. “I’m so exhausted, I probably would’ve forgotten to eat again.”

Erwin laughs quietly. “Yeah, Isabel mentioned that you haven’t been eating properly.”

“Figures,” Levi sighs, sitting down at the table. There’s a big bowl of spaghetti bolognese (with real meat) in front of him, and a big loaf of garlic bread in the middle of the table. “Oh God,” he moans, reaching straight for the end piece of the loaf. “I am so in love.”

He doesn’t even try to back-peddle on that – he just immediately blocks it out of his memories and shoves the entire slice of garlic bread into his mouth at once. Thankfully, Erwin just sits down and doesn’t mention it at all, looking noticeably redder in the face.

Levi scarfs down his dinner in record time, downing an entire glass of water afterwards. “You’re too good at this,” he sighs. “Maybe you should be our live-in chef.”

“I’m sure Isabel will be very happy to hear that,” Erwin replies. “And Croissant, of course. She was absolutely screaming at me when I got here.”

“Stupid fucking cat.” Levi says it with all of the love he can muster. After all, they’re not that dissimilar when it comes to Erwin these days – always wanting to spend time with each other. He almost rolls his eyes at himself – he’s turned into such a fucking sap, it almost makes him sick.

They sit there for a little longer while Erwin finishes his own dinner, keeping up quiet casual conversation. Levi slowly eats away at the rest of the garlic bread, despite having eaten way too much and way too quickly. The bread is just so good, though, that he can’t resist.

Erwin takes their plates to the kitchen and gets to tidying up. Levi rests his chin in his hands and watches him work. He cleans up thoroughly and efficiently, and fuck, Levi should not be as turned on by that as he is – and yet…

Before he fully realises he’s doing it, Levi gets up from his seat and approaches Erwin, turning him around and kissing him straight on the lips. Between the tea, dinner, cleaning up afterwards, and just being here in general – Levi just can’t resist. He has always been independent, never relying on anyone, but letting Erwin look after him for just one night is just so refreshing.

Levi pulls back slowly and watches as Erwin stands there with his eyes still closed and his lips still parted and looking so beautiful; and before he can stop it, a little voice in his mind says, “Fuck, I’m in love with you.”

“Oh,” he says, out loud. It’s the first time he’s ever allowed himself to think about it. It slipped out, really – he’s been in denial about it for months now, shoving any thought even beginning with L deep into a little locked box in his mind.

Erwin opens his eyes and raises an eyebrow. He replies with a quiet, “Oh?” in return.

Levi laughs nervously, pulling away and backing the fuck up and out of Erwin’s general vicinity as fast as he can. He’s suddenly sweating buckets, and he can feel it sliding down his back – taunting him. “Oh!” he repeats. “Would you just look at the time.” He pulls his sleeve up to reveal his watch-less wrist. “I should go take a shower.”

Erwin looks conflicted for a second, cocking his head to the side like a confused dog, but he suddenly perks up and reaches out to grab Levi’s arm before he can run off to the bathroom. Any reaction to Levi’s sudden weirdness is thrown out the window as a shy smile spreads across his face. “Wait here a minute. I was going to draw you a bath as a nice surprise.” He pauses. “Well, I suppose it’s not much of a surprise now, but…”

“Oh,” Levi says again. He cringes at his overuse of the word and digs his nails into his palm, cursing this ridiculous gay panic. “That sounds good.”

Erwin happily trots off towards the bathroom, leaving Levi to stand around awkwardly in the kitchen. It’s almost too good. Dinner and a bath wouldn’t exactly be the most luxurious thing in the world in a lot of people’s eyes, but the most that Levi has ever gotten in terms of – he guesses – romantic gestures, is a one-night stand ordering food to his house after sex.

Erwin is making things very difficult for him, indeed.

While he’s in the kitchen, Levi busies himself with feeding Croissant for the night. The spoilt little cat meows loudly at his feet as he’s tipping a tin of Fancy Feast onto her plate. He puts the plate down for her and she immediately goes for it, scarfing the entire thing down in record time. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was being starved to death.

Levi squats down next to Croissant and strokes her back while she eats. It must be nice to be a cat, he thinks. Sitting around all day, not having to go to work or file taxes. Or deal with the feelings that you’ve been repressing for your friend-with-benefits, that have now reared their ugly little head despite how far you try to shove them down.

Not that Levi is bitter about it or anything.

Erwin calls out to him from the bathroom, and Levi gives Croissant one final scratch under the chin before he heads off to the bathroom.

He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t a bathroom filled to the brim with candles, a portable speaker playing quiet classical music, and a bath full of bubbles. Erwin is sitting down on the edge of the toilet lid, looking nervous as all hell.

It’s romantic, that’s for sure.

And all Levi can do is just start laughing. To make it worse, the sad, dejected look on Erwin’s face just makes him laugh even more. “Oh, God- Erwin, no, don’t worry,” he huffs. “This is really lovely, I swear.”

He’s not sure he’s ever referred to anything as lovely before in his life, but he’s being truthful. He forces his face back into a neutral expression and crosses over to the other side of the bedroom in a couple of strides, taking Erwin’s face in his hands and kissing him. “Really. Thank you.”

Levi starts to undress himself, placing his folded clothes in a neat, ordered pile on the counter by the sink. He can feel Erwin’s eyes burning into him as he takes off his underwear, and then even hotter still as he steps carefully into the bathtub and sinks down into the water. He sighs, and closes his eyes, and suddenly all of the stupid shit from the past week melts away in a mix of green tea scented bubble bath and vanilla candles. Fuck, it feels good.

“Are you going to join me or just sit there and stare at me like a creep for an hour?” Levi asks, rolling his head to face Erwin.

Erwin is hardly able to hold his excitement as he gets to his feet, taking his clothes off in record time. Levi sits forwards so that Erwin can slip into the tub behind him. The tub is pretty big, but Erwin still has to bend his knees to be able to sit in it. It’s still comfortable though, and Levi lets Erwin wrap his arms around his waist and pull him back against his chest.

With Erwin’s lips pressing little kisses against his cheeks and his fingers stroking little circles on his ribs – this may be the most relaxed he’s ever been.

After they get out of the bath and dry off, Erwin leads Levi to the bedroom. As if dinner and a bath weren’t enough, he gets Levi to lie naked and face-down on the bed for a massage. Erwin puts down a towel, brings a couple of candles in from the bathroom and sits, also naked, on the back of Levi’s knees.

The massage oil is cold as it drips onto his back, but it smells like coconut and it soon warms up when Erwin’s large hands glide up from the base of his spine to his shoulders. His entire body feels like it’s melting into the sheets as Erwin works out some of the most egregious knots in his shoulders and neck.

Levi sighs contentedly. “You better not have anything else planned. This is already so much.”

“This is the last thing,” Erwin chuckles. He leans over Levi’s body, pressing his chest against his back and kissing the back of his neck, and moving a short distance down his spine. “I promise.”

All Levi can do whilst Erwin is massaging his entire body is just lie there and moan quietly. He’s not really the type of guy to get massages, so he doesn’t have anything to compare it to, but Erwin does a damn good job at it. It’s hard for him to believe that anyone could do any better – especially when Erwin lightly presses his fingers between the tops of Levi’s thighs, sliding them up and cupping his buttocks firmly in his hands. From that point on, Levi is almost painfully hard.

He starts to squirm in his spot – not out of discomfort or anything, but pure anticipation. It’s obviously turning out to be one of those sorts of massages; especially with Erwin’s erection pressing firmly between his thighs. Levi isn’t exactly complaining about it, but Erwin sure is taking his sweet time to move onto anything further.

“Okay,” Erwin mumbles, sitting up on his knees a little bit. “Turn around.”

Levi flips himself over, raising his arms up to cover his eyes. Erwin applies more oil onto his hands and Levi can’t help but sigh as his hands move up his stomach and press into his chest. His gentle fingers circle Levi’s nipples, and God, he’s never felt so sensitive there in his life. He gasps loudly and arches his back when Erwin finally brushes the pads of his thumbs over them.

“Fuck, fuck,” Levi hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. His cock is throbbing and leaking against his stomach. Thankfully, Erwin decides not to tease him too much this time and goes straight into slowly moving his palm up the shaft of Levi’s cock before loosely wrapping his hand around it. He uses his other hand to nudge Levi’s legs apart and rub against his inner thighs, eventually sliding down between his cheeks to caress his perineum. It almost feels like too much stimulation, but in a good way. Honestly, he feels a little cheated that none of the hand jobs he’s ever received have felt like this.

Erwin’s hands speed up, his fingers inching further down to press and rub up against his entrance. Levi draws in a sharp breath when his middle finger finally penetrates him. He doesn’t take his time in sliding his finger further in, eliciting a loud moan from Levi when he crooks his finger up into his prostate.

He seems to be getting a lot of satisfaction in the reactions he’s getting from Levi, if the soft smile on his face is anything to go by. “How are you feeling?” he asks, tightening his grip a little bit.

Levi sighs, “Good, good,” and lifts his legs up a little bit for easier access. Erwin takes it as an opportunity to add in another finger, pressing a firm kiss onto Levi’s knee. His fingers press up against Levi’s prostate at the same moment his other thumb rubs against his frenulum, and Levi’s whole body twitches almost violently. Erwin raises a thick eyebrow at that, letting out a soft, “Oh?”

Having found the sweet spot, he sticks to stroking those two places in particular, and the more he strokes, the more vocal Levi gets. It’s the loudest he’s ever been during sex – which isn’t that much of a challenge to beat, since he was usually strangely quiet. But the noises he’s making are downright pathetic. Even so, coupled with the fact that he’s legitimately panting and his body keeps twitching involuntarily, he can’t bring himself to feel too embarrassed about his body’s reaction to the stimulation.

His orgasm builds up in the pits of his stomach, tingling up his spine, and Erwin just keeps speeding up little by little. Luckily for Levi, it doesn’t take too long for his entire body to explode with pleasure – and explode it does. Levi comes, and his whole body shakes with it, and it just keeps going. His pathetic little moans evolve into frantic crying – so bad that he has to shove his face into the sheets to muffle most of it. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, fuck,” Levi hisses, scrunching his eyes shut and practically crying into the sheets. “Fuck, I love you, Jesus fuck.”

Tears roll down his cheeks as his body starts to calm down a little bit, and he manages to wipe them away with the back of his hand. Erwin doesn’t say anything – he just strokes Levi’s hair and leans in to press little kisses on his forehead.

They lie there for a few moments, Erwin whispering praise in Levi’s ear as he tries to calm down and stop the physical aftershocks of his orgasm. It takes him a good ten minutes for his body to finally settle and stop feeling like it’s floating. He looks up at Erwin, and then it clicks. Oh no.

“That was… um,” Levi starts. He digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands and cringes internally. Erwin is looking back at him with wide eyes. There’s no way he missed it. Change the subject as quickly as you can. “I think you’ve killed me.”

“Is that good or bad?” Erwin asks, giving Levi a pitiful little smile.

“Good,” Levi confirms. “I totally blacked out for a minute there. Like… I almost have no idea what happened.”

Erwin looks a little confused, but Levi just chooses to ignore it and rolls away. He sits up, and immediately his vision floods with static. He groans and waits a few moments before he crawls off of the bed. His legs nearly give way when he stands up, but he manages to stay on his feet and pull on his underwear without falling over. “I’m going to shower this oil off of me.”

“Good idea.”

“Are you staying the night…?” Levi asks warily, completely unsure of whether he wanted him to or not.

“I’d like to stay,” Erwin confirms.

“Okay.” Levi stands there awkwardly for a beat too long, before basically sprinting down the hall and into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him a little bit too hard and leans his back against the door, sliding his hands over his face.

Fuck.

“You did what?!”

Levi just sits there, looking down at his hands in shame. Needless to say, Isabel didn’t take the news of Levi accidentally telling Erwin he loved him and then completely back-pedalling – y’know, like a coward – very well. She leans forwards and smackshim on the head. “Ouch, you bitch!” Levi yelps, grabbing his head. “What was I supposed to do?!”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know, maybe just fucking tell him how you feel?” Isabel exclaims.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Isabel counters. “You’re both obviously crazy for each other. Are you that stupid?”

All Levi can do is shrug. While it is true that he is a bit crazy about Erwin, he’s not really sure if he loves him. It’s not like he has anything else to compare to – he’s never been in a relationship or even really liked anyone before, so how should he know whether or not he’s in love with Erwin? They’ve been seeing each other for a while – longer than Levi has ever seen anyone by a longshot – and Levi cares about him just as much as he cares about Isabel and Farlan, but that doesn’t necessarily have to mean that he’s in love.

And what if Erwin doesn’t feel the same way about him? When Levi said that he loved him, Erwin didn’t say anything back. Granted, the entire situation was awkward and weird, but… He didn’t say anything about it then, and he hasn’t said anything about it since.

Isabel sighs, throwing her head down into her hands. “Why are you like this?” she groans, and Levi suddenly feels like a child who’s being lectured by his teacher. She lifts her head. “Do you remember when I was dating Sophie? And for months she was the only thing I talked or thought about. Like, it was so bad that you started spraying me with water every time I even said her name.”

“Yeah?”

“You sit around waiting for him to message, and if he’s not here you mope around the house all day until he asks if he can come over.”

“I don’t mope,” he argues.

…

Okay, maybe he does mope a little.

Isabel flaps her hand in his direction. “Whatever. I’m basically saying that you’re acting exactly like I used to, and it’s so obvious.” She sighs and leans forwards towards him. “Look. It’s okay if you don’t feel ready to tell him. If you’re too scared to acknowledge that you love him, or if you don’t think you do just yet, you don’t have to do anything at all.”

For the first time in a longtime, Levi doesn’t know what to do.

Maybe he is falling in love, but where does he go from there? If Erwin tells him that he loves him, do they start calling each other boyfriends? The idea of calling someone his boyfriend at thirty fucking years old just feels so weird to him – hell, it would’ve felt weird to him as a kid. And if Erwin doesn’t feel the same way and doesn’t want to see him anymore, what will he do then? He can’t even begin to imagine his life without Erwin in it anymore.

The idea of losing Erwin makes him feel sick.

Levi groans and throws his head back. “God fucking damn it,” he sighs. He brings his hands up to his face and digs his fingers into his eyelids. “I’m going to have to tell him for real, aren’t I?”

Chuckling, Isabel leans over to pat Levi’s knee. “Good luck.”

He doesn’t have anything close to a coherent plan in mind, but Levi invites Erwin over on the following Saturday.

He arrives at Levi’s house at noon with a paper bag full of different kinds of doughnuts and a cappuccino for Levi, who drinks it so fast that it burns his throat on the way down. The caffeine calms him down a little bit, but his hands are still shaking as Erwin says hello to Croissant, shouts his greeting to Isabel in her room, and throws himself down onto the couch.

He needs to say something.

Despite Levi’s jittery nerves, Erwin seems to be acting exactly the same as he always does. He smiles up at Levi and pats his knees, beckoning him to come and sit down. Levi complies, slowly slinking over to climb into Erwin’s lap. He pulls Levi down, kissing him on the mouth and sliding a hand up the back of his shirt. He idly strokes Levi’s back, fingers skimming over the ridges of his spine and causing Levi to melt even further into Erwin’s embrace.

Levi sighs happily, his hands immediately finding their place in Erwin’s hair and pushing his fingers through to separate the shitty hair-wax that he insists on using.

He really needs to say something. How hard does it have to be to tell someone that you love them, when you’ve already said it before?

But Erwin is warm, despite how cold it is outside, and Levi can feel himself finally calming down for the first time all day. Why does he even have to bring it up? It would be so much easier to just wait until Erwin brings it up himself. Or until he gets sick of him, Levi supposes – which would probably be so much worse, now that he thinks about it.

Winter is finally creeping up, and the more time he spends with Erwin, the more he begins to dread the idea of spending the season alone. He doesn’t peg himself for a particularly traditional person, nor a romantic, but spending the holiday season without him there would just feel wrong. Seeing people in their happy couples never really bothered Levi too much in the past, but there was always the tiniest feeling inside of his chest that felt a little too much like loneliness. Not to mention that they’ve all already gotten so used to Erwin being around, and Levi is in way too deep.

Erwin eases up, nudging his lips against Levi’s gently and slipping his hand down to his ass. He hums contentedly as Erwin’s long fingers dig firmly into his skin, acting as a way to pull him closer. His lips slowly find their way down Levi’s neck, and Erwin gently nudges his Adam’s apple with his tongue, eventually attaching onto his neck and sucking and licking its way down to his collarbone. There’s a sharp curl of pleasure deep within Levi’s core, and he can’t help the startled hiccup that forces its way out of his mouth.

“Fuuuck, alright.” Levi pulls back from Erwin suddenly and scrambles to climb off of his lap.

Erwin’s eyebrows shoot up and he sits up, carefully folding his hands in his lap. “What’s wrong?”

“God, um…” Levi shifts nervously. He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, sinking his teeth into the inside of his bottom lip. “You know, the other night. When I said… That I. Love you. Or whatever.”

Erwin blinks slowly at him. “I… didn’t think you’d want me to bring it up.”

“Yeah, well…” Levi digs his fingernails into his thigh and looks away. “I guess I’m bringing it up.”

“Okay,” Erwin says slowly. “You’re going to say that you didn’t mean it, right? Like, you just said it in the moment.” He sounds pretty sure of himself, Levi notices. He wonders if Erwin went through it in his head over and over, trying to convince himself that he didn’t mean it – just like Levi did.

Levi shrugs. “I did say it in the moment,” he confirms. He hazards a glance at Erwin for a second, and looks into his eyes, and sees just how startled he seems. There really isn’t any way he can’t tell him now, and the worst Erwin can do is reject him. It will only mean years of crippling embarrassment and loneliness for Levi, but he’s sure he’s been through worse in his life.

He takes a deep breath and turns around so that he isn’t facing Erwin anymore. Here goes. “The thing is,” he starts, slowly, “I think I do. Love you.”

There it is.

He did it, he did it, he did it.

Levi lets go of the huge sigh that’s been weighing him down all day. He’s still absolutely shitting himself, but it feels great to finally get it off of his chest. He has never laid his heart out to anyone like this before. He takes a couple of moments to breathe and slowly turns around to look at Erwin again. And… Erwin just staring at him with his mouth open was not exactly the reaction he thought he would get.

“I was–” Erwin’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat “…not expecting that.”

Levi is suddenly hit by a rush of oh fuck, oh God, oh no, and slowly pulls further back. He’s not sure exactly what he was expecting himself – total and complete rejection, maybe, but not… awkward, stunned silence. He can’t even run away, because it’s his house. Fuck, he knew he should’ve done it at Erwin’s place.

Still, he considers bolting anyway because he doesn’t think there is anything he has ever hated more than telling someone that he loves them for the first time and just getting stared at.

He’s just about to stand up and make his escape, but Erwin leans forwards and places a hand gently onto his thigh. “Tell me again.”

Levi clears his throat, and suddenly he’s completely nervous all over again. “I think I’m in love with you,” he mumbles. For good measure, he tentatively adds, “Erwin.”

Erwin suddenly leans in closer, pressing a hard kiss onto Levi’s mouth and sliding a hand up into his hair. He wraps an arm around Levi’s waist and pulls him in closer until their chests are pressed up against each other. He pulls back slowly, and he’s smiling, and he says, “I think I’m in love with you, too,” and Levi feels the weight lift off of his shoulders.

“You kept me waiting a little too long for that, y’know?” Levi says, leaning back. “I thought you were about to get up and leave.”

“I’m sorry.” Erwin chuckles, and kisses him again. “I would never do that to you, I promise.”

“That’s okay,” Levi says, just about melting. He pulls Erwin on top of him and kisses the hell out of him.

In all of the years that Levi has known Isabel, there has never been anything that has stopped her from going all out for Christmas, and this year is no different. She buys her presents months in advance, and absolutely insists on decorating immediately after Halloween.

Levi hates it. He hates Christmas, and he hates decorating, but it’s not like he could stop her. That would just be wrong.

Most of all, he hates the Christmas tree. He hates how the plastic leaves scratch his hands, and how difficult it is to screw it into the shitty metal stand, and he can’t stand the fact that Isabel and Farlan seemingly have no eye for decoration. They just throw ornaments and tinsel of all colours onto the tree and call it a day. It’s genuinely painful, and Isabel is lucky that he loves her so much. And if he subtly fixes her decoration monstrosities every now and then, no one has to know.

Levi watches in horror as Isabel haphazardly throws green tinsel onto the tree, completely covering up at least five of the baubles Levi had hung himself. She smirks sideways at Levi, and he concludes that there’s no way she isn’t doing it on purpose.

Beside him, Erwin chuckles quietly to himself and leans over to wrap an arm around Levi’s shoulders. “I can’t believe you’re just letting her do this,” he notes. “You must be more whipped than I thought.”

“He is!” Farlan says happily, tossing another string of tinsel at the tree. It lands almost directly on top of another string, and they just leave it there. Because they’re monsters.

Levi grumbles, crossing his arms. “She does it on purpose because she knows I can’t say anything about it,” he explains. He has to try extra hard not to cringe in disgust. “Christmas is the only time of the year where I’m not allowed to complain.”

Humming in what Levi chooses to believe to be a sympathetic manner, Erwin pulls on Levi’s shoulders until his head is resting in his lap. He takes the opportunity to curl up and shield his eyes from the horror unfolding in front of him, and pretty much melts into the couch as Erwin runs his fingers through his hair.

“And there’s still two months of Christmas left!” Isabel exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Yay,” Levi responds, completely unenthusiastically.

As November rolls on into December, Erwin and Farlan start to spend nearly every day at the house. It starts with Farlan, who usually spends most of the holidays with them every year, and Levi supposes that Erwin just follows his lead. It makes sense, he supposes, since Erwin doesn’t really have family to spend time with during the holidays either.

He wouldn’t admit it, but Levi is the happiest that he’s ever felt now that Erwin is around every day. They slowly fall into new routines, and it definitely helps that Erwin has plenty of time to bake holiday-themed treats. Whilst they both have time off of work, it’s easy to slip into a comfortable state of sitting down in front of the TV, cooking, “family bonding night” with Isabel and Farlan, and making out all week.

Levi can’t remember ever being excited for Christmas, but he bought Erwin an expensive Damascus-patterned Santoku knife, and there are some nights where he genuinely can’t get to sleep from how excited he is to see the look on his face when he gives it to him – and sometimes, from how nervous he is at the thought that Erwinn won’t even like it.

On Christmas Eve, he waits no later than 12:03am to sit Erwin down in front of the fireplace and give him the meticulously wrapped giftbox that has been giving him so much anxiety lately. He watches with a full heart as Erwin takes his time to unwrap it, being extra careful not to tear the wrapping paper or crease the nice ribbon that Levi used. He takes the lid off of the fancy wooden box that the knife resides inside, taking his sweet time as though he knows exactly how much the anticipation is killing Levi.

“Oh wow,” is all Erwin says once he sets the lid down. He gently picks up the knife and turns it around in his hands, not even attempting to stifle the huge grin that crosses his face. “This is lovely, Levi. I’m almost a bit scared to use it, it’s so nice.”

Levi just shrugs. “It can just be for decoration.”

Erwin gently puts the knife away and leans forwards to land a hard kiss on Levi’s mouth, “Thank you so much. I love it.” He adds, “I love you,” and Levi can’t help but push him down onto the floor and crawl on top of him. The world outside is slowly filling up with white snow and holiday chill, and the crackling fireplace isn’t the only thing keeping them so warm on their first of many Christmases together.

#Eruri #Attack on Titan #Shingeki no Kyojin #Erwin Smith #Levi Ackerman #Eruri fic #Eruri fanfiction #Writing Tag

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

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You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 2)

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

For @thatesqcrush’s Naughty or Nice Holiday Bingo! Filling the Fake Relationship When Visiting Family square.

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: Language. Holiday fluff. Bryan being the worst... but also hot? Horrible pet names. Nothing nsfw happens this chapter except Bryan’s mouth.

2,900 words

The bluish LED headlights of Bryan Kneef’s BMW blinded other drivers as they cut through the dark on the drive to his parents’ suburban house. You ascertained from the hands-free call he was making the family hadn’t started dinner yet. Christmas was close to the winter solstice, so it wasn’t as late as the sky suggested, although you’d heard a hungry child screaming impatiently about having to wait for Uncle Bry.

“Uncle Bry,” you teased as the call ended.

He chuckled. “That would be my brother’s kid, Finn. My brother’s name is Timothy. The CEO of LogicFinance. You will say you’ve ‘heard so much about them.’ Let’s review.”

“Jesus.”

Sitting next to Bryan while his attention wasn’t on you, you lost yourself noticing things. The clean smell of his cologne. How sexy he looked—in a rich douchey way—in his tailored suit and expensive car. His long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. That beard that made you want to scream, “Daddy!”

You could almost forget he was the asshole who held every paralegal at STR Laurie hostage with busywork unless you pretended to be the woman who dumped him.

Until he started barking at you to memorize facts about his life.

“First, what do I have to know about this woman I’m supposed to be?”

He stared straight ahead at the road. “Her name is Sydney. So you’re Syd from now on.”

“Oh joy. Being called your ex’s name all night won’t be weird or anything.”

“You were the one who wanted to get out of work.”

“Whatever. I bet you already forgot my real name, anyway.”

He didn’t contradict you. The engine roared to life as he changed lanes before signaling and cut off the SUV he’d been tailgating for the last mile.

Your arms crossed over your chest. “How much did you tell your family about Sydney? I hope you didn’t send them any pictures.”

“Not much, and obviously not. I’m not stupid.”

“Just pathetic.”

He scowled. Before he could think of a searing response to take back control of the conversation, you asked another question that knocked him off balance.

“What made this one so different? We’ve been working together for what, a year? And I’ve never seen you upset over a breakup.”

“The sex was fantastic,” he answered too loudly.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve never had a woman who could keep up with me—”

“Because you finish too quickly?”

“Cute. Keep it up.” He stepped on the gas again and your stomach lurched as he pulled off another aggressive passing maneuver in the right lane. “No one walks away from my bed unsatisfied. You could find out. A little reward for helping me out tonight?”

“Not in a million years,” you clipped, shutting him down, even though your wild, lonely, horny side that noticed his beard and fingers was beating at the inside of your skull. “You are going to keep it decent and chaste. Ground rules: holding hands. Kisses on the cheek. Moderate cuddling as the situation calls for it. That should be plenty to sell that we’re involved.”

“You haven’t seen me around women I’m involved with,” he smirked with a suggestive glint in the side of his eye.

“And I’m sure your parents haven’t seen you with a partner who isn’t just some bimbo you’re screwing, either. Cop a feel, and I end the charade right there.”

That comment, which was more insightful than you knew, silenced him. His suggestive side-glance returned forward to focus on the road. That look was back on his face again—the look when he ran out of swaggering bullshit to spew. Sadness. Genuine human sadness.

“She wasn’t clingy,” he said, voice a soft rumble. “Didn’t expect me to be her fucking boyfriend—she was the one who told me no strings.”

“You loved her because she was distant?”

“No. I don’t know. She did nice things, too—like ask how my day was, and bring me coffee. She remembered the way I like it.”

“That’s just basic human kindness, Bryan.” You sighed. “That’s actually… really sad.”

“Fuck you.”

“I mean it. You call women clingy for wanting to be close to you, and now you’re so starved for connection you think remembering your coffee order is a huge deal. Your secretary knows your coffee order. Hell, I know your damned coffee order you’ve sent me out for it enough times, even though—as I often remind you—that’s not my job. I’m sorry. Really. But maybe this is a lesson? That you actually have a heart and might want to try opening it sometime?”

“How the fuck is that the lesson? I open my heart, I get hurt. From now on, I’m only dating broads who disgust me.” His eyes lingered on you for a dangerously long time until you got the point and gave an annoyed grunt. His eyes returned to the road, corners crinkled in satisfaction.

***

Dinner was already starting when Bryan’s BMW finally pulled into the driveway of a large house on a private cul-de-sac. The porch was glowing with tasteful white lights and a wreath on the door. Silhouettes were moving behind the decorative glass set into the front door, waiting for you to get out of the car. As soon as you approached, the door flew open and you were hit with the smell of roast turkey.

“Bry-Bry! We were worried you wouldn’t make it!” His silver-haired mother threw her arms around Bryan’s neck while he grumbled with reluctant affection, hugging her back.

A rich oaken voice of the man who must have been his father said, “And this must be the famous Sydney. We thought we’d never get to meet you.” He shook your hand warmly.

Both of them were wearing hideous red and green Christmas sweaters straight out of a Hallmark movie.

“I can’t believe this one hasn’t driven you away!” Bryan’s mom teased, pinching his pink cheek as she did so. “We’re so happy you put up with our little monster.” She hugged you.

“Come, come on in. Let me take your coat. We were just starting dinner—you’re right on time.” His dad helped you shrug your winter coat off and hung it up in the entryway closet for you.

This was… bizarre. How the hell did people this friendly churn out a Bryan?

More shocking still was when you felt warm, long fingers twine between yours, and you nearly tore your hand away before remembering you had a “boyfriend” tonight. Bryan smiled at you sweetly, eyes soft and affectionate.

Yep. You’d fallen into some kind of Bizarro World.

Martha, his mother, led you both through the spacious house toward the dining room. “What do you think of our humble home?” she asked, pausing in the living room. “I keep thinking I should move that chair to the other side of the fireplace. What do you think? Would it flow better?”

“Uh, I’m not really—”

“Mom! We’re hungry,” Bryan snapped.

“Oh, come on, honey, let me pick her brain! It’s not every day we have an interior designer in here.”

“Bryan told you I’m an interior designer?” Your mouth smiled pleasantly at Bryan while your eyes stabbed daggers into his stupid handsome face.

“Obviously I forgot I mentioned it,” he smiled back.

You batted your eyes. Now the daggers were on fire.

“Well, what do you think? Chair on the left, or the right?”

“Well,” you said, “the symmetry with the fireplace is… balanced with the rich tones in the leather”—Martha nodded along attentively—“You know, I’ve been working all day, maybe we can talk shop later?”

“Oh! Of course! I’m sorry—Bryan’s mean old mom ambushing you the minute you walk in the door!” She flexed her hand into vampire-claws and playfully attacked your shoulder. “Aw, are the stuffy old adults embarrassing you, peanut?”

Bryan’s cheeks turned the brightest pink you had ever seen them. And this was a man who didn’t blush when telling a roomful of attorneys to go fuck themselves. You let out the first genuine laugh you’d made in his presence. You squeezed his hand.

“Honey-bear, I love your parents!”

***

The table was crowded with Kneef siblings, cousins, and their children and spouses. Finn, you guessed, was the youngest boy. And that would make the silver fox next to him Timothy. His older brother had the same bluntness as Bryan, but none of the cruelty. In fact, his entire family was so�� normal.

Bryan’s hard edges were hardly softened in their presence, but unlike in the office where his cranky moods inspired fear, here they were met with boos and hisses and his cousin throwing a bread roll at him. The youngest kids mimicked this exciting behavior, and soon it was raining whole-wheat on Bryan Kneef.

You smiled and patted his hand and called him “dear” and made sure your mouth was full of turkey the moment anyone asked you about yourself.

Over the evening, you learned that Mrs. Martha Kneef put herself through nursing school after having her first child to support the family while her husband piddled around with his low-paying hobby in computers. By the time Bryan was born, his father was programming for a growing company, working his way up the ranks—back in the days when one could do that. By the time Bryan was ten, dad was the Chief Information Officer of one of the largest corporations in the country.

And so Bryan, the youngest, grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, handed all the things his parents had worked hard for in the hopes that he would have a better life.

“All the child-rearing books at the time said encouragement was important,” said Martha, who was a little drunk on red wine at this point. She let out an exasperated groan. “This is what happens when you encourage too much. We created a monster. Didn’t we?” Her voice went higher as she pinched Bryan’s cheek again.

“Martha and I are so happy to see him finally settling down with someone.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage to find a girl who’ll put up with you?” Tim teased, punching Bryan’s arm.

Bryan stared back. Locked eyes with his brother. He took a deep breath. “How’d you manage to—”

Bryan then asked something too obscene to be repeated, which set the entire table screaming, and parents’ hands clamping over children’s ears (though not before an adorable curly-haired niece asked, “mommy, what’s a prolapsed rectum?”).

You should have been offended, or embarrassed to be attached to the guy wrecking Christmas without even needing to be drunk. But oddly, as hot as your cheeks were, you found yourself laughing. You were dating the most interesting guy at the table. He was so overwhelmingly charismatic—not necessarily in a positive way, but in a way that made him the center of attention in any room he walked into. And he was charming enough for people to keep wanting him around, even when he said things that... were probably going to scar those children for life. Not to mention the adults.

Reaching over, you cupped the opposite side of his cheek and forced him to turn his head to you. “You’re so bad, Bry. How do I put up with you?” You began affectionately scratching his beard like it was something you’d done to him a hundred times. “He’s just so cute, I can’t resist. Settle down now, baby.”

His mom gave a loud, “Aww” and Bryan side-eyed his brother, who snorted.

You were getting into it, mussing up his perfect beard in a way that was sure to annoy him later—but it wasn’t annoying him that was on your mind. It was more the feeling of that coarse but soft hair under your fingertips, the shape of his jawline… the way he was staring back at you, eyelids drooping…

“It’s really the beard I’m dating—if he ever shaves, we’re breaking up,” you joked, suddenly needing to crush the romantic mood. It worked. His family laughed, and Bryan scowled, catching your wrist to make you stop.

***

Bryan wanted to leave right after dinner, but his mother wheedled him to stay.

“We’ve still got your bedroom set up if you want to sleep here. Think of it—we could have Christmas morning together just like when you and Timmy were babies!”

“Ma! I couldn’t impose on Syd. She… has a cat.”

Great. More backstory to remember. You surreptitiously elbowed him in the side.

Bryan got his dominating instincts from somewhere, though. The big ask to stay the night was a tactic to make him give in to the smaller ask of staying for hot cocoa and holiday movies.

Bryan had yet to recover from your crack about breaking up with him and forgot to play the part of the affectionate boyfriend. While her husband was explaining the intricacies of a particular wireless security device to whichever cousins would listen, Martha casually sidled up and whispered, “You don’t have to be shy about PDA in front of us old people. We’ve seen everything.”

“Oh! Uh...” Your mouth gaped, unsure how the fuck to respond to that.

Bryan overheard it and rolled his eyes with a groan. “Ma!”

He looked so grumpy and annoyed, something about it made you kiss him on the cheek. Just to put to rest his mother’s suspicions! That must have been it.

Then Bryan was all fire again, his eyes glittering above a wicked smirk. He grabbed your waist and pulled you roughly against his arousingly solid body, covering your neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Oh god, hot. He was definitely only doing this to make his mom uncomfortable, and if you knew Bryan, he wouldn’t stop until she regretted meddling or he was fucking you on the stack of presents under the tree. So why was your skin too hot? Why did it prickle everywhere his hand wandered? Palming your curves, sliding down to your hips, lowering over the swell of—

You leaned close until your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Watch your hands, or HR is hearing all about this,” you warned, then pulled away smiling.

Bryan smiled back. “Of course, babycakes.”

“You lovebirds! Keep it PG.”

He warned you in the car that no one would buy him keeping things chaste, didn’t he? Well, you weren’t going to be the one to blow your cover.

When you filed into the living room where the kids were already watching A Christmas Story, there was only one spot left on the couch, and an empty armchair. Bryan flopped down on the recliner, and you sat on his lap. His chest vibrated as he gave an encouraging growl, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“You didn’t expect me to sit alone, did you, honey-bear?” you cooed.

His hand moved to support your hip, cradling you close to him. The other hand covered yours, which was resting on your knee. It was just a performance, but god, his hands were so big and warm, and the gesture so remarkably soft. You let yourself recline back against his chest, and turned your head to inspect his profile—the greying at his temple, a strong, square brow that shaded such lively green eyes.

A fire danced in the fireplace, stockings hung up neatly above it. A tree in the opposite corner filled the room with a piny balsam scent. The whole scene felt so domestic. Bryan’s beard scratched the side of your face, the soft cashmere of the sweater he’d thrown on over his dress shirt making him a comfortable cuddle partner. Suddenly you could imagine perfectly well why someone might put up with him.

“So, Sydney, how did you meet Bryan?” his father asked. A few other prying relatives leaned forward, and you began to sweat.

“Oh… I’m sure Bryan’s already told this story,” you deflected, glancing at him for assistance. Bryan frowned.

“It was through a case.” His evasive answer only made everyone more curious.

“What kind of case?”

“A divorce case.”

A bark of laughter leaped from your throat before you could hold it in, and you had to quickly disguise it as the kind of nostalgic laugh you get from an inside joke. “It’s true”—you stroked Bryan’s beard—“I think he only slept with me as part of the victory, you know? Took my ex’s money, took his wife. You know our Bryan,” you giggled. You would bet money that was exactly how it happened, too. “It’s a major rebound for me. But it’s been working out. Bryan has this whole other side to him that people don’t see.”

He looked at you. The clarity of his green eyes caught you off guard, and you felt a burning heat creeping up the side of your neck toward your ears.

“Well, we’re so happy to meet you!”

“You dog, Bry.”

“Want to see baby pictures?”

The last voice was Martha’s.

“No.” Bryan said. “She doesn’t.”

Of your asshole boss? Why yes. Yes, you did.

“He used to be such a sweet little peanut.” His mother always seemed eager to stir trouble for her brat of a son. “Just wait until you see how cute he was in diapers.”

“No!” Bryan groaned, but couldn’t stop you from following Martha to the family photo albums.

He had no power here.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tagged: @beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @welcometothemadxxhouse / @stardust-fray / @dreila03 / @tropes-and-tales / @the-baby-bookworm / @ireadfanfictionontheweekends

(I also just tagged everyone who commented/reblogged the last chapter even if u didn’t ask so uhhh >_> lmk if you hate that?)

#Bryan Kneef #bryan kneef x reader #Raúl Esparza #raul esparza #thatesqcrush holiday bingo #moodboard #The Good Fight #My writing

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 4 years ago

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AIGHT Y’ALL I wasn’t tagged but I’m doing this anyways because f u c k i t

It's the year 2021 and you're obsessed with The Karate Kid. How are you feeling?

Deadasss weird as fuck, my dude. Like...out of all the things I could’ve predicted happening in our lord’s year 2021, it definitely was NOT getting hyperfixated on a hammy gay ship with a punk and a nerd from a goddamn karate soap opera. And yet...here we are??? I will never understand hyperfixations, my guy. But I’ve met a lot of really cool people in this fandom, so I can’t really complain.

Did you grow up with TKK or are you new to the series?

I have never seen a single Karate Kid movie in my entire life. When I was a kid, it looked kinda dumb so I never got into it XD But then I saw my roommate watching Cobra Kai on Youtube Red one day (he has every streaming service known to man) and I was hooked. And...here I am!

We gotta do the basics. Favorite character:

Literally EVERYONE except for Kreese, Yasmine, Kyler, and Tory, sorry stans

Okay but if we gotta pick, Johnny Lawrence is my Problematic Fave. Also I love my boy Daniel, he’s trying his best!!! And Amanda LaRusso, we stan a queen!!!

Among the kids, definitely Miguel, with Demetri as a close second. I also love Sam, Aisha, Moon, and Hawk (pre- and post-Bastardization Arc, anyways XD)!

Favorite ship:

Take a look at my username and take a WILD FUCKING GUESS lmao Yes it’s Eli/Demetri because DUH, every interaction they have is so fucking gay and Eli fucking saved him!!! And came back to him!!! And betrayed the world’s most terrifying dojo with a WAR CRIMINAL SENSEI all for Demetri!!! And how Demetri was willing to forgive him for everything at the drop of a hat because he always had faith there was still good in his best friend??? That’s TRUE LOVE motherfuckers. Please let them kiss in Season 4. I will sell you all of my limbs. Sam/Miguel is a close second because they’re cute as shit and it’s just so lovely to see two people so unapologetically smitten with each other. They are in LOVE, and I will RIOT if they break up again!!! Keep Sam and Miguel together 2k21!!!

Underrated character:

SAMANTHA LARUSSO!!! The amount of hate my girl gets for acting like a normal teenager and fucking up occasionally JUST like the rest of the cast makes me want to start punching things. She cares SO MUCH about her friends!!! And she loves the shit out of Miguel!!! She hasn’t always been the best friend but you know what??? Neither has Hawk, and we still forgave his ass!!! Also LET HER BE FEMININE but also kick utter ass, my god!!! Femininity should not be synonymous with being weak, y’all! ALSO DEMETRI, like yes, he likes to complain and occasionally run his mouth, but guess what else he likes to do??? Never give up on the love of his life his best friend Eli Moskowitz and refuse to lose faith in him no matter how much of a little shit he’s become, and I for one think that’s very badass of him. Also the way he takes care of Eli pre-Cobra Kai in his own snarky bastard way makes me absolutely Weak and needs more appreciation. Like the dude has charisma and COULD have probably made other friends and left Eli behind if he wanted, but did he??? No, he wants the weepy loser with the lip scar in the polo shirts and dorky sweaters and will protect him as much as his wimpy ass is able!!!

Underrated ship (don’t say therapy, lol):

Among the adults, Daniel/Amanda!!! Like maybe I just don’t watch that much tv, but it seems kinda rare to me to see a happily married hetero couple, and it’s just nice to see a married couple who genuinely love each other and where there’s not like...lingering resentment or some shit. I feel like this ship gets overshadowed by Lawrusso a lot (which like--okay, fair!!! Daniel and Johnny do have a ridiculous amount of chemistry, and the gay undertones are undeniable, so I get it), and it makes me kinda sad. I do love Lawrusso, but I don’t like when Amanda has to get her heart broke for it to happen, you feel? Among the kids, honestly YasMoon. Like I really love the idea of Yasmine trying to better herself because of Moon’s influence on her and because Moon like...inspires her to be a better person, I guess? With their pretty strong friendship, it just makes more sense to me for Yasmine to get a redemption arc through Moon than through Demetri. ALSO girls DO often pull the whole “mean girl” shtick to cover up being closeted lesbians, and Moon IS canonically bi, so it could work!!! I just think this one could be a really interesting Friends to Lovers take, and could make a really nice coming-out arc for Yas. And MoonPiper too, honestly!!! Like they only got 5 seconds of screentime so I understand WHY it’s underrated, but I still love what we DID get and loved that there was a canon gay ship (even if only for 1 scene lmao). I’m really excited to potentially see more of them in Season 4!!! Please, I’m begging!!!

Wax On, Wax Off or Sweep the Leg?

Sweep the Leg because it will always be deeply hilarious to me how Demetri took note of the first move Eli ever used on him and spent presumably weeks perfecting it OUT OF SPITE just to get him back with it at the soccer game MONTHS later. Just goes to show how OBSESSED Demetri is with Eli and their little karate rivalry which is just NOT straight, I’m sorry

Which of Daniel’s dumb little outfits is your favorite?

There’s something so funny about this pretentious little fuck walking around in fancy suits once he becomes a #SuccessfulBusinessman, and still occasionally trying to do karate in a full-ass suit (take THAT, Tom Cole’s boba!!!) I’m also a big fan of how he looks in his gi with his little headband. Still killing that look as a 40-50-something!!!

Character from the films you most want to return, who’s not Terry Silver:

Tbh I have still never seen a single Karate Kid movie (they took them off of Netflix, RIP), so...I don’t really care if they bring anyone else back??? I’m invested in the characters we already have in the show, I don’t need some rando from the movies to make a cameo to have a good time XD The only character I really wanted them to bring back was Ali, and they already did, so like...I’m good??? That’s all I really needed, I can die in peace now XD

Scene that lives in your head rent-free:

Basically any fluffy Elimetri scene, but 5 in particular: ~Miguel first meeting Eli and Demetri at the lunch table, and Eli looking at Demetri like he hung every goddamn star in the sky ~Demetri going off at a terrifying, “unhinged” karate sensei on the first day of Cobra Kai because he made fun of Eli’s lip and Demetri is not about that shit ~ELI STEALING DEMETRI’S NACHO AND SMIRKING AT HIM, LIKE EXCUSE ME SIR PLEASE BE A LITTLE LESS HOMOSEXUAL IN FRONT OF YOUR GIRLFRIEND ~Eli yanking Demetri onstage during Valley Fest to hold a board, and Demetri being visibly like...extremely turned on when Eli breaks said board ~ELI SAVING DEMETRI DURING THE CHRISTMAS FIGHT, ELI APOLOGIZING, DEMETRI AND ELI KICKING COBRA ASS TOGETHER AKSBDCUWYVCBU

Will Anthony LaRusso ever be relevant?

I hope not! He’s kind of a funny meme character to pop up now and again but I don’t think he deserves a serious plotline when there are so many more interesting characters to follow.

You live in The Valley and are forced into the karate gang war. Which dojo do you join?

Miyagi-Do because Cobra Kai would eat me alive. Also I’d probably straight up get stuck and die in that cement mixer, if I even made it that far XD Besides, being salty that your friend who you have a crush on likes martial arts better than you and starting martial arts to impress them but also being too lazy to join anything TOO intense is a Big Mood and I am certainly not speaking from personal experience here, no sirree

What’s your training montage song?

"Shut Up and Drive” by Rihanna for a weight-training and bicep-flexing montage, “Whatever It Takes” by Imagine Dragons for a more intense punching-and-kicking-shit montage. I don’t know why this is, I just feel it in my heart.

It’s the crossover event of the century! Which TV show are you combining with Cobra Kai for an hour-long Saturday night special?

*Briefly panics because I don’t actually watch that much TV and most of the stuff I do watch is fantasy/sci fi shit that absolutely would not work for a CK crossover*

Hmmmm okay but ACTUALLY

You know what would be fucking funny as hell would be an It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia crossover. Allow me to elaborate: ~The Gang goes to LA on vacation during the height of the Karate Dojo Wars. They literally can get barely anything done without all these goddamn karate-fighting teenagers getting in the way. ~They are all very annoyed by this. Even the most obscure of tourist attractions is eventually intercepted by karate fights. ~Mac tries to join Cobra Kai because he sees all this karate fighting on, and wants to unquestionably prove both his badassery and masculinity. Both Johnny and Kreese are like “Wtf are you doing here? Aren’t you like 30?” ~Mac gets a planet-sized crush on Johnny after all of 5 minutes and endlessly gushes to the gang about him. The gang mercilessly roast him about this and about how much of a pathetic loser with his life together in no way whatsoever Johnny sounds like. They proceed to have exactly 0 self awareness about this. ~The Waitress is in town visiting family or something, and Charlie is stalking her, as per usual. However, every time he’s about to go up and talk to her, a pack of battling Miyagi-Dos and Cobra Kais throwing punches and kicks everywhere blocks his path. One times, Mac is among one of these packs and Charlie is like “???? He didn’t get kicked out of that teen karate dojo yet???” ~Seeing how much the Kids These Days seem to like fighting, Charlie drops by a local high school to try and sell Fight Milk to the kids doing karate. Only Kyler and Brucks buy into it, and subsequently get the entire West Valley High wrestling team sick. Charlie is inevitably arrested, as Counselor Blatt thinks he’s selling the kids drugs. ~Dennis makes a plan to have sex with every hot chick he can in Los Angeles. He meets Ali on a dating app post-divorce, and inevitably tries to bang her. It doesn’t work. ~Frank crashes the rental car, and inevitably the gang ends up at one of Daniel’s dealerships. Dee quickly takes a liking to Daniel and is like “Watch, assholes--Imma homewreck this guy’s marriage.” She starts frequenting the dealerships to attempt to flirt with Daniel, until one day she walks in on him having sex with Johnny in a back room and she’s like “Is that the guy from Mac’s goddamn dojo?!?!” ~Dennis, of course, tries to sleep with Amanda. Amanda is not having it, and rebukes him in the most snarky, Amanda-esque way possible. Dennis is just like “Oh not AGAIN--the women in this goddamn diva city have too high of standards!” ~Later on, the gang is at the beach and Dennis spots the blonde lady he went out on an ill-fate date with, and decides to give it another shot--that is, until he sees her go up and kiss another woman and he’s like “IS THAT THE LADY FROM THE CAR DEALERSHIP??? STUPID-KARATE-KICK-COMMERCIAL’S WIFE?!? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.” ~Dee complains to Dennis about her lack of luck getting laid, and Dennis is just like “Oh come ON, is everyone in Los Angeles gay???” Smash cut to Hawk and Demetri having sex, Moon and Piper making out, Bert and Nate holding hands, Chris and Mitch doing oral, and Amanda, Ali, and Carmen having a threesome. ~Frank tries to scam Kreese into buying cheaply-made karate equipment for his dojo. The gang ends up having to leave LA because Kreese is quite literally plotting all of their murders.

For tagging, uuuuhhhhhh @jackonthelongwalk @soe-leo @max-eagle-fang @cc-tinslebee @backawayfromthegay @asphodel-storm do the thing, if y’all haven’t yet!

#cobra kai #cobra kai season 1 #cobra kai season 2 #cobra kai season 3 #ck #tag game #binary boyfriends #daniel larusso #johnny lawrence #it's always sunny in philadelphia #iasip

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widdlefangs · 4 years ago

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Platonic

Pairing: Bobby x ChildhoodFriend!MC Words: 1.7k Notes: Ok full disclosure I’ve used this for other fandoms but I just felt like it was so relevant to Bobby. I guess I’m doing fics now so maybe send me prompts or smth and I’ll jot some fics down. Headcanons too.

Bobby clicked his pen for what seemed like the umpteenth time during this whole study session. He stared as his study buddy bit her lip at an equation she’s been writing yet again. She scribbled furiously before scratching it out with a frustrated groan. She leaned back on her chair and slumped with a whimper escaping her lips. Bobby nudged her foot with his own under the table.

“Hey,” he comforted his friend, “Come on, you need to take a break.”

He bounced off his chair and walked towards her small kitchen. Bobby found pride in the fact that he knows his way around like it’s his own. He got her stash of peppermint tea at the top left corner cabinet right beside the Christmas mugs. He hooked a foot on the lower cabinet where her small spoons were. He plugged the water heater at the bottom socket because the top sparked since he plugged a hair blower there once in one of their all nighters. With pronounced ease, he prepared the exact blend of tea he knew she loved with the precision of a friend who knew her inside out. He leaned back and watched her wallow in the pages of her book whilst the water boiled.

He was her friend. No, he was her best friend (he hoped, if no other human would agree to buying her tampons if she can’t leave the house). She was most definitely his best friend, none can deny that. Bottomline is, for the majority of their lives, it has always been platonic. Painfully platonic.

It doesn’t matter if she cuddles between his legs on her couch whenever they watch Ghibli. It doesn’t matter if he strips butt naked in front of her as they change for a night out. It doesn’t matter if his parents already set up her clothes in Bobby’s closet and her toothbrush beside his. She and he shall be perpetually…just platonic. Sighing, he pushed the off button before it lit red knowing that she hated scalding her tongue.

He wondered how they’ve gotten here. There was a project once back in grade school where they were asked to write where they see themselves in twenty years. She was there in every paragraph, in every line, in every sentence in his write up. She was what came up to his mind when one would ask him who he envisions to be his wife someday. And that image hasn’t changed since. Perhaps it took root from the innocence of childhood—how hugging and cuddling and touching in general was deemed platonic in children, that’s why she’s gotten to used to it— but as respectable adults, it just seemed like he was doing all the responsibilities of a boyfriend without getting the benefits of one.

He shook his head at the thought of how hopeless he was. Someday, she’ll find a man that can’t love her half as much as he did. And she’ll think he’s the one. And someday he’ll find her cuddled up with him on her couch as he sits by at the other end just because he’s the best friend.

He felt a pair of slim arms wrap around his waist and a button nose nuzzle the back of his shoulder. Exactly the type of behaviour he’d been elaborating in his head earlier.

“I smelled the tea.”

“I know you did, you can’t resist me.” he chuckled sadly. After knowing Bobby since childhood, she knew there was a matter of glumness in his tone. She tugged on his waist, urging him to face her.

“Don’t even bother telling me you’re all right. Spill it.” she looked up at him.

“Spill what?” he cocked an eyebrow, taking a sip at her teacup.

“Don’t spill what me, McKenzie. I know something is up with you,” she said, taking her tea from his hand and gingerly nursing it between her fingers.

“Nothing is up with me,” his mouth quirked, taking his own cup and smiling at her with tired eyes.

She frowned at that. Pursing her lips as she leaned on the kitchen island across him. He knitted their toes together while sipping his tea. He reached for the side of the refrigerator and took out the rest of the chocolate cake he baked from yesterday. Grabbing a fork, he pushed off the counter to lean into her, one arm supporting his weight on the counter his other balanced the two slices of cake on a plate. She placed her head on the crook of his shoulder out of habit. There she goes again.

“Tell you what, if you finish your slice first, I’ll spill.”

She gave him a bewildered look and he used that to his advantage by shoving the slice in his mouth. She quickly caught on and started stuffing her face with cake as well. In an effort to win, he shoved his entire piece in his mouth and grabbed the rest of hers and made a run for it.

“Can’t finish your slice now, can you?” he sputtered, mouth full of cake. Bobby jumped on her couch, nesting on it like a hawk. She protested below him, cheeks all puffed up in cake.

“Bobby I swear, I’m not afraid to push you off!” she stomped, barely able to speak.

“Oh yeah? Prove it!”

And that was all it took for him to be tackled to the floor with her straddling him. She had a wild look as she reached for the crumbled cake and ate it off his hand. He revelled in the feeling of her mouth around his fingers, he’d like to feel that more often. It was down to a battle of chewing. The first one to swallow wins. She planted her hands on his chest and narrowed her eyes at him as she chewed the food in her mouth furiously, even if it did make her look like a deranged animal. It’s not like they weren’t twenty-two year olds rolling around on the floor on a lopsided food eating contest.

She swallowed first. He let her. “Aha! I win. Now spill.”

He was still chewing, albeit leisurely now. He placed a hand on her hip as a sign to wait. She didn’t seem to mind the intimate gesture. He finally swallowed.

Taking a deep breath— for the confession and his hurting throat— he spilled.

“I was thinking how much I love how we’re so platonic. Even if I’m practically your boyfriend—no, your husband, with all that we’ve been doing.”

She gave him an incredulous look. Bobby can’t believe that this moment was where all his years of platonic relationship lead up to.

“That’s it? I wrestled you for that?”

He bit his lip—hurt that she reacted the way she did. The way she always would. She degraded his feelings—feelings that have in fact been pent-up for years. He was sick of it. Absolutely sick of it.

“Do you think what we have is platonic?” he spoke up. She noted the tone of a challenge in his voice. There was hurt there too. Unable to look straight into his eyes, she turned away.

“If someone walked into this room right now and see us, would they think we’re platonic? You’re straddling me in your pyjamas while I’m in my boxers and you think this is platonic?”

She gulped.

“I’m so tired. Tired of pretending that there’s nothing here,” he pushed.

“Bobby— I

In truth she didn’t know what to tell him, or how. There was just too much history between them.

“Could you tell me right now, to my face, that you don’t love me. If you can say that right now, I swear, I’ll let it go. I won’t ever bring up the topic ever again,” he declared. There was an almost violent beating in his chest. An anxiety that couldn’t be quelled with anything but her words.

His heart clenched when she couldn’t reply to him. It spurned his anger even further.

With everything on the line, he kissed her. He kissed with all the fervour he’d been wanting since he met her. Bobby knew that this wasn’t how he wanted to reveal his feelings. He knew that this could very well end as a nightmare for the both of them.

Until he suddenly felt it. Her hands weaving into his hair like how he’d always imagined. Her lips pressing back with as much ardour. Her body curling into his as she kissed him. She kissed him. Back.

They stayed there for who knows how long, just lingering in the shade of the night, enjoying each other’s company in a whole other light. Finally, he broke away—he still had a point to make.

“Now did you think that was platonic?” he murmured, a little breathless.

His spine was tingling, his hands a bit shaky, the world was spinning and the point of intersection was her. Innately her. Hers all along. It was her.

She muttered something incoherent, a little smile tugging on the sides of her lips and his heart leapt with joy. He tucked a loose lock of her hair behind her shoulder and kissed the skin that was revealed to him. He’d always wanted to kiss her there. It’s not like it hasn’t been accessible, on the contrary, it was a tease for him. To know that he could get so close and yet he couldn’t touch.

He released his meanderings and breathed on her skin, feeling her shiver reverberate to his hands. It made him deliriously happy. “How about that? Was that platonic?”

She shook her head a little. Bobby allowed his hands to travel down her back like he has done so for the past thirteen years, but none so as leisurely as he did now.

“Can I ask if this is platonic?” she whispered and kissed the length from his ear to his jawline and latched on to the hollow of his neck. Bobby hadn’t meant to, but he groaned.

“Yeah that’s very platonic. Friends do that all the time.” he struggled to create coherent sentences with all the emotions swirling inside him. She leaned on her elbows and smiled at him.

“You know, Bobby, I love how we’re so platonic.”

“I love how we’re so platonic too.”

#love island the game #litg fics #litg bobby #bobby mckenzie #bobby x mc #litg season 2 #love island season 2 #litg s2 #litg fanfic #love island #love island fic

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drummergirl231-2 · 4 years ago

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I don’t even know what to title this.

I’ve been trying to come up with a title for I don’t know how long and now I’m legit crying because I can’t even figure out how to start this post... so this will have to do.

I’m not okay. I can’t keep up with all this and everything going on in my life. I feel like I’m strapped into a car on a collision course for a brick wall and I’m just frozen in fear anticipating the impact.

Everything has kind of been spiraling out of control in my personal life (if you want you can skip to the bolded headings for what’s relevant to this blog).

My parents - whom a lot of you know about from my GoFundMe - are moving from California to Tennessee. I can’t afford to stay in California so I have to go with them (though they insist my going with them is my choice and that I totally have other options... but whatever. At least I’ll be out of California).

If my job can’t transfer me, I’ll lose it just when I was going to get the most hours (and therefore money) of the year, but my parents refuse to wait until after Christmas to sell.

My grandma recently died and even though my grandpa (step-grandfather) invited us up to the house at one point, his horrible son met us on the porch and rudely refused to let us in, telling us his father wasn’t seeing anyone. Now that his horrible son has left, grandpa invited my uncle and aunt up, but not my parents or me, and my uncle said he’s going to do what he can to bring us what we want of grandma’s. I didn’t get to say goodbye to my grandma because her death was sudden, and now I’m scared I won’t get to say goodbye to the only grandpa I’ve ever known, either, because I’m moving to Tennessee and he’s 89 and has heart problems and I’m scared he’ll die of a broken heart in every sense. I’d have liked to say goodbye to the house, too. My grandma didn’t want a funeral. She was one of those “Don’t fuss over me,” types who fussed over all of us. I have zero closure in this situation.

I have to get ready to move but have no idea how/when/where to start. I’m terrified of the 4 day journey to Tennessee, trapped in an SUV with my parents and five animals, including my poor elderly cat, Kira, whose anxiety makes mine look mild. I have Misophonia and so many food allergies I can’t eat out so I don’t know how I’ll do food for four days. My parents say they won’t bring the camping stove for me to warm up my lunches. It’s like they never raised an autistic child.

Things have been crazy for “Kristen,” me, but losing my grandparents, my home, possibly my job, and moving far from any family or friends I trust aside... things haven’t been easy for “DG,” me, either.

As badly as I want to start a youtube channel about Autism, Misophonia, food allergies, gut health, emotional abuse, etc., I cannot find the answers no matter how much I google when it comes to the tech problems I’ve faced. And I’m not even sure when I’d be able to record these videos because my parents are almost never gone. And when they are it’s not for long, and I just want to relax, and breathe, and be in the living room, and talk and sing out loud, and do all the things I don’t get to do when they’re here for just a little bit. I stay in my room so much I feel like I’m a diver holding my breath and as soon as they leave I can surface and gasp for air.

Also, I’m getting more and more self-conscious about my acne and this one tooth I have that’s crooked because my mom has enjoyed commenting on them lately and it makes me kind of scared to share my face with the internet and last night I legit had a dream about trying to get these things fixed with more braces and foundation. Like what even I literally don’t care about this stuff when people don’t comment on it. Why do I have to be so sensitive?

Problem is, I am figuring out why. I’ve been doing so much research on Narcissistic Personality Disorder and narcissistic abuse to try to understand my parents and childhood and young adult years, that not only have I been able to identify it in my abusers, but I’ve found some traits in myself. And I’ve searched and studied and tried to see if I have it and after this inward witch hunt I have to conclude I don’t have Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but I have a few signs of vulnerable narcissism. Even if they’re not enough for a label, they’re definitely things I need to work on (things like hypersensitivity, victim mentality, sulking and shut down, self-sabotage, things like that... and now apparently vanity, but only when people frequently give me flack about my face). Trouble is I don’t know how to work on these because I have no mentor, no counselor/therapist, no pastor, nothin’. And most of the videos about Narcissism are about identifying it or surviving it as the victim, not growing past the traits, because full-blown narcissists generally don’t acknowledge their flaws and try to fix them. So I’m at this annoying and fruitless phase of “self-improvement” where I just frequently scold myself for my thoughts.

YouTube ambitions and flaws aside, I have people waiting for the next chapter of my fanfic, and no one’s been pushy or anything, but there’s this huge weight on me to write, write, write, but with everything else going on in my life I just feel stuck. Like my brain is just “NERP.” And I feel guilty, like I’m the biggest disappointment to people.

And then there’s this blog itself.

It’s begun to feel more like an obligation for me rather than recreation. Every week I dread the time after a new episode airs. I want to make posts at my pace, about what I want to talk about, like what I used to do.

But sometimes the link I get has a weird video player window that I can’t make the right size to make decent gifs, and sometimes I can’t even take screenshots because when I pause it it’ll have the play triangle in the middle of the screen and the bottom of the screen will get dark, or sometimes the link just stops working. So I wait for the episode to go up on watchcartoononline because that’s where it works best for me but in the meantime I’m missing out on the fandom being online and by the time the episode goes up I’m just like, “What if the post I make of this moment gets like zero notes because it’s already been giffed and talked about a million times and I’m late to the party? What if I’m disappointing everyone?”

I try to not post anything until I can post about the episode properly, and I’ve asked people not to send me asks or messages with episode spoilers until they’ve seen proof on my blog that I’ve seen the episode, but that hasn’t stopped them. I get spoilery asks anyway.

I get a link relatively quickly but mainly I ask for people to wait for proof I’ve seen the episode because I want a chance to get my own thoughts on the episode out first before people ask me about specific things or straight up demand I talk about what they want me to talk about on my blog.

For a couple weeks I even made all my posts and saved them as drafts first so real quick I could just post ‘em all in a row and get ‘em out, because I know the second I post one thing I’ll have everyone going “OMIGOSH SHE’S ONLINE,” and trying to send me asks and messages and I’ll be trying to juggle them all while trying to make more posts about what I want to talk about. I feel like I have to reply to those messages because if I don’t I’m scared they’ll see me make another post after they’ve sent their message and be like, “What the heck she’s online why won’t she reply to me?” So sometimes I’ll just stop posting and hope and pray they think they just missed me or something, which isn’t fair to them.

But then I’ll see something new on my dash - art from khionyohann, new screencaps for the upcoming episode that DuckTalks shared - and I’ll want to reblog it, but then I’ll think: “I can’t reblog anything... people will know I’m online then. And I still haven’t posted about the episode. I can’t do things out of order. They’ll think, ‘Why isn’t she talking about the new episode? Why isn’t she answering my asks? Why isn’t she replying to me?”

And by the time the episode gets posted on watchcartoononline (and as long as I don’t have a migraine and I’m not paralyzed with fear), I make my posts, but by then I feel like I’m super late and I don’t even know what the point is of me reblogging things anymore, if I even remember there were things I wanted to reblog.

My time here has become nothing but me trying to please people while simultaneously trying to hide from them.

So... blarg. All that to say, I’m closing my ask box for a while. And I’m sorry to disappoint people. I’m just so overwhelmed by everything right now. Extroverted thinking isn’t even a cognitive function that comes naturally to an INFJ! It’s utterly exhausting.

And while I do still want to do more posts about the latest episode, I hope you’ll understand that things are just crazy for me right now and I’m not in a good place. I’m trying to be okay and I’m trying to be so excited about an episode that I get motivated enough find ways to blog about it no matter what but I don’t have the energy. I want to reblog stuff, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to interact.

And for the few I consider true friends on here, please know I’m not asking you to leave me alone or anything. Just know I might not respond as soon as you message me... which, honestly, you’re probably all used to by now, but I still feel super guilty about it.

I just need to simplify my time on here a little bit because I’m not okay.

#personal post #probably the longest i'm-closing-my-ask-box announcement ever #is ask box one word or two when it's referring to tumblr?

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shutupandshipit · 4 years ago

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Christmas Preemie - One Shot

Summary: Izuku smoothed a hand over Katsuki belly, smiling as it was kicked at rather viciously. “He’s been moving around a lot, hasn’t he? Wouldn’t it be crazy if he decided to be a Christmas baby.”

Fingers curling in Izuku’s collar, Katsuki brought their noses very, very close. “Don’t even joke about that, shithead. I’m not done baking this loaf yet.”.

....

Or where Izuku makes a joke and forgets to knock on wood.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Check out Coming Home if you haven’t already! It precedes this fic!

Author’s Note: So, I'm sure other places have Christmas Strolls, but I've never seen one outside my hometown. It's literally my favorite part of the entire year, but I haven't gotten to visit it in more than 5 years. I didn't mention the name of the street in the fic, but it is based on the actual Plumas Street and Christmas Stroll that's in my hometown. When you're imagining it, think of what main street for a small town would look like (except we haven't been a small town in many many decades). Also, before anyone mentions it, yes the tortoise from the pat store that's mentioned is an actual thing we saw often. They would tie a balloon to him to keep track or where he went. He was pretty freaking big (medium dog size), and if I remember correctly, he was over 100 years old.

It's Christmas day here in Japan for me, so have another Christmas fic. Anyway, enjoy! Stop by and tell me what your Christmas Stroll/Festival is like! (when there isn't Covid) Blessed Yule! Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Whatever you're celebrating, I wish you a happy day!

"Daddy."

The whisper was just soft enough to wake him up, but not loud enough to startle him. Still, Izuku hoped if he pretended not to hear it, it would just end up being a dream. He let his face remain slack, his breathing steady.

A few seconds later before Izuku had even managed to doze off again, the whisper came again, closer this time. “Daddy, wake up.” Weight followed, two small hands pressing into his chest with all their weight.

“Sumi,” Izuku breathed quietly, still refusing to move and believe his daughter had woken him up, “It is very early and Daddy is very tired. Please go back to sleep.”

“But there’s someone outside the door. I can smell them.” The weight disappeared from his chest, but not the edge of the bed.

Groaning, Izuku pushed himself up and peeled his eyes open. Weak blue morning light crawled into the room from beneath the curtains. On the bedside table, blurry red numbers told him that it was only 6:22 AM. Katsuki was still dead asleep beside him, pillow covering his head while his hand lay protectively over his belly.

Sumi bounced anxiously on the edge of the bed, her protheses bare metal all the way down to her toes. She glanced between the door and Izuku. Her wild green locks were wilder than usual from sleep, a brush handle protruding over the top of her head at the back of her hair.

Before Izuku could move to extract it, a knock sounded at the door. Three short, but loud, raps. Both he and Sumi startled, glancing at Katsuki before each other.

With a heavy sigh, Izuku nudged Sumi off the edge of the bed and stood. He was just pulling a shirt over his bare torso when the knocking came again. Louder this time.

Izuku wasn’t someone who normally got agitated easily, but between the early hour and the jetlag, he was less inclined towards solicitude. Jerking open the door, scent flaring out strong and sharp, he growled, “What?” He felt Sumi press against the side of his leg, and glanced down to see her baring her teeth.

The man on the otherside was a burly looking alpha fellow with an overwhelming burning sage scent. Irritation made the scent sharper, less pleasant plant life and more like weed. His arms were crossed over his wide chest, murky brown eyes cut in thin slits. He was taller than Izuku by several inches, but Izuku had no doubts that he could still take the alpha down even without One For All. “Tell your wife to reel in her pheromones. I’ve got three alpha teens in the next room over, and she’s driving them nuts.”

Izuku glanced over his shoulder at the still form of Katsuki before pushing Sumi back into the room and stepping out to square up against the man in front of him. He smiled, sharp and dangerous, channeling every ounce of Katsuki he had stored in his veins. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that? My English isn’t that great. I thought I just heard you say it’s my omega’s fault your boys can’t control themselves.” His English was almost as good as his Japanese after four years with Sumi and Katsuki and Shonetta every other day.

The alpha huffed, glaring down his nose at Izuku. “That’s right. You know you can’t bring omegas in heat to hotels in the U.S.”

“Wow! Amazing! You can’t do that in Japan either, and my omega isn’t in heat.”

“Whatever she is, you need to get her to reel in her fucking pheromones. I’m sure we’re not the only family being bothered.”

“I think,” Izuku started sweetly, “maybe, you need to teach your boys some self control. If they get riled up just from smelling an omega, I think the fault lies with their parents and not a family minding their own business in a separate room.” His smile could have cut glass.

The alpha bristled, face going red. “Why you-”

The door opened behind Izuku, and both alpha’s startled as a disgruntled Katsuki stepped up behind Izuku. “What’s going on? Do you know what fucking time it is, asshole?”

Izuku hadn’t heard Katsuki get up, and assumed Sumi had made the decision to get him. His protheses were attached, metal bare to the morning chill. Katsuki was also shorter than the alpha, but his presence was far more intimidating as he glared at him in all his pregnant glory. At eight months, Katsuki was deep into his pregnancy, and deeply over it as well. He had begun to swell at five months and hadn’t stopped.

“I’m just giving this man some parenting advice,” Izuku said, glancing at the other alpha whose face had drained completely of color.

Katsuki shot narrowed eyes at Izuku. “Yeah, sure sounded like it.”

“You’re Dynamight-”

“Yeah, what of it?” Katsuki groused. His eyes turned back to the alpha, looking him up and down with a critical eye.

Katsuki, pregnant and tired, was not someone a lot of people knew how to deal with. They’d set up the trip to visit Shonetta and Cynthia before they’d had the pregnancy confirmed. Izuku had suggested they move it either one way or the other around the birth to provide his mate with more comfort, but the paperwork had already been in route and tickets purchased. On top of that, Katsuki had been sure he was going to be just as small as when he’d had Katsumi. He had surpassed that stage two months ago.

The alpha seemed to shrink under Katsuki’s steady anger. “I, uh, I’m sure you don’t remember me, but you might remember my daughter? She was kidnapped while we were at the zoo, and you saved her before the guy could throw her into the lion pit.”

After a moment, Katsuki said, “Little red headed omega. Freckles everywhere. Presented very early at seven or something like that. Wouldn’t let any of the alpha heroes near her.”

A smile split across the alpha’s face, and Izuku wasn’t exactly sure what was happening here. “Yes! You were the only one who could get her to calm down enough to come out of the crevice she’d wedged herself in behind the statue.”

Katsuki considered the guy again, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame. “Right, now what were you saying about omegas earlier?”

Sumi pressed between them, eyes still narrowed at the man before them.

Red bloomed in the alpha’s face again, but this time it seemed to be in embarrassment. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all! Your mate was giving me some parenting advice like he said.” A door opened close by.

“Right.”

Izuku and Sumi glanced down the hall to see an omega girl of about twelve pop out of the door.

“Dad, Danny said- Mr. Dynamight!” She darted out, letting the door slam shut behind her. She gasped. “Katsumi!”

“Katherine!” Sumi shouted in return, wriggling out from between Katsuki and Izuku to jump around with the other girl, hairbrush still in her hair and all. “You’re so much bigger than me now! Do you talk to Ms. Bains anymore?”

While the little girls chattered excitedly with each other, Katsuki pointed at the alpha. “You, come here,” he growled threateningly, palm crackling quietly. Swallowing, the alpha stepped just a hair closer, and Katsuki snapped out a hand to jerk him forward until they were nose to nose. He hissed, “Get your fucking boys under control and stop blaming others for your short-comings. You’ve got a fucking omega daughter, and you’re spouting that rhetoric around her? Get your fucking priorities straight.”

“Y-yes, sir,” the man squeaked.

Katsuki pushed him away. “Great, now that we understand each other.” He turned, slowly making his way back into the room, but returned only a moment later with something clutched in his hand. “Hey, girl!”

Katherine perked up, trotting over to the three adults with Sumi’s hand still clutched in hers. “Yes, sir?”

“Here, something to make your brothers jealous.” Katsuki held out a bandana that their PR agents had specially made when Katsuki and Izuku had publicized their bond. Cut from one corner to the other, one side was green and black with Izuku’s signature bunny motif while the other side was black and orange with ‘X’ graphics. They’d brought a couple of the prototypes to give to Shonetta and Cynthia. “That’s the first like it. I sighed the ‘X’ in the corner, and I’m sure Deku would sign it too if you ask him.”

Katherine turned big brown cow eyes on Izuku, and he smiled as he turned to find a sharpie.

Behind him, he heard Katsumi shout, “I’ve got one too! We can match! We’ve got shirts too! I could send you one when we get home!”

“Would you?” Katherine asked excitedly. Izuku grabbed a pen and paper as well, returning. As he traded everything in his hands for the bandana, she asked, “Dynamight, can I feel your belly, please? I’ve never gotten to feel a baby move before.”

“Go ahead, kid.” If Katsuki Bakugou was anything, he was soft when it came to children and other omegas.

Izuku thought maybe it was something he’d never really completely get about his mate. He knew it had to do with biology, but he thought maybe it had to do with just Katsuki himself. He was gruff around the edges, but he had an ingrained instinct to protect those weaker than him. Then again, Izuku was softer than him when it came to children, so who was really to say.

Katherine stepped forward, pressing reverential fingers to Katsuki’s distended stomach before leaning to press her ear there as well. Sumi followed her lead, chattering all the while as the girls felt and listened. Katherine let out a high, girlish giggle as she pulled back. “He kicked me in the face! What a little bugger.” Still, she pressed her ear right back to where it had been. “You smell good, Dynamight, sir.”

“Well, heck, I hope so. How else am I supposed to keep this one around?” Katsuki jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Izuku who huffed out a laugh in response.

Laughing, Katherine took a few more moments before pulling away. She scribbled a cell number, email address, and physical address before exchanging the notepad for the bandana again. “One day,” she said very seriously, staring up at Katsuki with wonder in her eyes, “I’m going to grow up just as strong as you. I’m going to be a great omega hero like you!”

Her father seemed ready to protest, opening his mouth to say whatever had come to mind, but Izuku put his hand on his shoulder with another sharp smile.

Katsuki’s expression was soft as he patted her on the shoulder. “Hit us up when you’re about to intern in high school, and maybe I’ll be able to work something with Negative. Or if you choose not to be a hero in this sense, you can intern with her wife at the hospital as a nurse or a midwife. There’s a lot of avenues that you could take. Make sure you pick the one that makes you happy.”

Katherine nodded, just a quick bob of her head. “I will.” Before they could part, she wrapped her arms around Katsuki and then did the same to Sumi. When she pulled away, eyes finding her father, they went wide. “Oh no! I forgot. Danny said that the toilet is clogged and it’s leaking all over the bathroom.”

“Ah! What the hell!” The alpha threw his hands into the air, stomping towards the door she’d come out of.

With a giggle, she hurried after him. “Bye, Katsumi! Bye, Mr. Dynamight! Bye, Mr. Deku! Hope to see you again!”

As they disappeared into the room, Katsuki turned to Sumi. “Okay, little monster, time to get ready. Shonetta and Cynthia are supposed to be picking us up soon, and why is there a hairbrush stuck in your hair! Deku!”

Izuku gaped. “It was there when she woke me up! Don’t go blaming me!”

“And yet, I’m still going to.”

…..

-7 months earlier-

“Izuku fucking Midoriya-Bakugou, get your ass in here!”

It wasn't often that Katsuki called Izuku by his full name, and he nearly dropped the plate he'd been holding as Katsuki's enraged voice thundered from the bathroom. He and Sumi, now a stunning nine-year-old and growing bigger every day, caught each other's eyes across the kitchen counter. It had been what felt like years since Katsuki had yelled at him so ferociously.

' Papa's mad !' Sumi signed helpfully, eyes darting to the bathroom door before returning to Izuku.

' Yeah, but the question is how much ?' Izuku signed back one-handed, soapy fingers moving quickly through the air, ' And why ?'

“Fucking Deku!”

Izuku startled again, this time actually dropping the plate as he darted away. Sumi's laughter followed after him, but it did nothing to calm his nerves. “K-Kacchan? What's the matter?” he asked tentatively as he pushed into the bathroom. He paused just inside the door.

Katsuki sat on the edge of the sink, head cradled in his hands, fingers pressed to his eyes. The scent hit him next, sweet caramel and all-spice spiked with the bitter tang of bile and urine. Last was the quiet growling hum Katsuki seemed to be letting slip.

“Kacchan?” Izuku stepped completely into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Whatever this was, he doubted Katsuki wanted Sumi in on it just yet. “What's the matter?”

“Are you fucking happy?” Katsuki growled, but the edges were softer and fonder than Izuku normally received when Katsuki was angry with him.

That made him wonder; was Katsuki actually angry or just trying to hide something? “A-a-about what? What's going on?” When Katsuki jerked his head toward the toilet, Izuku stepped around him and stopped again.

Right on top of the lid, four pregnancy tests sat. Four pink sticks with four pink plus signs on white faces stared up at him.

He was crying before he'd even fully comprehended the sheer magnitude of what the tests meant. Inhaling a shuddering breath, he whispered, “How long have you thought...”

“A couple weeks. About a month, but I wasn't sure. Didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. Had to check after I puked though.” Katsuki still hadn't lifted his head, and Izuku turned to press between his knees, leaning in to lightly scent the top of his head.

“Kacchan, you really are?” he asked with a hiccup, throat thick and voice choked, “Really? You're not messing with me?”

“Tell me, in what world do you think I'd joke about this?”

A sob slipped passed his lips. “Really? You're really pregnant? Are...” he trailed off, fear coiling in his stomach right alongside the excited butterflies, “Are you mad about it?”

Katsuki released a heavy sigh, and dropped his hands. A smile pulled up the corners of his mouth, and he met Izuku's eyes. "No. No, I'm not, Izuku. Maybe it's just my stupid omega brain, but... I love Katsumi and I loved when she was a baby, and I didn't think it was going to feel the way it did. I didn't think I'd get another chance to feel that again. It's different having a baby and that changed my whole world. And this time..." Reaching out, he gripped Izuku's hips and pulled him close. "This time you'll be here to experience it too."

A torrent of sobs fell from Izuku's mouth, and he covered his face with his hands. Pressing forward, he wrapped his arms around Katsuki's neck to press his face into Katsuki's shoulder instead. "Kacchan, I'm so happy! I can't believe- I didn't think- I'm so happy!"

"Yeah, that's obvious, nerd," Katsuki said fondly, threading his fingers into Izuku's hair to hold him close. "Get it all out now. You're not allowed to be emotional for the next nine months. Got it?"

"That's totally unreasonable." Izuku laughed, breath sticky and wet against his own face. "But I'll try my best." He let out a breath, finally calming as he pulled back. “I can't wait to share these next months with you."

"You won't be saying that soon," Katsuki warned, but his smile ruined the effect. He pulled Izuku back in, this time for a kiss. And even though his mouth still tasted hideous, Izuku couldn’t have been happier.

Sumi burst through the door, eyes wild, hair wilder, hands popping around a phone screaming with Shonetta's voice. "I'm going to have a baby brother?" she screeched, launching herself between Izuku and Katsuki to try and get closer. "Let me touch your belly, Papa! I want to feel Taiyo move!"

"Katsumi!" Katsuki growled warningly as he pulled back to glare down at her, "How many times have I told you to not eavesdrop! Or answer my phone!"

Izuku was laughing though, stepping back to hoist her into his arms. "Sumi, you won't be able to feel them move for a long time. And how long have you had that name picked out? Also, hello, Negative."

Shonetta wasn't paying attention, screaming instead at Katsuki to pick up his phone so she could congratulate him. He didn't comply, ears red and face buried in his hands.

"Since I was three!" Sumi announced, "And I told Papa I wanted a baby brother like the other girls in my class!"

"And I told you not to hold your breath, you little monster," Katsuki growled before groping blindly for the phone. Removing his hand, he glared down at the woman on the screen with red cheeks and curled lips. "You tell anyone, woman, and it'll be the end of you, do you hear me?"

"I've already texted Cynthia."

"You know she's not who I'm talking about."

Izuku could hear the grin in Shonetta's voice rather than see it. "Well, the entire agency is congratulating you. Don't ignore them when they text you."

"Bitch-"

"Katsuki," Izuku reprimanded quickly, but Sumi was already preoccupied as she chattered away at Shonetta.

…..

-Present-

“Katsumi Bakugou-Midoriya, get over here and put your jacket on or I’m going to leave you here, and you’re not going to get to go to the Christmas Stroll at all.”

Izuku popped his head into the little guest room that Shonetta and Cynthia had set up for Sumi to use for the week they’d be in America. There was an air mattress on the floor with a rumpled pink comforter in the middle surrounded by two desks and numerous filing cabinets. Sitting on the edge of the mattress was Sumi, arms crossed over her chest in consternation.

“No! It’ll be too hot!” she shot back, “I can dress myself!”

“Clearly not if I’m having to tell you to put on more clothes because it’s going to be cold!” Katsuki snarled, out of breath as he glared at his daughter. He was gripping the back of a computer chair with one hand while the other pressed to the small of his back, face contorted with as much discomfort as it was irritation. “I’m not asking. This is nonnegotiable, and I’m not in the mood to be arguing with you.”

Sumi turned up her nose, and Izuku got a very sudden and terrifying flashback to Katsuki when they’d been kids. “No. I’m not wearing it.”

Before either could snap back, Izuku stepped into the room with a smile. "Sumi, you know you're not supposed to be arguing with Papa right now." He turned to Katsuki with a smile that softened as that now familiar warmth of seeing Katsuki swollen with pregnancy filled his chest. "Kacchan, please sit down if you're uncomfortable."

"I'm fucking fine," Katsuki snapped, but almost immediately blanched and slowly sank into the computer chair. "Fucking kid." Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and rubbed a hand over his belly. Once, twice, soothing circles.

When Izuku looked back at his daughter, he found guilt twisting her round face. "Wait here for me, Sumi, and we'll talk about the jacket. I'm going to help Papa outside."

"Okay," she mumbled, ducking her head and tugging at the end of her long braid, "Sorry, Papa."

Izuku gripped Katsuki forearm as he slowly stood back up. "Not your fault, little monster, your brother just has a lot of energy like Dad."

She didn't lift her head, and they both sighed as they made their slow way out of the room, and out to the living room.

"Shouldn't have yelled at her," Katsuki grumbled as he sat down and let Izuku slide and lace up the orthopedic boots from Cynthia on his feet.

"There was a better way to handle the situation, yes, but traveling always makes you irritable. And you've been doing really well handling your anger throughout your entire pregnancy." Task completed, Izuku pressed a kiss to Katsuki's belly and got kicked in the mouth for his trouble. "I'll talk to her, and then maybe you can talk to her about why you were frustrated later."

Katsuki made a sound above him, and Izuku lifted his head to find his husband scrubbing at his eyes. Izuku pressed gentle fingers to Katsuki’s wrist, but it only made Katsuki's breath hitch. "You're so much better at this parenting thing than I am. What would I have done if you hadn't wanted to stay with us?"

Pregnancy hormones. Even eight months in, Izuku was still surprised by how wildly Katsuki's emotions could vacillate in a few moments. Anger to guilt to tears. Tears weren't something Katsuki was predisposed to, so each time Izuku found Katsuki crying over something, he always had to stop and think about his next step. Sometimes Katsuki would cry over something that made sense; pictures of Sumi in the hospital, a news story about children being lost in a villain attack, the anniversary of All Might's death. Sometimes, they didn’t make sense; the time he'd knocked the dish soap onto the floor, doing paperwork at home instead of at the agency because he'd had an appointment that day, watching Winnie the Pooh by himself while Sumi was at school.

Everything about pregnancy fascinated Izuku, and he felt blessed every moment of it he was able to share with his mate.

Standing, Izuku pulled Katsuki into his body, rubbing a hand up and down his spine. "We're a team, love, we've always been a team. This works because we're together. Even if I weren't here, I know you'd be nothing less than amazing."

They remained like that until Katsuki’s shaking slowed. After a moment, he whispered, “Deku.”

“Yes?”

“I want you suck your dick.”

Izuku felt his entire body flush from head to toe at the blunt word choice. He laughed, rubbing at his forehead. “How about we save that for later? I thought you wanted to go to this Christmas Stroll thing Sumi and Shonetta haven’t stopped talking about. Isn’t today the last night?”

Katsuki huffed against Izuku’s chest, fingers stilling where he’d pushed them up beneath Izuku’s shirt. “I would say ‘fuck it’,” he groused, using Izuku to stand back up, “But it’s Sumi’s favorite part of the season. The whole thing’s a fucking annoyance.” Which actually meant Katsuki enjoyed it, Izuku had discovered. “The things I do for that little monster and her godmothers.”

Izuku smoothed a hand over Katsuki belly, smiling as it was kicked at rather viciously. “He’s been moving around a lot, hasn’t he? Wouldn’t it be crazy if he decided to be a Christmas baby.”

Fingers curling in Izuku’s collar, Katsuki brought their noses very, very close. “Don’t even joke about that, shithead. I’m not done baking this loaf yet.” He pressed a quick kiss to Izuku’s lips before hobbling away towards the kitchen where Cynthia and Shonetta were singing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs. “Sumi’s still waiting for you.”

Izuku put on his own shoes before returning to the bedroom. Sumi was still sitting in the same spot he’d left her, scrubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her long-sleeved t-shirt as she sniffled quietly. "I'm sorry," she whispered miserably.

Sighing, Izuku picked up the coat -barely a sweater really- that Katsuki had been trying to get Sumi to put on and sat down beside her. "Why are you sorry?"

Her shoulders hitched, just like her father’s a moment ago, and mumbled, “Because I’m being a bad girl.”

Running a hand up and down Sumi’s back like he’d done with Katsuki, he asked, “Why do you think you’re being a bad girl?”

“Because I was arguing with Papa and made him start to yell and now he’s mad at me. I don’t want to wear my jacket because it’ll be too hot, but I just get so mad when he starts to yell. I can’t help it.”

“You’re a lot like your Papa, baby. He’s like that too, and it took him a long time to learn not to let that be his first response.” Resting his hand on the side of Sumi’s head, he pulled her into his body, pressing a kiss to her temple. “He’s not mad at you, he just wants to make sure you don’t get sick. Papa shouldn’t have yelled at you, but you shouldn’t have yelled back, okay?”

“Okay.” Sumi hiccupped, tilting her head to rest on his shoulder.

Izuku let the moment stretch until he heard Cynthia’s voice coming down the hallway. “Alright, so here’s what we’re going to do.” Lifting her head, Sumi sat back to meet his eyes, silent and resolute. “I want you to put on your jacket before we go outside, okay. No, no arguments.” He put up a finger when her mouth automatically opened to argue. “You can take it off again in the car. You have to put it back on before you get out of the car. If it’s too hot after ten minutes of being outside, you can take it back off, but I want you to carry it just in case you do get cold. Okay? Is that fair?”

After a moment of puff-cheeked disdain, Sumi huffed and muttered, “Yes.”

…..

When the others had said ‘Christmas Stroll’, Izuku had been expecting houses lit with strings of light and families marveling at them as they passed. Maybe a few groups caroling or selling hot chocolate.

Izuku was not expecting a full-on parade of floats and fire trucks and police cars with people dressed as Santa Clause and elves dancing to Christmas music over loudspeakers. He also wasn’t expecting an entire street to be shut down and blocked off to allow the crowd to walk from one booth or store to another. At either end of the street, live music played. One side seemed to be professional musicians while the other side seemed to be high school students and volunteers. Behind the makeshift stages, Christmas trees towered, dripping in tinsel and sparkling lights and handmade ornaments from the ornament making stalls off to the sides.

Each booth and store shone with lights, boasting their wares. There was a whole booth dedicated to olive oil, another to soaps made out of goat’s milk, another to hero merch that Katsuki wouldn’t let him linger at. There even seemed to be a gift wrapping stall every ten meters or so. The stores were all small family owned businesses of holistic shops, restaurants and one records shop.

Katsumi ran out in front of them in the jacket she’d been so against with Shonetta, laughing as they held hands and darted around other families. Cynthia paced Katsuki, close at his elbow to help at any moment.

“Papa, look!” Sumi shouted, pointing down the road, “The tortoise from Guisser Pets is out again! Oh, Cookie Tree has a booth! Can we please get some cookies and hot chocolate!”

“Sure!” Katsuki called back, “Go pick out what you want, and we’ll catch up in a moment. Do a baker’s dozen!”

Other patrons glanced curiously at him, the Japanese obviously foreign to their ears, but Katsuki didn’t seem to notice as Izuku pressed close against his side. “This is really nice. They do this every year?” Izuku asked.

“Every damn year. The agency usually helps out too,” Katsuki said, eyes scanning over the crowd, “Those idiots should be around here som-”

“KATSUMI!”

Izuku and Katsuki lurched forward on instinct, Cynthia’s hand shooting out to grip Katsuki’s arm, but they stopped as quickly as they’d started. Up ahead, a group of heroes lifted their daughter into the air as she screamed with laughter. “Katsumi! Katsumi! Katsumi!” they chanted, Negative already in the middle of the group not making a lick of difference.

For a solid moment, they stood watching. Then Katsuki strode forward, intent in every step. “Hey, assholes! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Izuku had heard Katsuki use English before -at the hotel, on the phone with Shonetta, to Katsumi when she got overwhelmed- but it was a shock every time. And every time it made him hot around the collar. He watched completely dumbfounded as Katsuki stopped in front of the group, hands on his hips, and subsequently as they engulfed him into their mist. “Ah, Kat!” they shouted, and Sumi popped from the group to dart to Izuku’s side, “It’s so good to see you! Where have ya been, fucker? Holy shit, you’re huge!”

It was a group of fumbling, laughing and crowing as they absorbed Katsuki into their ranks like he’d never returned to Japan in the first place.

Izuku stood with Cynthia and Katsumi, watching his husband interact with people in a way he never had before. Katsuki’s smile was wide and unrestricted as he wrapped one of the guys in a choke hold and rubbed his knuckles roughly over the man’s crown. As he playfully pushed at the shoulder of a small wolf-eyed woman with sharp canines, large triangle ears and grey bottlebrush tail. As a pair of twins with cotton candy pink hair and thin delicate claws pressed their ears to his belly to listen.

There was an instinctual need to ward off every person standing too close to Katsuki, especially the alphas he could smell in the air, but knew exactly how well that would go over. That didn’t stop him from pumping out pheromones enough to make others attending the stroll pass him wary glances before skirting as far around him as they could. Beneath his hand, Sumi giggled and reached up to grab his arm tightly.

“Calm down, tough guy,” Cynthia told him, hand on his arm as she pushed cinnamon dreads back over her shoulder, “You’re suffocating the crowd. They’re not a danger to your mate or pup.”

Izuku groaned, turning to meet her brown eyes. “I know that logically, but that doesn’t make me want to rip off their hands any less.”

‘ Protect mate. Protect pup. Mate close to birth. Vulnerable. Must protect. Run off threats. Protect .’ The litany of Izuku’s alpha was only interrupted when the group of Katsuki’s ex-coworkers started glancing around.

“Speaking of which, where is baby daddy? You brought him, right? Of course you did. No alpha worth his salt would let a mate as pregnant as you out of their sight. We haven’t met him yet! Let us meet the person who can handle you!” a burly man shouted to a crowing of assents from the rest of the group, “Come on, Kat, where are you hiding him?”

“My mate and husband , you absolute dickhole, is right over there,” Katsuki spat, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, “Can’t you smell him? Or are you as nose blind as you are stpuid?”

The group followed Katsuki’s motion, eyes landing squarely on Izuku. Immediately, his alpha went on high alert while his face flooded with heat at the attention. Their eyes stared at him for several long moments. Eventually, it was the woman with wolf eyes that spoke up first. “Honestly, Kat, I saw the news, but I thought it was a publicity stunt. I didn’t think you had your claws in Japan’s No.1 Hero Deku. Like what is that? Sumi, how could you keep this from us!”

“I didn’t! You just didn’t believe me!” Sumi shouted back, hands still wrapped around Izuku’s forearm as she bodily dragged him towards the group.

“Hey, assholes! He’s been mine since we were kids! And we switch between the top two spots all the time! Hey!” Katsuki’s teeth snapped viciously, a snarl splitting the excited atmosphere as he knocked aside someone’s hand who’d been reaching for Izuku. “Hands off. This is a no touch exhibition, fucking got it?”

“Ah, Kat, you’re too much like a territorial alpha,” the burly man said, setting a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder.

This time, Izuku didn’t stop himself. He slotted himself between the man and Katsuki, and very deliberately picked his hand off Katsuki’s shoulder to give it back to him. “Like Kacchan said, this is a no touch exhibition.” He gave the group his widest and most lethal smile that put his sharp canines in full view. “Please stop touching my mate. I’ve been very patient up until now.”

The heroes roared with laughter, unaffected by either Izuku’s or Katsuki’s displays. The conversation devolved from there. Introductions were properly made. Chatter shot from one side of the circle to another. Santa hats were shoved onto Izuku’s and Katsuki’s heads from the good-natured group. Eventually, Shonetta dispersed the group to continue with their jobs. Sumi took off with the twins as they promised her cookies if she danced with them. Shonetta and Cynthia pulled back, and then it was just Katsuki and Izuku holding hands as they wove slowly through the crowds.

At the end of the street where the professional band was playing a slow sweet Christmas song, Katsuki allowed Izuku to pull him into a crowd of couples of every age and orientation. He wrapped Katsuki up in his arms and swayed them gently to the beat. The twins turned passed them, Sumi held on their feet, and Izuku smiled.

When he pressed a lingering Katsuki’s temple, he muttered, “You’re being gross. Stop.” Despite his words, he leaned into the gentle touch.

“I’m happy. I like it here. I like the whole celebrating together and the lights and how happy everyone else is too.”

“It’s one of the more enjoyable things to look forward to here,” Katsuki agreed.

Giggles rose from around them, and for a moment, Izuku thought it was because they were so tightly bound up in each other that they hadn’t realized the song had changed. Only, the song was still the same slow beat. They pulled apart enough for Katsuki to give the surrounding couples a dirty glare.

They weren’t looking at them particularly, but at their feet.

Sumi swooped in, eyes worried as she whispered, “Papa, did you have an accident?”

“What? No, I didn’t have an accident. I’m twenty-”

“It’s just… your legs are all wet and there’s a puddle under you,” she interrupted.

Katsuki and Izuku reeled away from each other, staring down between their bodies at the puddle beneath their feet. Izuku couldn’t understand how Katsuki hadn’t felt the wet, but he also couldn’t understand how there could be so much liquid and it not smell like urine.

Color drained from Katsuki’s face. “Katsumi, go get Cynthia and ask Shonetta to run to start the car,” he said slowly and deliberately.

“Why? Are you hurt?”

Was he hurt? Izuku was as lost as Sumi seemed to be, but Katsuki didn’t seem lost at all.

“No. Just tell them my water broke, okay, little monster?”

‘ My water broke .’ Izuku was suddenly far less lost, and both fear and excitement thrilled through him at the same time.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Katsuki seemed to struggle to smile. “I sure am, little monster. Just go tell your godmothers that okay. Tell them to be quick.” His fingers tightened exponentially on Izuku’s forearms, and as soon as Sumi darted away, he spat, “You just had to open your fucking mouth, didn’t you, Deku?” Unbidden tears spilled passed his lashes. “I fucking told you I hadn’t finished yet. Now, he’s coming and-”

Izuku cupped Katsuki’s cheeks in his hands, quickly wiping away the tears. “It’s okay, Kacchan. He’s a little early, but it’ll be okay. It’s not ideal, but we’ve got Cynthia and Shonetta, and everything went well when you had Katsumi here. It’ll be alright.”

“I know that,” Katsuki grit out, eyes squeezed shut, “But so many things can go wrong with a preemie. I just want him to come out healthy and happy. What if-”

Izuku tapped Katsuki’s cheek lightly. “Hey, none of that now. No ‘what ifs’. Taiyo is going to be just fine, alright, but we’ve got to get him here first.”

After another few seconds of just breathing and couples staring at them in concern, Katsuki opened his eyes. He was back to himself, the same hero who had faced down more villains than a lot of heroes could even boast about. With steel in his eyes, he muttered, “Get ready. I’m going to end up breaking your fingers tonight. I broke Best Jeanist’s last time.”

Izuku laughed, and then Cynthia was at their sides.

…..

Taiyo came into the world in the early hours of Christmas morning, and was almost immediately whisked away to the preemie ICU. They hadn’t even allowed Katsuki or Izuku to scent him before.

Now, with Katsuki fitfully sleeping under the sedative they’d had to administer to make sure he wouldn’t come after them, Izuku sat in silence. At first, he’d busied himself with making the phone calls he needed to. One to Inko, to Mitsuki and Masaru, to their agencies to inform them of what had happened so they would know that not only would they miss their flight, but also they’d be immediately beginning maternity/paternity leave. The last calls he made were to Ochako and Kirishima.

Hearing their voices, so cheerful and encouraging, made tears slip down his cheeks and words difficult as he explained to them the situation so far.

They both said the same thing. “Don’t worry, Deku, everything is going to be fine. Taiyo is going to be fine.”

He wasn’t so sure the longer he sat there without a baby in his arms. He didn’t even have Sumi there to hold, Shonetta and Cynthia taking her home and telling him to call when he finally had word on Taiyo. So, he sat and fidgeted and stressed and cried at the side of Katsuki’s bed. Eventually, he just crawled in next to him and snuggled close.

What felt like hours later, Katsuki began mumbling and shifting, eyelashes fluttering as the sedatives wore off. “Zuku. Zuku. Izuku,” he panted, eyes struggling to open, “Alpha- where’s my pup?” His fingers curled around Izuku’s already bruised digits again, grip slowly growing stronger as he came out of the drug induced stupor. “Where’s my pup? Alpha!”

Izuku sat up in the bed, quickly reaching to incline the head so Katsuki wouldn’t have to move. After jabbing his thumb into the call button, he settled back against the bed and ran shaky fingers through Katsuki’s sweat sticky spikes. “D-don’t worry. They’re just making sure he’s healthy. I’m sure they’re almost done.”

“I want my baby,” Katsuki whispered weakly, turning his nose into Izuku’s neck. He breathed out shakily, grip calming if only marginally.

“Me too. I called the nurse. I’m sure she has an update.”

When the nurse pushed opened the door, tugging a bassinet in behind her with the doctor in on the other side, it was deathly silent. There was no smile on either of their faces, and Izuku’s stomach dropped at the silence.

He could smell Taiyo. Spearmint and brown sugar. There wasn’t anything off about it, but the expressions on the doctor and nurse’s faces told a different story.

‘ Pup. Scent. Hold. Protect. Need to scent. Pup. ’ Izuku swallowed against his alpha’s rising aggravation.

“I want my baby,” Katsuki said immediately, struggling to push himself up straighter and reaching out his arms towards the bassinet, “Now.”

“Mr. Dynamight, we need to discuss something first-” the doctor started, but Katsuki wasn’t going to let him finish.

He snarled, loud and harsh, all protective omega mother. “Give me my fucking baby before I get out of this bed and hurt someone. You didn’t even let me scent him before you took him. You didn’t let me touch him or feed him. Give me my goddamn baby.”

The nurse and doctor exchanged a glance, but after a moment, the nurse carefully lifted the abnormally silent bundle into her arms and brought him to the bedside. Hesitantly, she passed him over.

Katsuki and Izuku reached for him at the same time, bringing him in close between their two bodies. His eyes were closed, but he snuffled quietly as if he could smell them as well. There was wispy blond hair on the top of his head, and when his eyelids fluttered, there was the barest glimpse of color. Newborn baby blue eyes.

Tears tracked down Izuku’s face as he pressed a kiss to Taiyo’s forehead and then Katsuki’s temple.

“Help me get this stupid gown open,” Katsuki muttered as he shifted Taiyo closer to his chest. Taiyo made a soft barely audible sound, tiny nostrils flaring as Izuku and Katsuki got him flush against Katsuki’s chest. It only took him a moment to latch onto the offered nipple. “Why was that so much easier than with Sumi?”

The doctor cut in before they could continue on ignoring the pair. “Mr. Dynamight, Mr. Deku, please, if I could have a moment of your time. This is very important.”

“More important than me feeding my pup?” Katsuki asked, voice saccharine as he smiled up at the doctor.

The doctor swallowed, but nodded and forged forward. “I need to discuss your options with you. I know that you two are very busy pro-heroes with one child already.”

“What situation are we talking about?” Izuku asked, “You failed to mention what the problem was when you took him from us. I understand that you had to make sure he was healthy, and I appreciate the good work you’ve already done for us, but if something’s wrong, we should have been told immediately. Not hours after the fact.”

Looking chastened and rather aggrieved, the doctor nodded. “Yes, but this is a rather delicate subject. We weren’t sure how, uh…” He cleared his throat, eyes flickering toward Katsuki.

“How I would react? Is that what you were going to say?” Katsuki sneered, mouth cutting a razor sharp line. “You think anything is going to make me not want my pup, is that it? Full offense, but you don’t fucking know anything about me. So tell me what you’re so worried I’m going to react badly over.”

Swallowing again, the doctor cleared his throat. Worry and fear pierced straight through his scent when before Izuku hadn’t even been able to smell the alpha. Katsuki really was marvel. “Your baby was born with a birth defect known as spina bifeda. Do you know what that is?” Katsuki and Izuku didn’t answer, eyes now trained solely on the doctor. Clearing his throat for a second time, he gave a brief explanation before saying, “From the tests we’ve run, we have determined that it’s not a severe case. His brain seems fully functional, no sign of water.”

“But?” Katsuki snapped.

“But... it seems the mobility of his legs is non-existent. As he grows older, the condition may worsen or it may remain the same. What we know for sure at this moment is that he’ll never walk normally. There’s only so much our healers can do, but if the nervous system just didn’t develop correctly…” The doctor trailed off, looking between the two silent heroes. “He is going to need a lot of care, more than two pro-heroes may be able to give him. There are resources-”

“Shut up.” The doctor went silent with a clack of teeth, and Katsuki sighed, running a finger over Taiyo’s chubby cheek. “Not even you’re normal, baby. Sorry, but you’ll fit right in. Between the four of us, we’ve got three legs, six and a half arms, three sets of working ears and four pairs of eyes. Welcome to this dysfunctional family. Merry Christmas, you little heathen.”

Izuku was sure he’d never been more in love with Katsuki than in that moment. Laughing quietly, he asked, “I get everything else, but why six and a half arms? I’ve still got both of mine.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, not looking up from Taiyo. “Yeah, and one of them barely functions. Hence, half.”

“Okay.” Izuku pressed a kiss to Katsuki’s cheek before turning to look back at the gawking doctor and nurse. “When can we take him home? Also, when can we get on a plane? We eventually have to go back to Japan.”

They could only sputter.

…..

“Katsumi Bakugou-Midoriya, you are not taking your brother on to the jungle gym. He’s too small right now. Bring him to me.”

With a huff, Sumi turned on a heel and returned to Katsuki and Izuku where they were sitting on the park bench with Kirishima and Mina. Their little boy, a few years younger than Sumi, pouted impatiently at the swings while Sumi very carefully unstrapped Taiyo and his papoose from her front.

“I know you want to include your brother in everything, but you have to wait for him to get bigger. It’s going to be a while before he can really play with you, alright?” Katsuki explained patiently, holding Taiyo up so Izuku could remove his papoose and sat him in his lap. Taiyo waved his fists, but had yet to kick out. Just as the doctor had said, Taiyo seemed to have no control over his legs, though he could still feel pain. After returning to Japan, they’d immediately started him on neuro-therapy, but they had no illusions that he’d ever walk normally. Now, they just planned for what they could do for him instead.

Sumi leaned in to press a kiss to Taiyo’s nose, and he crinkled his crimson eyes at her before batting at her with a closed fist. She laughed, dancing back with a whirl of skirts. “I understand. I’ll play with him when we get home then.” Spinning, she tore off across the playground and tackled her friend to the woodchips.

Mina laughed, phone at eye level as she recorded the entire debacle. “Yeah, that’s your guys’ child. Poor, Dai.”

Kirishima sighed, though happily, running a hand through his ever lengthening red hair. “Honestly.” He cut eyes towards the trio as Katsuki began to bounce Taiyo on his knee, the baby babbling nonsense the entire time. Reaching over, he allowed Taiyo to grip at his fingers. “You know, a lot of people are surprised. I keep trying to explain it, but no one ever believes Chako or me.”

“Hah? About what?” Katsuki asked, glancing away from Sumi to throw Kirishima a scowl.

“You know, that you kept Taiyo.”

“Yeah, even after all this time there are people who thought you’d give him up for adoption or something for being disabled,” Mina interjected, leaning around Kirishima to get her eyes on him, “I know you’ve been staying away from the news and stuff while you’re still on leave, but some of the headlines are absolute bonkers. When they ask me about it in interviews, I tell them straight up that everyone’s being an idiot.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, eyelashes fluttering spectacularly, and Izuku sighed. “That would be kind of hypocritical of us, considering,” Izuku said, glancing at Sumi’s legs, bare metal because she’d refused to put on the synthetic skin or leggings that morning. “But that’s besides the point.”

“I mean,” Kirishima started, mouth skewing, “I don’t think they ever doubted you’d want to keep him, Deku.”

“And I’ll tell those vultures the exact same thing I told the doctor,” Katsuki interjected before Izuku had a chance to speak, “People don’t know fuck all about me.” He dropped his eyes back to the baby in his lap. “Taiyo was the best Christmas present I could have ever gotten. The only people who need to know that are the four of us. Everyone else can shove their opinions.”

Izuku felt heat press against his eyes, and he dropped his forehead against Katsuki’s shoulder as Mina laughed and said, “You’ve gotten soft in your motherhood, Kats.”

Instead of his usual response, Izuku heard Katsuki say, “Yeah, probably.”

Izuku laughed happily against his shoulder, grinning like the in-love fool he was.

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #decchan #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #assorted ocs #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!izuku #omega!katsuki #disabled!katsuki #pregnant!katsuki #my writing #coming home #christmas preemie

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bluedemon1995 · 4 years ago

Text

Stay True To Yourself!

I read a story about a girl whose boyfriend took her to a swingers party…but neglected to tell her! And of course, that story led me down a very strange rabbit hole until this popped in my head. Ummm, this one has a little bit of a more adult theme - so please read with caution! This is an alternate reality story- obv not canon.

Katie Holt sat in the car feeling a niggling sense of unease that she cannot dismiss as hard as she tries to shove it down. She tries to narrow down the cause, thinking and analyzing as is her nature. Is it because she hasn’t been dating Mark very long and he picked her up roughly an hour ago. In fact, if she was honest, this was probably the longest amount of time she’d actually spent in his actual company. Previously, it was mostly online chats then a couple of in person short lunch coffee dates. But they were maybe twenty minutes. Is it because they are going to a party and she typically does not enjoy parties? Or maybe it’s because he’s the only person she’d know from this party, and she hates being dependent on anyone. She’d much rather rely on herself.

Regardless of the cause, she tries to shake off the feelings and enjoy the moment. Live a little in the real world like Allura said as she was helping her getting ready. Actually, if she was honest, this was the second novel experience of the day since having a friend come over and help her get ready for a date was a first as well. Yesterday, when she absently mentioned that she could not go to the movies tonight because she was going to a Christmas party with Mark, Allura got so excited. She immediately made plans to go shopping and offered to come and help me get ready. She was honestly more excited than I was but it was nice to have someone care.

Which was nice because her mom and dad had a work Christmas party to go to and her brother was on a date himself. It was nice for Allura to come over and help her out. In spite of the make up, dress and dating tips, she had a good time. Allura was only a couple of actual years older than but in experience she was decades ahead of her!

This year, partly due to their project at work, she’s gotten closer to some of co-workers or team. It’s been a nice change since high school and college where she was mostly alone except for her family and their friends. She loved feeling like people got her sarcasm, her references well, just HER. It was nice to have people who made her stop working to eat lunch or heck, even remembered to check to see if she left work for the day. Slowly but surely her team had become her friends.

Which all leads her back to a few moments ago, when Mark parked and got out of the car, stopping at the hood to wait for her. He looks impatient but whatever, she needs to take a minute alone to get her self under control. Her nerves hit a high point but deciding this was as good as it gets, Pidge stands and walks to the him, impulsively reaching out and holding his hand. It was dark and snowy, she definitely did not want to fall on ice as they walked up! How embarrassing!

He seemed surprised by her hand but quickly pulled her close, “Hey so, this is a special party and I’d really appreciate it if you kept an open mind, think of it as an of it as an experiment.”

Pidge felt like a five alarm bell was suddenly going off at the conclusion of that sentence. FUCK! What was he talking about?!? Why would he say something like that now? It was akin to setting a bomb and saying, do not look at the timer.

While Pidge is having an internal panic attack they walk in-no knocking just walk straight in the door. She doesn’t see anything right off the bat that concerns her. There’s a table where keys were thrown, shoes piled in the front hall and music playing. It was a really nice house, set in one of the fancier subdivisions of the area. Pidge was trying to keep calm but she was annoyed that he’d state something like that as they were walking in the door! What about beforehand so she could of decided?!? And he really didn’t tell her anything, which is worse than knowing.

He takes his shoes off, she does the same. Hesitating, he turns and pulls her towards the kitchen. “Drink? What’s your poison?”

Pidge sighs, beer seems safe and not like she’s going to be drinking much of anything after that bomb he dropped walking in. “Beer is fine, I’d like light if they got it.”

He nods and goes towards the coolers lined up along the wall. Pidge does what she does best, fades into the background and observes the room carefully. The lights seem dim and she could see out the patio doors that more people are out there by the pool. She squints, maybe it’s the just the glare…but are those people naked?!?

Mark comes back at that time with a draft beer which means I won’t be taking a drink of it. Why wouldn’t he give me a bottle or can that I could open myself? I’m quiet and watch Mark take in the party. I wonder who he knows? Suddenly, I look at a pretty girl in a Mrs. Claus outfit who comes up to Mark. She smiles brightly, and proceeds to lock lips with Mark, wow. She’s actually impressive with her ability to wrap around him like a snake yet keep her hand with her drink still, not spilling a drop. I’m actually impressed! My eyes dart around the room, trying to gauge what the hell is going on here. Why would he bring me here if he already has girl???

Finally she breaks off and slides over to me, “Hi, Danni with an I, wanna make out?”

I blink, rapidly, “Um, no, I’m good, but, uh, thank you for the offer though.”

She smiles, “Okay! If you change your mind I’ll be around!”

She flounced away and I looked to Mark, quietly questioning, “Exactly what kind of Christmas party is this? Why am I even here?!?”

He chucked, “It’s a swingers party and you can’t come alone. You NEED to bring a date, you know for the numbers. C’mon, this will be fun.”

I look at him feeling myself turn red. “Wait a minute, I bought a fucking new outfit for this?!? I put goddamn makeup on! You fucking asshole! Look, I could give two shits about what you do, honestly, we aren’t involved like that but why involve me? Could you not find someone else to bring? For fuck’s sake!”

Mark stared at me, having the NERVE to arch a brow, “Cursing really? You know swearing is for people not intelligent enough to come up with a better word. Besides, don’t be a prude, look walk around and find someone you find interesting or hot. There are a lot of people here, like it’s not that hard.”

I close my eyes and as bad as I want to hit him, curse him out, I refrain. Oh, he will pay, just later when there aren’t about a hundred witnesses who can fill out a police report. I take a breath and walk away, back to the front door. I look at the keys, but they all look the same, how would I know which is which. I guess I could take them all but what if someone wants to leave. I step out to the front steps.

Honestly, this could not have happened on a worse night. I can’t call Matt, he’s finally on a date with his current dream girl and my parents at that work party. I close my eyes, take a breath to reign in my anxiety that is sky rocketing and first I try Allura. But, duh, she’s at the movies with Romelle and probably turned her phone off. Shit. My eyes fill with tears but I refuse to let them fall. I take a deep breath, trying Hunk instead another coworker. Straight to voicemail. Shit he might be sleeping.

I look at my contacts and realize, I don’t have a long list of people to call. I sit and sigh, okay no matter how embarrassing I could always get an Uber. I schedule one but because I’m so far it will take about an hour. I walk around to the back and sit on a chair in the dark corner of the backyard. Sitting, I let my finger hover over the last name to try. Here goes nothing. Hanging up I text a short message. What the hell do I have to lose at this point.

I sit. And sit. I don’t know how many girls and guys I rebuff but something about a person not wanting to hook up makes people want to hook up with you apparently. Jeesh, in my real life, no one wanted to date me now everyone was trying to have sex with me. WTF?

Sighing I look at my phone, and crap, it looks like all my surfing has killed my battery. Suddenly a very naked Mark and a different Mrs. Claus come up to me.

Mrs. Claus giggles out, “Hey if you’re nervous, you could totally hook up with my husband. He’s the hot elf over there, standing on the edge of the pool and hot tub. It will be fun! Then if we like, we could continue next week!!” She giggles a lot and I try not to be rude.

“Thank you for that kind offer, but I’m good.”

She shrugs, “Sure thing baby, but aren’t you bored. Marky said you were shy and um, a novice. Don’t be afraid.”

Mark turns and Pidge can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Only for some guy in his boxers to edge into her space. “Darlin’, you-me-, it’s written in the stars baby.”

I groan, “Nope. You misread them, thank tho.”

Usually once I say no, they just move on. But nope, not this one. “Don’t be a prude. Sex is very natural. It’s elemental. It’s like essential. You need me baby!!”

Really, that’s his line? I shake my head no, but now we’ve got a crowd. I hear people interject how I’m falling into societies lanes and I must be a virgin because I’m sitting by myself. Then I hear people say I should be grateful and oh my gosh, yep, I’ve been transported back to high school. Except I’m not a self conscious kid anymore and I don’t give a fuck what they think about me. But, I’ll be damned if I don’t respond. No one pushes me or pressures me to do something I don’t want to. And I’ve never just gone with the crowd cuz it was easier, not then, not now.

I hear a roar and suddenly all attention is lost on me. I decided to leave before my temper actually erupts. I quickly move towards the gate to get the hell out of here. I’d rather walk home then stay here. Fuck Mark and his party. I might actually brainstorm with Allura and Romelle on a way to get back at him. Something embarrassing.

As I walk away I hear Mark yelling my name, “Katie! Katie! Don’t walk away! You need to expand your senses and life. Don’t be scared. There is so much I could teach you. Don’t be such a prude!”

Laughter.

Well fuck him. Now I’m pissed. I’m not scared. I just don’t want to do this. Yet, who does he think he is telling me what I should do. As if. And what if he did this to other girls, who weren’t able to say no? I turn around and calmly but loudly state, while looking straight at him, “Look, don’t act like I’m the scared one. Who didn’t tell me where they were taking me. If this was a scene I was into, fine. And believe me, I will sleep with whoever I want. I just don’t want to sleep with you nor do I have anything to prove to anyone. But if and when I see a guy or girl for that matter, that I’d like to fuck, then I would. So, shut up, cause Marky you’re just not it.”

I could hear murmurs and then Mark yelling, and his feet slapping on the ground. Ughhhhh. One thing I could be thankful for is seeing him naked, cuz ick. He has no muscle definition and oh my God, I cannot wait to tell Allura how he looks like he waxes cuz he has no hair anywhere on his body.

I turn to walk away and see a guy who I have HAD the luxury of day dreaming about striding towards me with an shit eating smirk. Well, shit, of course. My eyes closes but it doesn’t stop my from seeing him behind my eyes. His hair is slightly matted from his helmet which means the roar must have been his Harley. He has one of his many black t-shirts on with his favorite leather jacket over it. His jeans are well worn and faded not those designer ones that only look used. He has on his riding boots, which of course give him another inch or so of height. Which he loves. Opening my eyes I see him about 6 feet away and I see he still has his riding gloves on.

I determinedly walk towards him only to hear Mark scream, his feet slapping, or at least I hope it’s his feet. He yells, “Yeah right, you prude-like you would ever-“

I reach said hot guy and say, “I’m kissing you in two seconds. One, two.”

I fist my hand in his shirt and pull him closer to me. Except he doesn’t move, so I look up into his eyes and arch a brow, he arches his, which causes me to roll my eyes and I open my mouth to tell him to go to hell when grins. With his hands on my hips pulls me into his hard body, throwing me off balance. I slip my arms around him lift my head and his lips slam onto mine. Ok, point proven. Yet, as I lean back to break the kiss, I feel two arms encompass me, hold me close and reposition me.

His mouth re-angles on mine, I feel myself lifted on my tip toes. Omg, the heat of his body is amazing. I didn’t even realize I was cold sitting out here but against his body I felt like was next to a heater. His tongue pushes past my lips and, well, I stopped thinking for a full minute, hell maybe minutes. It was that good of a kiss. Shit. His tongue stroked mine, made me shiver and then he nipped my lip causing a groan. I literally could feel him smile and I was going to move back when his hand fisted in my hair and he started to kiss my neck and holy crap! I think my knees buckled but it didn’t matter because he picked me up and my legs were suddenly wrapped around his waist. His hands were supporting my weight but I think they were actually under my dress. My hands were in his hair and digging into his shoulder respectively. Well. Hell.

I don’t know how long that went on for when suddenly I hear Mark right next to us yelling, “That’s enough.”

Slowly pulling back, his gravelly voice questions, “Outta here or are we continuing the show? Just to be clear, I’m good with either decision.” He then arches that fucking brow.

Face flaming, I whisper, “Let’s go. Please.”

Eyes on me, he nods. “What’s asshole’s name?”

“Mark.”

Nodding he raises his voice, “Hey Mark, fuck off and if I ever see you again, you’re dead.”

A girl in just a string bikini bottom steps in front of us, drawing our attention. Her hand is gliding down her chest when she looks right at him, throatily murmuring, “Wanna upgrade?”

He laughs, “Um already did. Let’s go Pidge.”

He moves his hands and I lower my legs. He instantly laces his fingers with mine and pulls me to the path back to the front. “Keith! You can’t say that! You know about Mark being dead meat.”

“Just did.”

“Why, what, are you even doing here?”

As he places his helmet on my head and carefully tightens the straps, “I saw Shiro’s phone buzz, so I looked. It seemed like something that couldn’t wait. So here I am.”

Blinking I nod, “Okay. I said I had an Uber coming.”

“Saw, don’t care. I, um, didn’t like the idea of you being here when you didn’t want to be. So yeah, deal.”

“But why didn’t you respond?”

“I pinged your location to my phone and left. Didn’t think about it honestly.”

“What if I was gone?”

He shrugged as we approached his bike, which was on the lawn! “As long as you were safe.”

He then takes off his coat, slipping it around my shoulders, “Arms in, it’s cold when we start moving.” Eyes on her legs, fingers play with her skirt, brushing her thighs. “I can’t do anything about your legs though. Let me know if you need a break. We can stop as often as you need.”

I nod, and as we drive into the night, my arms tight around his waist, I can’t help but smile. Keith Fucking Kogane. Damn this boy can kiss. Maybe there is hope for my love life after all. I feel his hand cover my hand on his abdomen, squeeze and drift down to my leg. I squeeze him a little tighter and I know it’s just my imagination but I swear I can hear his laughter.

My hero.

#katie holt #keith kogane #kidge #alternate realities

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greatfay · 4 years ago

Note

since ur answering asks and shit can u explain what u meant by generational differences in communication

Damn it’s like 2015 tumblr when my inbox used to be WET. So if you’re talking about the controversial opinions post, YES, like I totally understand where people are coming from when they say that generational divides aren’t real (because they aren’t, they’re arbitrary) and distract us from real problems and yes they paint past generations as collectively bigoted when Civil Rights protestors in the 60s (who are in their 70s and 80s now) are mirrors to BLM protestors today, who could be of any age, but the most vocal and famous (at least online, especially irt to the founders, like Patrisse Cullors who is 37.

But how we communicate is sooooo different. I really point to the Internet and Social Media as a major influence in how younger millennials (more Tom Hollands and less Seth Rogans—see even there, I feel like there are two different types of Millennials) and Gen Zrs/Zoomers and even Generation Alpha behave and communicate. We live in a world where we grew up either knowing right out the gate or discovering the hard way that what we say and do has permanence, the kind of permanence that prior generations have never experienced until today. The dumb things kids have been saying since forever can now follow them... forever. We have an inherent understanding of how online spaces work. Compare that to, idk, let’s say you posted on your Facebook (for the first time in 18 months) “All these big and bad grown ass Senators going after actual child Greta Gerwig lol ok, you’re so brave for attacking a CHILD over climate change” and then your aunt, who’s turning “forty-fifteen” in May replies to your post with “So happy to see my passionate niece! Much love from us, hope you’re doing well. Paul is doing great, waiting on his screening results. Tell your mom I said we miss her, we need to get together, we forgive her for last Christmas.”

Like... ok there’s a lot going on there, but your hypothetical aunt is oversharing on a publicly accessible post. And even with the most strict of privacy settings, she’s oversharing where your other Facebook friends (which may include classmates, coworkers, etc.) can see. But she’s saying things that would only be appropriate in a 1-on-1 conversation. This Aunt doesn’t have an understanding of such boundaries, she’s not as technologically literate and hasn’t grown up in a world of Virtual Space, she still gets most of her news from TV, she trusts what a reporter on Channel 4 will read off a script more than what actual video footage of an incident might reveal on Twitter, and she has no clue that she’s been sharing her location data with every post she makes.

There’s such a huge difference. I think it even affects how we experience and express stress and frustration. I think growing up partially in online spaces has made me more accustomed to conflict and consequence-free arguing than someone who never had to worry about that. I’ve been exposed so much to harassment and bullying, triangulating and echo chambers in forums and threads, and vastly opposing point of views at such an early age that it’s had an effect on how I see the world. Compare this to a customer I helped two weeks ago who was looking for a specific type of supplement for children. I found it for her, I handed her exactly what she was looking for, even though her description of the product actually matched several different products; to make sure I’d done my job thoroughly and that she leaves happy and satisfied and doesn’t bother me again, I then show her more products that match her description so that she knows she has options. And she proceeds to freak out, saying “NO, NO, I’M LOOKING FOR [X] AND IT HAS TO BE [XYZ]” and when I say freak out, she looked stressed and PANICKED. And being a retail employee wears you down bit by bit, and add COVID on top of it and little shit like this makes you snap, sometimes. So I have to cut her off like “Why are you screaming and freaking out, jfc you’re holding what you said you wanted. It’s in your hands. I gave you what you wanted, I’m just showing you more things.”

That customer is not an exception, she’s not a unique case. She’s representative of a frightening percentage of her generation, the kids who watched Grease and The Breakfast Club and Ghost in theaters when they were originally released. This is how they communicate and process information. She could not, for some reason, register that her need had been fulfilled, and defaulted to an extreme emotional response when given new and different information.

I’ve yet to deal with someone younger than 35 act the same way, the exceptions being the kids of very wealthy people at my new job who reek of privilege I gag when they walk in—but even they are like *shrugs* “ok whatever” and understanding when there’s something I can’t do for them.

Me: “sorry, we are totally out of that one in your size, but I can order it for you, it’s 2-3 day shipping at no cost to you and we ship it straight to your house”

A rich, white, attractive 22-year-old who’s had access to organic food, a rigorous dermatologist, and financial security since she was born: “mmm... sure, I’ll order it”

A 47-year-old of any socioeconomic background, of any race, in the same situation: “AHHHHHHHHHHH”

I just think it’s crazy how three generations of kids and young adults raised in a world where everything moves so much faster, where knowledge and entertainment and communication can be gathered so much faster, are often so much more polite and patient and understanding. Yesterday I told an older man (mid-50s) whose native tongue is the same as mine, as clearly and succinct as possible, that what he’s looking for is “in aisle 4.” He proceeded to repeat back, “Aisle 7?” four time before I dropped everything to show him what he needed in aisle 4, despite his insistence that he didn’t need me to walk him there. 4 and 7 sound nothing alike in English. There’s just something going on up there 🧠 that’s different.

Oh, other generational divides!!! We have different approaches to labor and working. Totally different! I’m a “young” millennial where I’m almost Gen Z, and I’ve noticed an awful trend among my demographic where people actually brag about working 90 hour work weeks. Or brag about how they skip breaks and live on-call to get the job done for “the hustle” like this “hustle, become a millionaire by 30″ culture that’s dominated these kids, idk where tf that came from. Like why are you proud of being a wage slave, getting taken advantage of by your millionaire/billionaire overlords. Compare this to my mother’s generation (she’s a borderline Genius X’er, she and her best friend were a year too young to watch Grease when it came out and had a random older woman buy tickets for her; she went to Prince concerts, took photos of him, then sold the photos on buttons at school, that’s her culture and teenage experience), where she’s insistent on her rights and entitlements as an employee, and these things she instilled me: “whatchu mean they didn’t schedule a break for you and you’re working 12 hrs today? oh no, you’re off, don’t answer your phone cuz you are NOT available!” There are Gen X’ers who entered the workforce at a time that America was drifting toward this corporate world, with more strictly defined regulations, roles, and understandings of labor rights (and also, let’s talk about how the 80s there was so much more attention on workplace harassment, misogyny and gender divides in wage gaps, etc. etc... not that much has changed, but at least it was talked about!). There are young people today who are taken advantage of because they aren’t as informed or don’t feel as secure and valuable enough to claim what belongs to them.

At the same time, those generations (Gen X and older) have a different viewpoint of hierarchies in the workplace and respect irt our direct supervisors. That’s how you get this blurring of boundaries between Work Life and one’s Personal Life that leads to common tropes in media written by their generations, where oh no! I’m having my boss over for dinner and the roast beef is still defrosting :O is such a “relatable thing” for them... meanwhile us younger generations are like I don’t even like that you know where I live, and if I see your 2017 Honda Civic pass my place one day, we’re going to have a problem. I think older generations have a different relationship with the word “Respect” than we do. Like, my grandma, who’s turning 87 (?) this year, and the other seniors in my area, they have a different concept of honor and an expectation of professional boundaries that I, and my mom and her generation, just don’t see (so then there’s something in common with Gen X’ers and the rest of us.) My dad grew up in a world where talking and acting like George Bailey and knocking on someone’s door with a big smile could get you a job, a job that could pay for college and rent no problem. My mom grew up in a world that demanded more prestige, where cover letters and references could get you into some cushy jobs if you’re persistent and ballsy enough. And I grew up in a world where potential employers literally don’t see your face when you apply unless they lurk on any social media profiles you have publicly available and they hold all the cards, and you need all those CVs and reference letters just to make minimum wage... so I feel like I am powerless in the face of such employers.

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ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 22. Compromise

“no' might make them angry but it will make you free.

- if no one has ever told you, your freedom is more important than their anger.”

― Nayyirah Waheed, Salt

[*TW: death/violence/bomb threats, neo nazi/mysoginistic hateful language]

It wasn’t the first time I removed my shoes in the middle of the grand hall, one hand to the wall, eyes to the stairs, legs shaking. I grabbed hold of my sandals and raced up the staircase three long, thin steps at a time.

In my room, I threw the shoes on the bed and rushed to the closet, putting my hair up as I did so I could then reach back and unzip my dress, but it was a futile effort. In anger, I recalled needing Lourdes’ help to zip up before dinner.

I took a deep breath and tried it on my own; but it was useless. I tried again, but on the third time all I could hear was the ressentment in Christopher’s voice when he talked about fucking me after my brother’s funeral in front of both our parents. The anger when he asked who was it that I started seeing after we broke up. More than that, I suddenly recalled every instance where I wanted to protest against something he had said or done, but thought better of it.

“Maggie?” Lourdes’ voice awoke me to the anger I was feeling. “I can’t fucking–” One look at me, and she hurried to my side, removing my hands from the dress so she could unzip me. “I got you.” She said. “There. Nothing we can’t fix, right?”

I felt the fabric loosen and pulled the suffocating halter high neck off. The tears started falling before I even realized they had been there at all, and I felt so frustrated for crying that it only made me want to cry more. I allowed my knees to buckle as I fell to the floor, hands around my neck, breathing heavily.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Lourdes said, calmly. “It’s okay.” She passed an arm around my shoulders and hugged me close, pulling me into her chest. “Nothing we can’t fix.” She repeated.

With her bony, small arms around me as a safe port, I cried the loss of the past nine years, and all the years we almost had.

--- ---- --- I had never in my life felt more alone. And yes, maybe I was being dramatic. Maybe I was amplifying a minor problem into a bigger one as a reflection of my deep anxiety about my new title and role, but the truth is it didn’t feel like that. It felt like – in fact, I was alone in my closet, looking at eight different dresses I had just put on and taken off, thinking about Louis telling me I dressed like our mother. How could I make sure I was being myself? How could I know any of my choices were my own and not just what he described as some subconscious need to be the ‘good daughter’?

There was only one person I knew to call for help with going against family expectations: Constance Parrish Von-Bernstein.

“I’m flattered.” She said when I face timed her, still half dressed on my closet floor. “You never have this type of crisis. I need to bask in it. Maybe I should make a wish.” “This is serious, Constance.” I reminded her, sighing. “I have a chance to be heard by the very people who have been pushing me around not only for the past five months, but essentially my whole life. I need to be heard, to tell them, no. To demand what I want. But I can’t even pick something to wear without feeling like a fraud. How am I supposed to be the Crown Princess when I can’t even dress myself?!” Constance looked put off; weirded out, but definitely like she saw the seriousness of the moment now. “Okay…” She started, slowly. “Well, what’s the issue exactly?” “I feel like I’ve been doing what everyone else wanted me to do my whole life, so how can I stand up for what I want now?” I laughed, humorless. “How did you do it? You wore nothing but black all through our teen years, you started dying your hair pink at eighteen, you ditched University and everything else your parents tried to push you into doing to become a musician! How?! How do I do that?!” She smiled, amused. “Well, Maggie… I guess first and foremost we need to accept there is a big difference between being the first member of my family in nine generations not to go to Sorbonne to live my dream of playing guitar in the subway, and knowing what to wear as the Crown Princess.” “I gather from your tone you think my issue is easier. It certainly doesn’t feel like it.” I scratched my head, pensive. “Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want to trade positions with you, either. But you were just juggling parental expectations. I am juggling the whole country’s.” “Yes… I can’t argue there.” “So, again… how?!” She sighed, propped her phone up against something and leaned back staring off into a wall as she considered the question. “You need to know what you’re willing to lose.” She said, determined. “What does that mean?” “Well, I wore black as a teenager because it was one of the few things I could control. But I still had to wear whatever my mother told me to at more important occasions. Christmas, family occasions, formal events with your family… there was no way she would risk letting me decide what to wear to those.” As she recounted, I searched my brain to find the memories of a grumpy, teen Constance looking as pretty in pastel as the rest of us in tea parties and polo matches. “At eighteen, I received the first pay out of my trust fund from my paternal grandparents, so I knew even if my mother decided to disown me, I could afford to live on my own. So I dyed my hair pink.” “Wait, I–” I shook my head. “I had no idea that’s what you thought would happen! Your mother would never!” “Well, we both know she would.” She smiled, amused but also slightly sad. “She hasn’t, though. Which is good, I guess. We did have a lot of fights about it, not just the hair, but Sorbonne and everything else, too. The first pay out of the trust was supposed to be for University, and I used it to buy a scooter and a new guitar.” “You live a pretty simple life, though. And it’s your money, you should do what you want.” “Exactly!” She replied, excitedly. “But that’s my point, your family is dependent on taxpayer funding, right?” “Well–” I stuttered. “Not quite. We’re funded by the Royal Trust.” “Which is funded by the government with allocation of tax funds, right?” “Well…” “Chérie, I’m not trying to get evidence for the republican party here. I’m making a point.” “Yes, okay.” I shrugged. “Yes, some of our funds are from the Royal Trust, and a lot of it is private funds from family inheritances, private property, and investments–” “Okay, so.” She continued. “If you get to the meeting and tell them you want something, and they say no. What’s stopping you from insisting? From doing it anyway? It’s not a crime to go against them, right?” “Well–” I reflected. “What I mean is, I waited to dye my hair until I had my trust fund so my mother couldn’t hold my finances against me. Money was freedom. So, if your family threatens to no longer fund you, what will you do? You don’t have a job anymore.” “Well, I…” I sighed. I never had to think about money before. “I do have a trust fund, too, from my great-grandfather. And I’m twenty-five, so the inheritance from my maternal grandfather should be available to me now.” “Well, there you go. So, what can they do if you insist on having it your way?” She asked, with a grin. “Throw you in jail?” She was right. Money was freedom. “I guess there’s only the main question left.” “Which is?” “What do I wear?!” I asked, making us both laugh at the despair evident in my voice. “It’s not just about the clothes.” I justified, more to myself than to her. “I’m afraid I’ll get there, and they’ll be looking at me like I’m a child who should be off playing with something unimportant instead of trying to play pretend with the adults.” “Maggie,” Constance started, laughing, “you’re a Harvard graduated lawyer. You have a solid, successful career you left for this. They need you, you don’t need them. In fact, you’re doing them a favor.” “I’m not sure that’s how they would describe it.” “They can dress it up however they want, facts are facts.” She shrugged. “You know how to stand up for yourself and get shit done, because you’ve done it before. You worked on the corporate world for years. So, stop acting like they’re doing you a favor by allowing you to be there, and start using your experience to shove it in their faces that you’re way overqualified for this.”

She was right; I had a solid, sucessful – if short – career, and at work, I dressed as a lawyer, if anything to remind people I was not just a princess. So I spent the rest of the day repeating the mantra to myself: Constance is right. Constance is right. Constance is right. With that in mind, I dressed pretending I had a big meeting at work: a short sleeved, high neck, satin Jason Wu dress with simple black heels and gold and black earrings.

Then I went to work.

In my mind, this battle would take place around a long, imposing conference room table, where I’d sit in the middle, with all relevant parties around me. The reality was less corporate: my father’s office. High ceilings, chandeliers, antique paintings and vases around the room, and, of course, the victorian furniture. Dad and I sat in armchairs by the fireplace, side by side, his main staff took their seats on the couple of sofas to our sides, and the others, after the three chairs around my father’s desk were taken, brought in extra chairs from other rooms.

One thing I noticed straight away.

“Where’s Cadie?” I asked dad on a low tone, as everyone took their seats. “I thought it would be in poor taste to discuss her with her in the room.” He explained. “You’ll notice Auguste isn’t here, either.”

Present in the room were around a dozen more people, most of whom I had known all of my life, though some more closely than others. That was the case with my parents’ private secretaries, the title we gave to our chief of staff, Clemment Montennon and Madaleign Qadir. I also recognized Abelard Brodeur, my father’s senior aide, Ulysses Caron, the Head of Security, and Edwald Dupont, Head of the Palace Communications Office.

My father made introductions of those I hadn’t had too much contact with before, like Caesar Bisset, head of Outreach Relations, who explained his main role was to coordinate and plan our charitable and humanitarian endeavors, and Alexander Halden, who was liason of relations between the palace and the government.

All of them sat in the sofas, all of them (but Madeleign Qadir) were balding, old, white men with mustaches and resting judgy faces. The people sitting in the chairs in the back, I realized, were their junior aides, with notepads and pens, ready to take notes or provide useful material during the meeting.

I started to feel more at home at once: hierarchy was familiar to me. I had been the lowly intern once, trying to remain as quiet and invisible as possible in the background, writing as fast as I could, desperate to prove myself in the first opportunity to the older men who held my faith in their hands.

I reminded myself that wasn’t the case here. I was the future Queen of Savoy, they worked for me. They needed me. I held my head high and squared my shoulders back.

“Thank you all for making room in your schedules for this meeting.” My father started, in French. “As this meeting was set somewhat suddenly, perhaps we should go over our goals for today before we start. In truth, I believe today is a culmination of what has been…” He paused, and heaved a long, heavy sigh. “Some tremendously difficult last few months. As we’re all aware, after we lost the Crown Prince last year, as my eldest child, Princess Marie-Margueritte became Crown Princess Marie-Margueritte.”

Discreetly, I fidgeted with my hands so the nail in my right thumb was gently scratching my left palm. I gulped, trying to swallow the familiar knot on my throat. ‘I have to be able to talk about this without crying. I need to talk about this to get through this meeting. I can’t cry in front of these people.’

“We took a few months to allow us all to grieve properly, as a family, and also as a country. There was also the need for the Crown Princess to make the necessary arrangements to leave her private career behind and, as we discussed around the time of the funeral, to put distance between her previous image and the new one she must take on in order to fulfill this new role.”

So they had discussed this at the time of the funeral. A need to ‘put distance’ between who I was and who I needed to become. And I wasn’t even included.

“But it is a new year.” Father continued, with renewed energy. “Crown Princess Marie-Margueritte and I have had a private discussion and we have decided the time has come for her to take a more active role in the process of preparation for her future as Monarch.”

He paused, allowing the words to settle. I still stared at my own hands, trying to breathe deeply and slowly. ‘Preparation for her future as Monarch’ sounded so… crucial. Important. Fatal, almost.

“So,” he said, now more upbeat, adjusting himself in his seat, “with that in mind, we arrive at the agenda for this meeting as discussed by the Crown Princess and I. We are to discuss and decide on the plans regarding the Crown Princess’ future work, security, and office in her new role as the heir apparent.”

There was a pause. I waited. My father looked at me, then at the others.

“Perhaps it would be useful to start with providing the Crown Princess with an update on what the current situation is with regards to the public opinion.” The king added. “Edwald?”

Mr. Dupont, Head of the Communications Office, a man reasonably young in comparison to the others, pushed his glasses up his nose with his pinky, opened a folder in his lap, and began to speak.

“Right. Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness. We are still monitoring what the press knows in regards to the Crown Princess’ extended stay in Britain. As of now, seems we were able to get the Crown Princess back in the country without them finding out, but we will continue to stay alert for any rumors in that regard.”

“Do they know about Princess Lourdes-Abigail’s suspension?” My father asked. “As far as we are aware, sir, no.” Mr. Dupont replied. “We do have at the moment, though, requests for comment on a poll the Sunday Gazette ran online where 71% of respondents didn’t agree with the statement: ‘the Royal Family has kept an active working role after the death of Crown Prince Louis-Adolphe’.” My father sighed, gravely. “Did we give them a comment?” “No, sir. An online poll of no impact.” Mr. Dupont returned. “Most people just vote to see the estimated results, or because they’re bored.” “Good.” He nodded. “Go on.” “Regard–” “Wait, of how many?” I interrupted. “Pardon?” “How many people answered the poll?” “71%, ma’am.” “No, 71% of how many people? What’s the total of respondents?” “Oh, uh.” He looked through the papers on his folder again. Behind Mr. Dupont, an aide got up from his chair and handed him a couple more sheets of paper. “Ah, right. The total number of respondents in the poll was 61,359, ma’am.” “Were they given an abstention option?” “No, ma’am, only agree or disagree.” I nodded. Mr. Dupont went on. “As I was saying–” “Sorry,” I interrupted again, “One last thing, promise, do you have the analytics numbers?” “The–?” Mr. Dupont seemed confused. I looked at the aide behind him, a young man with freckles. “Sir? What’s your name?” His eyes grew wide. “M-me?” I smiled. “Yes, sir.” “Matthew.” “’Ma’am’”, his boss corrected. “Matthew, ma’am.” The aide repeated. “Do you happen to have the analytics data on this poll, Matthew?” “Uhm. Well, not a full analytics report, ma’am. But I do have a print out of the webpage, so I have a sharing estimate for social media.” “What are you talking about?” My father asked, confused. “Analytics is a… a tool to interpret patterns of data from basically anything.” I summarized. “On websites that run polls, it could be useful to know how many people viewed it as many might have just viewed it, but not voted, which doesn’t mean they weren’t influenced by it. And any new article online has an option for the reader to share it on their social media platforms, so that’s what Matthew will tell me next.” “Well, the data is rounded up, we don’t have the details.” Matthew explained. “Well, then we can skip it.” My father said. “That’s a point for another meeting, Margueritte. Let’s focus on our agenda today.” I wanted to argue, but before I could gather the courage, Mr. Dupont went on about me next, which was distracting enough to make me let the subject go. “Regarding the press on the Crown Princess specifically,” Mr. Dupont continued, “The months following the funeral saw a record high number of press profiling her biography, and of course there were the, uhm, ‘viral’ issues.” “Viral issues?” I asked, when he used a strange tone on the word ‘viral’. “The…mainstream section of the world, ma’am, meaning those outside of Savoy and who otherwise seemed to be uninterested in the story of The Royal Family of Savoy, were very interested to discover it’s new heir was a former military servicewomen–” “I–” I stuttered, “I only did the minimum service of 6 months.” “They don’t seem to care about the specifics.” He replied. “They did show a lot of interest for the picture of you in uniform during a drill, which was released through the palace at the time.” He added, shrugging slightly. “The Americans, specifically, seemed excited about your time in Harvard and New York, and a lot of articles were written with testimonials from people who, at least, claim to have studied with you at the time.” “Oh.” I said, uncomfortable. “What–what did they say?” “Positive things.” Mr. Dupont replied, short. “Though, at home, despite the King’s vow of faith in Her Royal Highness during the Crown Prince’s funeral, Savoyen press remains… unconvinced of your… capabilities.”

I looked at my father, who was staring at his hands, absentmindedly. So this was why my father had used his eulogy to public declare his confidence in me in the role. Not because it was true. It was a PR move. No wonder he didn’t want to answer my question afterwards.

“What ar-” I stuttered. “Do you know any specifics of their criticism?” “They seem to worry about your work record the most, ma’am.” He replied. “Not a lot of royal work, some rumors of controversial stances as a lawyer, and uh. Not enough… How to best describe it? Personality, I suppose.” “They think I’m boring.” I helped. Seeming uncomfortable, he nodded. “International press definitely doesn’t, though.” He said. “And they have greatly influenced public opinion at home. It is very likely our national press is… upset they haven’t been given any insight on what your future will look like.”

‘And who’s fault is that?’, I thought, bitterly.

“Speaking of work,” I started, “Shall we talk about that next?” “Before we do,” my father said, before looking at Mr. Dupont, “what about the new development from last night? Where do we stand?” Confused, I looked around the room, but other than Montennon, Qadir, and Mr. Dupont himself, everyone else seemed confused as well. “We are closely monitoring the situation, but not rumors as of yet, sit.” He replied. “But I reiterate it would be best to get ahead of it.” “What happened last night?” I asked.

My father fixed me with such a dry expression I felt almost unbearably embarrassed for having forgotten: the Chris breakup.

“Oh.” I said, awkwardly. “Right.” “We’ll get back to you, Edwald.” My father told him. “Now, what need we discuss regarding your work, Margueritte?” “Well,” I started, pausing quickly to take in a deep breath, before reaching down at the ground for the folder I had left under my chair.

I opened it to find the copies I had made of the proposal I prepared the previous year while using anything I could to distract myself from the grief, and passed it around the room.

“This a summarized version, but I can have a more detailed one made tonight if you wish,” I prefaced, walking back to my seat after handing them each a copy, “I used a business proposal model, so forgive me if I might have missed any important information.”

The proposal detailed causes and organizations I wanted to focus on. I was patron of a handful of charities currently, and if I was to work full time as a royal, priority number one was to get that number up. It was work that I liked: useful, helpful work that made a difference in people’s lives.

But most importantly: it was a way of honoring my brother. I had experience with ‘easy’ causes: elderly care, childcare, things that were easy for anyone to empathize with, things that anyone would agree matters. To put it simply: things that wouldn’t ruffle feathers on the press.

This time I picked causes that mattered to me, and it mattered to me to make the kind of impact that my brother would have.

“This is impressive, ma’am.” Said Caesar Bisset, the Head of Outreach Relations. “Truly inspirational.” The others nodded, appreciatively. No one said anything else. “But?” I prodded. They looked at each other. Mr. Bisset gulped, smiling uncomfortably. “Some of these causes, although greatly important, would not send the right message, ma’am.” “What causes do you see a problem with, exactly?” I asked, as calmly as could be. “Not me, ma’am!” He corrected, quickly. “I mean, to the public, to the press, there could be a lot of misunderstanding around some of these areas.” “Such as?” “Margueritte,” my father started, with a careful smile. “As you know there is still a large amount of people in Savoy who identify as catholics, and as the representatives of the faith in the country, we have a responsibility.” “I understand.” I assured him, lying. “But I would still like to hear the specifics of what the issues would be.”

He looked at Mr. Bisset, who nodded.

“Well, ma’am,” he started, “as an example, take this idea, item two, where you express a wish of becoming a patron of Flag House, an organization devoted to providing support to homosexual youth…” “They provide counseling for those with unaccepting families, housing for LGBT people living in an unsafe and unwelcoming environment, and even classes to get them on a path towards a career or to further their education.” “Yes.” He nodded. “And the issue of homosexualism is still somewhat–” “Homosexuality.” “Pardon?” “You said ‘ism’.” I explained, sighing. “That’s a terminology used for diseases and health issues. The correct word is homosexuality.” He nodded. “Oh. Right. Still–” “And they don’t just work with gay people.” I expanded. “The LGBT community is wide. Trans people’s life expectancy is 35 years-old in Savoy, and they are around 65% of all sex workers and 73% of all unhoused people in the country.” “No one is saying the organisation isn’t good, Margueritte.” My father argued. “But there is a reason we don’t just announce patronages. There’s a lot of research that goes into this, a lot of prep work–” “And that’s what I want to do.” I replied. “We could be halfway done with the prep work if we had set the wheels in motion the first time I did this research, but I sent August this material in November last year and never heard anything.” Mr. Montennon, Auguste’s boss, who would have told him not to get back to me, fidgeted in his chair. “The issue would simply be too polemic, ma’am.” “So would be standing up against slavery before the 19th century, but King Willem III did it anyway.” I replied. “It’s not exactly the same, sweetheart.” “Why not?” I asked. “Look at the research I just gave you. Our job is standing up for the marginalized, today the most marginalized community in our society are the unhoused, specially trans sex workers of color who are kicked out of their homes at a young age due to bigotry.” “Our job is to serve the country.” My father insisted. “But part of that is knowing what the country needs from us. And largely, Savoy is just not ready for this type of work.”

He uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees to look at me.

“Margueritte, you have a difficult job ahead of you. I know that like few people can. So let me assure you, the most important thing to succeed here is knowing how and when to compromise.” He paused, intensely. “And when not to. This is not something we can compromise on.”

I heaved a long, unsatisfied sigh. I wish I could have told him of Louis. I wish I could have told him how much this mattered to him. How much he spoke of his own privilege, of knowing that no matter how big the fear of being rejected was, he knew he would never need to fear for his safety like so many in his community did. I wish I could have told my father this, as I knew it might have changed his mind.

“So, Mr. Bisset, from this proactive document my daughter has given us, what do we think would be a good fit for her to work with?” Mr. Bisset looked away from my father into the paper in his lap again. “Well, sir, we would need to tweak a few of the specifics, but this suggestion for a partnership with some of the Universities in Savoy for a series of discussion panels on important issues for the population has a lot of potential.” “Ah,” my father replied, appreciatively. “Progress!” I gulped, suppressing a roll of my eyes at the condescension. “Won’t that just make me look more boring?” I asked. “I want to do it, but it would be better to balance it with something else, too, wouldn’t it? How about the patronage of the Claire Bauton Foundation?” Mr. Bisset nodded. “Women’s issues is a wonderful topic, ma’am, and would be a good fit as the public is very interested in the prospect of Savoy’s first Queen in her own right in over three centuries. I’ll do some research on it.” “Perfect.” My father said, happily. “Next?”

I sighed, fidgeting with my own hands; mouth dry.

“Perhaps we might go over the Crown Princess’ household, sir.” Montennon said. “Seeing as we are discussing work, her team would have to coordinate with Bisset on any upcoming projects.” He nodded. “Let’s. Please, Clemment, would you explain to us again the reason for appointing Auguste Authier as the Crown Princess’ Private Secretary.” “Of course, sir.” Montennon replied. “Ma’am, the gist of the matter comes down threefold. One, tradition.”

C. C. Montennon had been my father’s Private Secretary for almost two decades. He knew me from when I was still a bony, annoying child, but that wasn’t the reason he spoke ‘down’ at me. In fact, he had a gift of always appearing uppity whenever he said anything at all, even to royalty.

Montennon explained that traditionally, royal Private Secretaries were trained by their predecessor, the senior Secretary working for the Monarch. That way, every Monarch had a secretary that had been trained in the staff of the previous Monarch by the previous Monarch’s Secretary.

“This way every Private Secretary has the most complete knowledge one can have of the royal household and work.” He said. “So that fewer mistakes are made.”

I considered his words for a while. The logic seemed fine, it was the execution that I had an issue with.

“The second point, of course,” he went on, “is the matter of nationality.” “Seriously?” I interrupted. “Because Cadie is American?” “Ms. Mendel’s nationality could send the wrong messaging if she was selected for the highest position in your household, ma’am.” “Will I have to pretend I didn’t go to University in America, either?” “Margueritte, please.” My father said, scratching both eyes with his hand. “I think it’s a reasonable question considering this logic.” I argued. “The role of the Monarch, ma’am, and thus the role of the Crown Prince–uh, Princess is to represent and lead the country to the best of his–sorry, her abilities.” He explained, repeatedly stuttering on the need to correct himself, “and to hire a foreigner to such a high position would indicate you did not find a Savoyen of equal ability or trust.” “Or alternatively,” I argued, “that I hired the best person to the job and promoted her when the opportunity arose.”

Judging by the looks they all exchanged, I could see that was a battle lost.

“In order to do good work I have to be the one to choose my own staff.” I insisted. “It makes no sense otherwise. I assure you I am perfectly capable of hiring the objectively best person for the job.” “I assure you, ma’am,” Montennon insisted, “I have been overlooking Mr. Auguste Authier’s training for the past ten years and he is the most qualified man to prepare you for the difficult role ahead.” “You said it was threefold. What’s the third reason?” I asked Montennon. He sighed. “Well, ma’am, it’s hierarchy. Much of the Royal Family works as any business, and Auguste Authier has seniority. He’s been a member of the Royal staff longer and it would be inappropriate to promote Ms. Mendel to a higher position when she hasn’t earned it.” “As the person who she’s been working for since being hired I’d argue she has.” I contradicted. “Auguste has been training for a decade to assist the next Monarch, Margueritte.” My father told me, softly. “Cadence is too young. What if we compromise by looking into training her as an aide, Clemment? She would be a good assistant to Auguste, don’t you think? I’m sure they would work well together, right?”

I was sure they wouldn’t; Cadie was only a few years older than me, and Auguste was almost old enough to be our father. He had never respected Cadie’s abilities or my choice in hiring her. That was part of why I didn’t want to work with him in the first place.

“It would simply be too disruptive to disregard the plans that have been in motion for years regarding the staff of the next future Monarch.” Montennon finished. “But that hierarchy, those plans, were established when my brother was the heir.” I said, bravely but, also, timidly. “Not me. If we have to adapt to a new heir, and the new heir has to adapt to the work, it makes sense that the hierarchy and plans have to be adapted too, right?”

They seemed in no rush to reply. The silence floated around the room for a few seconds before my father sighed.

“It’s not how this works, I’m afraid.” He said. “Should we move on?”

And that was that. Another compromise. One word from the King and that matter was, apparently, closed.

Mr. Caron, the Head of Security, cleared his throat and sat a little taller as he began to speak. “Sir, if I may?” My father nodded his way, and he went on. Looking at me, an intense expression on his face, he said, “Ma’am, while we are discussing staffing choices… The occurence in Britain with your detail on the train…”

I tried to brace myself for a scolding, dreading everything around me, wishing I could go to my room.

“I wish to assure you no such thing will ever happen again. The officers in question have been severely reprimanded, suspended and will retake training upon returning to work. We take the incident extremely seriously and hope this won’t permanently shake your confidence in your security.” I stuttered, awkwardly. “Oh, that–That’s fine. Really, I’m fine. I didn’t even know they’d been suspended.” “Their only job is to keep you safe, and they lost you for three days.” My father remarked, calmly, not looking at me. “They are lucky to keep their jobs.” “Right.” I nodded, nervously. “Of course… Speaking of which. The… incident, as you called it, was indeed unfortunate, of course, but since the topic has been brought up, I suppose it is as good a time as any to talk about my security detail in general. The truth is I was already uncomfortable with it before.” “Uncomfortable, ma’am?” Mr. Caron asked, “Regarding the officers? Their competence?” “No, not at all.” I shook my head. “I mean, I spent the previous decade and a half with Joyce as my primary officer. She went with me to America, to University, and in every job I ever had.” He nodded. “Of course, ma’am. The bond that many years of service creates is, of course, highly valued in this field. It is essential for the work we do.” “I’m glad you think so.” I smiled. “Because I would like for Joyce to be reinstated as my primary Protection Officer.” Mr. Caron took in a long breath, watching the wall behind me. “Ma’am, though I appreciate how difficult such a structural change is, the fact is that Ms. Espinoza–uhm, Joyce, that is, simply does not have the proper, more advanced, specified training an officer for this position needs.”

“Why is that?”

The room was quiet. One by one, they all exchanged a look with the person closer to them and then looked at me.

Mr. Caron spoke. “Why is what, ma’am?” “As a member of Palace security staff, why doesn’t Joyce Espinoza have the proper training needed to work for a senior royal?” “Oh, well, ma’am, see…” He started, “Our officers receive personalized training for the specific work that they will be assigned to. That way every royal family member can be sure they are in the right hands for the level of security threat they are under.” “But…” I started, “Doesn’t that just create a gap in the abilities of the staff? Don’t you then just have some officers who are qualified for harder jobs and some who aren’t?”

They were quiet. Mr. Caron opened his mouth to reply but closed it again, pensively.

“Margueritte, this meeting is not meant to reevaluate how we do staff training.” My father objected. “Maybe it should.” I argued, causing him to look at me, brows raised. But he ignored my point. “We are here to discuss your staff and the fact is Ms. Espinoza does not have the proper training to keep you safe.” Before I could argue, he added, louder, “That is not something we are compromising on. Not your safety.”

I sighed.

“Ulysses, do you have the security file on the Crown Princess?” Mr. Caron looked at my father with wider eyes. “Y-yes, sir. I have the raw file with me, but it hasn’t been… filtered.” “Good. Show it to her.”

Awkwardly, Mr. Caron received a separate, larger file from the aide sitting near the window. He got to his feet and walked over to me.

I opened the file to an identification page; it contained most of my personal information from my full name, age, hair color and length to weight, height, and identifying marks, like the barely visible, tiny scar I had on my left knee from a bike fall as a child (I noticed the absence of my tattoo). I looked at Caron.

“What am I looking at?” “Well–” He started. “That is what your security needs to have on their minds every second of their working day.” My father answered instead.

When I turned the page, I realized the following pages were separated by date. The first was marked only a couple of days after Louis’ death. It read:

‘Letter received by the Neunant Post. Unmarked. Security camera footage resulted in no suspects of delivery. It reads:

THE THRONE MUST NOT GO TO PRINCESS MARIE MARGUERITE. WOMAN ARE INFERIOR TO MEN AND THE RIGHT ORDER OF CIVIL SOCIETY CANNOT BE UNDERMINED. LET THE GOVERNMENT BE ADVISED: SHOULD THE PRINCESS BE ANNOUNCED AS THE NEXT HEIR THERE WILL BE AN ATTACK ON POINTE CALLOIS BRIDGE. WE ARE AN ORGANIZATION DEDICATED TO RETURNING SAVOY TO ITS FORMER GLORY. PRINT THIS LETTER ON THE FRONT PAGE OR PEOPLE WILL DIE…’

With my heart beating almost painfully in my throat, I looked at my father. He wasn’t looking at me. He wasn’t looking at anyone. His eyes were opened, but he was seeing something I could not see.

I turned the page. The next few threats were prints of hate comments on news sites, but they seemed slightly superficial compared to the first. I noticed they had a yellow sticker to the up corner of the page, whereas the first one had a red one. I turned the pages, finding another red one marked about a week after the first. It read:

‘Letter dropped on the gates of Callois Palace among the messages of condolences for Crown Prince Louis. Security Camera footage could not identify the suspect amongst the crowd. It read:

REST IN PEACE OUR GOOD ARYAN KING LOUIS ADOLPHE!!! THE THRONE WILL NEXT GO TO OUR ALPHA PRINCE ADRIEN WHO WILL LEAD THE COUNTRY INTO PROSPERITY. PASSING THE CROWN INTO PRINCE LOUIS ADOLPHE’S SISTERS WOULD TURN THE COUNTRY INTO A RADICAL LIBERAL HELL IT MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO HAPPEN. THE KING MUST ANNOUNCE THE PRINCESSES WILL NOT INHERIT LIKE HIS SISTERS DIDNT. DO NOT DISMISS THIS. IN CASE THIS ISNT ANNOUNCED THE PRINCESSES WILL BE A FATALITY OF THE BATTLE FOR THE SURVIVAL OF SAVOY. YOU HAVE FIVE DAYS.

The following page contained a drawing of a symbol in red paint. Analysis confirmed it was pig blood. Symbol under analysis by the Interpol.’

I gulped, painfully, mouth dry. “Did they ever have an answer for what the symbol was?” Though I wasn’t looking at him, Mr. Caron asnwered softly, “With assistance from the NSA, ma’am, they believe it is linked to a jihadist terrorist organization.”

I turned a few more pages, hands shaking. Dated from a few weeks after Louis’ death, to a couple of months after, to just two weeks ago, they were prints of online messages, discord servers, reddit discussion threads, untraceable Twitter accounts, throw-away emails, sent to official royal email addresses, physical Palace address, personal email accounts of staff members, journalists, and any number of random people who dared say anything positive about us online.

‘THE CROWN PRINCESS ATTENDS BODY WORK GYM NEAR HER APARTMENT MOST MORNINGS AT 8AM FROM MONDAY TO FRIDAY. SHE ALWAYS PARKS IN THE SECOND FLOOR GARAGE. SHE LOOKS HOT IN LEGGINGS TOO BAD SHE’LL GET BLOWN UP NEXT TIME SHE IS THERE’

‘THE USURPER MARIE MARGUERITTE WILL DIE KING ADRIEN DOWN WITH THE FEMINAZIS WHO WEAKENED OUR MILITARY BY INCENTIVIZING WOMEN TO SERVE AND NOW WOULD WEAKEN OUR NOBLE ROYAL FAMILY’S BLOODLINE. YOU WILL NEVER FIND ME BUT YOU WILL SOON KNOW MY NAME I WILL CARVE IT IN HER SKIN. I KNOW THE ADDRESS OF HER WORK AND THE RESTAURANT SHE EATS AT WITH COWORKERS. THEIR NAMES ARE SOPHIE THE DAUGHTER OF THE CORRUPT MEDIA MOGUL AND LARISSA THE UGLY IMMIGRANT. SHE WILL NEVER BE QUEEN’

‘I AM A HIGHLY TRAINED FORMER MILITARY CAPTAIN PRINCESS MARIE MUST NOT HAVE A CONFIRMATION CEREMONY. IF YOU HAVE A CEREMONY WE WILL CARRY OUT A MASSIVE ATTACK AGAINST THE ATTENDEES. I HAVE AT MY DISPOSAL A SEMI AUTOMATIC RIFFLE AND A COLLECTION OF PIPE BOMBS.I DO NOT WANT TO SPILL PURE SAVOYEN BLOOD. I AM GIVING YOU A CHANCE. CANCEL THE CONFIRMATION AND ANNOUNCE THE ABDICATION OF PRINCESS MARIE IN FAVOR OF PRINCE ADRIEN OR ONE WAY OR ANTOHER I WILL MAKE SURE THEY DIE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED’

A few of the pages detailed untraceable phone calls made to official, unlisted numbers inside the palace. There was a collective letter sent by chief editors of the major Savoy newspapers detailing a rise in what they describe as ‘the worst kind of harassing, toxic, hateful comments’ ever before targeted at the royal family in general, but specifically, me.

The next few pages had, chillingly, photographs. It was hard to focus enough to read the text around them, but according to the captions they had all been sent by physical mail or email, some having been discovered by police in ‘intercepted phones’.

“Wha–what are intercepted phones?” I asked, my voice a mere whisper. Ulysses Caron’s reply matched my tone. “Phones intercepted by police during reids, investigations or after criminals are arrested. Some were found internationally and sent to Savoy Police.”

I nodded as though I didn’t have another million follow up questions. The photos were of me, but in cases when I had been photographed with other people, there were pictures of them as well.

They were pictures of me walking my dogs near my apartment, in Tallmound, before Louis died. Pictures of me walking to and from the parking lot at work, both before Louis died and on the day I went to quit. Pictures of me in the gardens of the Palace, in some places we knew people could see from the gates. It didn’t usually bother us as it wasn’t an issue unless they were watching to wait for us.

These weren’t paparazzi pictures, they were worse. Grainy, from farther away, from an upper angle – drones? My head hurt. I felt dizzy. My stomach ached. In one picture, I was walking near the beach with Lourdes in Corsilla.

I looked up at Mr. Caron, realizing the room had fallen into a deep, strained silence as they waited for me to say anything.

“My sister. Is she–is she pictured, too?” Mr. Caron looked at my father before replying. I did, too. He was still quietly looking inwards. “Yes, ma’am.” Mr. Caron said, finally. “Not as frequently. But there has also been a recent rise.” I fought back tears. “And–Did th–Louis?” I stuttered. He nodded, gravely.

I closed the folder with a thud. I looked away, at the windows. The sun was setting outside.

“Don’t you see…?” I asked, weakly. “This is why we can’t train our officers differently.” I looked back at them. “You’re deciding that some of us receive more threats than others and therefore we need different security, but what is stopping anyone who wishes to harm us from harming someone we love to get to us?!” “I assure you, ma’am, all our officers are highly trained to the task they need to perform–”

I got to my feet, breathless. Slowly, I walked around the chair and rested a hand on it, the other now clutching the heavy folder. I thought of my brother reminding me to stand up for myself, and of the reminder Harry had written in the book he sneaked into my bag.

I looked back at them, and sighed.

“You are going to double the number of protection officers in my sister’s detail.” I said, as authoritative as I could. “Double–?” Mr. Caron started. “And Cadence Mendel is going to be my Private Secretary.” I said, as if I hadn’t been interrupted. “Auguste can stay on for support. He can be a… consulting aide. I’m sure his experience will be valuable.” “Margueritte.” My father started. I did not acknowledge him. “Joyce Espinoza will head my security detail.” “Ma’am, she does not have the necessary training–” “Then train her!” I said. “It is not enough for security to be well trained, clearly, as your supposedly highly trained officers were sleeping while I ran off in London. If they had known me, if I had trusted them, like I do with Joyce, I assure you that would not have happened.” He didn’t have an answer. He did look at my father though, helplessly. “Training is not enough, Mr. Caron. Our security is with us wherever we go, we must trust them. Intimacy isn’t a replacer for training, either, so let’s work on both. Okay?” “Margueritte.” My father tried again. “Why don’t we talk about this privately?” “That won’t be necessary.” I replied. “It would have been useful months ago, after Louis passed. Now I don’t need to, anymore.” I looked at him, finally, calmly. “I will do good work, dad. I will. I will do work that I am proud to do, and that Louis would have been proud of, too. And I will be happy to do it. But let it be known that I will do it because I am choosing to do it.” I looked at the rest of them. “I did not want this.” I confessed. “I wish for nothing more than for my brother to be in this meeting instead of me. But I am all you have.”

Still, they were silent.

“Well, I will do it. Not because I have to. What can you do, really, if I refuse to? Throw me in jail?” I echoed Constance’s words, a humorless grin in my lips. “You need me. You have me. So, I am willing to discuss my work. But we will not compromise on my staff, or on my security. Or Lourdes’ security.” “Margueritte.” My father repeated, more forcefully now. “I am a lawyer. A good one.” I stopped him, angrily. “I had my own life before this and I can get it back. Say no and I will just send a resume and get another job next week.” I told them, daringly, shrugging. “I do not need or want the Crown. If you want to take it, this is what I need. If not,” I sighed, heavily, “well, let’s hope Lourdes is ready to be Queen.”

I waited, breathing heavily, anxious, hands shaking. My father said nothing else. Neither did any of the others. I could barely see them through my anger.

“I expect my Private Secretary to get in touch in the next twenty-four hours so we can get to work. If not,” I sighed, “You can expect my abdication letter by the end of the week.”

With that, I turned on my heels, and left the room.

--- ---- ---

Business Bitch Outfit

[A/N: ITS 6 AM AND I HAVE NOT SLEPT. I HAVE WORK IN 5 HOURS. I HAVE A HEADACHE. THIS IS ALL TO SAY PLEASE FORGIVE ANY SPELLING/GRAMMAR/NONSENSE MISTAKES. Seriously, I am so grateful for your patience. I had to move out of my house in 2 weeks into a much more expensive apartment. First time I had to do the whole moving process thing (long story) and it is not great. 0/10 do not recomend. Why do I own stuff? Also my job is not going well. I fully expect to be let go in January. Maybe I am being a paranoid anxious bitch maybe I am being a self aware queen. We’ll see. But it’s definitely the second option. Anyway, I’m all unpacked now and loving living alone for the first time ever. I think that’s all I needed to say. Oh, also, I did some research for the death threat part but -- thankfully -- I am not fully versed on it, so sorry if its a little cringe? Anyway. Let me know your thoughts?! What do you think will happen? Will Maggie’s boss bitch ultimatum work?! Will the dramatic Chris breakup leak to the papers?! Tune in next week to find out! LOVE YOU!]

#Princeharryff #prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryfanfiction #Princeharryfanfic #prince harry #brf #modern royalty au #modern royalty fanfic #fanfiction #OPITCphff #chapters #sorry i said bitch like 3 times in this AN #i cannot stress this enough #it is 6am

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